201: Crawford Street Mansion, Central Sunnydale

A Rodin statue in the making, Angel sat upon the stairs with his elbows bent on his knees, folded hands raised with his thumbs steepled against his lips. Outwardly, his calm appearance belied the storm of thought and emotion swirling beneath the surface. The minutes since Cordelia had descended into the basement ticked by in maddening slowness. Time enough to consider that allowing her to learn about the power of a claim from anyone else might be a mistake.

Centuries of observing vampires had given the Watchers Council vast knowledge about the supernatural world. Plenty of mysteries remained. Things that were simply unknowable. How could he expect Wesley Wyndham-Pryce to counsel Cordelia on a subject that had no real precedent? There were no other vampires possessing souls documented in their diaries for comparison. No way of knowing if the soul would affect the kind of bond he hoped would develop with Cordelia.

There were other levels of intimacy to explore that he had never considered possible. Some needs were all too obvious, basic to the part of himself he would prefer to deny, and yet it clawed for fulfillment. Feelings snuck up on him that could not be ignored. Was it just the selfish bastard in him that wanted this right now in the midst of the chaos and uncertainty? Reassurance that Cordelia was his in every possible way before fate tried to rain hell down upon them.

Not that I’ll ever let it. Somehow, I’ll fix this. Save her. I have to.

Angel’s gaze had not left the closed barrier of the basement door since Cordelia and Wesley stepped through it. The temptation of going after them simmered hot. Although the door wasn’t locked he might not bother with taking the time to open it. One swift kick would burst it to splinters. He would be a blur on the stairs. Traversing the corridors below would take only a minute. Finding her would be easy, he figured.

Getting rid of Wesley might take more effort. “Get out,” might not be enough. Cordelia might complain about his use of intimidation tactics, but he wouldn’t take the bait by letting her draw him into an argument. He’d simply do what needed to be done—claim her. Bind them together. Seal his fate to her own no matter that destiny had other plans. Dramatic much? Cordy would totally call him out on it.

The stairs creaked alerting Angel that his wait was over. Bolting to his feet, he stared at the door waiting for it to open once their footsteps reached the top. Pinpricks poked at his nerves. He had not budged from that spot on the stairs the entire time. They’d think he was worried about Wesley’s far from unbiased opinions about vampire claims. True enough, but only Cordelia’s opinion counted. She was great at cutting through the bull to get to the heart of a subject. Maybe that part worried him most.

Anxiously, Angel shifted around to lean against the wooden baluster striking a casual pose. The door handle started to turn. He glanced down at his all too obvious position deciding that he looked ridiculous. No need to give away the fact that he was nervous about the outcome of their discussion. He had promised to allow Cordelia to make this decision, and he had meant it. After one last glance at the door, Angel darted across the hall into the room serving as Wesley’s office.

Cordelia instantly took notice of his absence. “So much for Angel sticking around to guard the door.” He ended up unintentionally eavesdropping. An indelicate little snort preceded her hopeful query, “Think he’s given up on the idea of Kalesh making a sneak attack?”

Easy answer. Angel scowled at the thought of it. No, he hadn’t.

Wesley was quick to respond, “Doubtful. The odds are quite in favor of the enemy making a move.” See, even the watcher agrees.

“Guess that means you ought to get going. We don’t want Willow making a mess of this new spell, do we?” There was a little snip to her words dismissing him without actually acknowledging that he might be right.

A blabbering response followed as Wesley tried to defend Willow’s spell casting skills and his decision to remain at her side. “Angel would not want me to leave you alone.”

Right. Good decision, Angel thought as he quietly leaned against the open doorframe watching the two of them. Wesley might not be his first choice as Cordy’s bodyguard, but he was smart. Hopefully, that translated to the advice he had given her.

“Give me the crossbow,” Cordelia held out her hands. It took a waggle of her fingers to convince him she was not about to take no for an answer. Wes handed it over. “I’ve got this. Just point and shoot, right?”

Angel finally spoke up. “Like any weapon, using it requires training.”

Swinging around at the sound of his voice, “There you are!” Cordelia aimed directly at him for a second or two before realizing it and promising, “I wasn’t going to pull the trigger.” Lowering the crossbow to a safe angle, she asked, “Where have you been hiding?”

“Wesley’s office,” he thumbed at the room behind him. Stressing, “I was just waiting.” Not hiding exactly.

Walking past him to peruse the state of his desktop Wesley shot him a narrow squint, “What were you doing in there? Please tell me you did not move anything around.”

Angel shrugged and held up a leather-bound book he had randomly picked up, “Just this. It was in one of those stacks on your desk.”

Trying to keep a straight face, Angel handed the book over effectively giving him a few moments of privacy with Cordelia as the watcher darted into the other room. Wesley was too busy examining his research to take notice as he closed his hand over hers to lead her away from the office door. Cordelia did not wait for him to speak first. Seeing right through his not-so-subtle strategy, she said, “We can just go upstairs if you want to be alone.”

Not really surprised, Angel just accepted the fact that Cordy had a way of knowing him without him having to say a word. Still, going up to the privacy of their bedroom would be the wrong move. He had promised her time to think about this. Told himself she would need it despite her assurances that her mind was made up before knowing any details.

“Not until you have an answer for me. Have you made your decision?”

Cordelia’s eyes went wide with shock. Yes, he was asking now. He couldn’t go to their bedroom if she was going to say no. He didn’t want rejection there of all places. Finally, she responded, “Not exactly.”

Oh? Damn. Guessing the watcher had done his duty giving her enough information to make her think about the consequences instead of blindly accepting an uncertain future together, Angel didn’t want her making a hasty decision— as long as was the right one. “Do you have questions for me?”

Again, she paused as if to measure out words instead of letting her feelings pour forth unfiltered as usual. “There’s a lot I wasn’t expecting. Can we talk about it later?”

“Later,” Angel echoed in agreement. That word had once signaled a beginning between them, but now he worried that it might take on a new meaning. One he wasn’t going to like.

Cordelia started up the stairs, but paused to hold out the crossbow. As he reached for it, she gave him one of those brilliant smiles that always caught him square in the chest as if he was on the verge of gasping for air. Teasingly, she said, “Maybe I should keep it since you don’t want to come upstairs and play bodyguard.”

She might be able to read him like a book, but Angel wasn’t as savvy. Cordelia either slapped you in the face with the unvarnished truth or she dug down deep to hide it under a steel shell. Sounding uncertain rather than angry, she left him wondering if she was going to accept his claim. He swallowed hard, and tried to make light of her indecision. “You didn’t shoot me on sight, I suppose that’s a good sign.”

Night had finally come as the sun’s last rays faded to black. Sensing it, Spike took the stairs at a brisk pace feeling eager for some action. The thought of gadding about town with his mortal enemy by going on a little mission for the greater good, doing his part for the team— a whole world of wrong about that. Buffy wasn’t exactly thrilled about him tagging along tonight. This was an opportunity to torment her just a bit, twist her up in knots because something about her did the same to him.

No surprise that Buffy wasn’t eagerly awaiting his arrival downstairs. The only one in the foyer was Angel now pacing around like a caged tiger. He swung around silently noting his approach before turning back to continue tracing an invisible path across the parquet floor. Spike glowered realizing that the situation between Angel and Cordelia remained unsettled. 

“Thought you’d be fangs deep by now,” Spike said as he tugged on his leather jacket. 

The radio wasn’t blaring from the basement anymore, and he could hear that prat of a watcher shuffling papers in the office across the hall. Angel shot him a glare. A silent warning against saying anything else that might set him off. Bugger that.

“No need to play by the book—unless you want Dru and me to witness the deal.” 

Offering to watch was genuine, and not a tease even if Spike knew he would enjoy every moment with lecherous delight. Drusilla, too, even if she felt a twisted sort of jealousy as her sire claimed his mate. These days Angel was the de facto head of the House of Aurelius whether or not he accepted that responsibility. That came with some expectations like putting an end to rival vampire clans horning in on their territory.

Cordelia Chase divided Angel’s attention. Shagging her senseless night after night might be a worthwhile distraction for any vampire, but how could that be enough to sate his needs, even with a soul gumming up the works? Spike didn’t see why it was so complicated. Claiming bloodrights did not require a permanent bond, but it was obvious that was the direction this was going. 

Strangely, Spike was okay with it, no matter that it would set the chit up for trouble. Angel needed his head on straight if they were going to take on the Solarians, not to mention the rest. He needed that killer instinct back and not to be focused on his namby-pamby feelings. Why the devil would anyone want a soul when it only made you soft?

Angel’s stare was anything but soft, shooting daggers from his blackened gaze. This wasn’t a joking matter, and Spike had been serious with his offer. Their kind traditionally witnessed events creating changes in status, not that Darla had ever instilled in them a desire to follow any kind of ritual practices. They went wherever they wanted, and enjoyed the havoc left in their wake.  

No use reminiscing over days gone by. Spike didn’t really want Angelus back again even if it would be convenient to skip the soul-searching excuses for not claiming Cordelia. Poor pet wouldn’t get a choice in the matter, or a life, not a human life, anyway. Existence as a vampire would be one escape from her prophesied fate. One Angel would never let happen.

“Starting to think the problem isn’t Cordelia, mate.” Spike kept his distance. He wasn’t going to volunteer himself as Angel’s punching bag. “Maybe we’ll insist on watching. Make sure it’s done proper like.”

Again, Angel’s silent response would have wilted anyone else. Bordering on terrifying, his killer instincts weren’t buried as deep as Spike had feared. It was a good sign, he figured, feeling better about what would happen when it came time to put Nico and Isobel down. A bloodbath would do. Lightened by the imagery, he stopped hounding Angel long enough to realize something had gone wrong. 

“That watcher hasn’t had her ear all this time.” Not if that was him in the office, which his senses confirmed. “Don’t think she’d put up with his gaff.”

Spike’s expectations had been simple. That’s why he had gone off and left Angel on his own. He figured the watcher would drone on about naught until Cordelia told him where to stuff his cautionary tales. She’d rush upstairs into Angel’s arms, and that would be that— claimed and tamed. Yet here he was pacing the floor like a caged tiger about to pounce.

“Where is she?”

Having asked him a direct question, Angel finally responded. “Upstairs. She’s getting ready for tonight.”

That sounded promising. All sorts of leather and lace scenarios popped into his head. Yeah, he might definitely have to insist on playing witness.

“Cordy wants to head out to search for the Shards of Ahli-Tah right after sunset.”

Not exactly the fun and games Spike hoped they’d be up to. “That still on?” Claiming a mate wasn’t exactly a quickie scenario. He figured the outing was off for at least a night or two.

A weighty pause followed before the answer came. “I promised.”

Any sympathy Spike had for him vanished. “You gonna lick her boots, too?”

He had moved within punching distance, but Angel remained still. Couldn’t deny he was willing, could he? Truthfully, Cordelia might just be worth it. Spike doubted he would ever put up with letting a woman handle him that way. Doing for her when he had wants of his own. Letting her desires take priority. Never happening, that. Had his Dru, he did. If he let her get away with aught it was only because she was his sire, and he needed to please her.

Angel ignored the dig. “This place is suffocating her. Tonight might be the last chance Cordy has to spend time outside these walls, and it’s our only opportunity to find those crystal shards.”

“Plenty time to get things done. Go give her a good shag. Take what belongs to you.”

Spike wasn’t normally one for giving advice to Angelus, and felt uncertain why it mattered a whit to him in the first place. Only one thing made sense even if it wasn’t right. Staying here under this roof with Angel, Drusilla and Cordelia with her motley crew of supporters was the closest thing to a sense of family they had back in their glory days. Minus all o’ the blood and gore, but that might work itself out soon enough, preferably by introducing Isobel to her innards.

Angel’s gaze flicked toward the staircase before settling back on Spike. “I am giving her some space. Time to think about it.”

Not getting it, Spike scowled at the notion. “She’s yours. Make it official.”

“Cordelia needs time to process.”

“Bollocks.”  

Calling him out on it caused Angel to inch forward. Spike felt a knot rise up in his throat. “Don’t push it. Either Cordelia accepts everything the claim entails, or she doesn’t. I won’t have you influencing her decision—especially if you frighten her with more demonstrations.”

Spike wasn’t about to back off even when he had to lift his gaze higher to meet Angel’s now that he loomed closer. “Told you about that, did she? Dru’s idea o’ course.” 

“Drusilla’s whims are enough of a concern without you giving in to them.”

“Do what I’m told within reason. Dru’s my sire. Never gonna turn down the chance to taste her even with your precious pet watching. Doesn’t shy away, does she? All that curiosity. Made me hard, that did, having her eyes on me when I bit into Dru’s tender flesh.”

That stony glare was back. Disapproval. 

It was definitely a thrill to push Angel’s buttons, seeing him spinning like a top, unsure of himself, his girl, their future. Spike might actually enjoy it if he didn’t already see the dark path this could take should Cordelia spurn Angel’s desire to claim her. Hurt feelings would be the least of it. Never forget that Angelus was part of him. The soul might give him a conscience, but the demon still remained. Those instincts he tried to beat down every day would just rise to the surface. The chit would bear his mark whether she wanted it or not, and the bond between them would eventually become unbreakable. Cordelia would resent it and him, and it wouldn’t be pretty for anyone.

Done with the conversation, Angel suggested he shove off. “Don’t you have something else to do beside give me unwanted advice?”

“Got a little adventure of my own,” Spike reminded him that he wasn’t the only one with plans for the night. “Slayer back from her mum’s?”

Angel’s face turned neutral now that the subject had steered away from his pet. He nodded toward the back hall where the Scoobies’ shared room was located. Spike gave him a cheeky grin and headed in that direction only to hear him call out, “Play nice.”

Playtime was exactly what tonight was all about. Angel seemed to know it. He didn’t have a hope in hell of controlling Spike’s actions when it came to toying with Buffy Summers. The slayer could hold her own, and if it amused him to push a few of her buttons, it seemed her ex wasn’t going to bother telling him to lay off. Not that he would.

Spike loped down the hallway and without bothering to knock opened the bedroom door. Having heard their voices, he knew that the usual trio was inside. Xander was stretched out on the bed fully dressed, hands propped behind his head, legs crossed as they chatted about whether apocalypses were legitimate excuses to get out of homework. “I’ve already done mine,” claimed the little red-headed Willow still dressed as tidily as a school girl.

Nothing suggested she was a font of mystical power capable of defending this mansion against demonic invasion. Her surprised face turned his way as he leaned against the doorframe, those limpid green eyes suddenly flashing with something dangerous. Not as innocent as they used to be. “Just me, little witch.”

Before he could ask about Buffy, the adjoining bathroom door opened up to emit a cloud of steam. She stepped out of it swathed in a towel and still wet from her shower. Her hasty appearance left water dripping everywhere. Her hair remained plastered to her head and shoulders while droplets ran down her arms and legs. One hand grasped the towel holding it in place, and the other held a stake raised up in obvious intent.

“You! What are you doing here?” Buffy demanded answers, but sounded flustered. Her cheeks looked flushed. Could be the hot shower. Normally slow and steady, her heart also ticked a little faster. Was she ready for a fight, or was that just for him? “Get out.”

What fun would that be? Spike didn’t bother to acknowledge the echoing sentiments of her friends. Softly, he refused. “Don’t think I will, luv.” 

Buffy snapped back, “I can make you.”

“Go ahead. Odds of that towel coming off are in my favor.”

202: The Housekeeper’s Quarters

Tonight already sucked and it hadn’t even started yet. Why Spike? He was loathsome, disgusting, always ready to rile her up, pushing her buttons, and stirring her blood. Buffy wanted to stake him so badly. One swift thrust in the right place. Just thinking about it made her shiver in anticipation. If only.

This was all her mother’s idea, but Buffy had only herself to blame. She didn’t want her mom to freak out about Spike and convinced her that he was sort of a good guy now. Surely, all that vampire strength would come in handy if Buffy needed backup. Wrong! So, so wrong. Anyone else would be welcome to tag along. There were plenty of other people around. Not that she needed help.

Going it alone would have been just fine. She could handle carrying a whole pile of demonology books if that’s what it was she was buying from the creepazoid hocking them. Those impy flying demons at the Piggly Wiggly? No problem. Even Xander had held his own. He already knew what she’d be up against. Maybe Xander should go instead of Spike.

Buffy thought that was a fantastic idea. Except Xander was already taken. Obviously attempting to make Spike jealous for some weird reason, Drusilla had demanded Xander accompany her on Cordelia’s excursion in search of those crystal shard thingies. Like a date? She would laugh if it didn’t worry her that her friend hadn’t turned the vampire down. 

Was it a residual from the thrall? That concerned her, but Cordy was his ex, and these days Xander worried over her way too much. Legit reasons, for sure, but with Angel at her side, she did not need Xander along. That would totally have been her argument to sway him over to her side, except that Willow had gotten there first. 

A woeful droop pulled at Willow’s face. “Oh, gosh! Sorry, Buffy, but I really need Xander’s help.”

Her besties had done their best to cheer her up about tonight. They wanted to come with her. Willow even had some spell ideas she would have loved to try out against the demon swarm, but no go. Casting the defensive spell on the mansion and its grounds was obviously her priority. Buffy got that. She really did.

Faith would have been a welcome substitute for Willow and Xander. Better yet, maybe she should have been the one to go with Spike. After all, the little demon they saved had been looking for her in the first place. Only one issue with that idea—by default it would mean Buffy would have to join Cordelia on her Crystal Hunt. No way! If it was just a matter of window shopping with Cordy, sure no problem, Buffy could handle that, but Angel was going to be there. Having—sort of—accepted them being a couple now did not mean she wanted to watch them try to keep their hands off each other. Whenever they bothered to try they sucked at it.

Why couldn’t Giles forgo research for just one night? Okay, so that kind of answered itself, but it wasn’t fair! He was her watcher. He should be doing whatever she wanted him to do. Buy the books himself, and then watch her kick tiny imp butt at the grocery. He could help if he wanted. Easy! Spike could be an extra body guard for Cordelia. No way Angel could fault that.

Except that her watcher wasn’t about to get distracted by a few annoying demons when there was a world to be saved. Stuff needed discovering. The details. The 411 on hidden parts of the prophecy. The pending apocalypse wasn’t just about Cordelia even if Angel made it seem that way.

Giles might be a no go for tonight, but that left an extra watcher who was—according to him anyway—highly trained by the Watcher’s Council. Just as stiff-necked as his name implied, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce looked like he’d have trouble corralling a pack of puppies much less a demon swarm. Still, at least she knew he was one of the good guys, unlike Spike. 

She didn’t get it, really. Why was Spike sticking around? He trash-talked a lot about making whatshername pay for torturing him. Guess she got him pretty good, Buffy decided almost wistfully. He did look pretty beat up when Angel brought him back to the mansion that night. What had that vampire done to him that got him worked up enough to want revenge? Still, that did not seem like the only reason Spike had for staying in Sunnydale.

Buffy figured it had to do with Drusilla, who seemed to have no interest in leaving her sire’s side. Having practically adopted Cordelia like a long-lost sister, the looney creature was perfectly happy building herself a little nest right there on Crawford Street. That was so wrong! Worse, there were two slayers and two watchers living under the very same roof. 

Still, Drusilla would be far better company than Spike. It might be impossible to predict whether she was going to try to stroke her hair again or slit her throat, but Buffy could force her to keep her distance. Maybe she’d be an asset in renegotiating the cost of those books Giles wanted so badly. She could do her thrall thingy on that nasty little demon making him give them a discount. They could totally use the cash to buy new towels—much bigger towels not prone to slippage during tussles.

Except Drusilla wanted to be with Cordelia and Angel tonight. No surprise there, and frankly Buffy was okay with it. Who wanted to depend on Dru for backup when she was just as likely to take the demons’ side? Not her.

What was Oz doing tonight? He was a smart guy. Plus, he wanted to help out. The moon wasn’t even full. No werewolf issues to distract them. He could totally help carry those books. Surely he would be just as handy as Xander when swatting flying demons with a baguette.

An amused little smirk stretched Buffy’s lips as she mused alternatives for tonight’s patrol. Adding the last touches to her mascara, she nodded at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Ready. “Hey, Willow,” she said opening the door and stepping back into their shared bedroom, “I think you should call Oz.”

Huddled together on the bed, Willow and Xander were reviewing their plan for herb crushing, potion mixing, and spell casting. “Already done,” she answered with all seriousness. “I need another pair of hands if we’re going to do this right.”

Buffy’s smile vanished as her backup plan went down in flames. So much for that brilliant scenario where Spike would totally be okay with Oz being her patrol buddy. Oz could have tagged along as a wolfy distraction for Spike. Werewolves and vampires didn’t mix well, or maybe it was just Spike not mixing well with anybody.

Hearing a hint of desperation in her voice, Buffy asked, “Isn’t Xander your designated fetcher and carrier?”

“Trusty assistant,” Xander argued his role.

Elbowing him, Willow said that it was the scope of the spell being cast on the mansion. “We’re taking this protection spell to an all new level. So, I need bodies. People, not just bodies, because that sounds like I might need to raid a funeral home or a graveyard, which you could totally do for me, but I need living people not dead ones. A few witches would be even better, but people will do. One person for each of the cardinal directions.” 

Whatever witchy rituals were required for the casting of the protection spell, Buffy was glad she was not included. She would definitely prefer to face the demons tonight than stand around waving stinky herbs. Not her kind of deal. 

“Great! Sounds like you’re good to go,” Buffy put a little pep in her pep talk. “I’m sure you’ll be brilliant, Willow. You’ve got this.”

While Buffy felt confident that her friend could hold up her end of the plan, she was second-guessing her own ability to go the whole night without staking Spike. He was a confusing, irritating mix of vampire and pure male ego, and Buffy did not like it. Not one bit. She should not have to put up with his crap just because he was willing to help. Those motives might be legit, or just an excuse to get close to her. Boasting about killing two slayers was probably supposed to set her on edge, or scare her into submission, not that it did. It just reminded her that sometime soon he was going to end up as a dust pile at her feet.

That wasn’t his only boast, of course, which had made her flush hot even while anger twisted her up in knots. That’s all it was, anger. Frustration of the not getting to kill him kind. She was all tingly with it right now.

There was only one other person on Buffy’s desperation list. She imagined herself asking, “Hey, Mom, how badly do you want your purse back?” Sigh! That was one conversation never going to happen. If it meant keeping her mother safe, there was really only one thing to do.

Meeting up with Giles reminded her why it was necessary. “The invocation of the Bone Relic has drawn worshippers of Amolon to the Hellmouth, vampires and demons. Spike should provide speed and strength in the fight. He’s a natural killer.” The tiny curl of his upper lip hinted Giles’ personal feelings on the subject of depending on a vampire to fight alongside his slayer. 

She took the envelope with the money intended for the little demon with the books. “Guess we’ll get going.”

Spike was in the foyer with Angel arguing over something. They hushed up as soon as she arrived making her wonder if they were talking about her. Maybe Angel was warning him off, telling Spike to behave himself around her. No teasing or touching, or any of those things he usually tried no matter that they had an audience. She suspected that only spurred him on.

“You can carry these,” Buffy shoved a couple of tote bags and the envelope at him. “We’ll take care of business first.”

Thumbing the crisp green bills inside the envelope, Spike purred, “No need to buy my services, luv. They’re all yours.”

Ugh.

Buffy glanced toward Angel who she imagined should be ready to punch his irritating relative in the face, but he was staring toward the top of the stairs as if he hadn’t even heard Spike’s little come-on. “You seem distracted,” she pulled Angel’s attention back to her although he stared down at her as if it took a second to remember why she was there.

Before he could respond, Spike leaned in with a stage whisper, “Cordelia.”

Oh, like that was actually news. “Right.” She held up a hand to halt further explanation. “We’re going now. Thing to do. Books to buy. Demons to kill.”

Angel finally spoke up offering a cautionary warning against treating this too routinely. “Kalesh’s cronies could be anywhere.”

“Too bad for them.” Buffy figured to deal with them in the usual way.

Stray demons weren’t Angel’s concern. “Don’t get too cocky. Nico might not like to get his hands dirty, but he’s lethal.”

“He’s a vampire. I can handle it.”

Angel took a step closer, his height forcing her gaze higher. “No one knows your capabilities better than me, Buffy, but don’t underestimate him.” 

Since when had her ex started to sound like Giles? Oh, the lectures, advice, reminders, and unwanted blah, blah, blah about what she should do. It was her job. Why did everyone have a say in how she did it? 

Spike suddenly cut through the droning to tell Angel, “Buff’s got this. You’ve got enough on your hands tonight without worrying about what we’re getting up to in the dark.”

Ooh, that earned a harsh stare. Angel couldn’t argue that one! Checkmate. An odd spark flared as Spike rose to her defense. Just as quickly, Buffy felt weirded out by it and chose to say, “C’mon, Billy Idol, we’re gonna be late.”

203: The Temple of Amolon

The chamber glowed with a combination of natural and mystic light creating shadows along its rocky walls. Jake’s instinct kept him there as he observed the exquisitely beautiful Lady Isobel return to her sire’s side. The vampire prince swept her into his embrace as they shared a kiss. Minutes before her soft pink lips had been at his throat as she tasted him on a dare intended to prove her power. His compliance had been a necessary distraction designed to keep her attention away from Harry Sims.

They were a lustful pair of creatures. Their devotion to each other was only surpassed by Nicolau’s obsession as a follower of Amolon and the priestess Kalesh. Jake had a rudimentary understanding of vampire lore. He studied the texts Wolfram & Hart supplied at the outset of this assignment. Demon worshippers, the vampires of the House of Solaris were the rarest of their kind. He could care less about their habits as long as he was left out of it.

Distractions in the form of deadly, flirtatious blondes were definitely not welcome. Still, his eyes were glued to the unexpectedly tender kiss. Nicolau glanced his way as if knowing it was his blood lingering on his progeny’s lips. Amusement rather than jealousy twisted his expression for the seconds he bothered to spare him a moment’s notice.

“Do you want more?” The calm query passed intimately between them, an offer for anything that she desired. Listening, Jake felt a cold shiver shoot through him. 

Isobel had made no secret of her boredom as their duties to Kalesh caused them to frequent these dank caves. No doubt they were a far cry from the sort of luxurious surroundings she normally occupied. Was Nicolau offering his lover the chance to seduce him, dine upon him, or both? Not that any of that would happen. A heavy knot collecting in his throat took some effort to swallow.

Without bothering to take another look, Isobel refused her sire’s offer of a diversion having already told Jake that he wasn’t diverting enough for her taste. “You know my desires. I require far more stamina than one such as he could manage, even if he is tasty.”

Ignoring the urge to smooth the rumples in his suit and straighten his tie, Jake reminded himself that he was here to represent Wolfram and Hart. He had no desire to play games with vampires no matter their supernatural charms. Nicolau appeared neither surprised nor angry that Isobel had been flirting and tasting his blood. He was just a potential meal. True, he might have a visceral response to Isobel’s beauty, but he was no fool. He knew precisely what she was and had no intention of letting her toy with him again.

Allowing her to taste him had been his choice. A ploy on his part. Jake gave himself kudos for letting her get that close and allow her to lick at him like a treat. It had gotten him what he wanted, Isobel’s attention directed away from Harry Sims. She led them here to Kalesh’s great altar, an enormous chamber of natural rock at the center of which the priestess’ magic set a pool of water ablaze, colorful flames danced across its surface.

Her usual preparations before any council meeting, Kalesh’ magic failed to hold Jake’s attention. Despite claiming disinterest in Isobel, he was irked by her comments. He shouldn’t care that he was only ‘moderately equipped’ in her estimation. Was she actually telling Nicolau about her wandering hand?

No, they had moved on. Talking about someone they both found far more diverting.

“Patience, my dove, for Angelus will be with us soon enough. Perhaps then we shall determine whether his reputation as a stallion is well deserved.”

The name Angelus had come up once before in his presence, a vampire of some repute who had disappeared from the world stage many decades ago. Under different circumstances, the firm might recruit him to their cause, but there were enough players in the game for now. Angelus had the last of the Varstrae in his keeping, and that worked in Wolfram & Hart’s favor.

Yet Prince Nicolau spoke of Angelus’ arrival with a note of assuredness, as if he had no doubt the other vampire would side with Amolon— not to mention take a turn in their bed. One way or the other, Angelus might be a welcome distraction for the vampires keeping them out of Jake’s way as he secured their decoy until the invocation of the Rites of Tavrok.

Anything that kept their attention off Harry Sims would work to the firm’s advantage. He was the key, after all, the spider in their web. Sims had to lay low, keep out of everyone’s way, especially Kalesh. The vampires would have no interest outside his role as one of the Varstrae. Mooney’s men were too stupid to conceive a ploy believing everything that had been laid out before them. It was Jake’s job to make this work, and when the pieces all fell into place, the Senior Partners would promote him for his efforts. 

Too bad, Lilah. Better luck next time.

A grim smile tugged at his mouth as he thought of his rival at the firm. Jake had every intention of proving himself worthy in the eyes of his superiors at Wolfram & Hart. He was going to succeed. Putting one over on Nicolau and Isobel excited him even more than her teasing touch.

Suddenly aware that he was being watched, Jake’s gaze darted away from the vampire couple to the crooked old woman standing directly in front of him. He nearly cried out in surprise, but held his tongue. Kalesh tilted her head one way and the other as she perused him. A chill froze him to the bone at the intensity of that stare seemingly looking straight into his soul.

Wrinkles deepened as the priestess gazed at him, as if judgement weighted them down. Her body was stooped, bones curved with the passage of time, but her eyes were ageless, piercing, seemingly looking beyond the visible. Faster than she seemed capable, her knobby hand grabbed his sleeve. Jake thought he might piss his pants. “You are late, boy.” Releasing him, Kalesh slapped his wrist.

Chuckles echoed throughout the cavern. Mooney let out a blast of a laugh. Both of the vampires sounded out their amusement obviously enjoying the way their beloved high priestess laid him low with a few words and censured him like a disobedient child. Even Sims let out an irritating, “Har-har-har,” at the admonishment.

Steadying his response, Jake felt a rush of relief having thought the old hag was onto him. She did not want an apology, he knew. Results were the only method of obtaining her good graces. “Priestess, this is the prisoner of the prophecy, the next of the Varstrae.”

“What prophecy?” Sims asked forgetting the warning about calling attention to himself.

Jake shot him a look, but the man was already caught up in Kalesh’s stare. He stiffened as if physically touched by an unseen force, perhaps sheer will power. The kind of thing that took your breath away and made your knees knock. He felt it again when the priestess turned her gaze his way, asking, “What have you brought me?”

He gulped slowly. “This is Harry Sims, one of the Pure, just as promised.”

Sims snorted at the description then quieted down again. He had been told he was here to die. His giddy response was untimely and worrisome. It only drew Kalesh’s interest.

“Come closer, Harry Sims,” the priestess waved him toward the circle of fire. She shuffled toward the altar, and waited for him to follow. After a reluctant look at both Jake and the burning flames pooling on the cavern floor, he did as instructed edging up to it. “Don’t fall in,” she cackled making him jump.

What was Kalesh planning? A test of some sort, Jake figured, recalling that the other Varstrae had spent time in her presence. Sims was shrouded by all manner of spells hiding his identity, abilities, and the knowledge of his part in this deception. No way could she uncover that. No way! Could she? No, that was impossible. The firm had connections, powerful ones that could surely mask the truth.

This was exactly what he had hoped to avoid. Sims could have been shoved into a cage with the others and no one would have been the wiser. Except, that would have been too easy. Jake watched as Kalesh opened up a small clay pot, reached inside, and pulled out a few dried plant stems. Herbs, he guessed, as she tossed them into the fire. Orange smoke billowed up in far more quantity than he would have expected. She scooped it into her hands blowing it into Sims’ face. Witchery of some sort, but for what purpose? The possibilities rattled his nerves.

Repeating the action to no visible effect except making Sims cough at the smoke swirling around his head caused Kalesh to become more animated than usual. She paced before the altar, coming back to the fire, chanting over it, and looking expectantly toward the man dressed in prison garb. “Look into the fire, Harry Sims. Look deeply and tell me what you see.”

Sims complied by leaning forward and staring into the fiery pool. “Hot water. You’re not planning to throw me in there, are you?”

Affronted, Kalesh gasped at the unexpected answer. “Do you not see the path to your future? Beyond all that exists is the barrier that holds Amolon within the void. He requires your communion.”

“Maybe I didn’t get a big enough whiff of that smoke.”

Jake cringed realizing that the Varstrae weren’t exactly themselves after a meeting with Kalesh, but he hadn’t cared enough to discover why thinking they were just terrified. “Focus, Sims,” he ordered daring to speak up since it was the only way to fix the situation. “Try it again.”

Reaching into the residual smoke rising above the pool, Sims gathered it up and waved it into his own face, choking it down. A few tense seconds passed before he called out, “Amolon? Yes, yes, it’s me…Harry Sims.” Jake hoped his acting skills would improve in the next few seconds or they were both going to die.

Sims suddenly seized up and fell to the floor with a silent scream stretching at his face, mouth agape and his jowls shaking. His body curled up into a fetal position as he spouted, “No, no! I’m not the one. I’m not the one.”

“What the…?”

Had Sims seen something in that pool? This wasn’t the act he had started. It was true terror, and when Kalesh flashed those piercing eyes toward Jake, he knew it, too. The firm’s plans were failing and that left him in big trouble. The only thing to could do was find some excuse to explain Sims’ behavior.

Hoping to get out ahead of it, he asked, “Have we been deceived, Kalesh? Is it possible that he is not the true Varstrae?”

So much for that promotion! Assuming he got out of this hot spot, there’d be hell to pay back at the home office. 

“It would seem you are correct, Jake Devries,” Kalesh replied while closing in on the fallen man. “Amolon has rejected him as impure. He cannot be of the Varstrae.”

“He fit our profile. Mooney agreed,” he tried to deflect some of the blame.

The gang leader wasn’t slow to defend himself. “Don’t pile your shit on me. Sims was your idea.”

“Forget him. We can get rid of him easily enough and look for the right guy.”

When Kalesh quirked a furry eyebrow instead of striking him down with a spell, Jake figured he might actually come out of this with his head intact. He made a move toward Sims planning to drag him out of there. The old woman held up a hand signaling he should stop. “Must you rush toward your doom?”

Jake froze in place. She didn’t believe him. “I am your servant, Kalesh. I am here to serve the will of Amolon.” It was a lie, unconvincing and desperate.

She regarded him for a long stretch that might have been only seconds, but felt like eternity. “We shall see.” She teased him with a hint at the promise of life.

Nicolau moved closer. “Perhaps I should question him.” His offer caused Jake to clench up at the idea alone. 

“Leave him for the moment, Nico,” the priestess waved off her favorite. “For now I am more interested in this one smelling ripe with magic. Layers upon layers of it seep through his skin and bones, yet I sense it is not his nature.”

Part of him wanted Kalesh’s attention anywhere else, but Jake knew that if she focused her substantive magical powers on Harry Sims that she would discover the truth. Should he betray the firm by ratting them out? Would it save his life if he revealed that the Senior Partners were planning to forestall the Rites of Tavrok and prevent Amolon’s passage to Earth? Disloyalty was never a consideration, but Wolfram & Hart had ensured that he could not speak out against them by means he would prefer not to remember. 

They watched as Kalesh disposed of the bindings that held Harry Sims apart from his memories and abilities. The blind terror ravaging his face subsided into a mask of serenity as if he suddenly had all the answers. “You’re looking for a gypsy,” he revealed confidently. “I can tell you more.”

“I am listening.”

Harry’s gaze met his across the cavern. “This jerk is screwing you over, lady. These lawyers from Wolfram & Hart are up to their eyeballs in bad deals. The only thing they worship is the bottom line—or themselves.”

Kalesh surprised him by saying, “We are aware of their desire to interfere in our plans. Your arrival has revealed their strategy.”

“What?” Jake spouted. “The firm would never betray Amolon. His coming is foretold.”

“Perhaps that is why your superiors act with such desperation.” She cackled so that her nearly toothless grin made him shudder. “Your connections have done much to forward our goals, but it seems that time is over.”

Once again, Nicolau interjected, “Allow us to deal with this traitor. He need not spoil your vision any longer.”

Isobel wrapped her hands around her sire’s arm, a plea on her pouting lips. “Oh, let me, Nico.”

“Not yet,” Kalesh stayed his execution with a sharp order. “You are far too eager, the both of you. There is still much to learn. The mind of this Sims is clouded by magic. Though he is not Varstrae, he possesses visions common to their kind.”

“My visions are not common,” Sims took offense. “My precognitive abilities are primo quality. I’ve been tested as a Level Three.”

The technical process of testing precognitive powers meant nothing to the priestess, but she recognized Sims’ potential. She worked her magic again until layer by layer the spells placed upon Harry Sims were stripped away. He lay immobile on the rocky cavern floor for some time. Jake wondered if the spells had wiped him out, or if he was just remembering everything that had been locked away in his head. 

What was Sims going to say, and was there any way he could live through it? Jake was not about to panic. The firm didn’t pay him big bucks for losing it every time a demon threatened to kill him. Those daily occurrences usually started with his clients. The opposition always had their own nasty threats.

“You’re planning to kill me, too,” Sims looked right at Kalesh surprising Jake who thought he would be busy begging for his life. “You won’t. I’m valuable. There are things you need, and I can get them for you.”

Kalesh approved of Sims’ bravado. “What kind of things, Harry Sims?”

“The gypsy I mentioned, for one,” Harry elaborated. “He’s the one you want for that ritual.”

“Yes, if he is the one I seek, I would hear more.”

Even as he haggled for his life with information, Sims managed to try to strike a deal. “Wolfram & Hart made me promises.”

It came as no surprise to Kalesh who had known men throughout the ages. “Do you desire wealth, Harry Sims?”

“Yes, yes I do, priestess. Happy to help your little cause if you help mine.”

Nicolau sounded out his disgust. “Do you humans know nothing but greed?” The vampire was in this for his faith and promises of power. Money meant little to him, but Jake supposed that was because he already had it in plenty.

Even if Sims had an appropriate comeback, he knew better than to respond. Jake was beyond defending humanity. It was all too apparent that he would have to face the consequences of his actions. Damn you, Lilah Morgan. What was worse? Facing the likelihood of his own death, or knowing that she would get the job he wanted?

“I offer you an opportunity,” Kalesh told Sims who scrambled to his feet as quickly as possible. “Join me, use your abilities to aid my cause, and you will be granted anything you desire.”

Sims’ decision was already made. “Sounds like a better deal than the one I made with Holland Manners. Great lawyer for an evil bastard.”

“The arrival of our god Amolon will ensure the destruction of Wolfram & Hart. All they possess shall be reduced to rubble.”

Harry Sims was okay with it. “That works for me.”

Kalesh nodded in satisfaction. The deal was done. Sims was hers. Jake only hoped he could get away with it, too. “What about me?” He was prepared to beg for a quick death. Anything but the torture Nicolau might devise for him. 

The priestess did not bother to look his way. She merely raised a hand giving her loyalest followers permission to proceed. Nicolau tilted Isobel’s chin up high letting her know this was his decision even while giving into her wishes. His soft words sounded like a caress, “Finish what you started.”

Jake stood his ground even though the urge to run burned though him knowing he was no match for Isobel’s supernatural speed. No sooner had permission been given than she was standing inches away licking her lips. Before he could blink, she thrust him against the closest wall, and it all came back to him— the sensation of her soft hands, the rush of fear, the pounding of his heart in his ears, the slick flick of her tongue lapping at his blood. 

Whispering into his ear, “It seems you are quite diverting after all.” Isobel’s beautiful face shifted into a nightmare of ridges and fangs a moment before she ripped into his throat.

204: Upstairs at the Crawford Street Mansion

Steven Spielberg could put her on set right now. “I could totally rock it as a female Indiana Jones,” Cordelia imagined herself in a box office success while approving her carefully selected clothing. Having raided Faith’s closet and Drusilla’s jewelry box to add to the overall aesthetic, she declared herself ready to dig for buried treasure, minus any actual excavation.

Faith caught her gaze in the mirror as she leaned against the bathroom door frame. “All you need now is a revolver and a leather whip.”

“Do you want one?” asked Drusilla in all seriousness. 

The inability to see Dru’s approach in the mirror startled her more than the offer. One of those supernatural oddities she was still getting accustomed to it still gave her the shivers. It was a little easier with Angel because she was usually focused on his presence no matter where he was in a room, yet the way he snuck up on her sometimes still managed to startle.

Cordelia turned around as Faith snapped, “Not so close, Fangy!” The slayer whipped into a defensive stance as Drusilla casually stepped up behind her. An edgy vibe passed between them despite their temporary truce. Always a second or two away from a fight, they locked gazes, ready to kill each other at any sign of betrayal.

Breaking up the sudden tension, Cordelia quipped, “I’m more of a riding crop kinda gal,” addressing Drusilla’s offer of a whip. Having rifled through their belongings while looking for something for the vampire to wear on tonight’s excursion, she knew they kept all kinds of interesting accessories around.

“Sounds like fun, Cor.” Faith relaxed again giving her a skeezy grin hinting at some sordid thoughts.

Tittering at their naughty conversation, Drusilla agreed, “My Angel is a lucky one. I suppose Miss Edith would enjoy watching,” she added as if not talking about herself.

A rush of heat flushed Cordelia’s cheeks. Having deliberately focused on the task of getting ready for their outing, she realized Angel was never that far from her thoughts because it was all too easy to imagine. Now that they had put the thought in her head, it was kind of stuck there, forcing a little snort of laughter to escape. “Voyeuristic dollies can mind their own business.”

Dru’s bottom lip pooched out in protest. “I let you watch.”

Cordelia’s eyes widened upon realizing that Faith was hearing this for the first time. She hadn’t told anyone about it. Not even Angel. Telling her friend—a slayer—that she had watched Spike giving Dru a little ‘love bite’ hadn’t exactly been tops on her gossip list. Funny how not wanting another lecture about vampire fangs could do that to you.

“Watch what?” Curiosity ballooned quickly. Faith kept her words light, yet her eyes narrowed warily. “Was there a show and tell you forgot to mention?”

“It was more show than tell,” Cordelia waved it off as nothing even though the experience still lingered. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. Drusilla’s invitation had been strictly educational, and not a kinky voyeuristic thing at all.

Most subjects were an open book between them. Even intimate details of her sex life because it was just too good not to talk about with her best female friend. Cordelia occasionally had questions, and without access to the latest copy of Cosmopolitan, the next best source of experience was Faith. Miss Wham-Bam wasn’t exactly trained in the Kama Sutra, but she never shied away from any topic when it came to the subject of sex, and Cor appreciated the honesty.

Still, sharing the fact that Drusilla had invited her for an up close and all too personal view of Spike’s fangs sinking into his sire’s throat probably wouldn’t get the same reaction. Technically, it was just a vampire bite. “Nothing you haven’t seen before,” she shrugged. This one had been different from what she had seen on Sunnydale’s streets. Oddly, it seemed kind of sexy. Maybe it was Spike’s surprisingly gentle touch, or the way Dru moved against him as he penetrated her skin.

Watching had been shockingly hot, and yet horrifying all at once, especially because it was intended to persuade her to allow Angel the option to do the same. It wasn’t that she was denying him. Just that there was so much more tied up in his desire to claim her than the occasional use of his fangs. Faith expected the 411 on her conversation with Wesley, too. She had been curious, but not pushy. Not yet anyway as there hadn’t exactly been any downtime for girl-talk.

This was about something more intimate than sex. Cordelia couldn’t talk to Faith about Angel’s desire to claim her, or her decision. There was only one person who needed to hear what she had to say on the matter, and that was Angel. Later tonight, after they found the crystals and were in a celebratory mood might be the best time to talk, she decided. 

Teasing her, Faith chided, “You’ve been holding out on me.” 

“Says the girl who still hasn’t spilled the beans about Xander.”

Faith promptly shut her mouth.

Daring to move closer, Drusilla pointedly asked, “What have you to do with my sweet boy Xander?”

Trying to change the subject or escape, Faith slid toward the bedroom door. “We going any time this century?”

Cordelia eyed her outfit. “You’re ready?” Sporting one of her basic black tank tops over a pair of worn denim jeans, and matching jacket, the slayer looked the same as always.

Removing a lipstick from her pocket, Faith painted a dark red layer across the contours of her lips. “Have been for twenty minutes.” 

Not one to let a subject go once she had noted it, Drusilla followed in Faith’s direction. They faced off in front of the closed bedroom door. Glaring at one another they looked ready to scratch each other’s eyes out, although fangs and a stake might be involved, too. Cordelia’s brows arched high. “Are you really going to fight over Xander Harris?”

Faith was all too ready. “High time Dru stopped playing games. Xander is not her little thrall anymore.”

“Nor is he yours to despoil,” the vampire denied any claim Faith might have upon him.

Cordelia shook her head wondering if her ex had been playing around with love spells again. Last time the whole town had been after him.

“Too late! Consider him despoiled, deflowered, and devirginized.” Faith dared to smirk triumphantly. It might not be a stake to the heart, but Dru let out a little screech at the news. “We did the nasty. I jumped his bones, rode the red rocket, busted the broncho, took him to pound town. Get the picture?”

Well, Cordelia certainly did, her head spinning. Far too clear a picture. “Yeah, how could we not—red rocket? Eww!” Faith might like to hear every little detail about her hot escapades with Angel, but the reverse wasn’t exactly as sexy when it involved Xander.

Faith shrugged unapologetically. “It’s accurate.”

Openly scowling in disapproval, Drusilla worried for her funny little human. “Did he enjoy your crude seduction?”

“Let’s just say he had a blast,” answered Faith sticking to her rocket analogy. 

Cordelia never doubted that. Details aside, she was curious about one thing. “Was this momentary insanity, or are you dating now?”

Without hesitating, “I don’t date,” Faith answered flat out.

That didn’t rule out another sneaky seduction, Cordelia noted with a snort.

Drusilla seemed to accept the answer. “Then fear not, Slayer. I shan’t spill your blood tonight.”

“Right back atcha,” Faith eased up a little, but did not move until Drusilla put some distance between them.

Stepping in, Cordelia put an end to it. “Hey! Reserve the claws for later. I’m sure you can find some evildoer to rip into during our Crystal Hunt.” 

Faith crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly reminding her, “Drusilla is an evildoer.”

Simpering, “You may trust me as you would any of Cordy’s friends,” she was the picture of innocence. 

With a dimpled grin, Faith gave her kudos for the speech. “Nice one, D,” but they all knew it was never going to happen. Some instincts were ingrained too deeply to ignore.

A wildcard, Drusilla’s unpredictable moods could lead to trouble. Even having spent time together while cooped up in the mansion, Cordelia still thought of her as a mystery. Expecting the unexpected was the norm now. Those crazy predictions, saving her from that demon, hosting tea parties with Miss Edith, kidnapping her for sexy bondage games with Angel, and the way she offered her sisterly affection and albeit sometimes kinky advice, left Cordelia feeling connected to her in a strange familial kind of way.

Random comments about hungering for blood definitely wigged her out. No forgetting that Dru was a vampire without the conscience provided by a soul. Despite the honesty, there seemed to be a thin line between her whims and an all out killing spree. Following Angel’s orders wasn’t a sure thing, but she had promised so sincerely to be on her best behavior tonight. Cordelia had made an effort to prepare her for their night on the town.

“What do you think?” Cordelia waved a hand up and down indicating Dru’s appearance. This was what had taken so long. Convincing the vampire that a long gown wasn’t appropriate for tonight’s excursion.

“One of the easiest ways to pick a vamp out of a crowd is the clothes,” Faith agreed that switching it up was the right decision. “Same old styles. Not too many walking around town in fancy silk dresses.”

Borrowing one of Cordelia’s miniskirts had been ruled out as Drusilla claimed to feel naked wearing it. “Fine, but your dresses belong in a museum. When this is all over, we really have to modernize your look.”

With no other choice but to use the clothing at hand, they finally settled on one of Drusilla’s favorite sleeveless red lace tops paired with black jeans. Rail thin in the hips Spike’s jeans were still a little loose, but wearable. Adding a belt and a stylish barrette to accessorize Drusilla looked runway ready, she decided giving herself kudos for the effort considering the look was thrown together at the last minute. 

Faith gave Drusilla a nod of approval. Fashion was obviously not her thing, but she was okay with keeping the vampire in a friendly mood. “Yeah, looks good.”

There was only one person whose approval Drusilla needed. “Will my Angel think so?” 

Cordelia ignored the possessive little tug those words created. “Absolutely, and if he forgets to say something, we’ll remind him.”

205: Downstairs at the Crawford Street Mansion

“We’ll head out in the Plymouth,” Angel reviewed the plan, “and drive around town until Cordy senses the Shards.” 

Giles had found no other clues during a quick scan of his notes. Nothing to help them hone in on the crystal relics’ location, or whether they would be heavily guarded once they found them. A golem had guarded the Amulet of Kalesh. Would they find a similar monster keeping watch over the shards?

Faith tucked a stake into the inside pocket of her jeans jacket. “We might need to upgrade the weapons.”

The demon population of Sunnydale had tripled thanks to the Bone Relic’s invocation drawing followers of Amolon to the Hellmouth. “Done.” Angel was on top of it having been waiting for them to arrive for some time. “My sword and a crossbow are already in the trunk.”

“Do I get a crossbow?” asked Cordelia almost too eagerly.

Angel’s brows scrunched up. Hadn’t they already settled that? “You won’t be anywhere near a fight if that happens. Faith and I can handle it. Drusilla will take you somewhere safe and protect you until it’s over.”

She gave him one of those looks. The kind that came with a figurative sharp bite. “Starting tomorrow, your training schedule is full. If I’m going to be on total lockdown we might as well make it worth our time.”

Faith nudged Cordelia leaning in to tease her with, “Bet it will be.” Somehow, Angel figured she wasn’t talking about crossbows and defensive techniques.

“Real training,” Cordelia countered as if the idea of other distractions hadn’t entered her mind. “Why should I depend on everyone else to save me?”

“There’s no need to put yourself at risk.” 

A little scoff sounded just before her eyes rolled up. “Kinda late for that.” Cordelia grabbed a stake from the stockpile in the weapons cabinet. Finding a convenient pocket in the leather jacket she had borrowed from Faith, she tucked it away. “Nifty!”

Angel had been trying not to stare at the way those supple leather pants and the silky blouse clung. Christ! He wanted to peel those clothes off one layer at a time, slowly. Now was not the time for the heavy rush of desire he felt as he caught himself leering. Whether she was dressed for exploration or a night at the Bronze, he supposed he would think the same thing.

“You’re all set, Cor,” her friend gave her a thumbs up. “Even Drusilla looks like she might belong in this century for once.”

Angel felt a twinge of guilt for not having noticed. No wonder it had taken so long to get them all downstairs. They had been exchanging clothes.

“Nice,” he said noting their expectant stares.

206: State Street, North Central Sunnydale

Dark clouds hung ominously overhead threatening to rain on the convertible. Angel had packed weapons in the trunk of the car to deal with all manner of threats, but nothing to keep them dry in case of foul weather. Cordelia had quickly nixed his suggestion to secure the roof. 

“What’s the fun in having a convertible if you don’t drive with the top down?”

Technically, the Plymouth belonged to her, but Angel felt a sharp twinge of concern about the carefully maintained leather interior. If they stopped for any length of time he was definitely putting the top up. He had taken the wheel while Cordelia navigated their way around town toward places where she hoped to pick up a vibe that might lead to the Shards of Ahli-Tah.

So far his three passengers seemed more interested in discussing manicures than any serious consideration of the local sites or concern over the potential dangers cropping up during tonight’s excursion. Chauffeuring Cordy, Drusilla, and Faith around town might actually be a welcome distraction instead of the daunting prospect some might consider it to be. Even though Cordelia tried to include him in the conversation by asking his opinion now and then, she wasn’t pushy about it. Angel felt the tension in his shoulders ease up a notch or two, but he remained on constant alert watching the streets for signs of trouble.

Suddenly, Cordelia called out, “Ooh! Turn left,” pointing at the intersection ahead.

Angel glanced her way, asking, “Are you sensing something?” The translation of the ancient text revealed that only one of the Varstrae could discover the hidden crystals. Maybe Cordelia had picked up a vibe after all.

He caught her enthusiastic nod as he navigated the turn onto Maple Court Road. It ran north to south from US-101 almost to the beachfront. “I’m practically jittery,” she said clapping her hands. “My heart is skippy with it.”

Yes, he could hear the escalation of her heartbeat thumping away. Cordelia was definitely feeling something. With any luck she was sensing the crystals. Their recovery would be quick making this potentially dangerous excursion short and sweet.

“Here! Right here. Turn in and park anywhere. This has got to be it.”

Following instructions, Angel made the turn and examined the structure in front of them. Drolly, he said, “Cordy, this is the mall.”

Even Faith had to ask, “Are you sure this is the place?”

“Yup!” A wide smile beamed her delight. “Wow! I’m really feeling vibey.”

Angel’s brow dipped low. How many times had Cordelia extolled her love of shopping? He could easily picture the layout of the Sunnydale Mall simply from recounting her detailed descriptions of the place. “Your vibes might be off,” he pointed out her prior concerns about experiencing a serious medical condition. “I think your ‘mall withdrawal’ might be acting up again.”

Cordelia snorted, but quickly defended her choice of location. “The mall has all kinds of places to search for the crystals, like antique shops and jewelry stores.”

When she put it that way, it almost sounded legit. Angel wasn’t one hundred percent convinced that exploring the mall was going to help them find the Shards of Ahli-Tah, but he wasn’t about to hold Cordelia back, either. This might lead to a legitimate discovery. “That’s a lot of territory to cover in an hour.” The mall was going to close soon, and they weren’t going to have time to dawdle—or window shop. Technically, they could find a way to stay after closing if this excursion looked promising, but saying so might slow things down. 

“We can stay until closing.” Cordelia was already out of the car before Angel turned off the engine. “It’s not that much time. We have the whole night to search the rest of town.”

Maybe they’d get lucky and find the crystals. Even if it was a long shot, there was still a chance it could happen. Minuscule, but definitely a possibility that an antique dealer at the Sunnydale Mall might possess the ancient, powerful crystals. He could give in to the idea for an hour considering the worry-free, eager smile lighting up Cordelia’s face. How could he resist that smile? It sparked a few vibes inside him, too.

Meeting Faith’s gaze as they got out on their side of the car, Angel warned, “Don’t let down your guard.” 

“Never do.”

207: Sunnydale Mall Parking Lot

Faith walked past Angel to join the others, but stole a glance at him over her shoulder. He had already turned his attention to the Plymouth putting its top up with a hurried pace that had nothing to do with the possibility of rain. The short distance separating him from Cordelia was probably already too far for comfort. Clingy wasn’t really the word for it. Angel was over-protective in a way she hoped would lighten up when the immediate danger was over. 

Possessiveness was definitely a vampire thing, but this was more. Faith had no idea what love felt like, not really. The screwed up feelings she had for Bax had been nothing compared to this thing between Angel and Cordelia. It was far more than just being into each other, even if hot sex probably helped seal the deal. Not that she had spent that much time imagining what they got up to night and day. All of that screw-your-brains-out sex with a side of sweet extras. Nope, never thought about it more than a few times a day.

Just enough to notice that something was going on between them that Cor hadn’t fessed up about. Normally they talked about everything. It bothered Faith that her friend had arranged a private meeting with Wesley without clueing her in on the details. Cordelia wasn’t that big on secrets. Anything worth saying, she said it. Her mouth had no filter. So why the hush-hush deal now?

Shrugging it off, she caught up to Cordelia and Drusilla in time to hear the vampire complain, “Why is my sweet morsel Xander not here? He was to keep me company.”

“He’s busy helping Willow,” Cordelia explained as the little eye-roll silently added on that it was nothing new.

Faith preferred not to talk about Xander. No reminders about what happened between them. Besides, Drusilla had already had one meltdown. “Guess that makes me your date.” The kind that would keep her out of trouble.

No telling what Dru might get up to tonight. The mall was public, but it was a favorite hangout for vampires. Lots of hidden spaces. Humans everywhere. Kind of an all-you-can-eat buffet. 

Moving ahead to take the lead, Faith paused upon grasping the door handle. “Last chance before Angel catches up,” she teased Cordelia. “So why are we here? Is this a shopping spree, or really about the prophecy?”

A glance over her shoulder told Faith that Angel was finished messing around with the car. Cordelia didn’t bother whispering. “Multitasking is my thing. No reason why it can’t be both. Besides, it’s not like I can do much more than window shop these days. I’m just following my instincts.”

“Your instincts brought you to the mall?”

With a shrug, Cordelia admitted, “They usually do.”

208: Sunnydale Mall, Main Entrance

There was a different vibe to the mall at this time of evening. Cordelia knew them all. The noisy hustle and bustle of the daytime had already given way to a quieter lull. It might not be the Beverly Center or Rodeo Drive, but she had a connection with this place. Maybe not the brick and mortar of it even though the charges on her platinum card suggested she should own quite a chunk. If only they named malls for their best customer. 

Former best customer, Cordelia conceded, realizing that the Chase name was not exactly worthy of neon lights at the moment, even at the mall. Still, the idea of seeing her name in lights had some appeal, definitely something for her To Do List once she crossed off the pending apocalypse. So many stores, so many possible places to explore.

That did not mean Cordelia deemed every store worthy of her interest. Some were hardly up to her standards. Willow had to buy her clothing somewhere, she supposed. Only the most devious of demons would hide magical crystals at Sears. She shuddered at the thought.

No way! There were plenty of places to search and her instincts told her to avoid that one. Pfft! Even the bad guys had to have better taste.

The entry diverged into three corridors leading to different parts of the mall. Escalators led to the upper level where the Food Court overlooked the central area below. Dozens of colorful kiosks filled the spaces between the smaller stores lined up along the way selling wares to be cooed over or mocked in equal measures.

Not that the mall experience was just about the things she could buy or not buy. It was the people who were there, and what shopping bags they were carrying, and the things that might be in them. Because the mall was rarely a thing one did on one’s own. Normally, Harmony, Aura, Gwen, Aphrodesia, Blue, and the rest would be there to share gossip hanging on every word, picking up on her fashion-setting trends, and taking her opinions seriously because they meant something.

That hadn’t happened in ages now. Not since she had started dating Xander. Cordelia missed the freedom of doing anything she wanted, but she hadn’t given Harmony or the others much thought in a while. Maybe because life had thrown her a bag full of lemons and was already sour enough without them.

Sure, they were her friends, on the surface anyway. They all seemed shallow now. Clueless about everything that was important, just like she had been before Buffy Summers and sidekicks upended her life, and Angel came into it. Even though graduation was still months away and Cordelia had yet to return to school after her grandmother’s funeral, people and things faded into memory. There was too much going on here and now to think about the former Cordettes. 

Somewhere, in some hidden corner of this mall were some very important crystals, and she planned to shop, er… search every inch of it.

“Know where you want to go first?” Angel asked as he stepped beside her. 

Cordelia eyed him up and down noting the apparent absence of weaponry. “No broadsword?”

“Too conspicuous.” 

Noting the way Angel’s long duster hung on his frame, she suspected he had plenty of other tricks up his sleeves. “This way! I’ve got a hunch.” Threading her fingers through his, Cordelia tugged on his hand.

209: Antiques & Oddities, Sunnydale Mall

A cacophony of human heartbeats played like music in Drusilla’s ears making her tingle in anticipation. So many sounds. So many scents. Delicious little treats within reach everywhere she turned. Endless options to choose from just as available as clothes hanging on the racks in the stores. 

If only Angel would let her taste one or two. Drusilla signed longingly as one late shopper paused next to her to shuffle her shopping bags around before moving on. All she had to do was reach out and—suddenly the slayer was standing between them. “Don’t even think about it,” Faith’s casual warning drew no attention from the woman behind her. 

Drusilla’s gaze followed along as she walked away completely unaware that she had drawn the interest of a vampire. “I was only looking.”

“That’s not the kind of window shopping Cor has in mind,” Faith chided. “I’m sure Angel prefers you don’t bleed anyone dry.” 

“My Angel is not as fun as he used to be.”

Things were quite different now than when he had no soul. The nasty thing had changed him so much, but it could not be lost as once it had been. He was still her sire and her happiness was ultimately found in his. Cordelia was his happiness now, sweet kitten, full of life, and warmth, and love for him. It was all too sickening sometimes, but thrilling too.

She saw it so clearly in visions of the days ahead, their future together, but there were darker visions. Scary, terrifying glimpses of things to come. If the witch could not be stopped and the skies opened. If Cordy fell into the abyss of darkness waiting to swallow her whole. Angel’s despair would be complete and unshakable.

“That’s not what Cor tells me,” Faith dimpled at her own joke drawing Dru out of her dark thoughts. “He’s plenty of fun in bed.”

A mirthful laugh wriggled up from inside her. Dru slid a glance toward Angel and Cordelia as they examined a crystalline lamp on display. “Do you yearn for such a lover, slayer? Human men do not have half so much stamina or experience as our Angel.”

Drusilla enjoyed the way Faith tried not to squirm. There was no need for the slayer to answer for her attraction was all too obvious to the vampire. It was the same for most women who met him, whether or not he had a soul at the time. “A pity, poor slayer, that you burn for what you cannot have.”

The crude little quip on Faith’s lips only deepened Dru’s amusement. Having forgotten her ire, she let her attention wander, noting movement within one of the shops nearby. “Hey! Where are you going?” Faith went ignored as she left her side only for the slayer to follow.

Cordelia and Angel soon caught up with them. “That last place was a bust,” Cordy said having examined every object in the third shop on their quest. Eyeing the window display in front of them, she excitedly said, “Ooh, let’s try this one. Vibes. Gotta go where they lead.”

“Right.” Angel responded faithfully.

Drusilla glanced up to say, “Listen to the vibes. They’re not so nice this time. Bad vibes. Mean ones. I don’t like them.”

The artisan jewelry store had several people inside. “Trouble?” Angel noted that Drusilla’s attention had already turned back as she stared through the window, her gaze sliding from customer to customer.

Faith shrugged, “No blips on my slayer radar.” If there was trouble ahead, it did not come in the form of a vampire. Warning him that it was probably the customers causing that reaction, she noted, “Looks busy. Maybe Dru and I should hang out here.”

Missing the point as she stared at the window displays of crystal, metal, and stone jewelry, Cordelia defended Drusilla’s right to enjoy the mall, “Where’s the fun in that?”

“We’re not here to have fun, Cordy,” reminded Angel as his patience started to wear thin.

“Live a little. We can do both.”

Drusilla heard the hint of defiance in Cordelia’s voice. Disappointingly, Angel did not punish her for it the way Angelus might letting her feel the sting of her intent returned in some physical way. She moved up behind him, a hand sidling up his back, her chin coming to rest on his shoulder. Daring to echo, “We can do both.”

“Protecting Cordelia is your only priority.” Calm and stern, Angel did not raise his voice, but his intent was clear. 

Cordelia arched a brow as she stepped closer signaling that Angel might be the one in trouble now. “Lighten up,” she said causing Dru to titter. “Don’t be such a downer on my night out.”

Would there be a fight? Drusilla loved their little tiffs. Normally, she would be engrossed by their verbal sparring, and wait to see which one of them would win the point. Miss Edith always picked Cordy, and was usually right. Watching to see how long it would take for them to kiss and make up might be fun, but Dru had other things on her mind.

“Let’s all go in,” Faith tried to play referee.

The moment the slayer turned her attention to Cordelia and Angel was all Drusilla needed. Slipping back a few steps, she paused, watching for them to notice, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips as they did not.

“Right,” Cordelia agreed with her friend, “but this doesn’t have to be boring.”

Angel struggled to hold back whatever it was he actually wanted to say. He settled on, “The crystals are the priority. We need to find them and get you back to the mansion.”

“You may like being boxed up in that derelict, but I happen to like a change of scenery more than once in a blue moon.”

“I thought we had settled that.”

“Did you? Pfft.”

Faith talked over them saying, “You might wanna tone it down. People are starting to stare. I though we were gonna keep this low key.”

Taking the opportunity to turn back to the store window, Drusilla continued her stalking undisturbed. There were five of them inside the store, blondes, brunettes and one ginger, fair and dark, all dressed up in pretty clothes. All dolled up like Miss Edith with perfect hair and shiny shoes.

They talked so much chattering away with nothing much to say. Talk, talk, talk. Their hearts beating a much more interesting tune pumping blood into their veins. Dru pressed up against the glass listening to the familiar song. It sounded so sweet. Their blood would be sweeter still on her tongue if only she could taste it.

A loud ‘harrumph’ sounded causing Drusilla to jerk away from the window. It was the slayer! Realizing quickly that she had not been caught, she saw that Angel and Cordelia were in each other’s arms ending their argument with a mesmerizing kiss, their bodies pressing into one another, lips soft and clingy. The noisy interruption was not for her, but them.

“Break it up, lovebirds. More of that and you’ll set off the smoke detectors.”

“Consider them on fire.” One of the blondes from the store gasped at the hot display as she stepped into the corridor. The other young women cued up behind her with comments of their own.

Drusilla inched closer taking a more detailed look trying to decide which one she favored. The first blonde gave her a nasty shiver. There was something about that one that she didn’t like. Not one bit.

Still inside the store, one of the others asked the one blocking the way out, “Oh my gosh! Harmony, is that Cordelia Chase?”

Too busy gaping at the kissing couple, another answered, “It’s her! But who are they?”

“How should I know, Aura? Not her usual crowd.” 

“Sunnydale U, maybe? Her new friends at school are all weirdos.”

“Blue, he’s definitely not weird.”

“Totally hot.”

Someone named after a color had no right to call anyone weird. The level of judgement against Cordy and her friends irked Drusilla who now understood why she had sensed something off about them no matter how delicious they smelled or pretty their appearance.

Cordelia and Angel’s kiss came to an end as they realized they had gathered an audience. She glanced their way only momentarily, long enough to note their presence before looking up at Angel again. “What was that for?” Dru couldn’t imagine why she would be surprised. Their arguments always ended that way.

Noting the curious onlookers were all familiar to him, and not a danger to Cordy, he cupped her face and brushed one last kiss across her lips. “Maybe I was living a little.”

Drusilla sighed as something warm bloomed in her cold, dead heart. She did so enjoy watching them together. They were deliciously sweet in a way that reminded her of tea and biscuits. She could just eat them up—in so many ways, which reminded her that she was still feeling a bit peckish.

“Is that Buffy Summer’s boyfriend?” Harmony asked Cordelia directly.

Before she had a chance to say anything or even move out of Angel’s arms, the one called Aura clarified, “Ex. I heard they broke up.”

The news bolstered the ginger one into action. Practically pushing her way forward past Harmony, she sidled up to Angel for an introduction. “Hi, I’m Aphrodesia,” she gushed smiling at him in a way that made Dru curl her sharp nails into the palm of her hand leaving little pinpricks behind.

“Angel,” he said automatically.

Aphrodesia pressed a hand to her chest promising him, “I remember.”

How inappropriately forward, Drusilla thought, not liking her seductive smile as she moved closer to Angel. No matter how fruitless her attentions might be, such advances would only be her undoing. She slipped behind the group moving closer to the little tart who dared to encroach upon territory that was decidedly not her own.

“Cordelia, like, we thought you left town,” Harmony admitted her confusion at finding her at Sunnydale Mall.

“Just my parents,” Cordelia left her answer short.

The girls whispered to each other as Harmony said, “There are rumors.”

Aura agreed by exaggerating the point, “So many rumors.”

Aphrodesia was still focused on Angel. “What happened to Buffy? Aren’t you two still a thing?”

Having left Angel to his own defenses, Cordelia finally leaned in, “No, they’re not. Are you blind?”

“Just because you were kissing him doesn’t mean he’s yours.”

Faith snorted and shook her head. When Angel looked her way, she held up her hands and backed off a couple of steps. “Not my problem.” The slayer might not want to fight the little wretch, but Dru was perfectly happy to let her bleed out on the floor.

“Obvious, much? Get over yourself, Aphrodesia.”

“Cordelia and I are together.” Angel held her close either as confirmation of his statement or armor against further unwanted advances.

A little pout followed. “Fine. Your loss,” she said with a dismissive shrug.

“He’s certainly a step up from Xander Harris,” Blue leaned toward the last of the five girls. 

Drusilla heard the barb just as her hand reached out toward Aphrodesia. She whirled toward the other girl upon hearing the disgust dripping in her voice. That Blue girl dared besmirch the name of her sweet lumpy Xander. Oh, she would die for it as surely as her memories of the blue sky on a summer day. Painfully, if she had time to make it so.

Blue was standing on the other side of the group making it difficult to snatch her away without detection. Angel would not like a fuss. She was next to the blonde girl, the one who Drusilla had glimpsed before in visions of the days not so far ahead. No, she did not like Harmony with or without fangs.

“Your house is totally empty,” Harmony pointed out to Cordelia as if sharing something new. “Like deserted.”

Aura asked with a hint of concern, “Is that why you were living with your grandmother?”

“Killed by a burglar,” the last girl gasped as she recalled the circumstances published in the Sunnydale Gazette. “That totally sucks.”

Drusilla paused on her journey around the outskirts of the group huddled in front of the artisan shop. She heard Cordelia’s swift in-drawn breath noting the way her brow creased at the painful memory. Only Angel seemed aware of the hurt the girl’s words caused as Cordy recovered all too swiftly never allowing the others to see her pain.

“The funeral wasn’t that long ago. You weren’t there,” Cordelia pointed out their lack of support.

“No, we wouldn’t be,” Aphrodesia stared back. “Not our crowd, really.”

Harmony seemed to need a reminder of the whole thing as if it was beneath her. “Oh, right. Your granny lived on the East Side in one of those tiny little houses.”

Blue curled a lip. “Pretty low rent.”

Somehow, Cordelia did not claw the dismissive girl’s face off as Dru wanted to do. “Bev wasn’t rich, but she was classy. Unlike other people I know.”

Aura brushed off the insult as if it might not apply to her. “She so needed a better security system.”

“Guess she couldn’t afford it,” Harmony responded not even realizing that an insult had been flung in her direction. She asked, “Where are you hangin out now—the Downtowner Motel?”

Drusilla did not know the place, but assumed from the blonde’s noxious tone that it was yet another barb intended to sting her friend. 

Having heard more than enough from Harmony and her indelicate minions, Angel settled it quickly, “Cordelia lives with me.”

The shocked stares were quite satisfying to Drusilla as she let out a soft little laugh at their expense. They would never have the kind of love and attention Cordelia and Angel gave one another. Their lives droll and full of drudgery or death. She could see it. Perhaps she should leave them to their fate? One might do for a snack.

“Don’t even think about it,” Faith’s warning sounded all too close. “I’m still watching you.”

“Oh?” She had forgotten about the slayer for a moment being so focused on the human girls and their hurtful comments. “They’re all quite mean.”

Faith shrugged, “It’s what they do.” 

Following along as Faith led her away from the group, Drusilla asked, “Shall we kill them all for Cordy’s sake?”

“Tempting, but nah.” 

Stopping at a machine, Faith popped a quarter into the slot, turned a knob, and caught a handful of colorful gum balls. She popped a yellow one into her mouth and offered Drusilla the bright red one. Hesitantly, she bit down on it, enjoying the crunch it made.

“Cor’s got this,” Faith assured her. “Technically, they’re her friends.”

“Fiends,” corrected Drusilla chomping her gum only to accidentally swallow it down. It paled compared to the natural sweetness of blood, but as it seemed the slayer was not going give way, she asked, “May I have another?”

Faith held out her hand and let her choose. “Watch and learn.” She nodded toward the others.

Perhaps Drusilla should not have been so impressed by Cordelia’s ability to manipulate the weak-minded fools. Angel was certainly not weak-minded or weak-willed, and so these little fiends stood no chance against her.

“What treasure hunt?” Harmony instantly perked up when Cordelia explained their reason for exploring the mall.

Angel had been concerned about time constraints. Their ability to search the entirety of the building for the ancient crystals in the time allotted was likely to be a success. Drusilla sensed neither success nor failure, but neither had she foreseen their quest including these five misses. Yet suddenly there were squeals of excitement all around.

“Treasure!” Aphrodesia’s eyes lit up brightly.

“What kind of treasure?” Aura wanted to know details. 

“We would have totally signed up,” said Blue demanding to know why there wasn’t a flyer at school.

The one whose name Drusilla still did not know thought she had it figured out, “Maybe it’s for the festival.”

Cordelia quickly used the idea, “That’s right, Gwen. There’s a good chance that treasure is right here at the mall.”

“We know every inch of this place,” Harmony claimed as she glanced from shop to shop.

“Too bad it’s too late for you to form your own team.”

Downfallen, Harmony’s smile drooped at the thought of missing out. “That’s not fair. We didn’t know about it.”

Angel cleared his throat. “Cordy, it’s getting late.”

“Oh, right. Places to go, treasure to find.”

Harmony’s Dolce and Gabbana pink leather purse swung wildly at her elbow as she grabbed each of them by an arm. “Wait!”

“I’m on a tight schedule,” Cordelia rolled her eyes and nodded toward Angel. 

“Gosh, Cor, we haven’t seen you in absolute ages. We miss you. We could so help out your team,” she offered pleadingly while sparing Faith and Drusilla a glance, “whoever they are.”

Gwen added, “Only if there’s something in it for us.”

“Hello, it’s treasure,” Blue nudged Harmony to make the deal. “We can split it, right?”

Angel had no need to remind Cordelia the crystalline shards they could not be divided up as spoils. Helping spin the tale, he told them, “The crystals belong to the museum. There might be a reward. You’ll get whatever you deserve if you’re useful.”

“We’re totally useful.”

Cordelia smiled and roped them in a little more before handing out their instructions. They were like little birds eating out of her hand eager for any little crumb thrown their way though they deserved no such attention as far as Drusilla was concerned. 

Issuing orders, she told them, “Go store to store looking for anything that might be worth a closer look. I’m the only one who’ll recognize the crystals, but you guys can help me narrow down the places to search.” 

“Any kind of crystal?” asked Blue. “Maybe like chandelier pieces? There are a thousand or so at Witherspoon’s Glass Emporium on level two. All kinds of shapes and colors.” 

Gwen had other ideas, “This place has crystal jewelry. Start here. I saw a big tray of raw crystals on the back wall.”

“What about mood rings or moonstones?” Aphrodesia wondered if that would  fit the description. “Birthstones are kind of crystal like.”

Cordelia urged them to look for anything beyond the norm prompting Aura to say, “There’s a creepy magic shop in town. Have you seen it? I went there one day thinking I could hire a magician for my brother’s birthday. It totally wigged me out.”

“Good idea. We’ll try it later.”

“Give us your new number.” Aura pulled out a shiny blue flip phone similar to Faith’s. “I tried your car phone a few times, but it said the number had been disconnected.”

Cordelia flushed red, but answered honestly, “I don’t have a phone. Let me give you Faith’s mobile. Call if you find anything.”

“Who’s Faith?”

“That’s me.” Faith moved forward bringing Drusilla with her. “My number is 555…”

Off they went scattering about the mall like little mice in search of cheese. It mattered only that they were aiding Cordelia in her quest to find the Shards of Ahli-Tah. Perhaps she would let them live. Before Faith could stop her, Dru slashed out with one hand as Harmony rushed by. 

A loud screech sounded moments later as a large rip in Harmony’s designer purse split open causing its contents to spill out across the tile floor. Giving Faith a wide-eyed innocent stare, Drusilla offered up a simple, “Oops!”

210: Back at the Mansion. . .

Every spell component was triple-checked for accuracy, content, weight and measure. Wesley took his responsibility quite seriously knowing that such details were necessary. Nothing could go wrong tonight. The next phase of their preparations was already underway as the others taking part memorized their roles. Willow would be the key player in the incantation being the witch who would cast the spell, but its complex nature required three supporters. Ideally, that trio would also be witches of the same coven, practiced at aligning their powers, and having their synchronized chanting down to an almost instinctive level.

All too new at this, Willow had no coven, just a band of those determined to see her succeed. A watcher, werewolf, and Xander were hardly the ideal participants. Although he could interpret and recite magical text, Wesley could only invoke what was already weaved into the words. He possessed no innate magical power to call upon in order to create a spell, unlike Willow.

Wesley felt confident in his role already knowing precisely what was required of him. The other two helpers, Xander and Oz, were most certainly at a disadvantage. Memorizing their part of the incantation and practicing the precise movements required to tie the spell together were the most challenging aspects.

“Say OH-ver-uh,” Oz corrected Xander as they went over the chant again, “not oh-VER-uh.”

“Gah! It’s all mumbo-jumbo. How long do we have to practice?” Xander heaved a sigh. “I’m kind of “OH-ver it right now.”

Xander’s joke could not crack through Oz’ natural stoicism. He remained straight-faced as he stuck to the lesson. “OH-ver-uh. Just like that.” Saying it again, “OH-ver-uh.”

Studying nearby as they rehearsed, Willow giggled at the two of them. “Looks like I’ve got my very own Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.”

Confused, Xander asked, “Weasel who?”

Wesley was unsurprised that Xander had not read the book Willow referenced. He doubted the boy cracked any book that was not required of him. His own review was initially a professional assessment assigned by the Watcher’s Council. Anything with mystical content required study for an association with real power. Providing an interesting twist on the mystical realms, it was only fantasy. The author had clearly done her research considering the details therein, but the book contained the power to entertain rather than open portals or retain actual spells.

Willow reminded Xander she had recommended he read the book. “Witches and wizards? Nah. That’s like a normal day around here.”

“Point taken,” Willow couldn’t fault him for that. Still, “Oz was right. It’s OH-ver-uh.”

Catching her gaze, Wes made a motion for her to continue the lesson. He wanted to update Mr. Giles on their progress. As usual, he was neck deep in research. “They haven’t come to blows yet,” Wes answered wryly after his inquiry on their progress.

“Tell me you didn’t let them prepare the herbs in the kitchen,” Giles returned only half joking. “The last thing we need is Xander adding poisonous condiments to our next meal.”

Wesley assured him that all was well in that department. The black hellebore and other herbs had been carefully ground into a powder that was to be burned during the casting. They had not used the kitchen for their preparations. “I cannot guarantee your breakfast will be edible, but it should remain poison-free.”

They allowed themselves a moment of levity at Xander’s expense even as they gave him credit for doing his best. He never turned down a task or put in more than 100% effort. Wes informed Giles of Willow’s readiness and enthusiasm for the incantation. “Should the boys do their part, I have no doubt as to Willow’s success. She may not have training in her art, but she possesses raw talent.”

Giles’ eyes darkened, “Too much, perhaps.”

“We will need it in the days and weeks ahead.”

“Yes.”

Despite the wary tone, both watchers knew all too well that Willow Rosenberg’s skills would be a valuable asset. Any small advantage they possessed considering the nature of their foe was a necessary tool in their arsenal.

“Any findings?” Wes nodded toward the open document on the desk and the page of pencilled notes.

A nod of confirmation followed. “More on the Shards of Ahli-Tah. Their precise role in the ritual remains unclear, but each crystal is designated for one of the Varstrae.”

“Will Cordelia be able to sense the one that is meant for her?”

Giles shrugged as he sat back in his chair. “We can only hope she will find them at all.”

“Placing her at risk tonight makes me uneasy,” Wesley admitted as a heaviness tightened in his chest. Knowing that his personal feelings were biased on the subject did not prevent him from acknowledging it was still necessary. The crystals were too important. “Kalesh must not gain control of the Shards, but it seems certain we will not be the only ones searching for them.”

“Trust your Slayer,” advised Giles. There was no doubt in his mind that Cordelia’s little ‘crystal hunt’ would not be as uncomplicated as she made it out to be. “Faith is there to back up Angel if they come across any dangers.” Then in afterthought, he added, “Drusilla, as well.”

Both of them were uncomfortable with the notion of her involvement. “Faith will keep an eye on Drusilla tonight,” Wesley assured him. “She understands the risks of letting a vampire off her leash.”

Faith had an excellent understanding of which end of a stake a vampire belonged. “Drusilla has developed a fondness for Cordelia. As long as that doesn’t change, she will be an ally, but she possesses a troubled mind and may turn on a whim.”

Wesley had done a lot of reading about Angelus, his sire Darla, and their other progeny. He was not going to let his guard down for a moment. Still, he considered her a useful if temporary ally.

“Tonight, I am less concerned with your Slayer than my own,” Giles told him. “Buffy is out with Spike. With his penchant for goading her at every turn it will be surprising if he does not end with a stake through the heart before sunrise.”

Wesley thought about it for a moment. Admitting, “I would be fine with that.”

“As would I,” Giles’ mouth curled upwards into a bare hint of a smile.

Navigation Links

Scenes 191 – 200     Home     FanFiction Home  Scenes 211 – 220

Story Status: Completed April 2026

What are your thoughts about ‘Season of Solace‘?
Kudos & Critiques