A Kiss Before Dying: Three
by Mediancat
Warren got back to the demon bar sometime around 5:30 -- daylight would be ending soon enough. He knew the Slayer was still in the hospital; a quick phone call pretending to be a concerned relative had fixed that.

The bartender did a double take at the robot duplicate following him. “This is what you got to help? A robot double?”

Warren shot him an odd look, and the bartender said, “One, I’m a fan of silver-age Superman comics. Two,” he touched his nose, “I can smell him. He looks human enough but he isn’t.”

“Most of my sources dried up,” Warren said irritably. “I got this and I got this,” he said, holding out the pistol.

“Isn’t that what got you in this mess in the first place?” the bartender said.

“You work with what you have to,” Warren said. Then, looking around, “So: My army?”

The bartender snorted. “Assembled in the back room. But let me tell you this.” He leaned in closer and said, menacingly, “You’d better not come back unsuccessful. If you come back and they don’t --”

“If they don’t come back,” Warren said, “I’ll probably be dead.”

“I know people,” the bartender hissed. “That might not stop me.”

Warren gulped and went back to inspect the troops.

X X X X X

It took them a while -- sewers being notoriously short on directional signs (though in Sunnydale, it certainly would have made sense). As they got closer, Warren stopped.

“Okay, he‘s not moving right now,” Cordelia said.

“That’s good,” came Angel’s reply.

“He’s a couple of miles away in . . .” she pointed to the wall -- “That general direction.” Then she turned to Anya, “Anya, when you wished that we could all know where Warren is, did you include yourself? Because he’s holed up someplace I’m not familiar with.”

Anya said, “Of course,” and visualized the map. “Ah. Yes. That’s Red’s. It’s the town’s demon bar.”

“What happened to Willy and the Alibi?” Angel asked.

“A couple of years back Willy decided to get into something less dangerous and with fewer chances of people beating him up.”

“What’d he go into?”

“Professional wrestling.”

Angel looked at Anya to see if she was making a joke, then decided she probably didn’t know how.

“If it’s a demon bar, there has to be a way to get there underground,” Cordelia said. “Next right.”

“I’m sure there is,” Anya said. “I’ve just never needed it. Fully human form here. No problems with daylight.”

“Do you know anything about the clientele?”

“They’re not in my social circle,” Anya said. “Apart from Clem. But the worldbeaters tend not to go there. Your basic demonic thugs and muscle, maybe some low-level magic ability, nothing big.”

“Still, if it’s as packed as these places usually are,” Angel said, “I’m thinking maybe a frontal assault’s not such a good idea.”

“Well, we’re all demons here, right?” Cordelia said.

“Yes . . .”

“Then I have an idea.”

X X X X X

Mr. Giles was dealing with some more paperwork, while Xander was on a snack run of some sort. Not like I’m hungry. But it seems to give him something to do.

That left Tara dealing with Dawn.

“So why couldn’t I be part of the spell?” Dawn asked in her bitterest voice. “Was I not good enough?”

“Dawnie, no,” Tara said. “The kind of spell it was -- I couldn’t involve you without explaining it to you. It wouldn’t have been right.” And besides, you’re still the Key, sweetie. I have no idea if that’s ever going to have any repercussions beyond that of your blood being able to open dimensional gateways. But now certainly wasn’t the time to find out.

But that explanation isn’t going to do any of us any good right now.

“She gave her life for me,” Dawn said, voice almost cracking. “I would have done the same for her.” After a second. “Or for Willow.”

“I, I know you would. But she wouldn’t have wanted you to.” Neither she.

Dawn said, “I know that. But I want to do something. Anya’s granting wishes, you’re making them, Angel and Cordelia are out there tracking down Warren. You cast a spell that saved Buffy. Even Giles is doing more than I have.”

“You’re doing a lot just by, by being here.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

Okay, enough was enough. “Right now, this isn’t really all about you, you know, Dawn.”

Dawn said, “That’s my sister lying in there.”

“Absolutely,” Tara said. “But she’s my friend. And in case you haven’t forgotten, that’s my girlfriend -- the woman I loved, the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with -- lying in the Sunnydale Police Station morgue. And yet I’m here not acting like, like it’s all about me. I’m here helping Buffy.” Tara looked at her. “I want to be down there, crying. I want to cry my eyes out right now. But, but I can’t.”

Dawn looked at Tara with a face an equal mix of irritation and sympathy. “Yes, you can.”

“No. I can’t. It’s like I was telling Xander earlier. Someone has to be the strong one.”

“You’re always the strong one,” she said. The sympathy was winning out over the irriation.

‘”I don’t want to have to be,” Tara said.

She moved closer to me on the couch. “I’m sorry, Tara.” She hugged me. “If you want to stop being strong for a while --”

Oh, thank you, sweetie. I appreciate the thought, I really do. But --

But I’m going to keep having to be, for a while, anyway. You don’t know how much I want to cry. To just break down. But Giles is busying himself in minutiae and Xander’s pacing and you’re frustrated because you think you’re useless -- and Angel and Cordelia and Anya just want to go hit things.

“Thanks,” Tara said once she pulled free of the hug. “But I can’t stop yet.” After a second, “That doesn’t mean you can’t start.”

X X X X X

Warren looked over the “army.”

The army, such as it was, consisted of about fifteen demons and vampires -- not one of whom seemed to have the intelligence to spell cat if you spotted them the C and the A. Still ,they were all keen to go after the Slayer. Tactics were going to be something of an issue -- they didn’t seem capable of grasping more than, “Crush. Kill. Destroy.” But fortunately, that was pretty much all that was called for.

“The one thing I want to be clear on,” he said, “Is that we go after the Slayer first. I realize that this is a hospital and some of you vampires are going to want to take a taste of some of the helpless people in their beds. All I ask is that you save them for after she’s dead. Then, go to town.”

“What’s the robot for?”

“The Slayer’s friends are going to be there. I want them to waste time going after it, not me.”

“Not a bad plan,” he heard from behind him. “Is this a private invasion or can anyone join?”

Warren turned around.

There was a tall, dark-haired vampire, a short and ugly female demon of some sort, and a gorgeous human-looking woman carrying a sword. She’d have to have been either a demon or a witch to make it past the bartender.

“The more the merrier,” he said. “And you are?”

“I’m Angelus,” the man said, cracking his knuckles. “And I’ve been wanting revenge on that Slayer for years.”

X X X X X

By the time they got to the street access closest to Red’s, it was right around sunset.

Cordelia stuck her head up to find the bar’s entrance – Angel, understandably, didn’t want to take the risk of incorrectly guessing exactly where the sun’s last rays might be falling – and found it within seconds.

When she came back down the ladder she said to Anya, “This Warren – I’m guessing he knows what you look like? Now, I mean?’”

Anya said, “Yes. He and his group had cameras installed in the Magic Box.”

“His group,” Angel said. “Are we going to go after any of them?”

“They’re already under arrest,” Anya said. “They’re for a later vengeance.”

“Anyway, you might want to take your demon form, then.” Anya did so.

“Would he recognize you?” Angel asked. “You were in the same high school –“

“I don’t think so,” Cordelia said. “He was a year ahead and he was as big a nerd as Wi –“ she stopped. “He was a really big nerd.”

Satisfied that Angel was not in fact going to flame out and die when he reached street level, the three left the sewers and headed over to the bar’s entrance.

The bartender looked them over dubiously when they walked in. “You don’t look like a demon,” he told Cordelia.

“And you don’t look suicidal,” was Cordelia’s response. “I like this form. Means I can walk the streets without having people come after me with pitchforks and torches.”

“She’s feisty,” the bartender said to Angel. “How do you keep her under control?”

“No one can,” Angel said, slipping into the Irish brogue Angelus favored. “That’s what I like about her.”

“Anyway,” the bartender said more jovially, apparently satisfied with their demon street cred, “What can I do for you?”

Angel said, “We’re looking for a guy named Warren. Last we heard he was headed here.”

The bartender looked them over again. “He didn’t say he’d gotten anyone else for that army of his. Just that robot double and the gun.”

The three looked at each other for a second before Angel said, “We heard about it on the streets that someone was forming an army. We’re always in the mood for some quality mayhem.”

“I can see why you wouldn’t like the Slayer, vampire, but what’s she done to you two lovely ladies?”

“She’s foiled a couple of wishes of mine,” Anya said.

And Cordelia added, “I just don’t like her.”

The bartender snorted. “Back room. Want any drinks while you’re here? I just got in a fresh supply of human blood, vampire – A negative. My other customers say its bouquet is exquisite. I wouldn’t know myself.”

“I ate before I got here,” Angel said. “But thanks for the offer.”

Cordelia and Anya also declined the bartender’s offer of a drink, then they went to the bar’s back room, where they saw a group of sixteen, maybe seventeen vampires and demons – far too many to take on at this point. Facing the demons, with his back to the trio, was a short human who could only have been Warren.

One of the vampires asked, “What’s the robot for?”

“The Slayer’s friends are going to be there, too,” he said. “While they should be no match for all of us, I want them to waste time going after it, not me.”

Angel said, “Not a bad plan. Is this a private invasion or can anyone join?”

Turning around, Warren gave them a once over – lingering over Cordelia, much to her disgust. “The more the merrier,” he said. “And you are?”

“I’m Angelus. And I’ve been wanting revenge against that Slayer for years.”

“And you?” Warren said to Cordelia in a voice he must have imagined as suave.

“Doyle,” came Cordelia’s answer.

“Odd name for a woman.”

“I like it,” Cordelia said irritably.

“And you?”

Anya rasped, “My name is unimportant. Are we going to get revenge on the Slayer or not?

“We are,” Warren said.

Angel, Cordelia and Anya moved around to join the other demons. Angel and Anya looked them over and separately came to the same conclusion: that these guys might have a lot of muscle, but if brainpower were lungpower they wouldn’t have enough to blow a bubble.

Still, that didn’t mean they couldn’t be dangerous. Especially with seventeen of them plus a guy with a gun, vs. only a few of them. Angel decided he’d have to pick a couple off along the way.

“What abilities do you have? Besides the wish?” Angel quietly asked Anya while Warren continued to give a motivational speech that probably had Vince Lombardi turning in his grave.

“I can teleport – but only myself. I’m about as strong as you are and I’m almost impossible to kill. But I’m not much of a fighter.”

“Damn. We need more backup.”

“If Spike hadn’t disappeared –“

“Let’s not bring him into this,” Angel said. “I realize I’m not the original wisher but do I have vengeance rights here?”

“You mean, will I grant you a wish?” Angel nodded. “Depends on the wish.”

“If I wished for additional help to protect Buffy –“

Anya shook her head. “Not vengeance.”

“How about additional help to take vengeance on Warren for Willow’s death?”

“That I can do.”

“I’d like to make a delayed wish, then.”

“Delayed?”

“At the first opportunity, I want you to teleport back to the hospital and warn them. Give them a chance to know what’s coming and to get ready for it. Then I want to wish for ‘Gunn and the Groosalugg’ to come here. We need all the help we can get.” Fred and Lorne were out, for different reasons.

“Why not Oz?” Cordelia asked quietly.

“Oz’s wolf comes out when he gets angry,” Anya said. “I think this would get him angry.”

Cordelia said, “True.” After a second – “Do you think Wes—“

“Don’t finish that sentence, ‘Doyle,’” Angel said. “I’d sooner bring back Spike.”

“And,” Warren was saying, “Since it’s after dark, I say we go right now.”

A chorus of enthusiastic yeahs came from the crowd; the three of them joined in. “Look for your chance and take it,” Angel said as the howling mob stormed out of the bar, the Warren robot at its head, the real Warren to the rear. “We’ll take out who we can along the way.”

Anya nodded and, the first time the band of demons rounded a corner, teleported back to the hospital.

X X X X X

Mr. Giles was done with the paperwork and Xander had rounded up, apparently, every single snack in the vending machine and was threatening to go to the cafeteria. Dawn seemed somewhat better, but that was relative to the circumstances, of course. No one handles things like this without it having some effect on them.

Even me, no matter how it may look from the outside.

Willow, sweetie: Guide me through this. Give me the strength you never knew you had.

The surgery on Buffy was coming to an end. Even with the bullet out, they had to repair the damage it had done. Luckily, since Buffy had briefly flatlined, there hadn’t been any more scares. Thank the Goddess.

Anya walked out of the nearby women’s restroom and went up to the group, motioning everyone together.

“I have bad news,” she said. “Warren. He’s gotten a lot of demons together and they’re all coming here with the intent of killing Buffy before she can get out of bed. Angel and Cordelia are spying on them right now. I’d say we have maybe a half hour before they get here.”

“Bloody hell,” Mr. Giles said. “Half an hour isn’t nearly enough time for Buffy to recover enough for us to be able to move her, never mind fight.”

“So we make a stand,” Xander said.

“We may have to,” Mr. Giles said. “But maybe –“ he looked at Dawn.

“No way, no how,” Dawn said. “You’ll have to knock me out and carry me away from here kicking and screaming. And I will be screaming.”

“But even with my help – and Angel and Cordelia’s – we’re still overmatched.”

“Angel brought in help,” she said, and said, “Done.”

Instantly two people blinked in: A tall, shaven-headed black man, and a heavily muscled, almost impossibly handsome man who looked like he belonged in Beastmaster. The latter man was carrying an axe. Interesting how no one complained about Cordelia’s sword. I’m betting no one notices Conan’s axe, either.

“Okay,” the black man said, “One of you all want to clue me on what the hell I’m doing here?”


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