Title: You Forgot To Mention Hell, Horatio
Author: JR
Email: JRR42@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Status: Complete
Warnings: Nope. Not this time.
Category: Crossover with Highlander
Disclaimer: All other characters belong to their respective owners and are used without permission. This story is not intended to infringe upon any copyrights, nor is any profit being made from it.
This is what happens when you get involved with too many different fandoms.
Universe setting: For you Highlander fans, this story takes place sometime after ‘Archangel’ (sorry to all those Richie Forever people). Please forgive me for playing with the timelines of the shows, but hey, it’s fan-fic and I can do that ;-)
Thanks: As always, to Carrie, and to Marius, the oak and the ash to my birds in the forest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As you wish, Mistress.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oz!” Willow chided.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“9-1-1.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had a rendezvous to make.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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