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.

“Angel?” Oz whispered, unsuccessfully trying to control the involuntary shiver that ran down his spine. Even above ground, the werewolf’s extremely powerful hearing easily identified the familiar voice. Slowly closing his eyes, Oz found himself doing something he usually avoided for the second time that night.

He prayed.

Hearing the scream from the nearby chamber, Xander and Giles shared a horror-filled glance. Although Angel would probably never grace the top of either of their respective Christmas lists, both were truly frightened for the vampire. If only they knew what was happening!

In a reversal of their normal roles, it had been Giles who almost gave into impulse, actually fingering the stake he held in his gloved hand as he took a step in the direction of the chamber. The Watcher, however, was stopped by a hand grabbing his arm. Turning to face the teenager holding him back, the librarian’s wild eyes met Xander’s through the polymer plastic masks covering both their faces.

There was not even the slightest trace of indecision as Xander slowly, determinedly shook his head. It was definitely *not* the time to go running off half-cocked. The moment of hesitation was all Giles needed to regain the sense of purpose that had given way to blind panic. Nodding to the teenager that he understood, the Watcher stepped back to his previous position, guarding the ladder that led up to the street.

As Giles moved away, Xander allowed his shoulders to slump forward ever so slightly. Swallowing down against this latest rush of adrenaline, he focused his attention on the fire hose in his hands. The way the thick liquid poured quietly out of it was almost hypnotic. With nothing else to do for the moment, the teenager watched as thick substance oozed to the floor, then inched its way down the natural incline leading towards the larger chamber. Muffling a curse that it was taking far too long, the teenager silently urged gravity to do its work a little faster.

Thanks to the naturally descending slope of the ground, the thick fluid being pumped into the tunnels gradually seeped across the floor of the cavern. Between the crowding of the vampires caused by the lack of space and the natural tendency of the below-ground stone to stay damp, none of the occupants in the room took notice of the deadly tide spreading underneath their collective feet. Besides, looking down would have been a waste of time, especially with such an entertaining drama unfolding on the stage before them.

Almost completely drained of blood, it was only a minute before Angel’s cries ended. Only when her consort-to-be slumped forward unconscious did Eleni pry her fangs out of Angel’s neck. Overall, the vampiress was left frowning in disappointment. It had ended all too quickly in her not-so-humble opinion.

‘Typical of these Americans,” she grimaced to herself. ‘They are always in a hurry.’ But what else could one expect from a country whose general populous had the maturity and attention span of a group of three year olds? ‘The New World,’ the vampiress mentally scoffed at the nickname. ‘How apropos for a nation filled with savages who wouldn’t know true culture if it bit them on the neck.’

Hoping that the unensouled version of her future consort would have more stamina than the ‘kinder, gentler’ Angel before her, the vampiress stepped away from her captive. Stopping directly behind the altar, Eleni reached for the ceremonial knife that rested there. Holding it up high in the air, she showed the weapon to her soon-to-be followers.

“Let this blade,” she proudly proclaimed, “banish the soul that contaminates this weak, pathetic creature.” Assured of the crowd’s rapt attention, the vampiress forged onward. Bringing the sharpened edge of the razor to her own exposed wrist, Eleni dragged the knife from the very bottom edge of her palm to the middle of her inner arm.

“Let my blood flow freely!” Eleni exclaimed in profound reverence. “Let it free the demon held in bondage by his soul! I know that you are trapped in this frail body, Angelus. Drink, Angelus. Drink and be free!”

Raising her bleeding arm up to Angel’s face, Eleni pressed her blood-covered wrist to Angel’s lips and waited. Only a moment or so later, the vampiress cried out in victory as she felt the slight pressure of one of Angel’s fangs involuntarily brushing against the tender skin of her inner-wrist. Like most of the vampires in the room, Eleni knew all too well that, even unconscious, the demon within Angelus would force its host to feed.

And feed it did, much to the delight of the crowd.

Knowing what he had to do, the demon prodded Angel to pool his slowly rejuvenating strength in order to move. Too weak and unaware to defy the demon’s impulses, the souled vampire twitched his head, hungrily burying both of his fangs deeply into his captor’s flesh. A large spurt of blood struck the roof of his mouth, as his elongated canine teeth nicked a vein.

Happy with his unexpected bounty, the demon within growled and forced its host’s body to drink for all he was worth. It wouldn’t be long now.

“This is taking way too long,” Xander protested. For the third time in less than a minute, the teenager’s eyes once again drifted to the watch loosely attached to one of the fastenings on Giles’ fire-protective coat.

Realizing that the intense moment of calm Xander had experienced during Angel’s first screams was past, the librarian fought the urge to roll his eyes at his companion. So much for their temporary roll-reversal. Once again, Xander was back to his normal, impatient, teenaged state of jumpiness.

“Isn’t it time, yet?” Xander’s question was muffled by the mask over his face. “I mean, you haven’t even checked your watch lately. If you don’t check, how will you know if it’s time?”

“I’d venture to guess that the moment several hundred vampires start pouring out of that archway we will, indeed, know it’s time,” Giles whispered sharply in exasperation. “Now show some patience and do shut up before they hear you.”

Recoiling from the normally mild-mannered librarian’s tirade, Xander lowered his head. A brief wave of anger swept over the teen at the harshness of Giles’ reproach, but the knowledge that the older man did have a point quickly stifled Xander’s flaring temper. It was only then that the teenager realized something. Watcher or no, Giles was as nervous as Xander was at that moment.

Somehow, the teenager found that thought both comforting and disturbing at the same time.

All too quickly, a set of deceptively slender fingers wove themselves deeply into Angel’s hair. With a strength that betrayed her vampiric nature, Eleni tugged harshly on the hundreds of strands intertwined within her digits, forcing her consort-to-be’s mouth away from her bleeding forearm.

With his captor’s stolen blood flowing freely through Angel’s veins, the vampire became more and more aware of his surroundings. Fostered by a century’s worth of instinct, the part of Angel that was still a man began wresting control back from the demon within himself. It was a difficult struggle, but eventually the souled-part of him managed to prevail.

Exhausted, still hungry and wracked with pain, it took a moment for Angel to put together the pieces of where he was and what had happened to him. His eyes followed the long, slender arm he was feeding from in order to see the face of his benefactor.

As soon as he saw the long dark tresses of flowing black hair, all of Angel’s memories of the past twenty-four hours came back in a blurred rush.

‘Damn it all to hell!” Angel raged in his mind. ‘It wasn’t supposed to happen like this!’

He had planned it all so perfectly -- a scheme that was almost elegant in the simplicity of its design. Angel had been so careful as he laid the groundwork, convincing Eleni that she needed to ‘re-sire’ him as a vampire in order to rid him, once again, of his soul.

His endurance was supposed to pay off in the end, for in order to ‘re-make’ him, Angel would need to drink directly from the Spanish vampiress.

It should have been so easy. When the time came, all he needed to do was simply drain the bitch dry when she offered her blood to him. In fact, Angel even had a back-up plan. In the event of a worst case scenario, he could use the sharp edges of his fangs to rip her throat out -- a wound so severe, not even the most powerful of vampires could recover from it.

It was foolproof, Angel had told himself earlier that morning. At least, that was the way his plan looked on paper, so to speak. At the moment, though, it appeared that the only fool in the room was Angel himself.

For it was only now that Angel realized his incredible strategic error. Like a novice, he had made a stupid mistake -- he had greatly underestimated the intelligence of his adversary. And now, because of his own arrogance, the chances were great that he would be unable to prevent the spell that would create the Army of Legion from being cast.

Of course, Eleni had been wise -- or suspicious -- enough to anticipate just the kind of treachery Angel had planned. That was, undoubtedly, why she gave him her wrist to drink from, rather than her neck. That decision, of course, in turn effectively thwarted Angel’s plan A.

‘Guess it’s time for plan B,’ Angel grimaced.

Pooling all of what little strength he had left, the souled vampire took a moment to compose himself. Then, without so much as a warning, he threw back his head and began to once again scream.

Fumbling with the cheap digital watch attached to the front of his own jacket, Adam checked the time. As he suspected, the moment of truth had arrived. Taking a deep breath, he turned to his two female companions.

“Ladies?” Adam questioned. “Are you ready?”

“Like we have a choice now?” Cordelia questioned.

“Let’s just do this,” Willow said determinedly. Both Adam and Cordy looked at her with raised eyebrows, surprised by her uncharacteristic ‘take-no-prisoners’ attitude.

“You go, Sigouney Weaver,” Cordelia stated frankly. Willow and Adam were already taking a few steps toward their intended destination when their companion called to them one last time. “Good luck, you guys.”

The note of true sincerity in Cordelia’s tone stopped Willow in her tracks. Pivoting back to face the girl who had treated her so poorly for most of her life, the red-head paused for a moment to stare at her the former May Queen.

“Be careful, Cordy,” Willow cautioned.

“Me?” Cordelia asked, taken aback by the suggestion. “I’m not the one psycho enough to walk into a stadium full of the living dead. Now, will you please go so we can get this over with? If I have to stay in this fashion nightmare a minute longer, even my hairdresser won’t be able to fix the damage from the hat-ring that will form in my hair....”

As they walked away from the still-grumbling cheerleader, the Immortal and the witch shared a long look. While Adam may have rolled his eyes at their companion’s self-centered comments, Willow found Cordelia’s comments strangely comforting. It was good to know that, even on the Hellmouth, some things never changed.

With every step taking them closer to the danger ahead, all thoughts of the dark-haired girl behind them were abruptly banished from their minds. The time for humour had passed. Now it was time to kick a little vampire ass.

Unfortunately, it was also the time that Angel’s new screams of pain began echoing through the tunnels.

As the sound reached their ears, Adam and Willow both involuntarily tensed. With practiced ease, the Immortal reached down and slid his heavy broadsword from its make-shift sheath in the belt of his jacket. At the same time, the redhead tightly clutched the wickedly sharpened stake she was holding in her hands.

Armed and ready, the pair broke into a run as they flew down the remaining fifty yards to the main chamber.




Next Chapter