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.

The introduction between Angel and Amanda had been...interesting...to say the least. When informed that the very attractive man sitting across the table from her was a vampire, the 1100-year-old thief had replied simply.

“Right. And I’m the Queen of Sheba.”

Ten minutes and a demonstration of ‘game-face’ later, the group resumed their places around the table, adding an additional chair for their newest guest. For the next three hours, they discussed, argued and speculated over the information they had accrued over the course of the past week. Amanda’s presence was a much- needed added bonus. Once she managed to suspend her sense of disbelief, she did contribute from to time with the fresh insight she brought to the table.

It was almost 11:00 PM when they decided to call it a night. Despite the recent devastation to Sunnydale’s vampire populous, there was still one last late-night patrol to be made. Adam also took his leave, citing the fact that they still needed to get Amanda checked into a hotel. Saying their goodnights, the Immortals headed off with a promise to meet the Slayerettes again at eight o’clock the following morning.

It was an appointment they never kept.

Later that same night Adam Pierson, as well as Amanda, vanished from Sunnydale without a trace.

When he reported for work the next day, Giles found the library exactly as he had left it with one glaring exception. The door of the weapons cage, which was normally locked when the library was empty, was ajar. Although all of the various weapons contained within were in their proper places, there were two very crucial items missing: the two Immortal journals on loan from the Watchers’ Council.

One Week Later

Angel was exhausted as he stumbled down the stairs. In the week since the abrupt departure of Amanda and Adam Pierson, the vampire had slept poorly every single night. No matter what he tried, he simply could not avoid the dreams that seemed to be haunting him.

For the first time in his life, Angel found himself *wishing* for nightmares. Having been plagued by night terrors since his soul had first been restored by the Romani clan, at least they were familiar territory for him.

Not like these new ones.

But, it wasn’t actually the *content* of the dreams that bothered Angel the most -- it was the person that seemed to be the star of them.

For Angel was experiencing intensely erotic dreams about Willow Rosenberg.

Another round of the heavy pounding that had roused him from his uneasy slumber echoed through his warehouse apartment. Throwing a robe around his boxer-clad body, Angel trudged down the stairs to answer the banging against the outer door of his apartment.

Wiping the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes, the vampire tried to determine the identity of his unexpected visitor. He was truly puzzled by that point. It couldn’t be Willow or any of the teens since school was still in session for the day, and Giles always called ahead.

The building’s northern exposure saved Angel from the worst of the sun’s rays as he cautiously opened the door. Standing on the other side was a Federal Express driver.

“Are you Mr. Angel?”

“Uh...yes,” the vampire’s puzzlement changed into a hesitant chuckle. It had been years since anybody addressed him as ‘mister.’

“Sign here,” the driver asked, handing over an electronic clipboard.

“Umm...where exactly?” Angel questioned, unfamiliar with the modern device. In all actuality, this was the first express package he had ever received. The vampire received little personal mail aside from the bills that came monthly to his post office box. Even the occasional items sent to him by Whistler were all hand-delivered via intermediaries.

“Here,” the driver pointed impatiently to the proper spot.

After signing the clipboard and thanking the man, Angel closed and relocked the door. Meandering in the direction of his sofa, the vampire carefully studied the unexpected parcel. It seemed too slender to be anything inherently dangerous. As far as he could tell, there were no strange scents coming from it, either.

Focusing on the plastic-covered shipping form, Angel observed the generic block lettering that betrayed nothing as to the identity of the parcel’s sender. The return address appeared to be a hotel in Manhattan, one that the vampire was unfamiliar with despite all the years he had lived in New York City. Yet the sender had been conscientious enough to include the names of the two streets that intersected outside of Angel’s apartment in order to insure that the parcel would be swiftly delivered. Finally, with no other options to pursue, Angel turned over the package and opened it.

Angel knew the identity of the sender as soon as Cassandra’s missing journal slid out into his hand. The book was accompanied by a thick stack of photocopied papers, all written in the Immortal’s neat, precise script. As he flipped through the pages, Angel realized that Adam must have translated the entire journal over the course of the past week.

Continuing through the copies, Angel came across a page marked with a yellow sticky note. Recalling that Adam often marked important passages by such means, the vampire opened the makeshift book more widely in order to closely examine the page in question. His eyes were immediately drawn to passage highlighted in yellow.

Prophecy o...{smudged}
‘Come from darkness, grown in...{smudged},
Bring forth goodness in the eternal...{smudged}
From one of change, and one who spies,
From one who slays, to one who’s died,
One of hex, and one who lives,
To fight for good, their lives sworn to give.’

Well, it was clear to Angel why the Immortal had noted this particular passage. It was more than a bit unusual though. Over the years, Angel had read a number of prophecies written about Slayers, and occasionally -- to his amazement -- even a few about himself. This was the first time, however, that the vampire had run across something that referred to the Slayer’s *friends* as well.

The places marked ‘smudged’ bothered the vampire. Prophecy of what, he wondered? Predictions were difficult enough to work with when they were complete, but this? This was virtually useless.

The other question in Angel’s mind at that moment, though, was why the Immortal had sent the journal to *him* rather than to the library? Perhaps, the vampire theorized, Adam wanted to ensure that it wouldn’t be seen by prying eyes at the high school. Or maybe he wanted to be sure that somebody, one of the Slayerettes in particular, received the book directly. Since he was confined to his apartment during the day, Angel *would* have been the most logical recipient in that case.

And where exactly was the other missing journal -- the one written by the supposedly 5,000 year old Immortal that one that Adam had initially dismissed as a fake? If it was so useless, why had he bothered taking it as well? Perhaps Adam’s interest was simply an Immortal thing -- curiosity over another of his race. Or maybe Adam was still transcribing it, intending to send it on at a later date.

Only when Angel finished skimming through all the photocopied pages did he come across the handwritten note shoved in between the translation and the journal itself. Dropping the set of copies on the coffee table, the vampire began to read.


Angel,

I hope this has found its way to you safely. I must apologize for my sudden departure, but drawn out good-byes have never been my strong suit. Then again, you strike me as a ‘slip out the back’ kind of person yourself.

I’m sure, once you see the section I’ve highlighted in the text, that you will understand why I have returned the journal to you. Although you are free to present the translations to Giles and his Council, I hope that he will honour our agreement to leave any reference to me out of any reports he makes to his superiors. Of course, after you finish reading this letter I am quite sure that you, of all people, will understand my desire for anonymity.

I suppose that I should say something here along the lines of what a wonderful time I had during my sojourn in your strange little town, but then we both know that would be a lie. What I can, and do, offer freely is my gratitude to you and your friends for the invaluable assistance you have given me. Whether you realize it or not, it takes an incredible amount of courage to do what you all do, especially your friends.

Treasure them like the gift they are, Angel. Don’t be afraid to cling to them for however long they are with you. But remember one thing, you foolish, brooding vampire, do not forget that they are mortal. It is their lot to die.

That is why you should take whatever happiness they bring to your life while they are there. Take it from somebody older and wiser. Mortals like Willow are extremely rare. She cares about you, Angel. Don’t allow your guilt over your past to weigh you down. Guilt is only the shackle with which we bind ourselves. Don’t be afraid to admit your own feelings to her. There is a fine line between stoicism and stupidity; don’t force yourself to stand on the wrong side of it. Enjoy what time you have together before she runs out of time.

Well, speaking of time, mine here in the Big Apple grows short. The information we amassed in the library has opened many new avenues of research for me to pursue. Oh, and I suppose you are wondering about the other journal...


The page ended, forcing Angel to turn the paper over in order to continue reading. As he finished the one and only sentence on the back side of the page, the vampire’s normally pale skin blanched to an even whiter colour. Stunned by what he read, his knees gave way and he sank heavily into the sofa behind him.

“Son of a bitch!” Angel whispered into the empty living room, his eyes reading and rereading the same line over and over. It couldn’t be true, could it? “You son of a bitch!”

A chill crept over the shocked vampire. Lowering his arm to rest uselessly on one of his muscular thighs, Angel stared blindly into space, his mind frantically reviewing the events of the past few weeks. Long minutes passed by as the vampire sat wondering just how they all could have missed the obvious.

‘And speaking of the obvious,’ Angel thought to himself, ‘is it possible that Adam could be right about...well... whatever it is that exists between me and Willow?’

After the fall of the Army of Legion, Adam and Willow seemed to fall into an easy friendship -- one so quickly formed it left Angel feeling unsettled from the moment he sensed it. At first, Angel wrote his concern off as simply being overprotective of Willow. She had, after all, become his closest friend and confidant in the past few months. It was, he told himself, only natural for him to worry about her safety, especially if Willow planned to keep any sort of company with an Immortal who frequently had people challenging him for his head.

‘But I wasn’t just being overprotective,’ Angel grudgingly acknowledged. ‘I was jealous.’

Jealous of a centuries-old Immortal who was most likely only being polite by satisfying Willow’s intense curiosity about Immortals.

‘God, I’ve been such a fool. Adam was just being friendly to her, like I *should* be doing,’ Angel admonished himself. But given his dreams of the past few days, it was clear to the vampire that friendship was only the cornerstone of what he really wanted with Willow.

The only real question that remained was: Would Angel be brave enough to go after what he wanted?

It was over an hour before Angel finally gave up on his chaotic thoughts. A quick glance at the clock told him that he was expected in the library in less than a half-an-hour. Bringing the letter still clutched in his left hand back up, the vampire reread the entire thing twice, committing the words written there into his long-term memory. As if he would ever forget them, especially the devastating revelation the page contained.

With one long, last look at the letter, Angel stood and walked into his tiny kitchen. Turning a dial on the stove, he heard the familiar ‘click-click-click’ as the pilot caught. With a muffled ‘whoosh’, a gas-fed flame flared from the lit burner. Without so much a moment’s hesitation, the vampire thrust a corner of the paper into the burner long enough to set it on fire. As the flame rapidly expanded to encompass the entire document, Angel threw the whole thing into the sink before he scorched his fire-sensitive skin on it. Once the paper burned itself out, the vampire turned on the faucet and washed the charred remains down the sink.

His task complete, Angel took a moment for himself, attempting to bring some order to his chaotic thoughts. Realizing how useless it was, the vampire exited the room and headed up the stairs to his bedroom loft to change.

As he donned his clothes, Angel wondered how he was ever going to explain this to Giles without breaking the unfathomable confidence with which he had just been entrusted...

...well, that, and just when was he going to find enough courage to finally ask Willow out on a date?




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