4. That's Not The Issue
"He lives in Bengo, maybe forty
kilometers from
Caxito - thirty kilometers from Luanda, where we're docking. We can
hire a car for the night, or..." Willow looked around at them. "I think
we'll go by foot."
"'s a long way for you to walk, pet." Spike looked her over; Willow was
fit, but not a runner.
"I've got a big, strapping lad to help me along," she simpered, looking
up at Angel from under her lashes. He groaned. "Or, I could fly. I'll
be fine. But Xan'll kill me if I show up with a cabin-fevered
hyperactive vampire. This way we should get there an hour or so before
dawn, and we'll all be a bit less hyper."
Willow and Angel had just come below deck, Angel scratching at the
peeling sunburn on his nose. Illyria yawned and stretched, only
remembering to cover her naked body after the sheet slipped down to
pool at her waist. "Sounds like a plan."
"Cabin-fevered hyperactive vampire?" Spike scowled as he lurched from
the low bed towards the chair where his clothes were folded; Willow
looked pointedly away from his iridescent buttocks.
"Sounds about right," Angel chuckled, tossing Spike a hand-axe from the
small bag of weapons that had survived the fight in LA. Spike snatched
it from the air without turning around and spun it to slip the haft
through his beltloop before putting on his shirt.
"Shut it, Peaches."
Illyria rose, willing her clothing into being as she went. She had
discovered that it could be swelteringly hot both on deck and in the
tiny converted cargo bin they shared, and had adopted Willow's costume
of shorts and a T-shirt; she kept her hair, nails and eyes blue, but
her skin-tone was evenly pale and her lips pink. She quickly smoothed
the sheet over the bed and stood in time to catch the long knife that
Angel flipped her direction. She stared at it for a moment, then
slipped it into the sheath that shimmered into existance on her belt.
"How long until sunset?"
"Sun's down. You two slept the day away." Willow was picking through
what was left in the bag. She held out a second axe towards Angel and
claimed a basic stake for herself before turning to catch Spike's leer.
"Weren't exactly sleeping, pet."
Willow rolled her eyes. "Color me surprised. Anyway, we're docking in a
few minutes, and the captain asked if I could keep you down here until
we're secure. Apparently you... unnerve... some of his crew."
"Fancy that." Angel zipped up the bag and dumped it next to the other,
smaller bag that held the few clothes they had bought before boarding
the cargo ship. After two weeks in a box, the clothes were suffering
from the lack of a proper washroom. The four of them were rather ripe,
themselves, though they had finagled a few sponge-baths in the tiny
toilet and most of the smell was masked by the cigarette smoke that
permeated the cabin. The ship was crewed by semi-aquatic demons who
didn't feel the need to outfit their single guest room with a shower,
and Willow's contact had warned them to bring toilet paper on board
with their other supplies. Luckily the crew was used to transporting
vampires, and there was a 'fridge in the galley that was devoted to
blood and, in this rare instance, human food; the demon's blood was
unpotable and they lived on raw fish, so any passengers had to bring
their own food with them.
Everyone ran a quick check through their possessions as the ship
lurched into harbor and was locked down, and it was only fifteen or so
minutes later that the captain banged on their door and told them it
was okay to come out.
The sky was still hazy with twilight when the four made their
precarious way across the slippery docks and into the warren of dirty
streets that comprised the warehouse district. Night watchmen were
beginning their patrols, and dayshift workers were making their hasty
ways home, but the travelers slipped unnoticed through town and out to
where the warren of alleys spread into wider boulevards flanked by low
bungalows, and further to the point where dust and jungle vied to press
against the city's borders.
True to her word, as soon as they broached the city limits, Willow took
to the air. She sparkled fuzzily for a brief moment, then shot ahead.
With a wild whoop, Spike took off after her, Illyria and Angel in
howling pursuit.
They made quick passage, bounding effortlessly over the dry streams and
heaped brush that carved the night-cooled landscape, moonlight brighter
than an LA evening casting everything into harsh relief. It wasn't
until they came to the base of a low cliff that Spike realized that the
ground had been climbing for some time, and when he looked back, he
could see Luanda's glow in the distance. Willow was waiting for them on
a rockpile, legs primly crossed and their two duffles and the cooler
that held their waning supply of blood stacked neatly at her feet.
"Show off," Spike grumbled, dropping himself beside her. Willow merely
smirked.
"Everyone okay?" Angel leaned against a tree, panting. He was still
getting used to the sensation of his heart beating in his chest and
breaths that were more than dramatic flair, and he had grown softer
over the past year. Still, the thundering rush of blood in his veins
and the unaccustomed sting in his muscles prompted him with a glorious
compulsion to push his newly unaccustomed body to its limits.
"I find I enjoy this type of night." Illyria cocked her head and looked
around, through the shadows that veiled the sparse woods. "The plants
whisper; though we no longer share a language, it is good to hear."
"Good to know, pet." Spike just shook his head at Willow's questioning
gaze. "And you, Red? Doin' all right with the mojo?"
"All souped up. I've been storing up since we left, and... It's so much
easier here. I could fly all of us to Cairo and back and barely
feel it. This place is such a rush!"
Spike grinned at the excited Willow-babble. "I know how you feel.
Everythin's... thrumming. Didn't feel like this the last time I came
visitin'; must be the new diet."
"That was weeks ago." Willow quirked an eyebrow. "Wasn't it?"
Spike ducked his head. "Well, you know. Sex. Vampires. God-Kings..."
"It's all about the blood." She smirked.
"You've been drinking from Illyria?" Angel suddenly caught up with the
conversation and jerked upright. "What the hell are you thinking?"
Before he could advance on his wayward childe, Illyria extended a
restraining hand.
"Angel. This is neither your decision nor your concern, though I will
indulge your temerity to the extent of admitting to have found the
experience pleasurable. But since the point is now moot, you will
refrain from further comment."
"Moot?" Willow asked the question, since Angel was still gawping.
"Part of the journey, Red. We hit shore, and the world comes back."
Willow looked at Spike for a long moment, then nodded.
"Then the only question is... Who can get to the top first?" And with
that she shot upwards, their bags trailing behind.
"Cheater!" Spike shouted, before leaping at the weathered rock and
beginning his own ascent.
Willow beat them all, of course, but Illyria was a closer second than
she had anticipated. The two of them took off again without waiting for
the others, rapidly covering terrain that morphed from the dry, dusty
coastal plain, dotted with sparse, thirsty vegetation, to the lusher
interior jungle. They soon reached a dirt track that carved through the
landscape and Willow set down, willing her magic into her muscles
rather than the air around her so that she could keep up with her
companion. Before long, they approached the tiny village, near but not
part of Bengo, where Xander lived.
Willow slowed to a halt as soon as she could make out the shapes of the
individual buildings, drawing Illyria's attention to the only two-story
building in town.
"I haven't been here, of course, but I'm thinking that that's Xander's
place. He's got two Slayers living with him right now, and has a
workshop - he's a carpenter - on the ground floor. He told me that the
building used to be housing for visiting medics, or something."
Illyria nodded, keen eyes penetrating the pseudo-gloom of the town's
simple cross-hatching streets. Sodium lanterns flared at scattered
crossings, lessening the moon's effect, but there were still several
hours before dawn and the town was quiet.
"Peaches and I picked up a scent, a ways back, if you're game." Spike
loomed suddenly between them, mildly interested eyes flicking over the
array of scattered dwellings and the low brick building that housed the
local stores. "We've got a bit, yeah? And I doubt the whelp'd be
thrilled to see us quite so bright and early."
"Yes. Let us hunt these demons, then." Illyria spun on her heel and
lifted a foot to begin her return to where Angel waited, barely out of
sight. Willow's movement in the opposite direction, however, had her
turning her head. "You do not join us?"
"Huh?" Willow looked surprised. "But I'm not a fighter."
Spike cocked an eyebrow, a smirk teasing at his lips. "Right. Must've
been some other white-haired witch shootin' the mojo at the demon
hordes a few weeks ago. But that's not the issue. You don't really
wanna wait on Harris' stoop for us, do you? C'mon, it'll be fun." He
was practically bouncing, the anticipation of violence bubbling through
him.
Willow waved a hand and their bags disappeared, the action echoed by a
faint thump from the distant porch where they landed. She smiled.
"Let's go."
The three moved together towards Angel, Willow again gathering power
around her to accentuate her own physical skills so that she could keep
the pace set by her supernatural companions. Without a word, Angel
turned and disappeared from the side of the track, fading into the
shelter of the trees.
They moved easily, loping along over dusty ground, Angel in the lead
and Willow behind, Illyria and Spike flanking her at some little
distance. Periodically, either Angel or Spike would raise his head to
sniff at the air, always quickly imitated by Illyria, who seemed
frustrated that she could not track their quarry so easily. Finally,
Angel raised a hand to halt their progress.
The gentle slope of the land had funneled rainfall into a twisting path
that, here, cut deeply into the top layer of sandstone to create a
gorge littered with granite boulders. Though it was the height of the
dry season, water still glinted from the depths and chuckled where it
danced past the glittering stones. What captured Angel's interest,
however, was the deep shadow that marked the entrance to a cave just
below the opposite bank.
"Good to know you haven't lost your touch," Spike hissed, and Angel
growled in response.
"How're we doing this?" Willow asked. She had been surprised when Angel
hadn't protested her involvement, but his easy acceptance had made her
more comfortable in her role as part of the hunting party. "Straight on
in, guns a-blazing?"
"We have no artillery." Illyria frowned. "Or was that metaphorical?"
"Yup. I'm the metaphor girl. Just asking if we've got a plan, or are we
heading straight for the slice-n-dice? I say straight in; I can get us
out if it gets hairy, and I'm definitely up for a little ruction."
Willow's grin was fierce.
"You're my kinda girl, Red. Let's do it." At a nod from Angel, Spike
made the leap that brought him to the opposite bank. He dropped to the
flattened dirt that marked the entryway to the cave as the others flew
overhead - Willow literally. When all four were facing the cave's mouth
he drew his axe and winked at Willow, before disappearing into the
darkness. Angel muttered under his breath and followed, leaving the
other two to exchange wry smiles before they, too, made their way into
the cave.
"It's not natural." Spike's whisper echoed softly back towards the
others, and Willow murmured a spell that caused a sourceless light to
flicker around them. Spike was right; the tunnel was relatively
smooth-walled, and the floor flat.
"It's not machined, though. Must be burrowers, or something." Willow
reached out to touch the pattern of gouges that marked the rounded
tunnel walls.
"Makes sense. Hope they're scrappy, though. Hate to go to all this
trouble for a demon mole, or summat." Spike was sauntering slowly
forward, bright eyes belying his casual movement.
"I'm gonna go with a yes." Angel pointed to the shadows just beyond the
reach of Willow's spell, and she moved forward to bring it into the
light. The dark form that had caught Angel's attention was a dark red,
pebbled like rhinocerous skin, and crusty with the creamy remnants of
some sort of bodily fluid. Spike nudged it with his boot, and Willow
realized that it was more than twice his size. It flopped inelegantly
to the side, a crumpled heap of claws and fangs and horny protrusions
between deep wounds that had long stopped oozing. The movement stirred
the dry air, and Spike coughed and jumped backwards.
"Bloody hell, but that's vile!" The little moisture left had been
trapped under the demon's corpse, and the blood had either rotted, or
had been incredibly noxious to begin with. Either way, Willow's stomach
heaved in protest and Angel grew pale beneath his sunburn.
"Let's keep moving, okay? Dead, stinky things aren't supposed to come
until later in tonight's program." Willow steadied her voice and her
stomach with effort, but her steps forward were sure.
They traveled only a few more feet, however, before the light from
Willow's spell revealed that the tunnel was widening. This time it was
Spike who called the halt, straining his ears for any signs of movement.
"Doesn't matter, does it? If they're in there, the light already gave
us away." Angel shrugged as he spoke and moved the last dozen feet to
where the tunnel opened up into a rounded, artificial cavern.
Together they stepped into the space, and Willow spoke the words that
caused the light she shed to expand, casting out all shadows. The
occupants of the cave hissed and sheltered their wide, compound eyes
from the sudden glare.
"I'm guessing... not so much with the burrowing."
"Their appendages are ill-adapted to such a task." Illyria turned and
winked at Willow. "But they'll be hella fun to fight!" She drawled.
The demons who had taken over the cave from its creators were hideous.
The corpse they had passed in the hallway had been huge, and terrifying
in its own way, but these monstrous creatures were something wholly
other. There were three of them, black bulky things that, at full
extent, would have measured at least twelve feet. They were vaguely
tortoise-like, with thick chitinous carapaces that articulated fleshily
with smooth, heavy arms. Four of them. The upper pair was bulky and
massive, ending in a bony club that was ridged with heavy spines, while
the lower had two elbows that both bent inwards, allowing the arms to
fold neatly against the heavy shell. These had more delicate, hand-like
extremities that were quickly pulling short swords and daggers from the
cache behind the pile of plant matter and furs that had apparently been
their bedding.
The first of the three creatures roared, a deep bellow that seemed to
sound in two octaves at once and rattled Willow's cheekbones. She swore
and took to the air, unwilling to expose herself to direct attack but
ready to intervene in the coming battle if necessary. From above, she
had a better view of the creatures. Their legs folded in like a
rabbit's, close to the body but capable of launching a forceful
assault. And their heads... giant, predator's jaws glinting with dirty
yellow teeth, bulging insect's eyes, long sensory slits along the
ridged and armored muzzle, and heavy plating from the crest of the head
that swept along the neck to merge with the crenellation of the back
shell.
The second creature picked up the roar, a lighter sound that spurred
the third, largest demon into action. It launched with a bellow of its
own, driving with its immensely powerful hind legs towards the cluster
of warriors that had invaded its den. Its opponents scattered,
swearing, and it struggled to halt itself.
"They can't control themselves if they're going fast," Spike noted.
"See if you can get one of 'em to bash itself into the wall, eh?" And
he threw his axe at the first demon.
It clattered from the beast's carapace, but drew its attention. With a
heavy, meaty grunt, it launched itself in turn. When Spike danced back,
attempting to draw it into a collision with the wall behind him, it
slammed one club-fist into the ground and used the force of the impact
to change the direction of its momentum, circling the focal point and
running up onto the wall before launching itself horizontally at Spike.
The collision was brutal, knocking Spike back and into the opposite
wall, thirty feet away.
"Scratch that, then," he muttered, clambering unsteadily to his feet.
Angel was having his own problems, trying to block his opponent's blows
with his hand-axe and only rarely getting in an ineffective strike of
his own. Though he had no trouble dodging the nimble lower arms, one of
the larger swept him aside with a thick thud; he only barely rolled
away from a punishing downward strike.
Illyria, for her part, was darting merrily about the second demon,
thrusting her long knife into the thick skin that covered the demon's
shoulder and hip joints. Though her blows often skittered aside, she
drew blood more than once and the demon's right lower limb was hanging
limp.
"Get it at the joints," Willow bellowed, the only one able to see what
Illyria's plan was. Angel and Spike grunted their acknowledgement and
turned their attention back to their opponents.
"I request assistance," Illyria yelped, leaping away from a
knife-thrust before rolling the opposite direction when the heavy upper
arm on the demon's other side swung in her direction.
"Whatcha need, pet?" Spike hurdled his own opponent, vaulting from its
back to land behind Illyria's.
"A distraction. Physical. Left side." They exchanged a quick,
considering glance, and Spike nodded.
"Gotcha." Once more, he thrust his axe futilely into the creature's
face, and danced aside when it lumbered to face the new threat. "Oi! Up
for some ring-around-the-rosie?" With that less than terrifying threat,
Spike ducked under the left-handed blow that was sweeping towards him
and grabbed the agile lower arm just above the wrist. He jerked
mightily, feeling a satisfying snick of bones complaining under his
hand, and began racing around the demon's back. Illyria performed a
similar maneuver on the creature's other side, wrenching up and
backwards on its dislocated lower right arm as she moved to meet Spike.
With a horrific rending sound and a nauseating shriek from the beast,
its arm parted from its body.
Angel looked over from where he was doing his best to avoid the double
blows of the other two demons to see the third caterwauling its agony;
that only lasted until Illyria leapt up and forward, grabbed the horny
ridge of plating over the beast's upper shoulder, and used her momentum
to slam her fist past the conjunction of bone and gristle that marked
the place its arm had been. She rooted about inside its chest cavity
for a long moment before Spike yelled a warning, and she leapt free
only when it began to collapse. The keening stopped as the demon hit
the floor.
"That was unexpected." Willow floated down to look at the body. "What
did you do? Tear out its heart?" She cocked her head in avid,
questioning interest, and Spike snickered at the show of trademark
curiosity.
"There was no heart. I could not differentiate any distinct organ
systems, so I merely ruptured as much as I could in the time alotted."
Illyria shrugged.
"Well, that was way too much work for one little beasty. Red, you got
any ideas for an easier kill?" Spike kicked at the severed arm, which
was seeping tainted red ichor onto the floor.
She reached down to prod at the demon's carapace. "I'm guessing these
are invulnerable?"
"Seem to be. Everything but the -" He was cut off by Angel's pained
bellow.
"Guys! I'm gettin' trashed over here!" Angel was bleeding from the
forehead and favoring his right arm, but was still managing to evade
most of the concerted efforts of the demons he was against. For a large
man, he was impressively agile, and much quicker than his opponents. It
was obvious, however, that he was tiring.
"Distract them for a minute; I'll take care of it." Willow took to the
air again, moving to hover just above the fight. Spike dove in with a
holler, and Illyria shrieked a high-pitched battle cry as she leveled a
punishing blow at what would have been the demon's kneecap, if it had
kneecaps.
Above them, Willow's hair crackled and fanned out from her head as she
raised her hands, fingers splayed wide. She thrust
her fingers into the web of energy and magic that made up the universe,
and beckoned. The light in the cavern grew dim, flickered, went out,
then surged back into being with punishing brightness.
"Bloody hell!"
"Watch that!"
"Please refrain!"
And the demons roared.
"Sorry!" Willow squeaked, but grinned. "Try 'em now."
The demons were facing each other across Angel and Spike, who were
fighting back to back. Illyria had darted behind one and attempted to
climb its back in an attempt to reach its eyes, but it jerked and threw
her off. As her muttered imprecations were overridden by Willow's
command, Angel and Spike pressed themselves shoulder to shoulder,
facing opposite directions. Suddenly, they leapt into motion, pivoting
about the center point of their clasped hands, and reversed direction
in order to spin out, using the restraining force of their linked hands
to aid their jumping kicks so that, simultaneously, their booted feet
crashed into - and through - the heavily armored shells of their foes.
The unexpected success took them both by surprise, and they crashed
heavily to the ground. Illyria leapt over them and slammed her fist
into the pulsing red-black morass of the first demon's chest, who was
bellowing its pain. As she thrashed about inside its body, rending as
much as she could before the inevitable collapse, it grated its arms
into position to smash her between them. With a warning trill, Willow
dove from her perch in the air and smashed into Illyria's side,
knocking them both to the ground. The demon's arms thumped pointlessly
together, and it fell forward.
Angel and Spike, having only just regained their feet, scurried clear
of the imminent crushing before, with matching shrugs, they turned to
smash groping hands into the open wound on the last, retreating,
demon's chest. After a moment of rummaging, it, too, collapsed.
The four stared, wide-eyed and drenched in demon guts, at each other,
the demon corpses, the nearly-empty cave. Then, they started laughing.
Willow sagged against Angel and Spike braced himself on Illyria, who
allowed herself a twitch about her mouth that could almost be termed
amusement, while Angel tried to simultaneously chuckle and support
Willow's weight.
Finally, after some time, the laughing stilled, though any shared
glance was quick to set them off again.
"Well. That was fun." Spike grinned and turned, scanning the floor of
the cave for his discarded axe. Within moments, he, Angel and Illyria
were resecuring their respective weapons to their belts, and the four
turned as one to leave. "So, Red. What'd those witchy little fingers of
yours get up to?"
Willow grinned. "Well, I didn't want to play with fire - turns out that
one of my friends is highly flammable, and I didn't know how much
damage it would do, anyway. And I don't know any way to conjure ice. So
instead of icing them like I wanted, I just froze them."
"There's a difference?" Angel asked.
"Of course!" Spike assured him. "What is it?" He hissed at Willow,
causing her to chuckle and Angel to glare.
"Well, you know how I can suck the ambient magic from the air around
me?" She looked around for nods and received them. "Magic and energy
are similar, so I just piggy-backed one on the other and used magic to
suck the energy from the demons' shells."
"Huh?" Angel grunted.
"She sucked the heat from their shells, and converted it into light.
Right?" Illyria, Fred evident in the curiosity expressed in the quirk
of her brow, asked Willow.
"Pretty much. Made them brittle, so you could punch through, but not
too much, so I didn't shut down their internal systems - whatever those
are. Didn't want it to be too easy." Spike slung a sludge-covered arm
around her shoulders and squeezed.
"And you weren't gonna come. Silly girl."
"You weren't?" Angel stopped and turned to face them, brow creased with
surprise.
"I dunno..." Willow stammered.
"She's used to being on the research squad. Hasn't yet gotten used to
being completely kick-ass in the field." Illyria waggled her eyebrows
and her eyes flashed brown.
"Y'know, that's a little disconcerting," Willow complained. "Not that
I'm not glad to see Fred, and all, but... I can't wait for you two to
integrate."
"We will never form a seamless personality, Willow. But with time, we
shall each grow accustomed and will perhaps be able to make the
transition more smoothly."
"Yup. Disconcerting."
By this point they were outside of the cave, standing on the little
path that led up to the bank. With a murmur and a move of her hand,
Willow reabsorbed the light that had guided their way.
"Guys? We took too long." The sky was a paler shade of navy, stars
shining with less stark brilliance. "Hold on." With no more warning
than that, Willow gripped Angel and Illyria by the wrists, her hip
pressed into Spike's side, and teleported them to where she had
deposited their baggage. Unfortunately for them, they actually landed
on top of the bags, and spilled in an ungainly pile across Xander's
porch. There was much thudding and swearing as they regained their
feet, and so they shouldn't have been surprised when the door eased
open and a one-eyed carpenter, dressed in boxers and a T-shirt and
holding an axe, stared out at them.
"Spike?"