The Nightstalkers

FIC: The Nightstalkers (11/?)

“What I don’t get is if Wolfram &Hart were all so all fired powerful how did Ripper and his gang manage to take them over?”

”Ripper took a leaf out of Hitler’s play-book. Unsurprising when you consider he was a historian,” Xander nodded at the buxom Bostonian’s query. “Once he’d cowed vampires throughout the world, Ripper used the information Lillah had given him to target W&H offices across the globes, fourteen operations in six continents in all, and attack them all in one night. W&H employees died in their thousands, the law firm tried to continue and strike back, but Ripper was remorseless, and his forces vastly out-numbered W&H’s. Soon people were just too frightened to take W&H jobs and the law firm was forced off dimension.”

“Right.” After a second the sultry Slayer nodded, her dark eyes serious. “Know anything about this Winters?”

“He runs San Diego, San Francisco, Santa Monica, and Los Angeles for Ripper. He’s probably the most powerful vampire on this continent outside of the inner circle.” Xander paused. “Because Winters is the nearest underlord it’s my guess that he’s the one who supplied the bodies to replace those who escaped when we hit the supply convoy two weeks ago.”

“Yeah, great,” Faith shot him a frustrated look. “I meant Winters’ origin, how old he is, that sorta thing. I like to know a little about the Master Vampires I’m huntin’.”

“Perhaps I can help,” Wesley spoke up as they crouched in the shadows of a garage across the road from the gleaming skyscraper that had once been Wolfram & Hart’s LA base. The Englishman pushed his glasses up his nose before continuing. “My last year thesis was ‘Notable North American Vampires’.” Faith yawned theatrically. “Thank you, Ms. Lehane.” The Watcher sniffed. “I assume you don’t want this information after all?”

“Ah jeez,” Faith waved a nonchalant hand at the Englishman. “Panties, unbunch ‘em. Spill the beans, English.”

Wesley shot the Slayer a withering look that bounced off the beautiful brunette’s rhino hide. “Winters is believed to be one of the very earliest railroad barons.” Xander joined the curvy Bostonian in staring blankly at the Watcher. “After the American Civil War, Russell Winters was one of the men who championed the spread of railroads across the states. He was sired by a former riverboat gambler called Louis Savate, a not particularly notable blood-sucker. As befits his origins, the vampire Russell Winters has always been more of an organiser and entrepreneur rather than a fighter.”

“Good to know,” Faith looked from Wes to him. “What’s the 411 on Winters anyhow?”

“Over the last week Gunn, Scott, Percy, Owen, and Larry have been running a rolling surveillance on him. He rarely leaves the offices,” Wes and Faith looked towards the imposing office block, “and when he does he’s always in an armoured car and with an armed escort.”

“Damn.” Faith scowled. “We won’t have time to organise a hit unless we wait around for him outside.”

“To do that would run the risk of being spotted,” Wesley commented.

“Sorta pointing out the obvious there,” Faith snarked before sobering. “Any weak points in the building?”

After a second Xander shook his head. “The front and rear entrances are heavily guarded. The only possible weak point is through the outer entrance to the parking lot. Even then, its inner entrance is heavily guarded. And even if by some miracle we managed to get into the building, we’d have to fight our way through twenty floors to get to Winters.”

There was a long pause then Wesley spoke. “How about roof access?”

“You got wings, Wes?” Faith half-laughed. “’Cause I know I ain’t Spiderman.” The brunette pouted thoughtfully. “They use Wanna-Bes in there?”

“Yeah,” Xander nodded. Then his mouth dropped open as he belatedly realised just what the Slayer was hinting at. “Oh no,” he shook his head. “You can’t be serious.”

“What?” Wes’ face took on a look of horrified realisation. “Oh no, I forbid it!”

“Forbid it?” Xander groaned at the mulish look on the Slayer’s face. Once again, Wes had managed to put both feet squarely in it. “Last time I checked you don’t own me.” The beautiful brunette looked towards him. “Anywhere you can scare up a suit for me?”

“Faith!” Wesley stepped between him and the Slayer, grabbing her by her arms. Which made the Englishman either a lot braver or a lot stupider than he thought. “I’m sorry, I merely wished to advise you against a course of action that could lead you into a situation that even your skills couldn’t handle.”

The Bostonian’s expressive eyes softened slightly. “I made a promise, remember?”

“Faith,” Wesley barely breathed. “Bel wouldn’t expect you to risk your life in such a reckless fashion.”

“Yeah,” the Slayer’s husky voice caught before steadying. “But she ain’t here anymore.”

Xander looked from each of his companions in turn, not at all sure what the duo were talking about and not much caring. “Are we doing this or not?”

“We’re doing it,” Faith resolutely replied.

* * *

“That damn girl!” Wesley slammed his hotel room door. His temper bubbled over and then ignited, his foot kicking a hole in the wall. Next went the bedside table, a single shove toppling it over. Snatching up the lamp that had fallen off the table, he flung it at the painting hanging over the bed, picture glass and lamp shattering on impact.

And just as suddenly his rage was gone. Wesley slumped down on the side of his bed, head in hands. Why wouldn’t Faith listen? Why wouldn’t she believe that he wanted nothing more than to look after her, to be her friend? Why wouldn’t she believe that he had only his best interests in mind?

He wished he could blame it on his gender, that the Slayer couldn’t trust him because of her torrid past, but while that doubtless contributed to their tumultuous relationship, he had to bear the lion’s share of the blame. His previous condescending behaviour and cold attitude had only caused the already wary child to build further walls of mistrust.

He was a failure as a Watcher, just as his father had predicted.

Wesley looked up at a soft knock at the door. “Wes, can I come in?” When he didn’t answer, too lost in his mood to bother, the door swung tentatively open. “Wow,” Amy looked left and right before stepping through. “My guess is your room deposit is gone.”

“Hello Miss Madison,” Wesley looked around the devastated room and to the room’s solitary chair. “Please, take a seat.”

”Thanks,” Amy looked around as she sat down. “Did Motley Crue have a reunion and no-body bother to tell their no. 1 fan?” Wesley stared blankly at the young witch. “Pop culture reference, never mind.” The Sunnydale High graduate stared at him. “I take it your meeting with Faith didn’t go well?”

“Didn’t go well?” Even to his own ears, Wesley’s laughed sounded off-note, filled with bitterness and hysteria. “That stupid, foolish girl has so little regard, puts so little value on her life that she eagerly rushed into any insane adventure!”

”And yet she’s still here,” Amy pointed out.

“True enough.” Wesley managed a weak smile. “But you didn’t come here to talk about Faith.”

“It’s not important-.”

“Nonsense my dear,” Wesley shook his head. “I’m sure you had something fascinating to say, you always have.” Wesley grinned slightly. “And to be honest, I’d be appreciative of something to take my mind off that blasted insubordinate Slayer.”

“Okay,” Amy took a breath. “Like I told you ever since I joined the Nightstalkers I’ve been interested in vampire hunters. Both for the weapons ideas for Jonathan and tactics for Xander.” The witch’s cheeks flushed. “And for my own interest.”

“Learning is its own reward,” Wesley commented.

“Yeah,” Amy nodded. “Anyway I used Giles’ books, websites, and books I picked up off the internet. I researched all the classics – Bel-Marduk of Babylon, Atum-Ra of Egypt, Arjuna of India, Liu Weng of China, Taira no Kiyomori of Japan, Apellon Melan of Greece, and Sigfried and Jan Olsen of Norway. But the one name I kept returning to was Angelus’ arch-enemy-.”

”Daniel Holtz,” Wesley smiled as his friend’s shocked look. “He’s required reading for apprentice Watchers. He’s killed close to four hundred vampires before his mysterious disappearance, more than any non-powered human in verifiable history. He must have been a terrifying fellow.”

“And his maybe not so mysterious disappearance.” Amy smiled at his raised eyebrow. “I cross-referenced my work on Holtz with prophecies.”

“You have been a busy girl,” Wesley commented.

“I don’t date much,” Amy smiled.

“I can’t imagine why.” Wesley chuckled when his remark was met by the wicca’s blush. “Please continue.”

“I came across a prophecy that said the son of the vampire with a soul would kill a time-travelling demon by the name of Sarjhan.” Amy raised a hand as his mouth opened. “Please, let me finish.” Wesley reluctantly closed his mouth, leaving unspoken his protestations that no vampire could have a child. “Maybe, just maybe this Sarjhan found Holtz and stole him from the timeline to use against Angel.”

“But Angel lost his soul.” This time Wesley did point out the obvious.

“I know,” Amy conceded with a nod. “But maybe Holtz was pulled from time as an insurance policy. I’ve been reading about time, and maybe time isn’t a straight line, maybe it’s a road with forks in it that cause possible alternate realities. Maybe Angelus was never cursed? Maybe Angel never lost his soul? Maybe Giles was never turned or Buffy Called? Maybe the would-be mother died before she even met Angel? Maybe Holtz is Sarjhan’s fallback position if all his other schemes to alter the timeline failed?”

“All this conjecture is very fascinating.” In truth, Wesley’s head had begun to throb. “But how does this help us?”

“If I’m right,” Amy licked her lips, “I think I can find and bring Holtz here.”

* * *

“James, Elizabeth,” Ripper flashed his politician’s smile as the two vampires entered her domain. “A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

“And yours,” James replied. “It was an honour to be summonsed into the service of the world’s most brilliant vampire. Almost as much of an honour as it was to be blessed by the love of fair Elizabeth.” James beamed. “Is she not the most beautiful creature in creation?”

“Extraordinarily beautiful.” Ripper felt his smile grow strained. Angelus had told him of their simpering, but to hear it was sickening. Love was a weakness of the lesser beings, not them. Unfortunately he had need of powerful vampire, and both demons were close to three centuries old.

His attention was thankfully diverted when the club’s double-doors crashed open and Angelus and Penn entered, dragging a limp body behind them. Ripper strode over to inspect the captive, a handsome man of medium height with shoulder-length black hair and an athletic, sinewy build. “And who,” he looked towards Angelus, “might our guest be?”

Angelus smirked. “This is the man I told you about, Everett Blaine, the Nightstalkers’ trainer.”

“Oh really?” Ripper beamed. “So pleased,” he grabbed a handful of hair and pulled the man’s head to one side, “to meet you.” He sunk his fangs into the man’s throat.

He’d barely finished feeding on turning the martial artist when the nightclub’s doors once again crashed open. “Well ain’t this a party!”

Ripper managed to hide his disdain for the thuggish, heavy-browed man before him. “Lyle Gorch?”

“That I am, sir. Here are my cousins, Death’s Bastards.” Lyle look over his shoulder. “Jed, Zeke, Bud, Wade, Kurt, Josh, get your behinds in here.” Six similar-looking brutes trooped in. “Girl! Get that sweet tush in, ya ain’t shy so don’t act it!”

“Sure, Lyle.” A tall, curvy girl slinked in, drawing appreciative leers from all the male and plenty of the female vampires. The beauty’s honey-blonde hair cascaded down from under her grey Stetson to rest on the shoulders of her figure-hugging black and white checked shirt. The shirt’s top three buttons were unfastened, uncovering plenty of deep, eye-catching cleavage and was tied off at the bottom revealing inches of taut belly. The young woman’s outfit was completed by a pair of knee-length cowboy boots and pair of figure-hugging denim hot-pants.

“Why,” Ripper gave the beauty an appreciative look. “Who is this delightful creature?”

”This is my new childe,” Lyle smirked. “I picked her up in New Mexico, I call her Death’s Bitch, but her name’s Tara Maclay.”