The Ravages Of Hell
folder
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
2,920
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Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
2,920
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of its characters. . Nor do I intend to make any profit from this story.
FIC: Ravages Of Hell (6/?)
FIC: Ravages Of Hell (6/?)
Prague
“They failed? All of them?”
Thomas grimaced and nodded at his leader’s questions. They were in the Order’s HQ, a dark, Spartan chamber three levels beneath the busy city, hidden from the metropolis’ oblivious population. “All of them sir.”
“Damn it!” Thomas was rocked by the fear in the eyes and voice of his normally stonily impassive leader. The Order’s head took a long breath. “Double the price on all three.”
Thomas’ mouth dropped open. “Sir, that’s thirty million dollars!”
“I’m well aware of the maths. Sell some more Microsoft and Yahoo stock,” the leader shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“But sir,” he protested. “There isn’t any prof-.”
“Profit?” The Order chief shook his head again. “This isn’t about profit. It’s about survival.” The leader’s eyes shadowed. “When our new clients are finished there’ll be a new order. Our living depends on us serving him well.”
* * *
Duhsam took a swig of his drink, a heady combination of child’s brains and virgin blood. Hearing a sound at the door of his penthouse apartment, he called out to his bodyguards. “Swenson! Platz! What’s that?” Getting no response from his sentries, he sighed before placing his wine glass on his ornate coffee table, rising and striding towards the door.
And crashed to the floor when the door flew open with sudden violence, hitting him in the face. Duhsam blinked when a powerfully-built vampire dressed in black strode in. “You know,” the vampire smiled. “You seem to be under the illusion that you’re somebody.” The invader shook his head. “Big mistake.”
Duhsam snarled and leapt to his feet. Snatching up a ceremonial, bejewelled sword off the wall, he charged towards the towering demon, executing a backhanded slash towards his opponent’s throat.
His hand was grabbed in an implacable grip that try as he might he couldn’t escape. He moaned as the vampire punched him in his heart under his right arm and doubled up when the demon drove his knee into his groin. He felt the vampire yank his sword out of his hand. He grunted as the vampire kicked him behind his knees, knocking him onto all fours. A white-hot pain lanced through his right hand as his opponent thrust his sword through it, impaling it to the ground. “That has got to hurt.” He screamed when the vampire twisted the weapon. “Now, some information. Who ordered the hit on us?”
“I don’t know! I just work as a middle-man for The Order of Teraka!” he screamed.
“Thanks.” The last thing he saw was the coming up towards his head.
* * *
“The Order.” Angel stepped away from the decapitated corpse of the Murdell Warlord, its yellow-green blood pouring out of its neck. “Didn’t they learn the last time?”
“What are we going to do father?”
“I’m leaning towards finding who ordered the hit and ripping their intestines out,” Angel replied.
”Any idea how we’re going to do that?” Gwen put in.
Angel nodded. “We’ll wait for Lorne.” Connor groaned. “What?”
“Tell me you’re not going to sing?” Connor pleaded.
“Does Angel not have a champion’s voice?” Groo queried.
“You have no idea,” his son responded.
“Shut up Connor.”
* * *
An airplane over the Atlantic Ocean.
“Adele! Rachel! Martina!” Wood shouted as Faith bolted upright in the bed of the specially charted plane, her eyes wide from terror as she awoke from her coma. “Help me!”
The three Slayers leapt to their feet and hurried over. Before they got half-way there, Faith laid back down, her breath slowing, and her eyes regaining their focus. His ex’s eyes snapped to him. “The assassins?”
He smiled reassuringly. “You killed them.”
Faith took a rattling breath, some colour returning to her cheeks. “Where are we?” the Bostonian looked around. “In a plane? How long was I out?”
“Two days.” Wood squeezed the Slayer’s hand. “We’re heading back to the Council. The moment Giles heard there was contract out on you, he ordered you back home for safety.”
“Cool.” Faith’s lithe frame suddenly arched off the bed and her face contorted in pain. “Shit! Those bastards fucked me up bad!”
“But you’re getting better now,” he soothed. He thought it best not to mention that if the blade had been an inch further to the right, Faith’s spinal cord would have been severed.
* * *
A military airfield, South of England.
“Hello, Major Finn!” Riley blinked when a short country man of his saluted him and his companions as they disembarked from their cargo plane. “A pleasure to meet you sir! Andrew Wells, Mr. Giles’ Personal Assistant at your service!”
Riley raised an eyebrow. Obviously Giles had started a scheme whereby the Council employed the mentally challenged. “And you have proof?”
“Of course!” The boy reached into his jacket.
“Not so fast.”
The high-pitched youth’s eyes widened when Graham levelled his automatic at him. “Sure.” After gulping the youth took precisely thirty seconds to pull out a wallet and pass it over to him. The youth tittered nervously. “Of course you understand that after facing the terror of Evil-Willow and hordes of uber-vampires, a gun holds little fear.”
Riley almost laughed. “That’s good to know.” After checking the boy’s ID., he passed it back to his fellow country-man. “Lead the way.”
* * *
Willow stopped as she climbed out of their taxi, filling with familiar awe as she stared at the looming, six-storey medieval keep, the age and magnificence of the building hitting her as always. Giles had bought the building for a cool thirty-five million dollars. But although the Head Watcher had torn the inside of the building apart, installing a gymnasium, small hospital, armoury, briefing rooms, canteen, dormitories, library, and a security system, on the outside it remained a daunting reminder of Britain’s imperial past. “Let’s get in.”
Suddenly the keep’s double-doors flew open and a gleeful looking Giles bounded down the steps. “Willow! Kennedy! Guard security phoned ahead! It’s wonderful to see you!”
Willow winced at Giles’ yell, her head ringing. “Please, Giles,” Kennedy reproved. “Willow’s head isn’t good.”
“Good lord.” Giles’ face dropped, the joy of their reunion replaced by concern. “What’s wrong?” The Englishman gently took her by her elbow and led her inside.
“Nothing much,” Willow replied as they entered the vast hallway. “Visions of continent destroying earthquakes, tidal waves, waves of fire, and hordes of demons.”
“Oh nothing much then,” Giles hesitated. “Willow, the Coven -.”
“I know,” Willow winced. “I felt it. And there’s more -.”
* * *
A private airfield, South of England.
“We’re here.” Rona shot Vi a worried look at Xander’s answering grunt. Ever since his outburst upon his awakening, he hadn’t said a word to them.
It wasn’t fair. Rona scowled at the man’s broad back as they followed him out of the plane. They’d done it because they cared. Like he did. They could have had a Watcher with little or no experience who treated them as little more than weapons.
Instead they’d got a friend, someone who treated them with respect that they could have fun with. Even without Willow’s influence they’d have done anything to protect him.
If only he’d understand that.
* * *
Giles smiled as he received the call that Xander had landed. Willow had already arrived, Faith was on her way. There was just one person left. Buffy.
Giles’ face fell. He’d tried her earlier, but no reply. He only hoped it was because she was busy, not that she was dea-. Quelling such pessimistic thoughts he re-dialled the senior Slayer’s phone number.
* * *
Buffy stared up at the plush apartments. “This Don Franco, he runs all the crime in Italy?”
“Nothing happens without his say-so,” the Immortal confirmed.
“In that case he’s the one we see.”
“What is the plan?” Michelle asked.
Buffy chuckled humourlessly. “I’m the plan.” Her mobile rang. Grunting in frustration, she pulled it out. Eyes widening in recognition of the Caller Id., she quickly turned it on. “Yes Giles, we’re sort of -.” Her voice trailed off at her Watcher’s terse interruption. “We’ll be straight back.” She turned to the others. “Change of plans. We’re going to England.”
* * *
Lorne’s mouth dropped open as Angel say ‘Copacabana’. However evil Angelus might have been, he doubted that the vampire’s crimes compared to the ensoulled demon’s atrocities against cabaret. “Enough, enough,” he waved the vampire to silence.
“I can’t read auras, but even I know the pop charts are not in your future,” said Oz, a rare stunned look on his friend’s face. “And I thought Brittney was bad.”
Angel ignored Oz’s comment to stare at him. “Well?”
“I see you’ve still got that patience problem,” Lorne commented. He coughed at his former employer’s glower. “We need to go to England. To the Watchers’ Council.”
Prague
“They failed? All of them?”
Thomas grimaced and nodded at his leader’s questions. They were in the Order’s HQ, a dark, Spartan chamber three levels beneath the busy city, hidden from the metropolis’ oblivious population. “All of them sir.”
“Damn it!” Thomas was rocked by the fear in the eyes and voice of his normally stonily impassive leader. The Order’s head took a long breath. “Double the price on all three.”
Thomas’ mouth dropped open. “Sir, that’s thirty million dollars!”
“I’m well aware of the maths. Sell some more Microsoft and Yahoo stock,” the leader shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“But sir,” he protested. “There isn’t any prof-.”
“Profit?” The Order chief shook his head again. “This isn’t about profit. It’s about survival.” The leader’s eyes shadowed. “When our new clients are finished there’ll be a new order. Our living depends on us serving him well.”
* * *
Duhsam took a swig of his drink, a heady combination of child’s brains and virgin blood. Hearing a sound at the door of his penthouse apartment, he called out to his bodyguards. “Swenson! Platz! What’s that?” Getting no response from his sentries, he sighed before placing his wine glass on his ornate coffee table, rising and striding towards the door.
And crashed to the floor when the door flew open with sudden violence, hitting him in the face. Duhsam blinked when a powerfully-built vampire dressed in black strode in. “You know,” the vampire smiled. “You seem to be under the illusion that you’re somebody.” The invader shook his head. “Big mistake.”
Duhsam snarled and leapt to his feet. Snatching up a ceremonial, bejewelled sword off the wall, he charged towards the towering demon, executing a backhanded slash towards his opponent’s throat.
His hand was grabbed in an implacable grip that try as he might he couldn’t escape. He moaned as the vampire punched him in his heart under his right arm and doubled up when the demon drove his knee into his groin. He felt the vampire yank his sword out of his hand. He grunted as the vampire kicked him behind his knees, knocking him onto all fours. A white-hot pain lanced through his right hand as his opponent thrust his sword through it, impaling it to the ground. “That has got to hurt.” He screamed when the vampire twisted the weapon. “Now, some information. Who ordered the hit on us?”
“I don’t know! I just work as a middle-man for The Order of Teraka!” he screamed.
“Thanks.” The last thing he saw was the coming up towards his head.
* * *
“The Order.” Angel stepped away from the decapitated corpse of the Murdell Warlord, its yellow-green blood pouring out of its neck. “Didn’t they learn the last time?”
“What are we going to do father?”
“I’m leaning towards finding who ordered the hit and ripping their intestines out,” Angel replied.
”Any idea how we’re going to do that?” Gwen put in.
Angel nodded. “We’ll wait for Lorne.” Connor groaned. “What?”
“Tell me you’re not going to sing?” Connor pleaded.
“Does Angel not have a champion’s voice?” Groo queried.
“You have no idea,” his son responded.
“Shut up Connor.”
* * *
An airplane over the Atlantic Ocean.
“Adele! Rachel! Martina!” Wood shouted as Faith bolted upright in the bed of the specially charted plane, her eyes wide from terror as she awoke from her coma. “Help me!”
The three Slayers leapt to their feet and hurried over. Before they got half-way there, Faith laid back down, her breath slowing, and her eyes regaining their focus. His ex’s eyes snapped to him. “The assassins?”
He smiled reassuringly. “You killed them.”
Faith took a rattling breath, some colour returning to her cheeks. “Where are we?” the Bostonian looked around. “In a plane? How long was I out?”
“Two days.” Wood squeezed the Slayer’s hand. “We’re heading back to the Council. The moment Giles heard there was contract out on you, he ordered you back home for safety.”
“Cool.” Faith’s lithe frame suddenly arched off the bed and her face contorted in pain. “Shit! Those bastards fucked me up bad!”
“But you’re getting better now,” he soothed. He thought it best not to mention that if the blade had been an inch further to the right, Faith’s spinal cord would have been severed.
* * *
A military airfield, South of England.
“Hello, Major Finn!” Riley blinked when a short country man of his saluted him and his companions as they disembarked from their cargo plane. “A pleasure to meet you sir! Andrew Wells, Mr. Giles’ Personal Assistant at your service!”
Riley raised an eyebrow. Obviously Giles had started a scheme whereby the Council employed the mentally challenged. “And you have proof?”
“Of course!” The boy reached into his jacket.
“Not so fast.”
The high-pitched youth’s eyes widened when Graham levelled his automatic at him. “Sure.” After gulping the youth took precisely thirty seconds to pull out a wallet and pass it over to him. The youth tittered nervously. “Of course you understand that after facing the terror of Evil-Willow and hordes of uber-vampires, a gun holds little fear.”
Riley almost laughed. “That’s good to know.” After checking the boy’s ID., he passed it back to his fellow country-man. “Lead the way.”
* * *
Willow stopped as she climbed out of their taxi, filling with familiar awe as she stared at the looming, six-storey medieval keep, the age and magnificence of the building hitting her as always. Giles had bought the building for a cool thirty-five million dollars. But although the Head Watcher had torn the inside of the building apart, installing a gymnasium, small hospital, armoury, briefing rooms, canteen, dormitories, library, and a security system, on the outside it remained a daunting reminder of Britain’s imperial past. “Let’s get in.”
Suddenly the keep’s double-doors flew open and a gleeful looking Giles bounded down the steps. “Willow! Kennedy! Guard security phoned ahead! It’s wonderful to see you!”
Willow winced at Giles’ yell, her head ringing. “Please, Giles,” Kennedy reproved. “Willow’s head isn’t good.”
“Good lord.” Giles’ face dropped, the joy of their reunion replaced by concern. “What’s wrong?” The Englishman gently took her by her elbow and led her inside.
“Nothing much,” Willow replied as they entered the vast hallway. “Visions of continent destroying earthquakes, tidal waves, waves of fire, and hordes of demons.”
“Oh nothing much then,” Giles hesitated. “Willow, the Coven -.”
“I know,” Willow winced. “I felt it. And there’s more -.”
* * *
A private airfield, South of England.
“We’re here.” Rona shot Vi a worried look at Xander’s answering grunt. Ever since his outburst upon his awakening, he hadn’t said a word to them.
It wasn’t fair. Rona scowled at the man’s broad back as they followed him out of the plane. They’d done it because they cared. Like he did. They could have had a Watcher with little or no experience who treated them as little more than weapons.
Instead they’d got a friend, someone who treated them with respect that they could have fun with. Even without Willow’s influence they’d have done anything to protect him.
If only he’d understand that.
* * *
Giles smiled as he received the call that Xander had landed. Willow had already arrived, Faith was on her way. There was just one person left. Buffy.
Giles’ face fell. He’d tried her earlier, but no reply. He only hoped it was because she was busy, not that she was dea-. Quelling such pessimistic thoughts he re-dialled the senior Slayer’s phone number.
* * *
Buffy stared up at the plush apartments. “This Don Franco, he runs all the crime in Italy?”
“Nothing happens without his say-so,” the Immortal confirmed.
“In that case he’s the one we see.”
“What is the plan?” Michelle asked.
Buffy chuckled humourlessly. “I’m the plan.” Her mobile rang. Grunting in frustration, she pulled it out. Eyes widening in recognition of the Caller Id., she quickly turned it on. “Yes Giles, we’re sort of -.” Her voice trailed off at her Watcher’s terse interruption. “We’ll be straight back.” She turned to the others. “Change of plans. We’re going to England.”
* * *
Lorne’s mouth dropped open as Angel say ‘Copacabana’. However evil Angelus might have been, he doubted that the vampire’s crimes compared to the ensoulled demon’s atrocities against cabaret. “Enough, enough,” he waved the vampire to silence.
“I can’t read auras, but even I know the pop charts are not in your future,” said Oz, a rare stunned look on his friend’s face. “And I thought Brittney was bad.”
Angel ignored Oz’s comment to stare at him. “Well?”
“I see you’ve still got that patience problem,” Lorne commented. He coughed at his former employer’s glower. “We need to go to England. To the Watchers’ Council.”