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Out of Africa

by spikeNdru

Genre: Gen; Action/Adventure

Pairings: Xander and Ensemble; no pairings yet.

Rating: PG-13

Timeline: Two years post-Chosen

 

Disclaimers: The characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox; they aren't currently using

them so I'm borrowing them for awhile.

 

Chapter   1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9  10  11  12  13  14  15  16  18  19  20  21  22  23  24  25

26   27   28   29   30

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Chapter Seventeen

It was late by the time Faith and Connor returned with their report on the recon of the old hotel, so the group decided to postpone the full-frontal assault until daylight. The next morning they armed themselves with every conceivable weapon and set out to do battle with the forces of dirt, grime, and dust bunnies that had encroached—unopposed—upon the Hyperion in the two years it had been unoccupied.

The decision to temporarily relocate to the Hyperion had been nearly unanimous. Not only was there more room for their ever-growing group, but the hotel was also the epicenter of two known tears in the Quor-Toth dimension: the alley behind the hotel was where the A.I. Team had disappeared, and Connor had broken through into the lobby when he escaped Quor-Toth.

The sole dissenting vote had been Phantom Dennis'. He enjoyed his new friends and didn't want them all to move out, even if only temporarily. A compromise was reached when it was discovered that Cordy's still-functional computer remained in the office of the Hyperion. Willow left her laptop with Dennis so that he could continue to stay in contact.

The prior evening, Connor and Faith had surreptitiously marked off the rooms that had been occupied by Angel, Cordelia, Gunn and Fred on the grid of rooms at the desk—if big, black, Magic Marker Xs could conceivably be termed “surreptitious”. Lorne added his own Xs to his former room, and the suite in which Jasmine had resided. Plenty of rooms remained for the group to choose as their temporary living quarters.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The common rooms were scrubbed and made dust-free, and the warring scents of orange and pine fought for dominance on the ground floor of the Hyperion.

The group broke up to tackle their chosen individual rooms. This was a daunting prospect in itself, and included quasi-serious arguments over who got to use the single vacuum cleaner first.

Giles had discovered Wesley's stash in the office, so took himself out of the running in the vacuum cleaner sweepstakes to brew a pot of tea on the hotplate instead. He was thus assigned last place on the list, after Xander.

Xander noticed that the office contained only a small, hotel mini-bar-sized refrigerator, an even smaller microwave and Wesley's hotplate, so he decided to check the basement kitchen for usable appliances. It wouldn't do them any good to have all this sleeping room if they had to skedaddle back to the apartment whenever they wanted to eat.

The basement kitchen was dark, dank and daunting. Lorne had mentioned earlier that the A.I. Team usually called out for delivery of various take-out foods, and Xander now understood why. The dark, cavernous kitchen didn't appear to have been used in decades. Dents and dings and splintered wood hinted that this area had been the scene of one hell of a fight, and the meat locker smelled kind of funky and gave him a wiggins. Okay. Take-out sounded better and better.

The reception desk contained menus for Thai, Chinese, Mexican, Italian and deli restaurants. The menus were heavily used and all promised delivery within a radius that included the address of the hotel. Two blocks away was a coffee and donut shop. Xander guessed they wouldn't starve, although he'd miss the time he used to spend with Dawn preparing meals at home. Home. Xander suddenly realized that the apartment had ceased to be a place to stay while he was in LA, and had become 'home'.

“Xander!” Faith yelled from upstairs. “Your turn with the vacuum, but I think you're gonna have to change the bag or something 'cause it stopped sucking!”

Xander grinned. “A lot of things in my life have stopped sucking—which is of the good. How hard can it be to change a vacuum bag?” he muttered as he took the stairs two at a time to change the bag and clean his room.

~*~*~*~*~*~

In practically no time at all, Willow had Cordy's computer up and running. She found receipts in the desk drawer from the Internet provider Cordy had used and called to reinstate service. Since the software from the provider had already been installed, Willow was assured that she would be online within an hour or two, as soon as they received confirmation from her credit card company. Willow clasped her hands behind her head and leaned back in the computer chair.

Giles approached with two mugs of Darjeeling and handed one to Willow. He set his tea down on the desk and pulled up a chair.

“Thanks, Giles,” Willow said as she lifted her mug and took a sip.

“It's actually something of a bribe,” Giles said with a small smile. “I've been meaning to speak with you.”

“Why? Wha'd I do?” Willow looked alarmed.

“No, nothing! It's nothing you've done,” Giles hastened to assure her. “It's about Lorne. Well, not actually about Lorne himself, that is, but rather about Lorne's reading. Well, not his reading per se—”

“It's Lorne's suggestion that Althenea should go to Quor-Toth with us, isn't it?”

Giles removed his glasses and began to polish them. “Althenea is . . . a very competent woman. She's very good at whatever endeavors she undertakes. She's brilliant, she's caring, and her spellwork is . . . I want you to understand, I am not casting aspersions on her talents in any way—”

“But . . .”

“But, she has no experience with the kind of fieldwork that this excursion will very likely entail. Her spells are carefully crafted—in her herb room—and they are flawless because she takes the time and effort to make sure they will do exactly what she intends them to do. She has no experience with the . . . the dangers, the . . .”

“Fly by night, seat of your pants battle work we're all familiar with?”

“Precisely. I have grave misgivings about thrusting her into a situation for which she can't possibly prepare and . . .”

“And you won't be there to help or to protect her if anything goes wrong.”

“There is that.”

“What can I tell you, Giles? I'd go by myself, if I could, but Lorne doesn't think that will be enough. I'm good. I'm damn good, but together, Tara and I were better. Tara had no . . . battle preparation when she got thrust into the thick of things, but together we could do things neither of us could accomplish alone. From what Lorne said, I believe that magic will definitely be needed in Quor-Toth, and he said I can't do it alone. In all honesty, Giles, I don't think he was talking about the spells themselves. I think he was saying that I can't do it alone—that I might need someone I trust to keep me grounded. And Althenea's the only living person I can think of who could do that. Could . . . pull me back if I . . .”

“Bloody hell! I've been so concerned about who would watch out for Althenea in the heat of battle that I never considered the obverse. She's your safety net, isn't she? If she's there, you can concentrate on what needs to be done without having to second guess every decision you make in fear you might lose control.”

“The coven helped pull me back from a really dark place, Giles. I never want to go there again, but if I'm afraid I might, I can't act at all. The whole time we were dealing with The First and the Bringers, I was afraid to use my powers at all. And I haven't had to use magic in a combat situation since then. Sure, I made with the mojo to activate all the Potentials, but Kennedy and I were in a quiet office, away from the actual fighting, when I did it. This situation is different. I know I can do it, Giles, you don't have to worry about me. But I'd feel a whole lot better knowing Althenea is right there with me.”

“I quite understand. I withdraw my objections. We'll present the situation to Althenea and allow her to make the decision on her own if she wishes to become involved.”

“Thanks, Giles. I hoped you'd understand.”

Giles placed his hand over hers and squeezed gently. “And for the record . . . I have confidence in you, Willow, whatever decision Althenea makes.”

Willow and Giles smiled at each other. The moment of peace and understanding was broken by an excessively cheery robotic voice saying, “You're online! Automatic software and virus protection updates have been downloaded. Please restart your computer before proceeding.”

Willow turned to the computer as Giles carried both mugs back to the kitchenette area.

“Well,” he said, “I believe I'll see if Xander has finished. According to the schedule, it's my turn to hoover.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Dawn was taking lunch orders from the deli menu, when Willow yelled, “Hey guys! We're not done yet. We need two more rooms.”

The group gathered in the lobby.

Willow turned back to the computer. “Nope. Make that three more rooms.”

Everyone looked at her expectantly.

“I just got an e-mail from Dennis. You know, he's really excited about liaisoning. It looks like Althenea and a friend just teleported to the apartment. You've got a car, Xander. Do you want to go pick them up? The rest of us can pitch in and clean a few more rooms.”

Connor appeared from the basement, where he had been doing laundry, with his arms full of bedding.

“Who's the third room for?” he asked.

“Oh. Harmony says if we're all gonna be staying here together, she might as well come too. She's afraid she'll miss something if she stays at her own apartment.”

Connor nodded. “Put her in the room next to Faith. I'm right across the hall. I guess I'll do another load of sheets and bedspreads before I start on the towels. You might want to pick up some more laundry stuff while you're out, Xander.” He placed the clean sheets and pillow cases on the circular poof bench in the middle of the room and returned to the laundry room. His disembodied voice drifted up the stairs. “And we're gonna need a whole bunch of light bulbs, too.”

“I almost forgot Connor!” Dawn said guiltily. “I'll just go see what he wants to order for lunch.” She descended the stairs after him.

“C'mon, guys!” Faith urged. “We got three more rooms to get ready. Huh. Who'da thought I'd ever be providing voluntary maid service?”

“Not me, for one,” Xander said. He was tempted to suggest that Harmony could clean her own room, like everybody else did, but since he wasn't expected to do any of the actual cleaning due to his taxi run, he decided to let it go. He paused at the basement stairs and yelled down. “Better get some extra stuff for two more people, Dawn. I'm off to the apartment to pick up our newest recruits. Oh, and Connor—don't rush to get Harmony's sheets and stuff done. She probably won't arrive till after sunset. She thinks the sewers are ookey.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Faith and Lorne rapidly cleaned two more rooms while Dawn and Willow went around making the beds. Connor continued to do mountains of laundry while Giles was given the important job of waiting for the food delivery. Of course, he realized with a wry smile, the important job also involved paying for the food delivery.

The deli order and Xander arrived almost simultaneously. The delivery boy—a slightly surly teenager with a summer job—put on his best long-suffering expression as he hauled in two large cardboard boxes. This labor was accompanied by frequent eye rolls. Dawn, past master of the long-suffering, put upon expression and eye roll, blithely directed him to place the boxes on the curved reception desk, and informed him that his tips would be much better with an attitude adjustment. She then turned her attention to the new arrivals while Giles settled the bill.

The delivery boy, however, was in no hurry to leave now that he'd seen Dawn, and offered to help unpack the order. Giles assured him that they could manage, and ended up including a larger tip than he had planned in an attempt to get rid of the boy.

“They're here!” Dawn yelled and Scoobies converged on the lobby from upstairs and down.

Xander was accompanied by a tall, sturdy, no-nonsense woman with a kind face, and an adorable little gnome of a man who walked with a cane.

Giles shoved money into the boy's hand and rushed to open the door.

“Althenea!” he exclaimed. “It's so good to see you. I should have known you'd be aware of the situation even before we'd had a chance to contact you.”

He took both her hands in his and kissed her on both cheeks. He looked behind Althenea and saw Xander helping their other guest.

“Bernard! What on earth are you doing here? Not that you're not welcome, but I had no idea you'd be coming, too.”

Bernard smiled impishly. “I just couldn't bear to be left out of all the fun, Rupert. I promise I won't get in your way, and never fear, I have no intention of going into the Quor-Toth myself, but there may be something I can do to help. When I learned Althenea was teleporting over, I convinced her to let me tag along. I hope you don't mind.”

“Not at all. You're very welcome. Allow me to introduce you both to the rest of the group. This is Althenea Trevayne, of whom you've often heard Willow and me speak, and the gentleman with her is Bernard Addison, formerly of the Watchers' Council, and the best mystical psychic the Council has ever had. Althenea, Bernard, it would be my great pleasure to introduce the rest of the group to you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Bernard Addison was so excited he feared he would burst. Life in the Cotswolds was lovely, peaceful and . . . boring. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he missed his days as an active member of the Council. Even so, he had been a researcher during his tenure on the Council, and although it had been a rewarding career, it couldn't hold a candle to fieldwork. Just being in the same room with these fascinating people got his blood pumping, his energy skyrocketing and he felt half his age.

He actually got to meet the Slayer! Well, one of them, in any event. But the fact that there was more than one did not diminish the power of the individual Slayers. The energy of her aura roiled around her like magma—red and gold commingling with flame-like intensity. She was absolutely fascinating, and it would have been well worth the trip to meet her alone. But this group contained a richness of personalities that he had never expected to encounter—especially in one place. The sheer strength of their auras was blinding. Bernard chuckled. Unfortunately, no one had yet invented mental sunglasses. But he wouldn't trade the chance to see these strong, vibrant, saturated colors for anything. The auras he was used to seeing were pale and unsubstantial compared to this entire group!

He sat down on a strange round piece of furniture and allowed his senses free reign. The warm gold of Althenea's aura was familiar and comforting, as was Rupert's—the color of an excellent aged sherry. But, by the gods, he'd never seen colors like these others! Forty-odd years ago, he'd been intrigued by the reports of the mind-expanding properties of a new compound called lysergic-acid diethylamide and decided to try it. The experience was interesting, but not nearly as fascinating as this experience!

Xander came to his attention first. Strong, steadfast, loyal—he'd known much pain and loss, yet risen above it. He'd lost himself and his purpose for a time, but was rapidly on his way to reclaiming all. Coeur de lion, Bernard thought. This one has the heart of a lion. Interestingly, his aura was similar to Rupert's, but was the honey color of mead, rather than sherry.

Bernard's head turned toward Willow. Oh yes, there is power in this one! Tightly leashed, but simmering just below the surface. Her aura was tricolored, like a forest. How strange. He'd only seen one other tricolored aura that he could recollect. That had been many years ago, in London, during the War.

Bernard had met an old friend for dinner and was returning to his rooms in the Council Headquarters when the air raid sirens announced yet another visit from the Luftwaffe. He'd changed course to head for the nearest underground shelter when his eye was caught by an unusually strong aura.

Bernard paused, his hand on the banister as he prepared to descend to the shelter, and stared in shock. The aura that encircled the shoe-polish black hair was composed of three distinct colors, but that wasn't the oddest factor, by any means. No, the truly inexplicable fact was the man carrying the tricolored aura wasn't a man at all. He was a vampire, and vampires don't have auras. The aura is a reflection of the soul; ergo, soulless vampires cannot possibly have auras. How strange!

A thin band of gold circled the head with a much wider band of black pressing down upon it, as if attempting to obliterate the warm gold, but not quite managing. The thin strip of gold shone all the brighter caught between the flat matte of the atrocious hair color and the weighty black of the aura, which also boasted streaks of blood-red spiking through the black like lightning.

Bernard's concentration was shattered by the whine of a plane coming in fast, and he hurried down the stairs to the relative safety of the underground shelter. He'd never seen a vampire with an aura since, and he'd never seen another tricolored aura until now.

His initial impression of a forest intensified. The main color of Willow's aura was the lovely, leafy-green color of ferns, with streaks of yellow like dappled sunlight on leaves, and streaks of a brown so dark it was almost black. The forces of light and dark were definitely warring within this one, but the clean green of the main color was very positive.

Hmmm . . . the young woman passing out sandwiches positively glowed. Neon green energy encircled her entire body, not just her head. This truly was a fascinating group of individuals!

“Mr. Addison?” she asked as she approached.

“Oh, please, call me Bernard. I've never been one to stand on formality.”

The green intensified. “I'd be happy to. And I'm Dawn.”

“I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance, Dawn.”

“I was wondering if you'd like a sandwich? We were just calling out for food when we heard you were coming, so we ordered extra. I didn't know what you'd want, so I got ham and cheese, turkey and roast beef.”

Bernard smiled with delight and his milky eyes seemed to twinkle. “I would love a roast beef, Dawn. Thank you.”

“You're welcome. We have potato salad, cucumber salad, tossed salad, coleslaw and regular and barbeque chips, too.”

“She means crisps, Bernard,” Giles called.

“Oh my! So much to choose from,” Bernard said. “Some cucumber salad, if it's not too much trouble, but I believe I'll pass on the crisps, thank you.”

“Coming right up!”

Dawn placed a foam plate containing a thick sandwich beside him and handed him a teacup and a plastic fork.

“The sauce for the cucumber salad is pretty liquidy, so I put it in a cup for you instead of just on the plate.” She took the cap from a bottle and put it in his other hand. “And here's some iced tea. I thought you'd rather have that than soda.”

Dawn hurried away to pass out more food before he could thank her again.

Bernard shut down his inner sight to concentrate on the repast before him. He was very much looking forward to seeing what other surprises were in store for him when he Looked at the rest of the group, but for now, his concentration turned to the enticing scent of rare roast beef.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Continued in  Chapter Eighteen

 

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