The next moment, a scream pierced the air. Llewellyn's instincts, honed by
almost 1500 years of continuous study and training, went into overdrive. He
slammed on the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt. Looking around, he saw
two men struggle with a woman. Then, his blood turned ice-cold. The two men
were vampires.
"Dammit, my sword's in the trunk!" he grunted, and jumped out of
the car. He knew he didn't have much time, or the woman would be food by the
time he got there. He ran toward the two vampires, screaming at the top of his
lungs.
The two vampires, hearing the scream, looked up. This was all the time
Llewellyn needed. He jumped up, and delivered a devastating 360-degree kick to
the first vampire's jaw. The vampire's neck snapped as the head turned
backwards on the beast's neck. The second vampire, releasing the victim,
attempted to jump Llewellyn while he was landing. Llewellyn, having expected
this, slammed his elbow into the vampire's stomach. The vampire went down,
grunting. Llewellyn grabbed the vampire's head, twisted, and broke the second
neck that day.
Hurrying, Llewellyn ran at a full sprint to his car, and opened the trunk.
He retrieved his sword, and ran back to the spot where the first vampire was
regaining consciousness. The sword came down as the vampire was crawling on all
fours, trying to regain his equilibrium.
Not paying attention to the ashes, Llewellyn walked to the second vampire,
who was looking at him, with something of respect, but fear was the most
dominating.
"Who are you?" the beast asked, his voice tinted by fear and awe.
"My friends call me Llewellyn. You things never get to call me
shit," Llewellyn said. His sword made a quick slashing motion, and the
second heap of dust quickly scattered in the wind.
Putting his katana down, Llewellyn examined the woman. She was hurt pretty
badly, and was bleeding profusely. The vampires had beaten her up first, to
keep her from struggling.
"Those things never learn," Llewellyn grunted. "They
shouldn't play with their food."
He calmed himself, and closed his eyes. The ancient Egyptian words came
naturally, just as naturally as when he had first learned them, 1700 years ago.
The woman glowed in bright amber as he healed her wounds. She would remain
unconscious, her body having to recover from the trauma first.
As Llewellyn got up, and grabbed for his sword, he found a gun pointed at
him.
"This is the Sunnydale police! Put the weapon down, lie on the floor,
and put your hands behind your head!"
Llewellyn's mind kicked into overdrive. I've never been in jail before.
Might be an interesting experience, he thought. Nodding, he put the sword
back on the floor, and got flat on his stomach, putting his hands in his neck.
He didn't have to wait long before the cop put cuffs on him.
"You are under arrest for assault. You have the right to remain silent.
You have the right to an attorney…" the man drummed the Miranda
warning, obviously just saying it because he had to.
He was led to a police car, and shoved into the back seat, while a boy who
had been hiding in the shadows disappears.
"Oh, my," Giles, the librarian, said.
"Did you get something else?" Buffy asked the dark-haired boy.
"Nope. Sword-boy got chunked into the backseat of that police car, and
that was it."
"Willow, could you look into the police records?" Buffy asked a
redhead.
Willow, the computer geek of the bunch, nodded. "I'll take a look
Buffy," she answered the blonde.
"Ah, here it is. Llewellyn Morgan. Age 22. Arrested for assault and
battery. Oh, uh, he lives in Beverly Hills!"
"He lives WHERE?" Buffy raced over to the computer, and looked
into the record. "Well I'll be. This guy lives in Beverly Hills. Than what
is he doing killing vampires in Sunnydale?"
"That seems to be the million dollar question," Xander responded.
"Maybe we should erm… pay him a visit?" Giles
suggested.
"It's nine in the evening. Think they'll let us in?" Buffy asked.
"Unless we try, we won't be sure," a fair-haired boy named Oz
said.
"Count me out! Jail is no place for me!" the black-haired Cordelia
said, backing off slightly.
"Fine, Cordelia. The rest of us are going to pay a visit to this
Llewellyn Morgan character," Buffy said, receiving a nod from the other
members of the team.
Llewellyn's thoughts did dwell on Sam, however. The girl would be concerned when he didn't come home. But she would understand
once Fred called her. Sam knew Fred quite well, and would trust him enough to
do as he told her.
The cells next to his were also occupied, but Llewellyn didn't know what the
men in the cells had done. He didn't care.
"Hey, sweetheart! When you get out of here, gimme a call, and I'll give
ya something you'll never forget!" the man in the cell next to his
suddenly said. The other man laughed. Llewellyn opened his closed eyes. The
chips of gray ice set on the man.
"No, thank you," Llewellyn responded.
"What? I'm not good enough for ya?"
Llewellyn got up, and walked to the side of his cell. The cells were
adjoining, separated by only vertical steel bars.
"Come here, sweetheart," Llewellyn taunted. A couple of
hundred years ago, he had been a jailer, and he knew how to deal with people
like this. The man grinned, and walked over, obviously getting the wrong idea.
Llewellyn's right hand shot out through the bars, grabbed the man's neck,
and squeezed.
"My charges are assault and battery with a deadly weapon, namely a
sword," Llewellyn began. "But what the pigs don't know is that I am
responsible for some pretty bloody stuff back in Washington, D.C. "
The man grew pale. "What are you in for, honey?" Llewellyn asked.
"R…R…Robbed a liquor store," the man grunted.
"You think you're a man for robbing a liquor store, right?"
Llewellyn asked. "Well, let me tell you something. You're not a man in my
book before you tied up an entire family, father, mother, two daughters, and
three sons, and slowly tortured their scruffy dog to death before their very
eyes. Then you untie the first daughter, rape her, tie her back up, and go on
with the next one. After you raped every daughter, and the mother, at least
half a dozen times, you start the real fun."
Llewellyn never did such things, just described the most horrible crime he
ever came across while working for the FBI, back in the 60's. Inwardly, he was
having fun jerking this ass around, making him think he had just tried to get
it on with a madman.
"Under real fun I understand skinning, for instance. But first, you
slid the people's eyelids, forcing them to watch. You know, I had fun for about
three days before the neighbors got suspicious, and called the cops. So, I
added 46 accounts of cop-murder to my list of accomplishments. That's why they
don't know about me today."
The man had by now pissed his pants. Llewellyn released him, and he fell
backwards, hurrying over to the other side of the cell, looking like a
frightened animal at Llewellyn, who calmly sat back on the cot, folded his legs
again, and once more closed his eyes. He decided to augment his freshly earned
'nutcase' reputation by another few notches. He dove deep into his memories,
and pulled out a Welsh song. With very precise tones, he started singing.
|
Clyw! Clyw! for eu ol glod, |
Rise, rise, thou merry lark,
|
||
|
Cwyd, cwyd ehedydd, cwyd, |
Night's ling'ring shades are fled, |
|
||
It was a song from the late 1700's, one that he had remembered through all
the stuff he had collected in his mind. As he cast a glance at the men
incarcerated with him, he could see the fear on their faces. He smiled
inwardly. It had been a long time since he had so much with total strangers.
Then, the 'Buzz' hit him. The telltale feeling shot through him, signifying
that another Immortal was near. With a lot of hard work, and taking him nearly
100 years, he had managed to hide his own Buzz. At least, he could hide it when
he was awake. When he was asleep, or unconscious, his shields crumbled, and his
Buzz was as strong as ever
A Buzz? Here? Thank God mine's hidden. I'm not in the mood to fight now.
Wait a minute… that Buzz is young. Very young. Maybe a year? Or two? And
it hasn't been properly trained. Whoever owns it is a sitting duck. I wonder…
Llewellyn's thoughts interrupted as a group of people were led in the
holding area. A man, in his mid-forties, a pretty blonde, and a boy with brown
hair.
I wonder who they're here to see. And I wonder which one of those is the
owner of that pathetic Buzz? The man? Not likely… he doesn’t act
the way. But then again, neither of them does.
"Get up, Morgan. You have visitors," the cop said to him.
Me? I don't know them! Why would they come to see me? Llewellyn got
up, letting some of the surprise seep through.
"We'll be fine, officer," the man told the cop, who obediently
locked the cell, and got out of the room.
"Mr. Morgan, we uhm…" The man started, and then noticed the
other two men.
"Don't worry about those clowns. They won't tell anything. Won't you,
sweethearts?" Llewellyn asked the two men. The two criminals started
shaking.
"No, man! Your secrets are safe with us! We won't tell! We won't!"
Llewellyn shot a devilish grin at them, and turned back to his visitors.
"So, how can I help you?" Llewellyn asked in a friendly voice.
"I saw you waste two of them. How?" the boy asked. The prisoners,
thinking that the boy was referring to two humans, thought that the small group
must have a death wish of some sort, pissing off a nutcase like that.
"Training," Llewellyn responded. "Now, who are you?"
"I am Rupert Giles, this is Buffy Summers, and this is Xander
Harris", the man introduced himself and his two companions.
"Very well, Mr. Giles. I take it you and your group know what they
were. Then I also take it you're allied with the Slayer," the other
inmates were even more scared now. Slayer? A SLAYER?? Those three know some
guy called the Slayer?
"How do you know about the Slayer, Mr. Morgan?" Giles asks.
"I've known about her for a long time," Llewellyn responds. The
others started pissing their pants again.
A woman? The Slayer is a WOMAN?
"How long?" the girl, Buffy, asked.
"This isn't the place to talk about that sort of business,"
Llewellyn said. "You know what, why don't I go with you, and we can
discuss this in private. Give me ten minutes, ok?"
All three gaped at him as if he were nuts. The two other inmates, thinking
that the lunatic in the next cell was going to wipe out the police force, got
so scared they couldn't see straight.
"Guard! Hey, guard!" Llewellyn yelled. The guard came running.
"What?" he asked.
"I want out," Llewellyn said deadpan.
The guard started laughing.
"I did not assault that woman, and I can prove it."
"Right. And I'm the Easter Bunny," the guard replied, and opened
the cell to let the three visitors out.
"If you call the hospital, you'll find the woman in shock, but
uninjured."
The guard laughed even heartier now. "You sure have a way with words, pal,"
the guard said. "But alright, I'll humor you."
The guard left with the three visitors. Llewellyn sat back on his cot,
crossed his legs, and closed his eyes.
"Hey, when are you gonna start killing?" the first inmate asked.
"Not in the mood. That doesn't mean I won't get in the mood,"
Llewellyn responded with a crooked grin.
Not two minutes later, the guard returned.
"Somehow, the hospital confirmed your story. You're free. For
now." The guard opened the cell, and led him into the office, where his
possessions were returned to him.
Now feeling back like he was supposed to, Llewellyn stepped into thee cool
night air, the sheathed sword carried loosely in his right hand. He was still
thinking of the small group he had met, and about the fact that they were
nowhere in sight. Suddenly, a van pulled up to the curb, next to where
Llewellyn was walking.
"Hey man, need a ride?" a red-haired boy asked.
"Nah, my ride's just around the corner, in the impound lot. Thanks anyway,"
Llewellyn responded. Then, he saw Buffy's head poke out over the passenger seat.
"You said we were going to talk," she said.
"I'll get my car and follow you," Llewellyn responded. "I
don't like letting her gather dust on some police impound lot."
"Alright. Hey, you know what? Why don't I go with you? That way Oz can
drive on, and you won't get lost," Buffy said, obviously referring to the
boy driving the van.
"Sure," Llewellyn answered. "See you later," he said to
the boy, who raised his hand in greeting as Buffy got out of the van.
The van drove on, leaving Llewellyn and Buffy behind.
"So, how long have you been the Slayer?" Llewellyn asked as he set
a brisk pace for the impound lot. He definitely did not want to get there to
find it closed.
Buffy was startled beyond belief. "How did you…"
"I have met Slayers before, Buffy. You don't mind calling you Buffy, do
you? Thanks. Believe me, you act every bit like every Slayer I've met." He
bit down the painful memory of his Ingrid. He didn't succeed. Ingrid…
it's been 1500 years, and still I can't forget you, or our twenty years
together.
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Buffy asked.
"Depends on what you intend to do with those abilities of yours. Ah,
here we are," Llewellyn said, walking up to the lot. It was a couple of
minutes before closing time. He threw 50 dollars on the counter.
"The black Dodge Viper, license plate H8 VAM," he said.
"Sure," the attendant replied. "Can I have some ID?"
Llewellyn flashed his driver's license in front of the attendant's nose. The
man nodded. Llewellyn and Buffy walked though, following the directions of the
attendant.
"What do you mean, what I plan to do with my abilities?" Buffy
asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
"Well, are planning on broadening your horizons, or do you plan on
staying with your Watcher all your life?"
"Ah. And what would be broadening my horizons? You?" ^she shot a grin at him. He looks kinda cute. I
wouldn't mind spending some time with him, she decided.
"I am not looking for students right now. I have my hands full with
Samantha as it is."
"Samantha?"
"Get in," Llewellyn said as they reached the black sports car, and
he threw the sword in the trunk. "She's my daughter," he elaborated.
A daughter? Damn. He's married. Wow, what a car…Buffy thought.
As Llewellyn keyed the engine, the low growl shook her out of her reverie.
Llewellyn got the car out of the lot without problems.
"Now, where do I go?"
"The library of the high school," Buffy said, giving directions to
Llewellyn. To her surprise, she only had to explain once.
"How can you listen to this?" Buffy asked as they drove through
the semi-deserted streets of nighttime Sunnydale.
"Vivaldi's four seasons," Llewellyn explained. "It's
one of my favorites. But, since you're the guest…" he reached for
the radio, and stopped the playback of the CD.
Five minutes later, they pulled up to the high school.
"Isn't it a little late for it to still be open?" Llewellyn asked
as he and Buffy entered the building.
"Giles is the librarian here," Buffy explained. "He has a
key."
Llewellyn just nodded in understanding. When he entered the library, he saw
that there were other people there as well. Giles was there, as well as Xander.
The boy driving the van, Oz, was there as well. There were two other girls
there he didn't recognize, though. Llewellyn took the seat that was offered to
him with a 'thanks'.
"So, Mr. Morgan. How do you know about vampires? And how do you know
about the Slayer?"
Llewellyn sighed. This is the first time I've met a Slayer who was
actually smart enough to stay with her friends after she's called. I wonder
what is going on here.
"The secret of vampires and Slayers has been passed down through the
generations, Mr. Giles. Me and every member of my family are trained from a
very young age to fight them. We also hold records on the Slayers, which is the
reason we know more about the girls than most girls do about themselves."
Damn, I hate lying like this. Normally, I could have just told her and
her watcher about my immortality, but those friends…I wouldn't want this
to get out into the open.
"And sometimes, we encounter one another, while fighting
vampires… which is where I have met Slayers before."
A total evasion this time. They shouldn't know I have teamed up with ten different Slayers.
"And why do you do this?" Giles asked.
Llewellyn shrugged. All right, I'll lie again. "We just do. It's
a duty handed down to us, and we gladly accept it."
"You're a strange man, Llewellyn. There is more to you than meets the
eye," Giles said.
Far more than you know. Llewellyn gave a mysterious smile. He opened
his coat as his cell phone rang.
"Morgan," he answered. He listened intently to the voice on the
other side. The others startled when they saw him grow pale.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine…do you know who did it?" his voice was
weak, almost faltering.
"Thank you," he whispered, and closed the connection.
"Is something wrong, Mr. Morgan?" Giles asked.
"Someone…Someone just kidnapped my daughter. When I find out who did it, I'll
rip his throat out and shove it up his ass!" Llewellyn shouted. He knew
that he was very able to carry out such a threat. He could do worse than that,
but he wasn't going to let this group know that. His cell phone rang again.
"Morgan," he answered, more shortly this time. Friendliness seemed
to have left the man. The next moment, they heard him shout. In a language none
of them had ever heard. The phone was snapped shut with such a force most
thought it would break.
Llewellyn seemed to think for a moment, totally forgetting where he was. He
opened the phone, and dialed a memorized number.
An answering machine picked up.
"Fox? Lion. The peaceful sleep has been disturbed. Need backup,"
Llewellyn spoke into the machine. To his surprise, a second message played.
Lion, I'm in Sunnydale if it's urgent enough to warrant you to use the
keywords I've programmed into my computer.
The connection closed.
"Is there anything of value in Sunnydale? A museum with a costly
exhibit or something?" he asked the group. They stared at him as if he
were nuts.
"Uhm…yes, the new Egyptian exhibit in the museum just arrived
today…" one of the unknown kids said. She had been introduced as
Willow, and she seemed to be the resident computer geek annex science nerd.
"Where is the museum?" he asked. "It's important. I can find
my friend there. I know where my daughter is. I'm going to get her, with his
help."
"I can show you," Buffy said.
Knowing Fox, he brought his transportation. And knowing her line of work,
she'll be able to keep a secret. She'll certainly have to if Fox's already
inside.
"Alright," Llewellyn allowed. He jumped up "I'll be back
shortly. I need to do some more research before going after this guy."
After saying that, he set out a sprint, with Buffy hot on his heels. By the
time she got outside, Llewellyn had already pulled up the car. She jumped
inside, and started giving directions. When Llewellyn reached for the radio,
Buffy grunted silently.
God, no more classical music, please!
When heavy metal blazed out of the system, she looked up in shock.
This is the way we want it to be, this is the way of the Warrior,
Hammerfall sang. Walking the way, the honest will see, walking the way of
the Warrior.
Buffy thought it was rather fitting. She also let her thoughts dwell
momentarily about the fact that Llewellyn seemed to have more layers than she
had first thought. She couldn't think for too long, though. The Viper raced
through the streets at speeds that boggled her mind.
"There, across the street," Buffy told him, pointing to a large
building.
"Hold on," he told her. He slammed the gear into neutral, and
pulled the hand brake. The rear wheels locked, and the car fishtailed across
the street. With a routine gesture, Llewellyn jerked the steering wheel. The
car came to a perfect halt parallel to the curb.
Buffy was astonished. What a driver… she thought.
Llewellyn jumped out of the car, and walked to the trunk. He took out his
sword.
"So, where is your friend?" Buffy asked.
"There's his bike," Llewellyn pointed to some bushes. "He's
already inside."
"Inside?" she asked dumbly.
Without answering, Llewellyn walked up to the door, looked at it, shrugged,
and kicked it in. He walked inside. Dumbly, Buffy followed.
But he's a lousy thief. She added to her earlier comment.
Llewellyn looked around, and walked resolutely to the right. When Buffy
caught up with him, they could see a man, dressed in black, dangling from a
robe, about to take come artifact out of its glass display case.
"Fox," Llewellyn said, walking up to where the robe had been
connected to a machine. Just as he had thought, his 1,000 year-old student had
masked his Buzz as well.
"Damn," the other man muttered, and started swinging. "Lion,
no!"
Llewellyn took his sword, and artfully cut through it with a single stroke.
The man known as Fox fell to the floor right next to the display case.
"You could have triggered an alarm!" the man shouted. "How
did you get in here in the first place? And who is she?" he pointed to
Buffy.
"I kicked in the front door, and this is Buffy. The current Slayer.
Resident to the Hellmouth."
Hellmouth? He knows about the Hellmouth? Who is this guy?
"And what is important enough for you to come in here and bust my job?"
"Sam's been kidnapped. By Ricardo."
"Fuck!" 'Fox' grunted. "You know where he is?"
"Not yet. Rendezvous at the library. Be there." Fox nodded.
By the time Llewellyn and Buffy made it to the library, 'Fox' was already
right behind them, his equipment packed on the back of his bike.
"So, what happened?" 'Fox' asked as soon as he jumped off the
bike.
"Got here, kicked some vamp ass, got thrown in jail, got out, got phone
call from Beverly Hills police, had phone call from Ricardo, to taunt me and to
give me a location," Llewellyn rumbled. Buffy stared wide-eyed at him, and
her eyes went open even wider when she saw 'Fox' nod in understanding.
By that time, the three entered the library.
"Everyone, Crevan, Crevan, everyone," Llewellyn introduced. To
'everyone' 's surprise, Crevan just nodded.
"I need you to find out where he called from," Llewellyn said,
giving Crevan the phone. Crevan started dialing immediately, and talked into
the phone for a couple of moments. He hung up, to be called back mere moments
later.
"Yep, you got it," Crevan said. "I'll be waiting, it's for
the day before yesterday. THEN MAKE THE TIME, PAL!" he shouted, and
slammed the phone shut.
"He gave me an address," Llewellyn said. "I need you to check
it out."
"Depends where," Crevan replied.
"Sunnydale Industrial area, warehouse 572."
Crevan opened the phone again. "Warehouse 572 , Sunnydale
industrial." And he slammed it shut.
"And now what?" Crevan asked.
"Wait," Llewellyn said. "We need to know more before risking
our necks."
"Are you sure you're up to it?" Crevan suddenly asked. "It's
been 120 years, after all."
"WHAT?" Buffy and Xander shouted at the same time. Llewellyn
betrayed nothing. Crevan's face betrayed nothing either, but inwardly he was
confused.
"I didn't tell them," Llewellyn told his student. He turned to the
shocked group of people.
"I am 1725 years old," Llewellyn said. "I was found near a
road, and was raised by a druid. I first encountered vampires when I was 150,
and it took me 50 years to find out just what they were. I found out when I
helped a girl fight them. Her name was Ingrid. She was a Slayer."
Buffy laughed, so did the rest. "Yeah, right." She said, and
resumed laughing.
"That's the funniest joke I've ever heard," Xander said.
"This guy's daughter gets kidnapped, and he cracks jokes."
Llewellyn extended his right arm. Crevan took it. Without an emotion
crossing on either's face, Crevan jerked. The elbow snapped with a sickening
crunch, and was now extended 90 degrees… in the wrong direction. Everyone
stopped laughing. Then, Llewellyn jerked. The arm popped back in place, and
blue sparks crossed the skin as the bone knitted itself back together.
"That's a trick," Xander said. Without twisting a muscle,
Llewellyn got up. He walked to a special compartment, locked down with fences.
"Weapons locker," Llewellyn said. "Would you mind if I borrow
something?"
Giles shook his head. "Erm, no. Go right ahead."
Llewellyn reached for the door, to find it locked.
"No!" Buffy shouted. Too late. Llewellyn had kicked it in. He took
out a crossbow.
"It's been a while since I used one of these. Crevan? Would you
mind…?"
"Not at all. I really enjoy this part. Everyone, please keep your
shocked expressions on, ok?" he removed his upper clothes, and stood in
front of Llewellyn, who aimed. Everyone looked shocked, even more.
"Wait!" Buffy jumped up, but not before Llewellyn had pulled the
release. The arrow whooshed through the air, and embedded itself deep in
Crevan's heart region. It was an instantaneous fatal shot, and everyone knew
it. Llewellyn calmly put the bow down, and walked to Crevan's corpse. He took
the arrow, jerked, and threw it next to the bow. Crevan gasped, and veered up.
Everyone looked as if they were watching the creation of a ghost. Blue
sparks crossed Crevan's chest as his wound closed. Soon after, he put his
clothes back on as the blood got reabsorbed into his body.
"As I said, we do not age, get sick, or die from any wounds. Our only
weakness is decapitation," Llewellyn said.
As Llewellyn's phone rang, Crevan answered. "He phoned from the same
warehouse you gave me the address to," Crevan told when he hung up. The
next moment, Crevan's cell phone rang. He answered, and slammed down almost
immediately.
"He's got a fucking army. 15 men, armed with M16A1 rifles," Crevan
said.
"No problem," Llewellyn said.
"It has been 120 years since you fought an Immortal. Are you sure
you're up to it?" Crevan asked. "You did swear never to fight an
Immortal again."
"And I didn't. Now this sicko wants me for killing his student. But I'm
going to get him first. If he's hurt her…"
"Lew, she's my niece. I know how you feel. She's like a daughter to me.
We'll get him. If you die, he dies right after. No quarter."
"Let's go," Llewellyn said, and Crevan ran right after his
teacher.
"Now what?" Buffy asked. "Those two can't die, and they're
going after the daughter of one of them."
"I'd run if you want in," Xander said. "Those two are
breaking every speed record known to man."
By the time Buffy got outside, she saw Crevan's bike roar right next to Llewellyn's
Viper. The car screeched to a halt, followed shortly by the bike. The passenger
door was roughly thrown open.
"Get in," Llewellyn barked. "We'll need directions to the
industrial area."
Buffy jumped in the car, which roared off before she even got the door
closed. Buffy was no champion driver, but Llewellyn's style made her dive for
her seatbelt.
Music blared once more through the stereo system. Hammerfall was singing
again, the volume was turned up to maximum. Llewellyn's senses were going into overdrive.
Buffy covered her ears, and stared at the man, who looked like he was possessed
by some evil entity. Now she really believed him to be so old. He looked it.
She listened to the lyrics over her clenched ears, shouting directions every
now and then.
Oh, oh, oh
All she needed was a Champion
Oh, oh, oh
Crying for a savior to fight for her life
He stood up to be the Champion
Oh, oh, oh
He became the savior that fought for her life.
"Stay," Llewellyn told Buffy. He took the sword from the trunk,
and walked towards the warehouse. He just walked up to the door, and kicked it
in. the next moment, Buffy ducked as she heard the automatic rifles began
firing. Crevan was not far behind, and dove in just as readily.
Inside, Llewellyn's eyes were shooting fire as he executed one fatal
maneuver after another. In less than five minutes, the two Immortals had
eradicated the 15 men inside. Only then did they collapse of the gunshot
wounds. It took them twenty seconds to revive. Less then a minute passed before
the two men were whole once more.
Llewellyn walked to the offices, where he could detect the faint
pre-immortal Buzz of Samantha, as well as the strong Buzz of Ricardo. He ran up
the stairs.
"Ricardo!" Llewellyn's voice could freeze nitrogen, while his eyes
could fuse hydrogen atoms together. "You wanted me, here I am!"
Ricardo smiled. "Llewellyn," he said, smiling. "Finally, we
meet. I will avenge Juan's death!"
"Juan challenged me. I killed him. That's the 'Game'. After his death,
I withdrew from it, until you forced my comeback. Fight. Now." Llewellyn's
katana was released from its sheath. Ricardo drew a Damascus blade, a big
sword, making it slow, but its blade was the strongest ever made. Llewellyn saw
Sam tied to a chair. He could see her head hanging.
"Sam!" Llewellyn shouted. "Samantha!"
The girl's head righted itself. Broken eyes looked at her father.
Llewellyn's heart broke. "Dad. I knew you'd come," she said. Her
voice was still strong. Life seemed to return to her eyes, and Llewellyn knew
that her condition was because of her capture, and the fact that she had been
unable to stop it from happening.
Ricardo saw his moment. He raced toward Llewellyn, who just in time managed
to right his blade, and catch the blow. The force was substantial, however, and
Llewellyn was driven backwards through the door of the office. Ricardo kept it
up, and with one final slash he managed to blow Llewellyn through the railing
of the stairs. Llewellyn fell to the ground floor, and landed on his feet.
Ricardo, mad with rage, jumped after his enemy. He landed on his feet as
well, but the sickening crunch of broken bones accompanied by the grunts of
Ricardo told Llewellyn everything he needed to know. His sword raced toward
Ricardo, who managed to block. His bones had healed by now, and he got back up on
his feet. The two were fighting an uneven match, and Crevan knew it. Llewellyn
had been out of the Game too long, but with every strike Crevan could see
Llewellyn regain his old vigor.
Llewellyn sheathed his sword, and squared off against Ricardo.
"This ends now," Llewellyn said.
Crevan's eyes widened. Battou-jutsu. Llewellyn's going to use
Battou-jutsu! And knowing Lew, he mastered every possible style of it.
Crevan was right. His master and mentor blasted forward at a speed that made
Crevan smile. Ricardo wasn't too bad either, because he managed to get his
blade up in time to block. Unfortunately, the speed and strength of Llewellyn's
quick-drawing attack was far superior to both Ricardo, as well as his blade.
The top half of the Damascus blade embedded itself in the far wall. Ricardo's
head fell.
The bluish mist of the Quickening started to rise. Instead of waiting for
the feeling of the other Immortal to enter him, Llewellyn walked up the stairs.
Lighting crashed all around him, bursting lights and destroying windows, but
Llewellyn remained impassive under the enormous pains flooding his senses. The
essence of Ricardo entered his mind and his body, but the thought of Sam kept
Llewellyn upright.
He walked through the doors, the Quickening still raging around him, and
with a single slash of his sword, he untied Samantha. The Quickening ended, and
he picked up the girl.
"Dad…" the ten-year-old whispered. "You did
that…for me…"
"For you, Angel, I would do anything," Llewellyn whispered,
pressing the girl close to him. Crevan walked up to the couple.
"Get a room," he joked. "Seriously, there's someone here who
wants an explanation."
Llewellyn turned around, and looked at a shocked Buffy.
"Sam, that Buffy, the Slayer. Buffy, meet Sam," Llewellyn said.
"A real Slayer? Wow!" Sam said, her eyes beaming at Buffy.
"Hi," Buffy said to the girl. "And there are still some
things you have to tell us," she told Llewellyn.
"I will, don't worry. Sam, how are you?"
"Still groggy," the girl answered. "He used some kind of drug
on me…and when I tried to free myself, he hit me a couple of times, then
tied me to the chair."
"I'll get you healed up at the meeting point. Sam, I'm sorry you had to
go through this… if I had just fought him…"
"Dad!" Sam said. "You vowed never to fight in the Game again.
You didn't. He kidnapped me, which made it personal."
Llewellyn smiled faintly, and got up, the ten-year-old raven-haired girl
still in his arms. "Buffy, I hope you don't mind riding on the back of
Crevan's bike. Sam will ride with me."
"Don't worry," Buffy responded.
Sam's eyes opened at the music coming from the sound system.
"Hammerfall?" she asked, decreasing the volume and changing to
Vivaldi's four seasons. "You were that worried?"
The clenching of her father's eyes answered Samantha's question. "Don't
worry, Dad. It's over now. We're both alright, we've found the Slayer, living
on top of the Hellmouth out of all places, and Ricardo's dead."
"As good as, anyway," Llewellyn responded, pulling up on the
parking lot of the high school.
"School?" Sam asked, getting out of the car.
"The Slayer's been using the library as meeting point," Llewellyn
answered. When he saw his student and Buffy stop right next to the car, he
nodded at them.
"You alright, Squirt?" Crevan asked the girl.
"Just fine. It takes more than half a liter of chloroform and some
bruises to get me down," Sam told Crevan. Crevan smiled, and ruffled his
hand through her hair.
By that time, the foursome had reached the library, and Llewellyn pushed
open the door. The group there stared as Llewellyn had Sam sit down.
"You know the drill, Sam. Hang on," Llewellyn told the girl. Sam
nodded, and Llewellyn closed his eyes. He started muttering the ancient Egyptian
words of the healing spell. His face strained as he cast the spell for the
second time that day. He pressed the yellow orb of power against Sam, who
gasped as the energy healed her wounds.
Llewellyn grunted, and sat down on the chair next to the girl. "Twice
in an evening is pushing it," he told no one in particular.
"Twice?" the girl asked. "Dad? Have you been getting yourself
in trouble again?"
The group snickered at the 'again'.
"Hey!" Llewellyn said, smiling. "For your information, young
lady, I saved a woman from two vamps, I healed her, and I got thrown in jail
for my trouble."
Sam winced. "Poor jail, I bet."
"Not really. The woman was already healed. No wounds, no charges,"
Llewellyn said, shrugging. He turned to the group. "Now, I'm sure you want
to know more about me."
"After that lightshow, yes!" Buffy said.
"What lightshow, Buffy?" Xander asked.
"The Quickening," Llewellyn explained. "I killed Ricardo, and
his essence, his soul, was transferred to me. That is what happens when one of
us kills another. You see, this Quickening transfers the essence of one
Immortal to another, making the victor stronger. There are a lot of Immortals
who believe that the last survivor gets some mystical prize, and they go around
chopping each others heads off, preferably with swords, but axes are used as
well."
"And you, Mr. Morgan? Do you believe in this…butchery?"
Giles asked.
"They call it the Game, Mr. Giles. But no, I gave up the Game 120 years
ago. I never believed in it, but 120 years ago I decided the killing wasn't
worth it anymore. You see, there are rules to this Game. One of them is that we
can't fight on holy ground; a second is that these battles are always one on
one. A third one is that a challenged Immortal must defend himself, or die. So,
for over 1600 years, I defended myself when challenged. I always won."
"So you stopped defending yourself," Giles said.
"I ran away instead," Llewellyn said. "I didn't want to fight
anymore. But tonight, when Ricardo got his hands on my daughter…I
reverted back to someone I was a long time ago."
"Really? Who?" Buffy asked.
"Let me tell you some of my life story," Llewellyn said. "I
was born 1725 years ago, an I was found by a druid in present-day Wales. He
raised me to be a druid, which explains why I have a knack for learning things."
"A druid learned everything by heart," Giles said. "No
writings. Mr. Morgan, I'm impressed."
Llewellyn smiled faintly. "It's one of the times I appreciate the most.
He may not have been my father, but the man has taught me balance. Then, one
day, Lucious came. He was an Immortal, 800 years old, who found and trained me.
I wasn't Immortal then. Over a course of two years he taught me who and what I
was going to be. And when I first died, at 20 years of age, Lucious taught me
how he lived. I ended up staying with Lucious for 100 years before we finally
split up."
"What do you mean with 'first death', Mr. Morgan?" Giles asked.
"If I understood you correctly, you can't die."
"Well, you see, an Immortal only becomes Immortal after he or she dies
a first time. Then, aging stops, and the Immortal gains the rapid healing that
is characteristic to them. Sam is a pre-Immortal, which is the reason why she
didn't heal. Lucious lived by a certain code. For him, Immortality was a gift,
a gift to explore, to learn, to experience things. I have taken over that
system. So, after we split up, we kept in touch as much as was possible back
then, and we both roamed the world independently. I finally settled down in
what would now be Germany, and married for the first time. I was happy, and so
was my wife. Unfortunately, Immortals can't have children, but that fact didn't
seem to trouble my wife much.
Then, I came into contact with something new when my wife disappeared. I
tracked down the group who kidnapped her, and I had to kill them Immortal-style
before they would stay down. It certainly wasn't easy. The group was made up of
vampires, but I didn't know that then. When my wife turned on me, I was forced
to kill her, too. It broke my heart. Not knowing what to do with myself, and
the things I had seen, I traveled the world, seeking spiritual advice. I
studied arcane works to find out just what those things were. Unfortunately, I
found nothing more than some hogwash.
My luck changed when I met Ingrid," Llewellyn said, and broke off his
story. He took a deep breath before continuing. "She was a Slayer. I
stepped in when she was fighting overwhelming odds of those creatures. With my
help, we won. Her Watcher, a man named Gerwyn, taught me everything he knew. I,
in turn, taught him everything I knew about fighting, tactics, and so on.
Things Lucious has taught me nearly 70 years earlier suddenly came in handy.
Gerwyn became a father to the two of us, and Ingrid became …my second
wife. For 20 years, we fought side-by-side against the darkness, even after
Gerwyn passed on. Demons, vampires, we faced them together. When she finally
succumbed to old age, she asked me for one thing: to continue the fight against
vampires and demons. I vowed I would kill any vampire I encountered. I haven't
broken that vow until this day.
That is why I have met ten Slayers so far, but that's for later. After
Ingrid died, I once again started traveling the world. I learned to use a
katana, studied the martial arts, and the arcane. And then, I got notice that
Lucious was killed by a headhunter. I tracked him down. We fought. I won,"
Llewellyn said evenly.
"So, there I was, maybe 230 years old, and alone on the world. My
mortal family had long since died, and I had no Immortal friends. Lucious'
teacher, Cetihotep, was dead as well. He was the one who taught Lucious the
magic he taught me, by the way. So, I learned whatever came to interest. I
learned to forge katanas, I learned to use them, and I mastered martial arts that
have been dead for hundreds of years. I even helped in writing some occult
works myself.
It must have been around the year 990," Llewellyn said, "when I
first met Crevan Aegelmaere, here. His name, meaning 'infamous fox', was earned
because he was the best thief in London at the time. I taught him to be an
Immortal, and we stayed together for 50 years before splitting up. Crevan
stayed in Japan to study Ninjitsu. He ended up staying for 50 years. I won't
bore you with my travels, but I can tell you that I have tried many things, and
when I'm interested, I have mastered them, too."
"Like what?" Buffy asked.
"I learned horseback riding from the Mongol Hordes. I stayed with the
Shaolin monks, and an Indian guru. I have mastered many different weapons, but
my favorites are the staff, the bow, and the sword. And yes, I've done some
things in modern times, too. Like being in the Navy Seals, the FBI, and so on."
"That's…that's incredible," Willow said, her voice growing
quieter as everyone focused on her.
"Well, I've had a lot of time to learn," Llewellyn said.
"Now, there's something I want to ask you. Have any of you died recently?"
"Not recently, no…" Buffy said.
"How long ago?" Crevan asked.
"Maybe a year," Buffy said.
Llewellyn and Crevan looked at each other, and nodded. Samantha looked at
her father.
"Dad? What's going on?" she asked.
"I think we've got ourselves something that only exists in
theory," Llewellyn said. "Buffy, both me and my friend have been
sensing a Buzz. We believe it's yours."
"What?" Buffy finally managed.
"We believe you are Immortal, Buffy. Both us have hidden our Buzz, so
you haven't felt us, but we certainly have felt you," Crevan explained.
"We can test our theory," Llewellyn said. "I will remove the
shield of my Buzz. Buffy, look away for a minute. If you feel a splitting
headache, look at me, and it'll disappear."
Buffy looked at the men as if they were insane. Shrugging, she said,
"Fine."
As Buffy looked away, Llewellyn closed his eyes, and dumped the blocks
around his Buzz. He could hear Buffy grunt. As his eyes opened, he saw her
clenching at her head, grunting in pain.
"Look at me, Buffy. The pain will go," he said, putting his hand
on her shoulder to urge her on. Buffy turned around, and stared him in the
face. Reief flooded her posture.
"That's incredible!" Buffy said. "How did you do that?"
"That was the Buzz," Crevan explained. "It grows easier as
you encounter it more. The first time is always the worst. The Buzz allows us
to tell mortals and Immortals apart."
"Dad?" Sam asked. "I don’t understand," she added.
"Don't understand what, Angel?" Llewellyn asked. "What's
wrong?"
"How can a Slayer be Immortal?"
"The odds are against it," Llewellyn said. "But, as you can
see, it's possible. The Slayer is selected by a spirit, who gives the girl
enhanced strength, stamina, and allows her to learn weapons very quickly. In
this case, the spirit has chosen an immortal body. when Buffy died the first
time, the spirit left her body, and chose another Slayer. Fortunately, it left
the changes in Buffy's body intact."
"I see," Sam said, smiling.
"Sam and I are going back to Beverly Hills tonight. You got a place to
stay, Crev?" Llewellyn asked.
"I have my tent. I don't need more."
Llewellyn grinned. "You've got millions spread all over the world, and
prefer a tent. I'll never understand you," he grunted.
"Just like I will never understand how you not only manage to learn new
things after 1700 years, not forget anything, and actually manage to build a
fucking fortune in your spare time," Crevan returned, laughing.
"It's a gift," Llewellyn said with a straight face and a
sarcastically arrogant tone to his voice.
"Yeah, just like that obnoxiousness," Crevan shot.
"I'm a man of many talents," Llewellyn said. "A man with 700
years of experience on you," he added.
"You'll never let me live that down, will you?"
"It's the truth," Llewellyn added. The rest of the group, minus
Sam, were staring at the two immortals quipping with one another.
"How much is a fortune?" Xander asked.
"Whose? His or mine?" Crevan asked back.
"Both, I'd say," Giles said.
"I wouldn't know how much," Llewellyn answered, closing his eyes
to focus on a mental image. "Somewhere between three and four hundred
million, spread over secret accounts, and tied down in various enterprises."
"I prefer smaller amounts. It's easier to keep track off. I've got a
couple of million spread in accounts and artifacts all over the world,"
Crevan said.
"You prefer smaller amounts because you can't get the big money,"
Llewellyn said.
"At least I earn my money by myself," Crevan said.
Samantha sighed. "This will go on for a while…" she
muttered.
"When you're friends for a thousand years, you tend to have fun with
each other," Llewellyn told the girl next to him. "You'll understand
when you've trained your first student, and have known him or her for a
thousand years."
"It's still a long way off," Crevan told the girl. Samantha nodded
solemnly.
"No, if you'll all excuse us, we've got to get home," Llewellyn
said.
"Hey, where can we get hold of you? You know, for when thing get
ugly?" Xander asked as the two immortals and the pre-Immortal prepared to
leave.
"I live in Beverly Hills. Just take a phone book, and look,"
Llewellyn returned with a grin. "Come on, Sam. I'll race you to the car."
Crevan shook his head as master and student raced from the library, both
laughing. "He'll never grow up. and by God, I hope he never does,"
Crevan mutter half-loud.
"What do you mean?" Buffy asked.
"It means that Lew still acts like a fucking 20-year-old whenever he
has the chance," Crevan told the Slayer. "And I wouldn't worry about
your training either. An immortal Slayer should be more than capable of
teaching herself. I'm sure you already know how to handle a sword. I would
suggest getting into a kenjutsu class, or something similar. Good bye, all.
It's been a pleasure," Crevan told everyone, and left the library. The
group that he left behind was shaken up by the things that had happened that
evening. It was late by the time they finally broke up the meeting, and each
went his, or her, own separate way.