Flesh and Blood

6

The reconnaissance group had finally reached the stadium. They were at the entrance, where the football teams would come through before a game. Whistler carefully inspected the door. There was a little Magick residue on the door, but anytime Buffy tried to enter, she triggered an alarm that was so loud, she could barely concentrate on making her escape. He closed his eyes and delicately used the palm of his hands to get a feel for the Magick that kept any unwanted visitors out. It was powerful, but he guessed that this was just the tip of the iceberg. Faith stood with her slayers observing their surroundings while the witches watched him work. Angel, Wesley, and Gunn took on lookout points. Spike, however, couldn't remain still. He was pacing back and forth behind them. The vampire was on edge as he watched the agent of the Powers suss the Magickal lock out.

"Spike, for the sake of the Motherland, please stop. This pacing isn't doing you or anyone any good," Wesley finally said.

Spike stopped, turned his attention to the ex-Watcher. He considered making a witty comeback but, in all honesty, he didn't have one, nor did he have the energy to cook one up. Pacing was better.

Whistler signalled a witch over to him. "Place your left hand here," he instructed, and the witch followed his request. The half-demon then placed his right hand on the opposite side of the door, so their hands were symmetrical. He took the witch's right hand in his left. With his eyes closed, he said, "I am going to speak Somalian and you will say 'Grant us access,' at the nod of my head."

The witch simply replied, "Okay," and waited for the signal.

Whistler eyed the witch to ensure she understood what to do. Satisfied with his appraisal, or perhaps he didn't care enough to ensure she was confident. He closed his eyes with their hands still pressed on the door as he mumbled the language to himself, and then nodded his head.

"Grant us access."

"Na sii fursad aan ku helno," Whistler continued, and then nodded again.

"Grant us access."

The door glowed a golden hue and creaked open. Whistler smiled, let go of the witch's hand, and cautiously entered, exhaling relief that the alarm did not sound.

As the group filed in, Amber straggled along the back. She made sure they were a bit far ahead of her before she focussed her thoughts on Amy.

In her head, she called to her leader. "Mistress Amy, the slayer has sent a recon group to look for Isobelle at the stadium. And they have help."

"What kind of help?"

"We've made it past the alarm. They're finding their way with this demon that can surpass the traps."

"Send them in."

***

Angel stopped the group upon entering. A long hallway lined with grey metal doors stretched before them. Some doors had little square windows they could peek into. The hallway ended with another door, with a sign that indicated the locker rooms were beyond that point. He looked over to Whistler, then Spike, then Faith.

"Alright, what's the plan?" Angel pretty much had a strategy in mind, he needed to make sure everyone was on the same page—especially Spike. Knowing the younger vampire for as long as he had, Spike using his brain was not his forte. He was a "Hit first, ask questions later" kind of man. And although the platinum blond made it a sport to annoy Angel, he truly didn't want to see his grandchild even dead-er than he already was. As much as he hated to admit it, it had nothing to do with his personal feelings towards him, and very much everything to do with Buffy. He knew his former lover had an emotional connection to the bleached vampire, perhaps one stronger than what she had with himself. If anything happened to Spike, the slayer would be devastated.