This was truly a disaster—and perhaps the best bit of luck they had since this whole prophecy came to light.
That helicopter had to be carrying the convict. They had not considered the hospital as a viable entry point. It did have a helipad on the roof, but there were other ways to get into town.
The storm got the credit.
He had caught sight of the helicopter’s lights while he was keeping watch over the Hwy17-US101 interchange. Naturally, he thought it would head for the airport. Faith and Wesley would have been ready and waiting for them there.
The storm had taken a bad turn having swept in from the south making it almost impossible to see the road ahead much less keep up with the helicopter. He had already taken the turn north toward Sunnydale Municipal Airport when it became clear that the helicopter was not heading in that direction. Its lights were still visible in the gloom and rain on the south side of US101.
There was no other exit nearby. If he went back to the interchange or headed west to the exit at Ralph’s Stop-n-Go Gas Station it would have been too late. He would never have been able to keep up.
Swerving around, Giles directed his car onto a grassy embankment that took him off the highway. The tires skidded on the muddy ground, but he managed to make it to the paved road below. His research materials, once carefully organized on the dash and passenger seat flew off in all directions.
There was a private helipad at the country club, another potential entry point they had ruled out. The rain was too heavy there and the lights of the club were all out.
The pilot was searching for a safe place to put down. Sunnydale Park was half under water, flooded by the lake. Saunder’s Field was back in the other direction. That left only one likely location—the hospital.
Giles kept one hand on the steering wheel and fumbled for his car phone with the other. The heavy black phone was hooked into the lighter to maintain its charge. In weather like this he would be lucky to get a good signal.
Forced to stop in order to properly see the phone, Giles watched as the helicopter light dimmed in the distance. One after the other he sent out the Code 6 pages to Buffy, Angel, Wesley, and Willow hoping they would get the messages and converge at Mercy General.
He had been too far behind to see it happen, but the whole sky brightened with a streak of lightning. Another burst of light followed and the sound of an explosion.
Now he was in the parking lot, standing in the rain, and watching with some sense of horror and relief. If the convict described by the prophecy was in that helicopter, his death might be a blessing. The prophecy might be as vague as any other, but one one thing it was clear. There were five sacrifices to be made via the Rites of Tavrok.
Surely this counted as a premature death. No rites would have been performed upon him. Giles presumed that to be the case considering the condition of Karla Brewer.
With Karla safe at the mansion and free of any further demonic influence, and the mysterious convict dead in this fiery crash, it would mean that the threat was over. His research tonight revealed more about the Bone Relic. It was used to identify and create the Pure Ones. With it also in their possession, he guessed that it might not be possible to select new victims in the convict’s place.
Cordelia would no longer be in danger.
If his assessment of the situation was right.
If the convict was dead.
Giles didn’t see how anyone could survive that crash. He hoped that there were no patients in that section of the hospital.
The storm was quickly dissipating, but the rain had already put out the worst of the fire by the time the sirens sounded in the distance.
Catching sight of Oz’ van moving toward him, Giles had raised a hand to wave at him, assuming that Oz would pull up next to his car. The van took the turn onto the main road, its tires screeching as it peeled away. That wasn’t Oz at the wheel, he realized, even though the van looked similar. It was a burly, leather vested, tattooed sort of fellow. Just the wrong sort, at the right place, at a bad time.
If they were here for the convict, they must have gone away empty-handed. Surely there was no way anyone survived that crash.
“Giles! Giles!” Hearing his name called out he turned in that direction. The Plymouth. Cordelia and Angel. At least one of his pages had gotten through.
Perhaps theirs was one he shouldn’t have sent. Cordelia would have been safer back at the marina. No matter now. The threat was apparently over—at least for tonight. The authorities and additional emergency support were nearly here. Some sort of evacuation was already underway. The hospital’s patients and employees would be safe.
Still, there had to be something they could do to help. They also had to discover who died in the crash. Was it the pilot alone, or also his passenger?
The group gathered in the far corner of the parking lot.
Angel and Cordelia came first. Neither particularly liked what he had to say. After a quick explanation of events, he added, “You should go home. Cordelia shouldn’t be out in the open like this—in case the danger doesn’t end here.”
The earful she gave him was practically painful. He had not considered the fact that they might think one of the group was injured. The Code 6 page was intended to get them to the hospital.
“C’mon, Angel, there has to be something we can do to help.” Cordelia had grabbed the vampire by the hand and led him toward the crowd forming outside the south emergency exit.
Giles couldn’t tell if Angel was just that keen to help the victims or if he just didn’t want to say no to Cordelia Chase.
Wesley and Faith showed up next, pulling up on the motorbike, both of them soaked by the rain. “Good Lord! Is that our convict?”
“I hope so. Faith, I need you to—”
Over the street Buffy called out, “Giles!”
Breaking off, he waited for Buffy and Spike to join them. “Good job you’re here.” He quickly brought them up to speed. “Cordelia and Angel are helping out over there.”
Buffy’s attention immediately snapped in that direction, a mistake perhaps on his part to mention that.
“I need all of you to head inside the hospital. Help out if you can, but Buffy… Buffy, I need you to get to that helicopter. Verify the body count.”
“We better jam,” Faith tapped Buffy on the shoulder. “The cops are here. We don’t get inside now we won’t get in at all.”
Spike followed the two slayers across the parking lot, but Wesley lagged behind to ask, “You’re not coming?”
Giles shook his head as he stared down at the tire marks left behind by that blue van. “Our last team is still out there.”
“They were assigned to the train station,” Wesley frowned as he realized that he and Faith had come all the way from the airport. “They should be here by now.”
“There was a van…,” Giles started to explain only to trail off upon catching sight of a trio of figures jogging toward them from the direction of Radcliff Park just behind the hospital.
Wesley’s attention turned in that direction. “It’s them! Why are they on foot? That’s not the direction of the train station.” Having studied a map of Sunnydale, he felt certain he was correct.
A sinking feeling bottomed out in his stomach as Giles suddenly connected the clues. They were on foot because they no longer had possession of the van. The man who did have the van didn’t look like an ordinary car thief.
He calculated the time it had taken him to get to the hospital after sending out those pages. Enough time for the helicopter to land, unload its passenger, and take off again? The lightning strike could have hit after that causing the pilot to crash into the hospital.
So much for that bit of luck.
“My assessment of the situation was a bit premature.” Giles rubbed at his suddenly aching head. They would have to wait for Buffy’s confirmation. He hoped she would return soon. “I think our ex-convict just got away.”
The perimeter was as secure as it was going to get. Nothing and no one could access the grounds without setting off an alarm, mystic or electronic. Angel was satisfied no one could get in without his knowledge.
The way this night was going he wouldn’t be surprised if every demon in town came storming in. What had he been thinking by combining his date with Cordelia with a Prophecy night? He should have known to expect more than a simple capture and rescue operation.
Keeping Cordelia out of harm’s way tonight had not been as simple as he thought it would be. He had used evasive driving to lose any possible tails. Planned to keep Cordy hidden on the Kendal’s boat in the event that the convict or Nico’s minions showed up at the marina. One of the other groups was supposed to capture or follow their quarry.
By now they were supposed to have the convict safely in their custody, or at least have an idea where Nicolau was taking the victims to perform the rituals. Instead, they had nothing. No convict, alive or dead, and no idea of where to find Nicolau.
Nothing had gone right! Angel picked up a stone from the front driveway, rolled it around in his hand a few times while trying to sooth his frayed nerves. Giles had spoken too soon by giving them hope that things might be over, but they weren’t. Not by a long shot. Angel hurled the rock away from him. A dull thunk sounded as it lodged in a tree.
All of his plans for one perfect night alone with Cordelia had literally gone up in smoke. That was not entirely true. He could not say that it was a wasted effort. The date itself had gone well. Dinner was perfect, surprisingly relaxing. Romantic. Soft candlelight. Engaging conversation. Food he could actually eat.
Angel could hardly complain about Cordy’s plan to go for a walk on the beach. The memory of her warm hands and mouth on him made him want to shut his eyes and relive every second of sensation. He had wanted her so badly.
It was an insane feeling to be so insatiable about Cordy, but he was starting to accept that was just the way it was between them. Even after tonight, the past two hours of moving people and equipment, of watching over her as she kept a group of children distracted just by talking to them. They seemed mesmerized by her voice.
Now that they were home again, Angel figured he should just tuck her into bed and let her sleep, but he did not know if it was possible to let that happen. The way he felt right now made him doubt his ability to lay down in the same bed without taking advantage of her warmth, providing himself with the comfort of knowing that she was safe for one more night.
Ripped away from his inner thoughts, the sound of a scream on the wind caught his attention coming from the direction of the mansion. Angel’s preternatural hearing recognized it instantly. “Cordy!”