Victor, man, you make me squirm in all the right places.

Thanks, all. Part Two will be around later today or tomorrow. Must work now.

YAY! More Victor!!!!!!!!!

[link]

Victor's CWDP story is up now. There was a minor delay involving some minor hacks to my alt.css for the site, as it turns out NN4.7x is even more random in its support of CSS than even I knew.

Victor, great story. Loving Dawn and Xander more and more. You do good Spike.

The Resurrection Gambit

Part Two: The Raid

Los Angeles, 2003: The LAPD barreled down the door with a battering ram, and policemen nervously hoisted their guns at the crowd of vampires gathered within the run-down warehouse.

The monsters lurched forward as Angel leapt into the fray ahead of the cops, barreling into the crowd, vamped out and in an obvious frenzy. Gunn began barking orders.

“All right, people!” he shouted. “We're shooting anything that’s a vampire and not on our side. Remember, you’re on the side of the angels this time.”

“Whattaya think we usually are?” asked an offended cop.

“Huh.” said Gunn. “Hadn’t thought about it.”

Wesley folded his arms into the lining of his jacket, and pulled them out quickly, revealing a pistol in each hand. He began firing—head shots only—into the crowd.

“Now, Gunn, don’t taunt the clients. It’s gauche.”

After years of thinking Kate Lockley was crazy, a sudden increase in L.A.’s vampire population proved to be more than they could explain away. They turned to Kate. Kate referred them to Angel. Angel charged them a lot of money.

Spike came flying out at the crowd from the police’s opposite flank It was his first big scrap since he fell naked out of the sky into the crater that was once Sunnydale, where he was found by a Wolfram & Hart scout team trained to seek out otherdimensional disturbances. His reckless abandon disturbed Gunn. Vamp was having too much fun.

Still, Spike’s obvious need for release was nowhere near as disturbing as the fact that all of these vampires were, judging from their colors, Bloods. He didn’t laugh at the joke.

He pulled out a stake and joined the fight, covering Wesley’s back.

“Noticed anything about them?” asked Wesley coolly, as he tossed away one empty pistol in favor of a loaded secreted in his belt. “Head shots only!” he shouted at the cops, who seemed a bit lost. “The body shots have no effect!”

“You mean besides fighting beside the cops and a couple of Brit vamps against a bunch of ex-brothers? Starting to think I’m the wrong side, dog.”

Wesley smiled. “I think they’re taking applications. This lot's fresh.”

Gunn looked closely. They were. Clothes still in fashion. New sneakers on a few. That “just exhumed” smell.

Angel and Spike did most of the heavy lifting, and the nest was cleaned up in no time. Angel pinned one against the wall, his hand tight around its jugular.

"Talk,” said Angel. “Who’s bringing vampires into my town? Why the sudden increase?”

The vampire grimaced, and then smiled at him.

“You.” it said. “You will be judged, Angelus. Soon.”

Angel bashed the vampire’s head against the wall, knocking it unconscious. He turned to the group.

“Gunn, you have an idea what neighborhood this group was from originally?” Gunn nodded. “Good. Take a team tonight. find out where they’re coming from. What’s going on.”

Angel turned to the police, and pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “I’m calling my people. They’re equipped to handle the survivors. We’ll let you know when we know something.” The cop looked like he was about to protest, then thought better of it. “Where you going to be?” asked Gunn. “Evidently,” said Angel, “I have an appointment.”

Very nice Victor, except for the part where there's not enough of it.

(head spinning in fourteen directions.

Too. much. juicy. stuff. to. read.

Need to figure out what today's drabble challenge is, too.

Deb, today's drabble is freestyle.

(MORE VICTOR! MORE!)

Plei, let the poor man breathe.

(moremoremoremore)

Am, just keeping up with this is making me dizzy.

My drabble:

If Wishes Were Horses

He lay in darkness, waiting.

Soon, there would be a tap at the door - arrogant, barely polite in its brevity, a sign of her power over him.

Soon she would walk in as if she owned the place, owned his bed, his body, the soul he hadn't seen in over a century.

Soon she would run her fingers down his arms, his nipples, his belly. If she was feeling generous, she might unlock the wall-mounted restraints.

And if he survived a millenium, he might stop resenting that he wasn't her first vampire lover, and he might stop wishing Angel dead.

Thanks, Perkins, deb. No more today, I'm afraid. Need to think about what's happening.

And Victor, I'm loving it. More, please! More!