Chapter Text
Frost clings to stained-glass windows, the moonlight high enough for the colours to bounce off the floor. It’s unusually bright - a full moon on the Winter solstice. Trouble is afoot. Heavy boots scrape against the church hall’s wooden floor, every step urging a new creak until - she comes to a stop. Breath clouding in the cold winter air. She grips the wooden stake so tightly that her knuckles turn white.
Outside the doors, he’s on his knees, head bowed in prayer. He mutters something in Latin. Agatha’s eyes don’t leave him for a second. Poised, she raises her hand and motions with two fingers to someone in the distance. A very clear and militant gesture that definitely can’t be misread.
Until it is. Someone steps the wrong way, breaking a branch underfoot. The priest raises his head, amber eyes flashing in the light. They meet Agatha’s. She lurches forward, running full pelt, but the vampire is faster. He sprints away, into the distance towards the waiting graves.
“Goddamnit, Lilia!” Outside on the steps, she points the stake at the older woman. “Can you not read a signal? I said go left then hold back!”
Lilia pulls her glasses off the end of her nose and lets them fall down to rest on her chest, chain swinging. Her lips press together in a thin line. “How was I supposed to get that from this-” she waves her hands around in a diabolically chaotic manner.
Jennifer pops up from behind one of the gravestones. “Wait, where did he go?”
A grunt and a brief struggle in the distance. All three of them snap their heads around to see Alice, proudly sitting astride the vampiric priest with an axe in hand, the end whittled down into a point. She slams it down into his chest and, with a hiss, he dissolves into dust. Alice raises the axe with a loud ‘woop!’ “Did you guys see that!? I fucked him up so bad.” She saunters over the group, resting the axe on her shoulder.
“Right. Okay. Well done,” Agatha mumbles, sliding her stake back into its trusty pouch at her side. “We’ve all done that.”
“Wait.” Lilia raises a finger and steps forward, eyes narrowed in the distance.
The group is still, expecting something profound. Perhaps she had noticed something they hadn’t. Agatha’s hand braces at her side, expecting another chance to prove herself. Despite being the leader of The Hunters (aptly named after months of workshopping), she had racked the least kills of any of them this month with a measly two. Even Jen had managed to kill more than her and she claimed to be a pacifist, there to aid them in healing only.
Lilia’s hand drops. “Never mind. I thought I heard something.” A collective sigh from the group of women.
“This place is obviously a dud. Let’s pack it up and try again tomorrow. It'll be light out soon anyway.” Agatha begrudgingly picks up the backpack she had left behind with Jen, letting out a huff under the weight. “Group of vampire hunters. More like… making hunting harder,” she mumbles. Lame burn. But she was tired and irritated and there is a weird noise coming from somewhere in the woods nearby.
“Um- excuse me? Did you not see that tackle?”
“Yeah, yeah. The NFL will be at your door soon. Or maybe that’s why Jen was checking her email in the middle of the job. Again.”
“I told you, I’m waiting to hear back from-”
“The lawyer,” Alice and Agatha say in unison.
“He isn’t going to send you news at three in the morning.” Alice unzips the back of Agatha’s backpack and pulls out a couple of chocolate bars, handing one to Lilia and the other to Agatha. “Sorry. No vegan ones left.”
Jen pushes her shoulders back, pretending not to care as they head for the exit. With the chains still locked for the night, they each scale the fence. Alice is the fastest with Lilia trailing behind. Not even because she’s eldest, but because she stops at the top, staring at the moon.
“Lilia. Come on. You’re not going to be able to flirt your way out of it with the caretaker every time.” Agatha pulls out the keys and heads for the van. A gauche shade of purple, it had been her first adult purchase many years ago - and it showed. The Scratchmobile was on her last legs and Agatha is in deep, deep denial. She hauls open the back doors and throws the backpack inside. “We need a new strategy if we’re going to-”
“Hi.” An unfamiliar male voice.
Agatha slams the door shut and whips out her stake, seemingly ready to impale the skinny young man standing in front of her. The owner of the unfamiliar male voice. “Alice!” she calls. “Why is there a little goth in my personal space?”
Alice sighs and extracts herself from packing up the rest of their equipment. “I told you I’m not a goth. I’m more alt-” She notices the teen. “Oh. Yeah, no. That’s a goth.”
The young goth boy clears his throat. “My name’s Billy. I’m- I’m a huge fan of your work, Miss Harkness.”
Agatha straightens her back, hair falling from her shoulders down to her waist as she shakes it out. “Is that right?” She glances over her shoulder, catching Jen’s eye with a smug smile. An I told you so for all the times she touted her irrelevance. “Well, I don’t usually give out autographs, kid, but I’ll make an exception just this once.” The same speech she gave every time… on the rare occasion she was approached by someone who recognised her for her work. Usually those that lurked on Reddit or the V4mpChan website. Not the most appealing crowd to work with but hey, attention was attention until she hit the big leagues like Buffy or that cowboy dude - Van something.
“Oh. No. I don’t want your autograph.” Billy looks apologetic. “You’re um- you’re looking for The Master, right?”
Agatha stiffens. “I wouldn’t say she’s the master of much except getting on my nerves but… yes. We’re looking for The Creator. We like that better.” He was definitely from the forums if he was going with the ‘Master’ theory. It was cute. If a little weird. She could imagine his life for him already. Teenage boy with a limited social life, so obsessed with the occult that he decided to dress like baby Ozzy Osbourne to really stick it to the man - and probably his mother. “What do you know?”
“I- I think I have an idea where she might be.” Billy straightens his back, as if trying to copy Agatha’s air of importance so he might take her seriously. “I had a vision.”
Lilia peers around the side of the van.
“Nice try. We already have a vision guy.” Agatha jabs a thumb in the psychic’s direction.
“No. I know. Hi.” Billy waves awkwardly. “I totally respect that, but I think I can help you. I mean it.”
Agatha closes over the second door and pats the side of the van. “Nice to meet you, kid. What was it? Beavis. Tell your friends you met a real life hunter. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.” She walks around to get into the driver’s seat, the others taking their places. Jen in the passenger seat, Alice and Lilia in the back.
“I know her name is Rio.” Billy’s voice cuts through. He stands by the driver’s door.
Agatha’s jaw stiffens and she rolls down the window, leaning an arm against it. “Let me guess. She dances in the sand?” Yet she can’t say she isn’t intrigued. She looks over her shoulder. The others are staring at her, too. Waiting. Usually that name prompts a much worse response. There’s something about this kid that gets on her nerves in the worst possible way. And yet… “Get in the van.”
Jen frowns. “You can’t be serious. Where are his parents? I’m not going down for kidnapping, Agatha.”
“I’m eighteen.” Billy doesn’t wait for Agatha to change her mind. He pops open the door and clambers into the back of the van, squashing himself between Lilia and Alice. “Hi. I’m Billy. Love your work.”
“The more people you say that to, the cheaper it sounds,” Agatha adjusts the mirror to look at them. Were it not for the lights of the caretaker’s truck approaching, she may have stayed sitting there to interrogate him. The floodlights in the parking lot had the right level of ambience for a police-style interrogation. She tries the ignition once… twice… thrice-
***
As it were, Billy had found out about Agatha online, and he confesses as much with her staring daggers through him in her living room. Hands clasped between his legs, he looks nervously around at each of the women. The version of them he had built up in his head was pretty close to the truth. The blurry picture from the ‘90s didn’t do them justice.
A group of Vampire Hunters officially formed in the early 1990s, bringing together four Slayers from varying paths due to The Grand Prophecy, as announced by the Oracle in the late 18th Century. Destined to walk the path to defeat The Master (also known as The Creator), they have been searching for an entrance to The Afterlife, that doesn’t involve dying, for the better part of the last thirty years. Over the last year, Billy had become fascinated by them. It was a year ago now that he started having the visions of the five of them traversing a strange land, born in hellfire.
He explains as much, but Agatha appears unconvinced. She leans back in her chair, one leg crossed neatly over the other. “That’s it?” She frowns. “Your fanboy theory is that all five of us are going to walk through hell together? That’s it? And we’re supposed to trust that why? They’re getting worse and worse, I swear.” She throws her hands up in defeat, sinking so far down into the chair that she’s almost lying down.
“Hear him out, Agatha. He knew her name. No one knows that,” Lilia says, setting a tea tray on the coffee table. She pours Billy a cup and he accepts it gratefully.
“Except all of us and whoever else she decided to torment.” Agatha sits up again, like an impatient toddler flopping around in her chair. “He hasn’t told us how we’re supposed to get there. We've been searching for decades.”
“You haven’t asked.” The room goes still when Billy speaks up. He blushes. “I- I mean I was getting to that. I know a place. A person more than a place I guess. She can open portals. Plus she owes me a favour.”
“Great. So we’re cashing in on favours from portal jumpers.”
“It’s astounding that you manage to make everything sound derogatory.” Jen leans forward and rests her hand on the arm of Billy’s chair. “There’s no harm in meeting her. Where is she?”
***
“This is literally an abandoned warehouse.” Agatha tuts and turns around to face the teenager, arms spread wide to demonstrate the vast nothingness that they had walked into.
“Let him cook. He might be onto something.”
“Pray tell, what is he onto except… discovering a possible rave venue? This could have easily been a trap and we’ve walked right into it!”
“It’s not a trap.” A woman’s voice comes from behind Agatha. Even and steady; vaguely accented. Something vaguely Eastern European. “Welcome.”
Agatha turns slowly.
Floating just above the ground on a cloud of glowing red magic is a woman with flowing locks of auburn hair. Her eyes glow red, just the same of her hands. The ethereal quality continues, even when she lands elegantly on her feet and approaches the party of slayers. The light dims. She gently fingers Agatha’s hair, twisting it around her finger. “Agatha Harkness.” Her attention turns to the others. “Jennifer Kale.” She brushes past, pressing a hand to Jen’s arm. Next is Alice. “Alice Wu-Gulliver.” She runs her finger along the intricate skull stitched into the back of her leather jacket. Finally - “Lilia Calderu.” She doesn’t touch Lilia.
“Which could mean nothing. Well done. Your buddy here fed you our names.” Agatha adjusts her collar. “Thanks for having us in your ah- lady-cave. Come on, team. Roll out.” She swiftly turns to leave, expecting the others to follow with a dramatic wave of her hand.
“Roll out really isn’t working. We sound like the Autobots,” Alice mutters to Jen.
“He didn’t tell me anything.” The Scarlet Witch’s voice echoes against the high metal beams. It seems like it’s coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Echoing inside the head of her captives visitors. “I trust you want to visit an old friend?”
Agatha goes still. Wanda is in front of her without either of them moving a muscle. “Not exactly.” A red-lipped smile, designed to unsettle.
“Stay for a while.”
In an instant the room changes. Gone is the derelict warehouse, replaced by the cozy interior of a sitting room, fire burning in the grate. All four of them are seated on a couch - too close together - whilst Billy stands nearby in a butler uniform, bowtie and all. Agatha clenches her jaw. “Cute trick.” She catches Billy’s eye. He nods encouragingly. This is totally normal.
“Have some tea. Everybody likes tea.” Another half second and they all have cups in their hands.
Agatha, an ornate purple mug; Jen, a frilly pink tea cup, Lilia a golden goblet and Alice an orange sippy cup.
“What the fuck? Rude,” Alice mumbles.
“You want a favour?” asks the Scarlet Witch.
“No." Lilia nudges Agatha in the ribs. "Yes."
The Scarlet Witch tilts her head.
"We want to go to Hell.”