“The first documented use of the words ‘Bermuda Triangle’ was in 1965. However, the legend has been floating around since Columbus arrived in North America. There have been countless reports of missing boats, planes and other vehicles that have disappeared while traveling in the area between Fort Lauderdale, Bermuda and Puerto Rico. I will go into more detail on this in a moment.

First, the ‘Bermuda Triangle’, or the more appropriate ‘Devil’s Triangle’, is one of only two places on earth that a magnetic compass does point towards true north. Normally, it points toward magnetic north. The difference between the two is known as compass variation. The amount of variation changes by as much as twenty degrees as one circumnavigates the earth. If this compass variation is not compensated for, a navigator could find himself far off course and in deep trouble.

The other area is known as the ‘Devil's Sea’ and is located off the east coast of Japan. It also exhibits the same magnetic characteristics and is known for its mysterious disappearances, but is not relevent at this time.” Giles paused and consulted the notes he laid out on the table.

“As I said, there are legends that part of Columbus’ entourage disappeared in the area of the Triangle. Many other ships have vanished in a similar manner. When man began to fly, planes were added to the list of missing craft. One of the most famous disappearances attributed to the Triangle was Flight 19.

In December 1945, five Avenger torpedo bombers left the Navel Air Station at Fort Lauderdale, Florida, around two in the afternoon. It was a routine practice mission and the flight was composed of all students except for the Commander, a Lt. Charles Taylor.

The mission called for Taylor and his group of thirteen men to fly due east fifty-six miles to Hens and Chicken Shoals to practice bombing runs. When they completed that task, the flight plan called for them to fly an additional sixty-seven miles east, then turn north for seventy-three miles and finally straight back to base, a distance of one hundred and twenty miles.

About an hour and a half after the flight had left, a Lieutenant picked up a radio transmission from Taylor. Taylor stated that his compasses were not working, but he believed himself to be somewhere over the Florida Keys. Lt. Cox urged him to fly north, toward Miami, as Taylor was sure the flight was over the Keys.” Giles took a sip of tea and looked around the table, seeing only confused interest in the eyes of his listeners.

“Planes today have a number of ways that they can check their current position including listening to a set of Global Positioning Satellites in orbit around the Earth. It is almost impossible for a pilot to get lost if he has the right equipment and uses it properly.

In 1945, though, planes flying over water had to depend on knowing their starting point, how long and fast they had flown, and in what direction. If a pilot made a mistake with any of these figures, he was lost. Over the ocean there were no landmarks to set him right.

Apparently Taylor had become confused at some point in the flight. He was an experienced pilot, but hadn't spent a lot of time flying east toward the Bahamas, which was where he was going on that day. For some reason Taylor apparently thought the flight had started out in the wrong direction and had headed south toward the Keys, instead of east. This thought was to color his decisions throughout the rest of the flight with deadly results.

The more Taylor took his flight north to try to get out of the Keys, the further out to sea the Avengers actually traveled. As time went on, snatches of transmissions were picked up on the mainland indicating the other Flight 19 pilots were trying to get Taylor to change course.

By 4:45 P.M. it was obvious to the people on the ground that Taylor was hopelessly lost. He was urged to turn control of the flight over to one of his students, but apparently he didn't. As it grew dark, communications deteriorated. From the few words that did get through it was apparent Taylor was still flying north and east, the wrong directions.

At 5:50 P.M. the ComGulf Sea Frontier Evaluation Center managed get a fix on Flight 19's weakening signals. It was apparently east of New Smyrna Beach, Florida. By then, communication was so poor that this information could not be passed to the lost planes.

At 6:20 a Dumbo Flying Boat was dispatched to try and find Flight 19 and guide it back. Within the hour two more planes, Martin Mariners, joined the search. The weather was getting rough and the Avengers were very low on fuel. The two Martin Mariners were supposed to rendezvous at the search zone. The second one never showed up.

The last transmission from Flight 19 was heard at 7:04 P.M. Planes searched the area throughout the night and into the next day, but there was no sign of the Avengers.” It was quiet in the room for a moment as Giles flipped through a book, searching for anything that he may have forgotten to share.

“In addition to the compass difficulties, an environmental factor that comes into play is the Gulf Stream. It is extremely swift and turbulent. The unpredictability of the Caribbean-Atlantic weather pattern also plays it’s role. Sudden thunderstorms and waterspouts appear unannounced, frequently.

So… that is a brief and extremely incomplete history concerning the Bermuda Triangle. However, I will refrain from offering any more, as it appears that I am about to lose Xander.” Giles paused and looked at his listeners. Xander immediately sat up straighter in his chair and glanced around at the others. “Any questions?”

“Yeah.” Xander turned and looked warily at Spike. “What year is it, Fangless? Because if I’m back in high school, I’m gonna have to vote for screaming and running away from the Master Vamp.”

Spike preened at the thought of Xander and the others running scared. He flashed his fangs at his flatmate and growled threateningly. His chip shot a warning jolt, which he tried to ignore.

“Spike, quit.” Tara’s quiet voice destroyed the atmosphere that the vampire was attempting to build. He dropped his game face, grateful when the pain receded. He adjusted himself in his chair and proceeded to give the Wicca his best pout.

“What does this have to do with the Council of Watchers or the strange feelings that I’ve been having?” Tara looked expectantly at Giles, waiting for the information that she requested.

Giles sighed and pulled off his glasses, cleaning them on the handkerchief that he retrieved from his pocket.

“There have been reports from various parishes in Bermuda of creatures rising from the sea. More than two hundred people have gone missing, presumed dead, their bodies never recovered. The population is quite afraid.”

“How refreshing to know that outside of Sunnyhell, people actually notice the things that go bump in the night,” Spike snorted.

“And the Council is aware of this how?” Xander’s warm chocolate eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Well, it appears that there is an active Hellmouth a hundred miles off the shore of Cobbler Island. They’ve been monitoring the island closely for the past fifty years.” Giles closed his eyes and braced himself for the explosion.

“What the fuck?” As he expected, Spike was the first to respond.

“Those wankers knew that there was an active Hellmouth and have done nothing to close it? They didn’t even notify their Slayer or her Watcher about the danger that might be brewing underneath the surface of the ocean! Those idiots!” The Victorian accent and language of William’s youth came to the fore as he vented his anger towards the Council. Without warning, William disappeared and Spike returned, game face glaring out at the world. “Bloody Hell! I could rip their heads off, tear out their hearts and eat their eyes!”

Spike suddenly screamed and fell to the floor, his entire body convulsing violently.

“Shit!” Xander dove to the floor and tried to keep the flailing vampire from hitting his head or legs on the table.

Giles quickly stood and shoved the table away from the two men on the floor, forcing Tara to jump up from her seat. They all heard a loud snap and Xander grabbed Spike again, continuing to hold him down as the convulsions began to slow.

“I think he broke a rib.” Xander glanced up at Giles, a look of pain fleeting across his face.

“W..what happened?” Tara’s shaky voice penetrated the quiet of the room.

“His chip. It’s been going off almost continuously the past week.” Xander sighed. “Giles, you know how I feel about vampires, this one in particular, but seriously, this is unfair! He’s not doing anything wrong!”

Xander glanced over at Tara. “Yesterday, I bumped into him when he came out of his room. He blacked out for several minutes before we could get him to wake up.”

Spike moaned and tried to roll over, his broken ribs grinding together. Giles looked on as the brunette helped the quaking blond from the floor and into a chair. Tara turned and ran out of the room when she caught sight of the vampire’s paler than normal complexion. Xander wandered towards the front door, struggling with his own thoughts.

Giles knelt at Spike’s feet, urging the vampire to look him in the eye. Blood dripped from the corners of Spike’s blue eyes as he attempted to smirk at the watcher. “Ouch.”

“Yes, quite. How long has this been going on, Spike?” Giles appeared to be genuinely concerned. Spike looked into the eyes that so reminded him of his baby sister. He allowed his pain to show as he spoke.

“About three weeks. It’s been getting worse. You know, it’s been several months since the damn thing has gone off due to anything that I’ve intentionally done. I’ve learned exactly what I could and could not do on my little electronic leash.” He sighed and looked at the ceiling. “Last week, it started responding to non-specific violent thoughts. Then two days ago, it began to zap me when I thought about fighting other demons. Rupert, I’m not sure how much longer I can take this,” he added tiredly.

Tara appeared at his side and offered him a mug of blood. “Ta, pet.” Spike gulped the revitalizing liquid down and returned the mug to her hands. She quickly set it to the side.

Giles took the wide tape that blonde woman offered to him. Tara dragged off Spike’s duster, leaving it lying across the back of his chair and began to help Giles pull up the vampire’s black t-shirt. Giles pulled a long strip of tape and began winding it around Spike’s rib cage, tightly binding his ribs.

“Don’t need that, Watcher. It’ll heal.” Spike winced then hissed as Giles tugged at the tape. Xander glanced over at the sound of the vampire’s indrawn breath.

“Yes, Spike, it will heal. This way, however, it will heal correctly.” Giles pulled down Spike’s shirt and stood. Tara moved to help the vampire ease back into his leather.

Xander looked on with concern as Spike struggled to get his arms into the sleeves of his coat. It was unlike him to accept so much assistance without a fight or at least a sarcastic remark. The blond must really be suffering.

Xander’s thoughts were buzzing. He hated vampires, hated what they stood for and what they were. He had always felt the same about Spike as he had Angel. He could put up with them because of Deadboy’s soul and Spike’s chip. Didn’t mean that he liked them.

He was beginning to reevaluate his feelings about the blond struggling before him. No one should have to live with that type of pain, that type of punishment for things that they hadn’t even done. Xander scoffed at his own thoughts. This was William the Bloody! He’d done plenty of things that deserved punishment. Xander couldn’t seem to convince himself of that fact, though.

Xander was becoming seriously concerned about his own mental health.

“Well, that was fun. What’s next?” Xander slapped his hands together and looked expectantly at his friends, who all glanced at him in shock.

“I think that we should all go home and rest. We will reconvene tomorrow to continue this discussion.” Giles squeezed the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Alright, G-man! See ya tomorrow.” Xander headed for the door, glancing back surreptitiously to make sure that the blond was following.

“Ta, Rupert. See you later.” Spike spun on his heel and stalked from the store, his Big Bad persona firmly in place.

Tara turned to Giles and smiled. “What time should I come by?”

Giles glanced at the clock and responded, “Around ten am, if you’re free. I would like to make a recommendation concerning your research project.”

“OK. My classes don’t start until one, so I’ll see you then.” Tara gathered her shawl around her and headed back to the dorm and to Willow.

THE TRIANGLE 3