Disclaimer:

Just a friendly reminder that I own none of these people. The are all property of whichever respective agency that they belong. I just use them occasionally for fun, and to break the dull boredom which sets in my head while I am at work. I do not use them to make money, Although loving attention and prestige are always welcome in my mailbox. A special thanks goes out to Dana and Amanda. They know why, and if you figure our why pat yourself on the back as well. Thanks also go out to Plerk. Why? You may ask. For the hell of it. And cause I love them all.

And a very special thanks goes out to Merrie Gail. Who sent me the lyrics to Lorrena McKennitt's "Breaking the Silence". A beautiful song whose lyrics can be found at the end of my story.

Thanks to everyone else out there who reads this...Enjoy

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"Come on you antique piece of shit...open for mommy."

Clicking and snapping, the electronic key reader groaned for relief. Amanda winced at each odd noise that echoed through the access tunnel. Each unfamiliar click and sizzle was a setback she did not account for. Bad enough that she had just crawled through every abandoned subway and sewage system of southern California, but to top it off, she was being held up by a lock that should have taken her seconds to crack.

"Damn German technology...never break down on you...HA!" Amanda muttered to herself, flicking the edge of the control pad with one hand while holding it steady with the other. The glowing pattern of light serving no other purpose at the moment than annoying her.

"Work, damn you." She screamed eyes wide as the sound of her voice echoed through the tunnel. Amanda dropped the tiny gray box, covered her mouth with her hands, and watched, mournfully, as the tiny box tumbled to the ground. Falling to her knees, Amanda listened for the sound electronic gears sputtering to a halt. Instead what she heard was another familiar sound. The light ping which told her that the number sequence had successfully been cracked and that the lock was now open. Tenderly, as though she would a small puppy, she picked the tiny box up of the ground and kissed it.

"I knew you wouldn't let me down," She cooed, sliding the console back into the satchel that hung over her shoulder.

Her hand slid instinctually to another compartment in the satchel and removed a tiny aerosol can.

Tapping the nozzle twice and seeing that it still worked, Amanda slid in closer to the hinges of the rusted iron gate, and sprayed them with a generous supply of yellow liquid. She counted down from fifteen in her head and lightly pushed on the gate. The gate slid open easily and silently, the way it was originally manufactured.

It had been years since she used any of this equipment. Improvements in technology called for improvements in the tools of her trade. Having to use this equipment, Amanda mused to herself, was almost like telling a world famous writer that his next novel would have to be printed, by himself, on the original wooden printing press. For a moment, Amanda doubted if she could still operate this old equipment, wondered if she had become spoiled by the marvels of modern day technology. It was a brief moment. The second her hands touched her old tools, instinct and memory kicked in. The momentary lapse in confidence faded back into the sense of the pride she had in herself and her work.

Amanda propped the gate open behind her, in case she needed a quick getaway, and moved slowly through the dark, damp tunnel. Layers of darkness and shadow curled around her, forcing her to slow her pace. The night-vision contact lenses were of no use to her here. There was no light to amplify.

Feeling her way around a bend in the tunnel, Amanda was temporarily blinded by her lenses, which took a moment to adjust to the light which spilled from an opening about 30 feet ahead of her. It could have been a trick of the light, or her overly paranoid sense of her surroundings, but it seemed as though the light flowed into the tunnel, forcing the shadows and darkness to retreat behind the bend in the tunnel. Amanda slid forward along the wall as her contacts adjusted to the increasing light. Reaching the opening, she hugged the wall to her back and slowly glanced inside.

The room was, in not so many words, huge. The doorway she entered from appeared to be one of four doors into the room, each one centered on the walls, each wall completely identical. The four doors were linked by a stone walkway that surrounded a large pit in the center of the room. Stone stairs ran downward along teach wall of the pit. Each set of stairs began at the door, and ended at almost directly below the top stair of the following set. Light flickered up from a fire, which raged in the center of the pit, illuminating the room almost to the ceiling. The ceiling appeared to be domed, each rounded corner lined with stones which were worn almost completely smooth by years of water runoff and condensation. Water trickled in from a various number of smaller grates that appeared at, what appeared to Amanda to be random points in the ceiling. If the engineers of these sewers had planed their placement in any discernible pattern, it was lost on Amanda. Where the water fell also eluded her, for neither the floors of the walkways nor the floor of the pit appeared to be wet.

Amanda crept slowly toward the stairs, breathing shallow, and began to carefully descend them. Thought they appeared as though they were crumbling, they actually were very sturdy. She reached the bottom of the stairs and moved closer to the fire. Placed in the center of the fire was a stone pedestal. The pedestal appeared to be constructed of a different type of stone as the rest of the room, as though it was not a part of the original structure. Resting peacefully on the pedestal was what she came for. A statue of a graceful beautiful young woman grappling with a beast Amanda had no name for. The fire reflected of the shiny black surface of the statue. The light reflecting off of the beast seemed to be mixed with tints of red and yellow, while the light reflecting off of the woman was mixed with light blues and greens. Amanda found herself staring at the statue as if, even in it plain appearance, it was the most beautiful creation she had ever come across.

Amanda, holding tightly to her breath, reached pensively for the statue. Fire lapped at her flesh, and she slowly released her breath. The familiar tingle of her flesh healing coated her arms, as the fire licked her flesh. The money she collected for this job would make this temporary pain, and much, much more, bearable.

"Oy."

Amanda froze as a thick english accent echoed in the room. Immediately, she straightened up and spun around. Standing on the stairs that she entered on was an older man. The man wore a tattered and dirty beige suit, which practically hung off his thin frame. Streaks of gray mottled his greasy, black hair. Tiny eyes darted back and forth behind broken spectacles. Amanda gasped as recognition pierced her brain.

"Wesley?" She asked, uncertainly.

"Are you the washer woman I sent for?" He replied, pushing the broken spectacles back onto his face, " I have been waiting since 1958. Do you fancy me?"

"Wesley?" Amanda asked the man again, moving slowly towards him, and reaching out her hand to him. "Is that you?"

Another male voice, behind her, softly echoed through the room.

"Sometimes," The voice replied. This voice was softer, the words were tinged with sadness, "Most of the time he is like this. Sometimes, though, he comes back to us."

"Angel!" Amanda exclaimed, turning to find the man standing on the opposite side of the pit. "What are you doing here?"

Angel stood, solemnly, against the wall. His shoulders were hunched forward as he moved closer to the fire. His clothes were torn and dirty. Pale skin gleamed through tears in the black shirt and paints he wore. His eyes, semi-hidden by long black hair that hung carelessly from his head, searched the fire as though he could see something that no one else could.

"This is my home," He replied, swiping hair out of his face. His eyes, gleaming from the fire, met hers. "More importantly, what are you doing here? Is this a social call or are you here on business?"

"Business" Amanda stated very matter-o-factly, "And I think you know exactly what I am here for."

"Yes," he sighed, reaching through the flames and lightly petting the statue. His hand grasped solidly around the base and lifted it from the flames. He pulled it close and hugged the statue to his body. "you can't have it."

"I don't want it. The person footing the bill on this job, however, does. And you know how I hate to welsh on my clients."

Turning to face him fully, Amanda turned both of her wrists inward and smiled as the wrist mounted mini-bolt launchers slid onto place. Months of training had taught her that these little babies could, if aimed precisely, kill most vampires. At her current level off training, the most she could hope for was either luck, or to get a good enough shot to drop Angel long enough to grab the statue and run. Amanda hoped that neither one would be necessary, and that she could simply puff up her chest, throw down the cards, and bluff her way out.

Raising her left wrist high enough for the little pinpoint of blue light, the laser sight, was directly over his heart. Her chest was puffed.

"Now, you can give me the statue and let me leave, or we see just how much my aim has improved over the months."

Amanda inhaled and let the air out slowly. The cards were thrown.

Instantly, Amanda felt a breeze flow up from the floor. She flicked her eyes towards Wesley, wondering where he had gotten to, and noticed the figure standing directly behind her a little to late. In the space of time Amanda would have counted as less than a "blink of an eye", Amanda found herself unable to move. Her left arm pressed into her breasts and was being used to keep her right arm immobile. The hand that held her left arm tickled lightly against her breasts as another arm draped over her right shoulder. Amanda winced slightly as she felt the familiar feeling of cold steel press into the base of her skull above her left shoulder.

She tested the pressure on her left arm. Her shoulder groaned in discomfort, leaving Amanda to figure that any sudden movement would pop it right out. It would heal, but she could not afford having her arm unusable if she had to run. She sagged back slightly, conceding defeat, onto her captor. The bluff had been called.

"Can’t let you kill the boss-man." A voiced hissed in her ear. The voice was familiar, but the only other person Amanda remembered was an annoyingly vapid girl. A girl, whom did not only appear to be here, but was in no way a match for Amanda physically.

"Don't hurt her," Angel said calmly.

Amanda felt the grip on her tightens playfully, and a cold, wet tongue run up the back of her neck. She felt a rigged forehead rest on the back of her head and fangs nipped playfully at her neck. Amanda yelped, almost inaudibly, causing Angel straighten his back and shoulders.

"Xander!" He shouted, " Stop."

//Xander, // Amanda thought, //a vampire? //

"Aw, lighten up Angel," Xander whined, "just trying to have a little fun."

"Enough fun, just hold her."

"This mean you're not going to let me just walk out of here?" Amanda asked, squirming under Xander's unwelcome touch. "Only when we find out who wanted the statue after all these years," Xander hissed directly into her ear.

"Bad news. I don't know the particulars of the why and who. I only know the what."

"Not to worry, thief. We have our ways."

"Torture?" Amanda laughed, wondering where the sudden sense of bravado she felt came from, "Drugs? Magic? Gonna tickle me till I tell?"

"No," Angel replied, smiling slightly behind his unkempt hair.

A puzzled look slid onto Amanda's face. The sudden thrumming in the back of her head told Amanda that somewhere nearby was another immortal. Amanda searched her memory for any clues about who this immortal could be. Before she could ask the obvious question, another voice rang from overhead.

"That would be my cue," The voice sparked an instant recognition. Cordelia.

Amanda glanced up to see three women standing around the door opposite of the one she entered. Cordelia stood in front of the door, while the other two were off to ether side. Cordelia moved forward and began to descend the stairs. She was shapely, in a feminine way that could only be described as beautiful. Her hair was long and brown, kept neatly in place with a faded blue ribbon. The ribbon was used to pull her hair back into a ponytail that hung halfway down her back. The pants she wore were khaki, smeared in certain spots with dirt, but otherwise looked brand new. The faded yellow shirt hung loose on her body, giving only a slight hint at what was under it.

The other two women, still remaining at the top of the stairs, were both of the average sort.

The one to the left of the door had red hair and what appeared, in the firelight, to be green eyes. Only the large gun held solidly in her hand stood out.

The other, to the right of the door, leaned uncomfortably against the wall as if afraid to come any closer to the ledge. The tattered remains of a hideous eggplant colored jacket fell snugly over her shoulders. The butt of an equally large pistol showed, peaking out, above her black jeans. Her eyes flicked quickly, behind a pair of large, cracked glasses, between Amanda and a palm-sized computer she held tightly in her hand.

Sliding gracefully around the fire, Cordelia placed herself directly in front of Amanda. Amanda closed her eyes and waited, preparing to ride out whatever pain she felt.

The first sensations she felt were soft; smooth hands gently sliding across her forehead and nose. Cordelia's hands came to a rest on her cheeks, cupping her face.

Cordelia's mint-smelling breath filled Amanda's nose as she leaned her face close to hers and spoke, "This is going to hurt," she whispered.

Tension built slowly in the hands on her cheeks. Amanda felt her nerves firing rapidly underneath her skin. She opened her eyes and stared into Cordelia's eyes. Cordelia's pupils had dilated, then rolled back up into her sockets. Cordelia's eyes rolled back, pupils wide, and returned Amanda's gaze. Amanda felt the trembling of Cordelia's body stop.

Amanda remembered nothing of what happened next except the pain. Pain and images exploded through her brain. Images of things she remembered; visions of things she didn't. The images flew through her brain, and faded from her memory shortly before the pain stopped.

Slumping back against Xander, Amanda felt as though her entire nervous system had just reset itself. Bit by bit, she began to feel her body again. Her eyes focus, and she glanced down, seeing Cordelia panting shallowly on her hands and knees.

Xander nudged her gently with his foot. Cordelia's head flipped back, tossing her hair behind her, and stared intensely, past Amanda, directly into his eyes. Cordelia's eyes radiated with feral anger and pain.

"Well," Xander asked, with absolutely no compassion in his voice, "did you see?"

"Yes, I saw him," She panted, trying to talk past the obvious pain she was still in.

"Where is he?"

"Main access tunnel, three tunnels above us, he is following her to make sure she doesn't run off and keep the statue for herself."

Amanda was infuriated by the lack of trust her client had in her. She worked for too many years to build up the reputation she had had for the last 75 years.

"Who in the hell does he think he is?" Amanda blurted out, talking to herself out loud, " And what the hell is so important about this damn statue? The street value of it would probably be a hell of a lot less that the amount I am being paid to steal it."

"This isn't about money, Amanda," Angle replied, "it's about love, death, and guilt."

Walking slowly towards Wesley, Angle held the statue out in front of him. Wesley's eyes followed the statue until it was within arms reach of him. With two shaky and unsure hands he reached forward and placed his hands on the surface of the statue. His hands closed around it and Wesley pulled the statue away from Angel much like a bratty child would grab at a toy his parent had taken away from him.

Wesley fumbled with the statue, rolling carelessly between his hands until the statue rest firmly in his grip. Wesley's body straightened, eyes focused on the statue, and he began to speak.

"Benzoate demon..."He began, removing one hand from the statue and using it to push his glasses back up on his face, "advanced entropy spread across all plains of existence...essence freed from it's prison...entropy spreading exponentially...body constructed of carrion...smell bad...one chance to stop it..."

Angel tilted his head back slowly and closed his eyes, mouth moving in exact time with the broken sentences which spilled from Wesley's mouth. Amanda bet that he had the speech memorized.

"Spell was cast..." Wesley continued, "Prison opened...Buffy...lured demon towards opening...Demon not strong enough to resist...pulled free of host body...essence still resisted prison...Buffy...threw herself into the demon's essence...unexpected reaction..."

Trembling visibly by this point, Wesley continued, "Demon essence lodged in Buffy..." The strain in his voice making it harder to speak, "Entropy spread faster from within living host...closest to Buffy were the first...Amy, Leo, Tara, Jonah...Willow...Aged...Decomposed...Dead."

Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, "Riley, Stephen, Jackson... Dead... Wesley... Ran...Buffy let go...trapped inside with demon...Wesley...not get away...Wesley lived...Wesley...Damaged!"

Wesley leaned forward and sobbed, hugging the statue against his chest, repeating the words as a mantra through his tears.

"Damaged. Damaged. Damaged. Was the only way. Damaged. Damaged."

Cordelia stood and walked over the Wesley and ran one hand through his hair while taking the statue from him with the other.

"Was the only way," He whispered to her, tears streaming down his face. Cordelia shushed him by lowering his head and resting it on her shoulder.

"No," She spoke into his hair, following it with a light kiss, and continued, " it wasn't the only way. Was it, Giles?"

Giles walked cautiously through the same door Amanda did. He looked the same as he did, if Amanda remembered correctly, the first time she met him years ago. Dirty, wet brown tweed pants covered his legs; White long sleeve button down shirt, also wet, clung to his upper body. He hadn't aged a day. While Wesley was a good ten years younger than he was, he appeared twenty years older in comparison. Amanda made a mental note to ask him his secrets if she ever became mortal.

Angel glared at Giles; pure, unadulterated rage filled his face as he took the statue from Cordelia's hand. His eyes never left Giles as he motioned to put the statue back on the pedestal in the fire pit.

Giles, seeing this, quickly closed the distance between him and Angel. His eyes returned Angels stair with a look not of anger, but with a look of pleading.

"Please, Angle," Giles stammered, cautiously placing his hand on angels arm, " When I know that there is life inside, I may be able to bring her back."

Angel tore his arm away from Giles, as if the touch burned his flesh. Giles, uncertain of what Angel would do, stepped away from him.

"Answer Cordelia, Giles," Angel hissed the words through clenched teeth,

Giles leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. He moved one hand to his face and removed his glasses. Pressing the thumb and forefinger of his hand against the sides of the upper bridge of his nose, he sighed. His body trembled from the tears he was fighting to hold back.

"No," He stated, wiping at the tears which got loose from his struggle and streamed down his cheeks, "Buffy and I were well aware of the possibility of her sacrifice. Buffy did not want anyone else to know because she didn't want any of them to try and play hero, like Xander did."

Amanda felt Xander "humph" behind her. She wondered to herself if Xander, or whatever was squatting in his body at the time, thought of it as a "sacrifice".

Replacing his glasses, Giles continued, "We were also aware of a possible alternate method, one that would not require such...drastic measures. She knew that we did not have the time to further explore the alternatives. Buffy gathered up every one that she could and went off to confront it. Hopefully providing me with enough time to find the alternative. Which I did.

"The problem was that the secondary method required a secondary spell be cast in conjuncture with the opening of the prison. Everyone we had available to us at the time was already in the thick of it, so there was no way to notify Buffy.

"I, being the last resort, gathered up what I could and joined up with the group, but I was too late. By the time I got there, Buffy already had taken the essence into herself. If there was a way to release the essence from Buffy's body, there was no time to initiate it. The essence could not be allowed to reign free inside the slayer's body. Both of their essences would have to be forced out of Buffy's body. There was no going back.

"I watched," He stammered, tears flowing freely down his face, "as everyone died, and was helpless to do anything about it. The only thing I could do was make sure the demon was put back where it belonged.

"Wesley saw me standing at the edge of the battle when he turned to run. I looked past him and saw Buffy. She has started to break down Wesley as he ran towards me. There was only one thing I could do to save him and that would be to put her/it down."

Giles reached his hand into the jeans of his tweed pant and removed a small Derringer. He held it in an open palm and stared at the firelight dancing off its rusted surface.

"Buffy never liked guns," Giles said, never taking his eyes off the gun, "I found it one day wrapped in one of her silk scarves, tucked in a far corner of the weapons chest. It was right after the final incident with Faith. She had tied a small tag to it.

A small smile crept into the corners of his mouth.

"The tag had little hearts and flowers drawn crudely onto it surrounding three words...Just in case. We never talked about it. It was the last thing I grabbed before I left.

"I watched Wesley fall, holding his head. His screams drowned out by the howling winds of the open prison. I watched her eyes. She had managed to push the essence back and look at me. I raised the gun. And I fired. Her body fell and the doorway closed. Leaving behind it," he pointed to the statue in Angel's hand, "that."

"The council came and cleaned up. As they always do. They took the statue and Wesley and left, as if nothing had happened. I tracked both Wesley and the statue until they both vanished. Which was, coincidentally, about the same time the new Slayer forced you to go "underground". You hid yourself well. It took years to track you down, and in those years I also found a way, I believe to separate her from the demon and release her without freeing the demon's essence. To bring her back."

Angle glanced down at the statue that he cradled in his hands.

"Why, Giles, after all the years that have passed, all the pain we have suffered, "Angel asked, walking slowly towards him, "Why now? Because you miss her? Because you didn't get to say good-bye?"

Giles dropped to his knees and sobbed. The Derringer clattered to the ground.

Angel stood above Giles and slowly held the statue out to him. Giles looked up, relief flowing from his eyes, and reached for it.

The moment Giles was about to secure the statue in his hands, Angel let it go. They all watched it tumble slowly to the ground and shatter. Pieces of it flying all around the floor of the pit. Giles fell to the floor, fussily attempting to bring as many pieces of it back together as he could.

"The Demon?" Giles cried out, looking inquisitively at Angel.

"Destroyed," He replied.

"Buffy?"

"Free," Angel answered, kneeling down to look Giles in his eyes, "We released her years ago. She's gone, Giles."

"Gone?" Giles said softly, sobbing, and began to talk to no one through his tears, "I could have brought her back. I could have. I could have."

Angel stood again, and walked over towards Amanda.

"Xander," Angel said softly, " Let her go."

Xander released his grip on Amanda and she tumbled forward. Angle caught her and held her until she could stand on her own.

She stood, legs shaking, and rubbed at her sore shoulder. Soon the shoulder would feel as if nothing happened to it, but for now it hurt.

Cordelia led Wesley up the stairs were the two women stood, still watching in silence, and disappeared into the darkness. The two women followed closely behind them. Xander walked out from behind her at walked around Giles, still gathering pieces of the statue and muttering to himself, stopping only to scoop up the Derringer and place it on the pedestal where the statue had sat. He then moved to the bottom of the staircase where he stood, and waited.

"You may go," Angel said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "I trust you won't tell anyone about us, or where we are?"

"No," Amanda blurted out, not wanting to prolong this, wanting only to get out of this place.

"You are welcome here if you ever need anything from us, and I hope that we can rely on you for the same."

Amanda nodded and cocked her head in the direction of Giles.

"What about him?"

"We'll take care of him," Angel's eyes filled with sorry as he looked at Giles and back to Amanda, "And I'll make sure you get whatever he promised you."

Amanda nodded. They both turned and moved away from each other.

Amanda was halfway up the staircase when she heard Xander yell out from behind her.

"Amanda!"

She turned her head, still moving up the stairs.

"Don't be a stranger." He said, smiling enough to show her a row of fanged teeth, and winked at her.

Amanda forced a fake smile in his direction and continued up the stairs and through the door. In the echo of the hallway she thought she heard his voice. It was muffled but she was pretty sure he had said,

"She wants me."

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