Soulworld II

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1 - The Calm Before the Storm

#

Los Angeles, Winter 1999

Angel sat in his darkened office, leaning back in his large leather chair, hands folded, looking to all the world very relaxed and in a fairly good mood. It didn't fool the two young Vampires sitting on the other side of the desk, fidgeting in their chairs, unwilling to meet the older Vampire's eyes.

Their mood was not lifted by the presence of the person standing behind Angel's chair. Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer, leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, eyes never moving from the two of them. Hers was the only heartbeat audible in the room and the steady rhythm sounded like a doomsday bell to the two unfortunate Vampires. No one could possibly miss the wooden stake the Slayer casually carried in the pocket of her jacket.

"Why are you wasting my time, Jerry?" Angel asked after a while, his voice never rising above a level that could easily have fit into a light conversation about the weather. The Vampire called Jerry flinched.

"Angel, you know I ..."

"I know," Angel interrupted him, "that you and your Childe here almost single-handedly caused an incident that could have ruined decades of hard work. Are you intentionally trying to piss me off, Jerry?"

Jerry gulped and would have sweated buckets, had he been able to do so. The Vampire next to him, a young girl called Harmony, who was barely a day older than she looked, studied the floor with interest.

"Angel, man! I didn't intend to cause an uproar. We were just having fun."

"Fun?" Angel asked them. "Please enlighten me, Jerry! Share with me your definition of fun! Does it involve walking into bar full of people, vamping out in front of an unsuspecting female customer, and trying to suck her blood?"

"I ... I thought she was, you know, one of them fang groupies. She was coming on mighty strong and I thought she knew. I never intended ..."

"And you!" Angel addressed Harmony. "When Jerry here was trying to mumble some incoherent excuse to save his skin from an angry crowd you stormed into the bar and tried to rip the girl's head off for messing with your boyfriend. Was that fun, too?"

"It's not like I really hurt her." Harmony mumbled.

"Only because you couldn't hurt a fly without breaking a nail and bursting into tears."

Harmony managed about half a glare at Buffy before she remembered whom she was facing. Buffy certainly wasn't the same school girl Harmony had known when they had both gone to Hemery. Harmony might be a Vampire now, but Buffy was the Slayer.

Angel sighed.

"Jerry, get out of here! If you so much as breathe at a human the wrong way during the next three months ..."

"...your ass is dust." Buffy finished.

"I won't do a thing!" Jerry was quick to assure. "You won't regret this, Angel! I'll be a perfect example of ..."

"Yeah, whatever!" Buffy sighed.

"Get out of my face, Jerry! Now!" Angel added.

Jerry and Harmony quickly got out and Angel slouched down in his chair, rubbing his temples. Buffy pushed away from the wall and dug her fingers into the steel muscles of his neck, trying to ease his tension.

"I hate doing this crap!" Angel sighed.

"I know."

"I don't like threatening them. I don't like using you as some kind of enforcer. Can't they see how important this is?"

Angel forced himself to relax under Buffy's soothing touch, trying to calm his racing thoughts. Three months. Only three months until everything he had worked for these last ninety years might come one giant step closer to fulfillment.

In three months the Vampire Legalization Act, introduced by Cordelia Chase's pro-Vampire lobby, would be put to vote in Congress. All they needed was a majority and then ...

Six months ago he would never even have entertained the notion that the Act would have a chance to go through Congress. He had underestimated his friends, though. Cordelia was a marvel at turning public opinion around and the continued pestering by the Watchers' Council and other hate groups was actually helping their cause.

Cordy had convinced Wesley to openly speak about his time with the Council and how it turned young girls into programmed killers. The interview had scored huge ratings on TV and Wesley had since been seen in the company of several movie starlets. There was apparently something to be said for shy British charm.

Darla, Angel's Sire, was busy working as the poster girl for Vampires, appearing on TV and at numerous public events. She had made the cover of several magazines and rumor had it that Playboy was trying to nab her for a photo shooting with an ever increasing amount of money as the bait.

All of this had slowly but surely turned public opinion on Vampires around. Still, so much could yet go wrong.

"It will work!" Buffy whispered into his ears.

"Not if young fools like these turn public opinion against us. This is a crucial time, Buffy. We can't afford incidents like this. They could ruin everything."

"That's what we are here for, remember?" She reminded him. "I know you don't like doing this Godfather stuff, but it keeps them in line. We only need to keep it down another three months. We will make it work!"

She smiled.

"Besides, I happen to think I've got the icy stare and ominous threat routine down pretty pat by now. Luca Brazi better watch out!"

He looked up at her, marveling how much her presence in his life had changed things for him. Less than a year ago she had been the Vampire race's worst enemy. Now she was on his side, working for the rights of his people, and bringing light into his dark existence. How had he ever managed without her?

"When is Cordelia expecting you for her latest TV interview?" He asked.

"We'll be leaving in another two hours." Buffy leaned over his shoulder, her hair brushing across his face. "Plenty of time."

Angel smiled.

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2 - Show Biz

#

"Welcome to tonight's edition of TWENTY QUESTIONS. I am your host David Weinheim and tonight's topic is one that has held the nation in its grip for the last few months. In three months the Vampire Legalization Act will be put to vote in Congress.

"Tonight we want to talk about the Act itself and the possible consequences for our nation should it go through Congress. My guests for this discussion are, ladies first, Ms. Cordelia Chase, head of arguably the most influential pro-Vampire organization in the nation, 'Vampire Rights'. Thanks for coming, Ms. Chase."

"My pleasure." Cordelia said.

"And my other guest, to my right, is Mr. Ambros Gentry, who represents 'Humans First', a group opposed to the idea of granting legal status to Vampires. Welcome, Mr. Gentry."

"Mr. Weinheim." The elderly man nodded, his eyes resting on Cordelia most of the time. Cordy returned his glare with amused disinterest, knowing full well what Gentry and people like him thought of people that 'socialized' with the undead.

"My first question tonight," Weinheim began, "goes to both of you. If the Act were to go through, what would the immediate consequences be. Ms. Chase?"

Cordelia looked into the camera. The show was going out live and preliminary ratings had estimated several million viewers. She did not feel nervous. She had gotten a lot of practice these last few months and being the center of attention had never been a problem for her.

"Well, David, the immediate result would, of course, be, that several thousand people all over America would no longer be forced to hide from the public. Right now Vampires are living in a legal limbo. It is almost impossible for them to get work, to get a home. All that would change once they acquired legal documentation and the right to work."

"It would also mean," Gentry said, "that the bloodsuckers could just walk around freely and no one would be allowed to do anything about them until they actually attacked the next innocent victim."

"Which is the case with all criminal acts." Cordy countered. "A crime can only be punished after it has happened. Otherwise we would have to arrest everyone, because we are all capable of committing crimes."

"But not everyone kills innocent humans for food, Ms. Chase. Unlike some people most American citizens are unwilling to donate blood to the undead."

Cordelia knew what kind of people he was talking about. Cordy herself had never been bitten by a Vampire, but if rumors were to be believed it was supposed to be an incredibly intimate and enjoyable happening for both Vampire and victim. Until the victim died, that was.

So-called fang groupies were seeking out Vampires to get themselves drained for kicks, not knowing how hard it was for a Vampire to stop short of death once he or she had begun to drink.

Inevitably the hate mongers assumed that Cordelia and everyone else who spoke up for Vampires were fang groupies as well.

"We all kill to eat, Mr. Gentry." Cordy said. "Vampires can live from pig and cow blood, just like we eat pig and cow meat. Most Vampires would no more drain blood and kill a human than a human would kill and eat another human."

"Yet there are Vampires who still do kill humans." Gentry said.

"And they should be dealt with, just like any other murderer." Cordy said. "We just want the same standards of guilt and punishment to apply to everyone. If all Vampires should be exterminated because a few of them still kill humans, then all humans should be killed as well, because we have our fare share of murderers among us."

"Human murderers are not immortal. Neither do they have superhuman strength."

"That is why there are Vampires willing to work with law enforcement."

Buffy stood close to the stage, listening to the ongoing discussion with half an ear. Cordelia was keeping her cool and from the looks of it this would end up as just one more exchange of arguments, neither side willing to listen to the other. Buffy kept her eyes on the rest of the studio.

About two hundred people were sitting in the audience, all of them carefully screened and checked for weapons. The topic was explosive and there had been more than a few incidents during the last few months, both from the hate groups and some overzealous Vampires and Vamp-supporters.

Working as Cordelia's bodyguard kept Buffy on her toes, that much was for sure. Angel had been right to be worried about Cordelia's growing popularity and visibility. It made her a target for every zealot and fanatic this side of the Atlantic, not to mention a certain Council in England that Buffy could think of.

Her former lords and masters had not given up after their failed attack on the Hyperion eight months ago. If anything it had spurned them to greater efforts. The Slayer, their weapon of choice against the Vampire menace, now worked against them. They couldn't let it lie.

That and the numerous hate groups existing in America today made sure Buffy was kept busy. Apart from that she was working as Angel's enforcer and general all-purpose threat in the Vampire community. All of which made her glad that she had quit school. She wouldn't have enough time for it anyway.

All in all she was content with the way her life went. Some nights she still had nightmares about the things she had done in the service of the Council. The many innocents she had killed because some old men she'd never met had told her to do so. The nightmares inevitably lost their grip on her whenever she was in Angel's arms, though. Thinking about her dark lover made her all tingly inside.

Eight months and things were still as amazing and fresh as on day one. She could hardly believe that there had even been a time when she had tried to kill him and he had kept her prisoner in a cell beneath the Hyperion. It seemed like another lifetime.

Her eyes were constantly sweeping across the crowd, looking for any hint of danger. Suddenly one face stood out among the rest, almost lost in the hindmost row. Dark hair framed a face of tanned skin and teenage beauty, dark eyes watching the show with interest.

"Faith?" Buffy whispered.

"What?"

Buffy looked toward the man standing by her side. She wasn't Cordelia's only bodyguard, of course, as Vampire Rights had hired a whole security firm to protect its members from hate group attacks. The man was called Finn, if she remembered right.

She looked back to where she had seen Faith's face, but it was nowhere to be found. There were no empty seats, everything was packed to the rafters. Had she imagined it all?

"Is everything all right, Ms. Summers?" Finn asked her.

Buffy shook her head, sighing. "I thought I saw someone. Tell the others to keep a lookout for a dark-haired girl, a little taller than me, tanned, named Faith. I'm not sure it was her, but if it was we could have major trouble."

Finn nodded, speaking into his throat mike in a low voice. The other bodyguards knew that Buffy was not your average young girl, they had seen her in action. Most of the times they listened to her, or at least they had done so ever since Buffy had prevented a suicide bomber from blowing them all to kingdom come several months ago.

Buffy kept scanning the crowd while her thoughts wandered back to the last time she had seen Faith.

#

Six months earlier:

Buffy was lying against the wall, bleeding from the lip and a cut on her forehead, cradling a broken arm to her body. Faith stood above her, bruised but mostly unhurt, trembling with energy. Buffy had been taken completely by surprise. How could Faith be so strong?

"I knew I could beat you!" Faith yelled and kicked Buffy in the side, being awarded with a pain-filled groan from the downed Slayer. "Now he will see!"

"See what, Faith?" Angel asked.

Faith whirled around, surprised by the Vampire's presence. Buffy took the opportunity and pushed herself up against the wall, trying to see past the spots that clouded her vision.

"Angel!" She whispered.

"What is going on here?" He walked toward them, demon face slipping over his human countenance. "Faith! Tell me!"

"I ... I just wanted ... Angel, I'm strong now. Stronger than she is. You don't need her anymore! We can be together!"

Angel's rage evaporated. He had known that Faith harbored feelings for him that went further than his own, but this...?

"Faith, stop it! Right now! You think you have to prove something to me by beating up Buffy? You think I love her because she is strong?"

"She ruined everything!" Faith yelled, trembling. "If she hadn't come we would have been together! But she had to come with all her Slayer strength, able to fight by your side. I can do that now, Angel! You don't need her!"

Angel sighed, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry if I gave you any false hopes, Faith. My feelings for either of you have nothing to do with your strength or your fighting ability. I care for you Faith, very much so. But I love Buffy and nothing will change that."

Faith's face warped with rage as she turned toward Buffy again. The blonde had risen to her feet, still a bit unsteady. Faith drew her arm back for a strike, but Angel caught it before she could even begin to swing.

"I will not allow this to continue, Faith!" Angel said, sounding more sad than angry.

Faith just stared at him for a long, long time. Then she brushed him away and ran out of the Hyperion into the night, sobbing.

#

Buffy forced her thoughts back to the present. They hadn't seen hide nor hair of Faith since that night. Something inside Buffy was still irked that Faith had managed to beat her up so easily, even though there had been no way for her to know that the other had somehow acquired Slayer strength.

They still weren't sure how that had happened, though Giles suspected that it had something to do with Buffy having been pretty much dead for a few minutes after the Watchers' attack on the Hyperion.

She shook her head. Focus on the now! If Faith was here, they had to find her. No telling what was going through Faith's mind these days. No telling what she would do.

Come to think of it, Buffy wasn't all that sure what she would do if Faith really did turn up.

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3 - A Very Interesting Workout Sessions

#

Spike walked into the Hyperion, feeling sore and frustrated. Angel had sent him to deal with a small band of Vampires that was stirring up trouble downtown and Spike had laid down the law. Mostly in the form of fists and kicks. Still, a good brawl didn't give him the satisfaction it used to.

To be honest with himself there was little that brought him satisfaction these days. He tried to count the number of days he had laughed out loud since that day in 1976 and didn't think it had been more than a handful.

July 5th, 1976. The day he had lost his princess to the Slayer.

He shook his head. Brooding about it wouldn't bring her back. Spike liked to imagine that Dru would have wanted him to go on and find happiness. For a brief moment Spike had entertained the notion that it might actually happen. That business with Faith ...

He shook his head again, another unhealthy train of thoughts. There were more important matters to think about. If everything worked out he would be a legal citizen in three months and they had to make sure that no one messed things up.

Spike never minded that most people looked to Angel as the mover and shaker of the Vampire race, even though it had been both of them that had worked the Restoration. Spike was more than happy to let Angel do the heavy thinking, he was much better at it. Spike was at his best when it came to busting heads, also he wasn't really enjoying it anymore.

Spike was about to head off to bed despite the night still being young when his cell phone rang.

"Yeah?"

"Spike? It's Buffy!"

"Hi, pet! How did the interview go?"

"It's still running. Just wanted to let you know something. I saw Faith."

Spike fell silent.

"Spike? Did you hear me?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I hear you. Faith. She back for more trouble?"

"I only saw her for a second. Just wanted everyone to know. Be careful!"

"I will, pet! Though I think you will be in greater danger if the little psycho girl comes back."

"Just let her come! I owe her a rematch!"

Spike managed a smile. "Be sure to book me a ringside seat for that one!"

"I will. Take care, Spike!"

Spike put down the phone. Faith! Faith was back.

Without wanting to his thoughts returned to a particular day.

#

Seven months ago:

A noise from the exercise room attracted Spike's attention. He knew for a fact that neither Buffy nor Angel were home right now, so that left but one of the hotel's permanent residents as the likely suspect. A grin spread across his face. This was long overdue.

Several months earlier he had gone into that very same room and made fun of Faith during her workout. She had been furious and challenged him to a sparring session. Spike hadn't taken her serious at all, which had resulted in her flipping him on his back and sitting down on his chest.

Wouldn't have been that bad if Angel hadn't come in at precisely that moment. Spike's Sire had exploded into laughter and Faith had teased him about it ever since.

He peeked around the corner and saw Faith standing there in her workout clothing, hitting a punching bag for all it was worth. He had to admit, her moves didn't look too bad. He was surprised by the force of her blows. Little rascal seemed to have bulked up a bit.

"Like what you see, Spike?" She asked him.

Spike almost flinched. How had she noticed him? She stood with her back to the door and he was certain he hadn't made a sound.

"I think the bag would have taken you down long since if it could kick back." He said, overplaying his confusion. Faith turned around to face him, sweat streaking down her face, making her tiny sports bra and spandex pants cling to her body like a second skin.

When exactly had the little girl developed these curves? Spike wondered.

"Think you can do a better job of it?" She asked him, her stance screaming out a challenge at him. Spike smirked and took off his leather coat. Nobody could say she hadn't asked for it.

"Angel ain't here to keep you from getting yours today, Faith!" He growled at her.

This time he was more careful. No tricks, no fancy moves this time. She was but human and he would show her that she had no business playing with the big boys. They circled and Spike waited for her to make the first move. Patience had never been her strong suit.

She lunged for him with a speed that almost took him by surprise. Wild instinct made him move in time to evade her kick and a reflex made him lash out at her in turn with a kick of his own. She whirled around and blocked him. She blocked him? That kick should have knocked her off her feet even if it impacted against her block.

She pressed the attack and Spike had his hands full with fending her off, forced to take several steps back. What was going on here? If he didn't know better he'd think he was fighting the Slayer or Angel. Faith couldn't be that strong or that fast.

Finally rage got the better of him. Vamping out he swatted her latest kick attempt aside and grabbed her by the throat, throwing her into the wall with enough force to crack the mortar. Faith had the breath knocked out of her and Spike's demon face was inches away from her throat.

"Impressive showing, little girl!" He growled at her. "But impressive doesn't mean shit in the real world!"

She struggled against him, but he had too good a hold on her. He felt the strength in her limps and knew that something had happened to her. She was too strong for a mere human. Neither was she a Vampire, though, he could clearly hear and feel her rapid heartbeat.

"What did you do to yourself?" Spike hissed into her face. "Where is that strength coming from?"

"Let me go or I'll kick your ass!" Faith yelled.

"Oh yeah? And how're you gonna do that, pet? With those little love taps from earlier?"

"I'll show you love taps!" She tried to knee him in the groin, but Spike saw it coming and pinned her legs to the wall with his body.

"You think suddenly being stronger means you can mix it up with the bad guys? You don't know thing one about fighting girl."

"Angel taught me ..." she started.

"Angel taught you how to survive. You got the moves, but you can't even throw a decent punch. Strength means shit unless you're willing to hit. You don't try to hit your opponent's face with your fist. You try and put your fist right through his face. That's how you hit!"

He emphasized the last word by throwing a punch that impacted inches from Faith's face and left a gaping hole in the wall.

"And this is how you kick!" Spike yelled and kicked the punching bag off its chain. It flew across the room and exploded into a shower of sand against the far wall.

He let go of Faith and she looked at him with a mixture of fear and excitement in her eyes. Spike couldn't help but notice the way her skin shimmered with sweat, the rise and fall of her ample chest.

"Can you ... can you teach me?" She asked him, forcing the words past her lips.

"Why should I?" He asked her, trying to keep his eyes on her face.

She walked up to him, putting a sensuous swing into her hips, a smile spreading on her lips. Spike found it difficult to continue his unneeded breathing.

"I could make it worth your while." She said as she stood barely a hair's breath away from him.

"Where did you get that strength?" Spike asked, his voice taking on a hoarse tone.

"I have no idea." Faith simply said. "But I have some ideas on how to put it to good use. Follow me?"

#

Spike shook his head. How could he have been so very stupid back then? Cordy always said that men thought with their dicks most of the time and on that day at least she had been right. He had taught Faith how to fight, really fight, in exchange for some wild animal sex and never shed another thought to what she might do with the things he taught her.

One month later he found out, of course. Found out that he had allowed himself to be used. How stupid could one person be? Hadn't he himself told Cordelia that Faith would be a problem because of her feelings for Angel? Why hadn't he listened to his own words?

Faith had attacked Buffy, had hurt her with the moves Spike had taught her. He had never told either Buffy or Angel, his shame too great. Angel would probably have torn off his head had he known and that would have been less than Spike deserved in his own eyes.

If Faith was back then maybe ... maybe he would have a chance to rectify this stupid, stupid mistake.

He balled his fists, growling.

"You got something coming, slut!"

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4 - Murder, Mayhem, and Impolite Questions

#

"We have a very special treat for you now, ladies and gentlemen." David Weinheim said. "To broaden our range of opinions here this evening, we have invited a very special guest star. Please welcome the person who is, without a doubt, the most well-known Vampire in America today, Ms. Darla Chamberlain."

Darla walked onto the stage, accompanied by reluctant applause from the crowd and venomous glares from Ambros Gentry. She was dressed in a simple black pants suit and looked to all the world like she didn't have a care in the world, a dazzling smile on her lips.

Buffy wasn't particularly happy about this. This TV cast gave more than enough imagined cause for a hate group attack without the presence of Angel's Sire. Buffy liked Darla, but her presence here was making her job harder.

Darla sat down close to Gentry, causing the man to edge away from her, and gave him a smile that was more devastating than a slap in the face. For a moment Buffy thought she was going to vamp out on him, but Darla restrained herself.

"Thank you for coming tonight, Ms. Chamberlain." Weinheim said.

"My pleasure." She assured him, shaking his hand.

"We have heard a lot of arguments tonight, both for and against the Vampire Legalization Act. From your viewpoint, Ms. Chamberlain, what do you think about possibly becoming a legal citizen in three months?"

"It is a time of excitement. For hundreds of years we were forced to hide in the shadows and now we may finally get the opportunity to walk in the streets without fear. I am looking forward to it."

"Who'd have thought?" Gentry muttered.

"I know that many people feel ill at ease about us," Darla continued, ignoring Gentry, "and I admit, there is cause. Vampires have done a lot of horrible things in the past. Some still do it today. But we are people, just like everyone else."

"How many people have you killed in your time?" Gentry asked, his voice carefully neutral.

The studio fell silent. Darla looked at Gentry like a cat would look at a mouse, but the old man didn't back down. After a moment Darla answered.

"I have never killed anyone except in self-defense, Mr. Gentry. But I think you were actually asking how many people were killed by the demon that took over my body. The answer is that I have no idea. Many people."

"What many people still don't understand," Cordy added, "is that, until a hundred years ago, Vampires were nothing but dead human bodies taken over by demonic entities. Darla has no more relation to the demon that wore her face than you, Mr. Gentry. She was a victim, just like the people her demon killed."

"You actually expect the people to believe all this nonsense about the restoration of souls?" Gentry asked.

"Do you have a soul, Mr. Gentry?" Darla asked him.

"Of course I do." He said, sounding offended. "Prove it!"

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, but said nothing. Buffy suppressed a smile. The poor bigot didn't have a chance against the combined forces of Cordy and Darla, that much was for sure.

"I hope you don't mind the question, Ms. Chamberlain," Weinheim said, trying to change the subject, "but would you tell us how long you have been around?"

"Isn't it impolite to ask a lady her age?" Darla joked.

Gentry muttered something again. Both Darla and Buffy heard him loud and clear, but chose to ignore the comment that questioned Darla's ladyship.

"Just a hint then?" Weinheim asked.

Darla opened her mouth, but Buffy didn't hear the words. Something tingled in the back of her head and her sixth sense kicked into overdrive. Her eyes swept across the room, looking for whatever it was that caused her to react.

The audience was calm from the looks of it. The bodyguards covered the doors. The TV people did their jobs, none of them looked threatening. Nothing seemed out of place. Her eyes traveled upwards and spotted a movement in the shadows on the catwalks high above the studio.

A flash of light reflected off a scope and Buffy saw the faint outline of a rifle.

Instinct took over and Buffy ran toward the stage, reaching into her jacket for her own gun. A Winchester Magnum, Angel and Spike's weapon of choice, a present the bleached Vampire had given her for her eighteenth birthday. She didn't particularly like depending on weapons, but they had their uses. She reached the stage, her eyes never having left the spot where she had seen the rifle.

"Sniper!" She yelled to the other bodyguards, who obviously hadn't noticed the figure up in the shadows. Two of them piled on Cordelia even as Buffy sighted along her arm, the gun aimed at the invisible shooter.

There was a flash of light from somewhere, maybe one of the photographers, and for a frozen second Buffy saw the image of a man up there, rifle pressed to the shoulder, one eye shut, the other squinting through the scope. She adjusted her aim, silently thanking for Slayer reflexes and the many hours she and Spike had spent on the shooting range, and fired.

The sniper looked through his scope and directly into the muzzle of Buffy's gun. Where had she come from? He had time for that single surprised thought and moments later the bullet tore through his eye and exploded out the back of his head. He was dead instantly, but reflex made his finger tighten on the trigger.

The sniper bullet took Buffy in the shoulder and threw her backwards. She crashed into one of the bodyguards, who caught her out of instinct and slowly lowered her to the floor. There was screaming all over the studio and people were beginning to run toward the exits.

Cordy shrugged off her bodyguards and rushed to Buffy's side, kneeling down beside the prone Slayer.

"Buffy? How bad is it?"

Buffy tried to locate the pain that had intruded into her mind only seconds earlier. It seemed to be centered on her right shoulder. Her blouse was torn there and she couldn't move her right arm. Might be connected, she thought with dry humor.

She could see the bullet. It had buried itself into the Kevlar west she wore underneath her blouse. Angel had insisted on her wearing that one during her bodyguard jobs, for Slayer strength was little defense against bullets, as she had learned the hard way. The bullet hadn't penetrated the west, but the impact hurt like hell. Her shoulder might be broken.

A moment later she realized her sixth sense was still tingling. The danger wasn't over yet. She looked up, past Cordy's worried face, forcing her eyes to focus past the pain. Weinheim and Gentry were still sitting on the couch, too shocked by the happenings to move. All four bodyguards were on stage, surrounding them. Three of them carried neutral, professional expressions.

The fourth one didn't. Buffy wouldn't be able to say later on what exactly she had seen on his face, but suddenly she knew that he was in on it. It was Finn and she remembered that he had taken over for another guard only several weeks earlier. The man he had replaced had had a car accident. Accident? Finn had his own gun in hand and started to raise it.

"Gun!" Buffy yelled, trying to lift her own weapon, but was betrayed by her injured shoulder. Finn had his gun lined up on Cordy's face and Buffy began to struggle to her feet.

Darla's hands closed around Finn's neck from behind even as two of the remaining bodyguards raised their guns.

A dry crack echoed through the room, followed a heartbeat later by two echoing gunshots. Finn fell to the ground, his head hanging at a strange angle, his chest a bloody mess.

Darla helped herself to Finn's gun and looked at the other bodyguards present, all of whom looked confused.

"What about the rest of you?" She asked, pointing the gun at one of them. She didn't think any of them were in league with Finn, they had shot him after all, but it always paid to be on the safe side.

"We had nothing to do with that!" One of them was quick to assure, slowly holstering his gun and raising his hands.

"We need an ambulance!" Cordy yelled.

"That's the second time!" Buffy complained, pressing a hand to her shoulder. "Shot twice in a single year. It sucks!"

"You'll be all right!" Cordy smiled down at her. "Thanks, by the way. You know, that saving my life stuff."

"Knew there was something fishy!" Buffy said, trying to ignore the pain throbbing in her shoulder. "What kind of stupid name is Finn anyway?"

______________________________________________________________________

5 - You Don't Like Me, Bite Me!

#

Angel looked down from the catwalk into the now deserted TV studio and shook his head. Close. So very close. If the sniper had been a little faster, if Buffy hadn't worn the Kevlar west he had insisted upon, if the bullet had struck just two inches higher and a little to the left, ...

He didn't want to think about it.

Buffy was only bruised, nothing serious. Her shoulder was strained, but Slayer healing would take care of that in a few days. No one else had been injured. The sniper was dead and so was that fake bodyguard. Only two chalk lines remained, one down on the stage, one up here.

"You all right?" Kate asked, approaching behind him.

"Just thinking." He replied. "What have we got?"

"Nothing much yet. Finger prints are on their way to the lab, might get results back tomorrow. Nothing on either Finn - if that was really his name - or the sniper to offer a clue to who they were or who they worked for. Nobody saw the sniper come in, either."

"Big surprise." Angel muttered.

"You find anything?" She asked him.

"Nothing helpful." He said. "The sniper picked an excellent position to shoot from. No lights, excellent shooting angle. Might have been a pro. I doubt anyone without the aid of supernatural senses would have noticed him."

He didn't miss the tiny frown that passed over Kate's face. Kate had known about his being a Vampire for a long time, but she'd never been comfortable with it. She tried to ignore it most of the times and always seemed a bit angry when he did something to remind her of it.

"A professional sniper is a bit above most of the hate groups we're familiar with, isn't it?"

Angel nodded.

"I thought maybe the Council, but they would have aimed for Buffy, not Cordelia. Must be a group with some well-off backers. Professional assassins don't come cheap."

"Just what we need." Kate sighed. "Three months to go until the VLA and someone starts sending hired killers into the streets. I love my job."

Angel was preoccupied with his own thoughts. On one hand he was glad that Cordy had a bodyguard of Buffy's caliber, for he didn't want anything to happen to his friend, not after all she had done for his cause. On the other hand, though, Buffy was the woman he loved. Knowing that she put her life on the line here ...

"I wish your mommy hadn't killed that Finn guy." Kate said. "We could have questioned him."

"Darla is not my mother, she is my Sire. Besides, he had a gun trained on Cordelia's face. It was the wrong moment for restraint."

"Hey, I won't argue with that." Kate said. "I just wished we had something to go on here."

They made their way down to the studio floor. Several policemen were still around, looking for clues, taking pictures, trying to look important. Angel did not miss the hostile looks some of the men gave him. Working with the police had not become easier since everyone knew that he was a Vampire.

Shortly after the attack on the Hyperion several of his colleagues had tried to get him fired from the PID. That attempt had failed, fortunately, but it hadn't ended the tension. Even without his being a Vampire there would have been more than enough of it, thanks to the unclear status of the PID.

Its members held Federal Marshal status, were to be involved in crimes suspected of connections to the preternatural, but the actual boundaries of their authority in such cases were pretty much undefined as of yet. The PID was a young department and still had to prove itself to many a people.

"Heard the fang broad snapped that poor guy's neck like a twig." Detective Kowalsky said. He was a member of the LAPD. Like many of his colleagues he was not fond of the PID Marshals intruding into their turf and the fact that one of those Marshals was a Vampire seemed to irk him even more. It appeared he had made it his personal goal in life to get on Angel's case.

"You mean the poor guy who tried to shoot someone in the face?" Angel asked in a dry voice. 246 years of existence had taught him patience.

"I was actually surprised to hear that she only killed him." Kowalsky continued. "Thought she'd sink her fangs into his neck and drain him right then and there. Would've boosted the ratings for sure."

"Lay it off, Kowalsky!" Kate snapped at him. She admired Angel's patience with this idiot, but didn't share it.

"Or what? Is he gonna bite me?"

"Maybe you'd like that." Kate retorted.

"Huh?"

"Come on, Kowalsky! No shame in being a fang groupie! I hear there's many people that get off on it!"

"Think we can concentrate on the assassination attempt here, people?"

Lieutenant David Mannheim had come into the studio. Of all the LAPD people Angel had worked with during his time as a PID Marshal, Mannheim was one of the most open-minded.

"I was just..." Kowalsky began.

"Running your mouth as usual, I know. Try to keep your personal opinions out of your work, will you?"

He walked closer to Angel and Kate, lowering his voice.

"And I would appreciate it, Marshal Lockley, if you would not go into these pissing contests with my people. Things are tense enough as it is."

Kate managed to look properly chided, but Angel knew better. Kate might not be a hundred percent comfortable with him being a Vampire, but he was her partner and she still considered him a friend. Besides, Kate loved dishing out macho shit as much as any male cop, maybe more.

Mannheim turned toward Angel with a frown on his weathered face.

"How is the injured bodyguard?" He asked him. "I heard she was taken to the hospital."

"Only to be certain." Angel replied. "A strained shoulder, nothing serious. I will get her statement as soon as possible and send you a copy."

"We contacted the agency that supplied the other bodyguards." Mannheim said. "This Finn guy came with the best of credentials, it seems. We're checking them out right now."

"Probably fake. Someone put a lot of money into this, I think."

"I think you're right. The VLA is making a lot of people nervous and your friend Ms. Chase is a brightly colored target. On the other hand, though, her death might even help her cause, wouldn't it? A martyr?"

"Are you implying that members of her own lobby might have arranged this?"

"I'm just saying that we can't rule anything out. We'll check out all the hate groups, but I would appreciate it if you were to use your inside track to check out the people on the other side. Just in case."

Angel forced himself to calm down. The thought that some of the people working for his cause might resort to measures like this disgusted him, but Mannheim was right. They couldn't just rule it out. There was, of course, even the possibility that one or more Vampires had arranged this to help their legalization along.

He saw more Godfather playage, as Buffy would call it, coming toward him.

#

The figure watching from the shadows outside the TV studio didn't miss the worried frown on Angel's face as he left the building and climbed into his black convertible. Once the car vanished around the corner the figure approached one of the policemen standing guard outside.

"Can I help you, Ma'am?" The policemen asked.

"God, I hope so." Faith said. "They called me that my sister was injured here. She is working as a bodyguard. Can you please tell me what hospital they took her to?"

_______________________________________________________________________

6 - And Here I Thought We Had Problems Already

#

"How are you feeling, beloved?" Angel asked as he knelt down beside Buffy. The girl he loved was sitting on a hospital bed and a nurse was busy taping her shoulder.

Buffy gave him a smile. "Nothing broken, though I'm afraid I'm gonna have to applaud one-handed these next few days. Hurts like hell."

She nodded toward the table standing by the bed, where Angel saw the Kevlar west he had given her.

"I guess I can't really bitch about you forcing me to wear that thing anymore."

"So one good thing did come out of it, at least." He joked.

"Sure, make jokes while I'm here hurting." She said with mock indignation.

He touched her hand and their fingers interlaced.

"I'm just glad you're okay." He whispered.

"I'm fine. You should see the other guy."

"Matter of fact, I did. That's why I'm here. We'll need a full statement from you as well."

She nodded.

#

The former Watcher called Wesley Windham-Pryce walked through the lobby of the Hyperion Hotel and stretched his tired bones. Who would have guessed that being a semi-celebrity would tire him out so much? Not that he didn't enjoy it, oh no.

Ever since Cordelia and Angel had convinced him to go public with his knowledge about the Watchers' Council and their practices his life had changed a lot. Wesley had never considered himself a ladies' man, but apparently his opinion didn't count. No complaining from him, no sir!

"Hello, Wesley!"

He almost jumped and his heart skipped a beat. Turning around he saw Doyle, the half-demon, walk toward him. Doyle managed to hide his amusement, mostly.

"Doyle! So glad to see you here. What would I do without my daily dose of heart-attack?"

"Man, you're new role as TV darling has done wonders for your wit, Wes. Whatever happened to the snotty British stiff I liked so much?"

"He is alive and well, thank you. What are you doing here, Doyle? I thought you were on your second honeymoon with your wife?"

Doyle shrugged, his face darkening almost imperceptibly..

"Harry had second thoughts, or maybe third and fourth ones, I don't know. Anyway, seeing as even a place like Hawaii is not that great when you've been dumped, again, I came back. Maybe burying myself in work will do wonders."

Wesley could see right past the half-demon's jolly exterior. His wife had originally left him because she couldn't handle him being a demon. A few months ago she came back and the two tried to repair their marriage. Apparently it hadn't worked out that well.

"Sorry about that." Wesley said, putting a hand on Doyle's shoulder.

"Can't win 'em all, I guess." Doyle replied, shrugging.

Wesley was looking for some more words of comfort, not his strongest suite, when a strange sound suddenly penetrated to his mind. Howling. Dogs? Sounded like a dog concert right outside the Hotel. Suddenly he became aware that Doyle was pressing his hands to his ears.

"What is it?" Wesley asked.

"Ultrasound." Doyle said through clenched teeth. "Don't be surprised you're not hearing it, Wes. Someone tripped an alarm, I guess."

Made sense, Wesley thought. A Vampire's hearing - and apparently a half-demon's, too - was much better than that of a normal human. Most of the Hotel's occupants would hear this alarm, while most humans would be clueless.

"Where is it coming from?" Wesley asked, reaching below his jacket where he carried his gun. Ever since the Vampire Legalization campaign had gone into full swing none of them went unarmed anymore.

"Downstairs!" Doyle said. "I thought I knew all of Angel's alarm systems. Must be a new one."

The two men made their way downstairs into the cellar of the Hyperion, carefully watching for any signs of intruders. Doyle led them to a closed door Wesley had never seen before.

"Where does that lead?" He asked Doyle.

"I have no idea, never been down here before." He tested the door. "Locked."

Wesley spotted a small display close to the door, along with a square of numbered buttons.

"My guess would be you need a code to open this door."

"I just wish the sound would stop. I'm starting to lose my fillings."

Wesley took out his cell phone.

#

" ... and then Finn started raising his gun and ..."

Buffy was interrupted by the buzzing of Angel's cell phone. They had spent the last ten minutes carefully recording all Buffy remembered from the assassination attempt.

"Yes?" Angel answered. "Wesley? What is it? ... What? What room? ..."

Angel suddenly paled, which was quite a trick for a man already dead. Buffy jumped off the bed and was by his side in an instant.

"What is it?"

"Wesley, quick!" Angel said, not paying attention to her. "Go into the room. The number code is 12-7-1727. Yes, I'll hold."

Endless seconds passed, Angel holding the phone so tightly that the plastic casing was beginning to crack. Buffy put her hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension vibrate inside his body.

"What does it say?" Angel asked. "Are you sure? ... Okay. Wes, get Spike! Tell him the message. We'll meet at the Hotel in ten minutes. I'll explain everything there."

He turned off the phone and looked at Buffy. She almost gasped when she saw the expression on his face. She had never seen him this worried before. Never.

"Angel? What is going on?"

"Can I take her with me?" Angel asked the nurse, who had just finished taping Buffy's shoulder. The woman had barely nodded when Angel grabbed Buffy's healthy shoulder and dragged her toward the exit.

"Angel, wait!" Buffy said, aware that she wore nothing from the waist up except her bra and the taping. Angel paid no attention. She managed to grab her jacket from the table - the blouse was ruined anyway - and followed him outside.

They climbed into Angel's car and seconds later sped down the street, speed limits be damned.

Faith arrived just in time to see them leave and cursed the missed opportunity.

#

Angel and Buffy arrived at the Hotel barely eight minutes later and Buffy took a moment to pry her fingers loose from the headboard, the death grip she had held there leaving small dents. Angel had flown through the city and she had seen her life pass before her eyes several times.

He was halfway toward the entrance by the time she caught up with him.

"Angel! Will you please tell me what is going on here? I've never seen you like this before."

"You might see me much worse unless we hurry." He mumbled.

She followed him, frightened by the grim sound of his voice. Angel walked directly toward the stairs and down into the cellar. Spike caught up with them halfway down.

"Wes just called me." He said, falling into step with Angel. "He said..."

"I know." Angel just said.

The three of them reached the cellar in silence. Doyle and Wesley were waiting in front of a room Buffy had never seen before, looking confused and worried. Angel strode right past them.

Inside the room there was nothing but a desk with a computer and a large monitor. Angel sat down in the chair and stared at the screen, where a single sentence was flashing.

NEWGRANGE HAS BEEN BREACHED

"Newgrange?" Buffy asked. "What is Newgrange?"

Angel never took his eyes away from the screen and looked every bit the dead man he was as he answered her.

"It's a bunker." He said. "It is where we hid it."

"It?"

"The Necronomicon Nocturnum."

Silence spread through the room as the message flashed on.

______________________________________________________________________

7 - The Unusual Suspects

#

Angel left that same evening on a plane for Ireland and returned one day later, looking even more grim than before, if that was possible. Spike had told Buffy that he was going to Newgrange to make certain that the message wasn't a computer glitch. Apparently it wasn't.

While Angel had been away Spike had gathered the gang, as he called it. Everyone was waiting in the lobby of the Hyperion, waiting for Angel to return from his office.

Buffy let her eyes wander across the assembled crowd. After eight months with Angel she knew most of them. Spike and Darla, of course, Angel's Vampire family. Cordelia, Wesley, and Doyle, his closest human associates. Giles had come as well, the former Watcher having worked closely with them these last few months.

Willow and Tara were sitting on the couch, reading a book Wesley had brought along. Buffy had only met the two witches a few times before. She knew the two were also lovers, which was freaking her out a little bit, but she liked them very much. Willow especially was easy to be friends with. Tara was a little on the shy side.

Charles Gunn was a virtual unknown to Buffy. She had met him once before, but they hadn't exchanged any words. Gunn was the leader of a local gang and he and Angel apparently went way back. Gunn had brought some of his friends along, all of them doing their best to look tough and scary. Buffy found it amusing, thinking of all the supernatural muscle assembled here.

Angel walked back into the room after making several phone calls in his office, black coat trailing in his wake. He was bleeding off enough nervous energy to make Buffy fidget in her chair.

"I just talked with Luke, he is taking charge back in Ireland." Angel said. "They will look for clues and question all the snitches and double-dealers in that area, looking to see if anyone has heard something."

"Knowing Luke that questioning will involve a lot of broken bones." Spike remarked.

"As long as it gets results." Angel replied. "Newgrange is empty, the Necronomicon is gone. Whoever took it has a lot of head start. Luke and his people will look for the Necronomicon in Europe, while we will concentrate on North America. I've also asked for a gathering of the Vampirium."

Darla and Spike nodded with understanding, while Buffy was just confused.

"Vampirium?" She whispered Giles, who was sitting next to her.

"I have heard of it. It is the closest thing the Vampires have to a government. Something like a Council of Elders."

"Seeing as the book could be anywhere in the world by now," Angel continued, "we will need the manpower only the Vampirium can provide."

"How much are you planning on sharing with them?" Darla asked. "I wouldn't want every fledgling in the world to know that the Necronomicon is out there. Would only lead to trouble."

"We have a lot of trouble already," Angel reminded everyone, "and it can only get worse. Whoever took the Necronomicon has to be powerful in the magic arts, both to find Newgrange and to get past the many magical defenses we installed. I don't want to think about what a powerful mage could do with the spells contained in that thrice-damned book."

Angel was pacing by now, hands clutched behind his back. He looked at Willow and Tara.

"Any luck in finding a tracing spell?"

Willow looked up from the book.

"We have tried several different ones already. No luck. It could be that an artifact as powerful as the Necronomicon simply can not be traced. Either that or whoever has taken it has gone to a lot of effort to hide it from prying eyes."

Angel nodded. He shared a long look with Spike and Darla, then turned to look at the non-Vampires assembled in the lobby.

"If worst comes to worst," he told them, "our thief or thieves might manage to reverse the Restoration Spell. You all know what that means."

Grim looks were exchanged all over the room and Buffy felt herself growing cold.

"Angel," Wesley said, "you can't possibly know that..."

"I don't know, Wes, but we have to consider it a possibility. If the Restoration is reversed all the Vampires in the world will turn back into bloodthirsty monsters. Including us. If that should happen it will fall to you to make certain we can't harm anyone."

"No problem," Buffy said, "we'll just lock you up in that cell in the basement and get the book back, right?"

Giles shook his head, sighing.

"Buffy, we are not talking about just Angel, Spike, and Darla. There are thousands of Vampires scattered through North America, hundreds here in L.A. alone. If all of them were to turn bad at once, we will have little choice but to..."

"No!" Buffy said, rising from the couch. "I won't even consider that! You can't ask me to do that!"

Angel approached her, gently putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Buffy, we will do everything in our power to prevent it. But you are the Slayer. It is your duty to protect the world from evil. Even if that evil should suddenly wear a familiar face."

He looked at her with his dark eyes full of sadness and worry and Buffy thought something inside her would break into tiny little pieces. It wasn't possible. This gentle man couldn't turn into a monster, it just wasn't something that could ever happen. The very thought of having to drive a stake into his heart ...

"We will find that bloody book before it comes to that." Spike said.

"I can but hope so." Angel said, letting go of Buffy after a final, penetrating look. She bit back on the tears threatening to burst free from her eyes and gave him an almost imperceptible nod. It was a promise she was nowhere near certain she could keep.

"Not that I want to change the subject," Cordelia said, "but does anyone think it suspicious that a professional assassination attempt occurs at the same time that Necrowatchamaycallit just up and disappears?"

"You think the two are connected?" Wesley asked. "I can't see how one of the hate groups could possibly know about the Necronomicon Nocturnum."

"Yeah," Doyle said, "it's not like it's common knowledge that the Restoration was performed out of that book."

"How many people do know about it anyway?" Buffy asked.

"Not too many." Angel said, thinking. "All the people present here today, of course. Most members of the Vampirium. The Vampires who were present during the performing of the spell. A few others."

"Which makes for a hundred or more possible suspects." Spike groaned. "Just great."

"Probably more." Darla said. "It's been over ninety years. Who knows with how many people those who were present during the Restoration have talked about it since then. They could well number in the thousands."

Angel was thinking about something David Mannheim had said a few days ago. How the assassination attempt could just as well have been performed by someone who wanted to create a martyr for the Vampire cause. Maybe even a Vampire. Maybe a Vampire who knew about the Restoration.

He shook his head. Just because the two events had happened on the same day didn't mean they were connected. Right now he had to concentrate first and foremost on getting the book back. The damage the spells contained in those ancient pages could do ...

"What about Faith?" Buffy asked.

"What about her?"

"I saw her in the crowd on the day of the assassination attempt. Did she know about the Necronomicon?"

Angel remembered Buffy having mentioned Faith, but in all the excitement of the last two days he had completely forgotten about it.

"Faith knows but the barest details of the Restoration." Angel said. "I never told her about Newgrange or the book."

"Bitch was nosy, though." Spike remarked.

"Even if she did know," Angel said, "Faith has neither the resources nor the power necessary to steal the book. I don't think she has anything to do with that."

"We can't rule it out, though." Doyle said.

Angel sighed. He didn't want to think about Faith right now, there was too much else going on. Besides, he was still confused about his feelings as far as the dark-haired girl went. He was very fond of her in a fatherly sort of way, yet how could he ever forgive her for hurting the woman he loved?

Not right now, he resolved. Not right now!

"The Vampirium will gather later tonight." He said. "Darla, you're with me. Willow, Tara! I want you to keep trying to locate the Necronomicon! Wes, Giles, you have full access to my books and files. They should contain information on just about any mage, demon, and Vampire powerful enough to use the Necronomicon. Check them out! Gunn, keep your ears to the street! It's unlikely that whoever took the book will come here, but we can't rule anything out. Use whatever connections you have in other cities! Spike, make sure that all the Vampires on the street know that something is up, but don't tell them what! If a fledgling anywhere in America so much as whispers about the Necronomicon in his sleep, I want to know about it!"

Buffy rose to her feet and walked toward him.

"I'm coming with you." She stated.

"No, beloved. The Vampirium is a Vampire affair. I can't take you with me."

"But..."

"No but. Most younger Vampires have accepted that the Slayer is on our side, more or less, but the Vampirium Elders are a bit more old-fashioned. If I bring the Slayer into their midst they will kill us all slowly.

"Besides, I think Cordy has to leave for Washington early tomorrow morning. I want you to be at her side all the time, understand? We can't lose sight of the fact that someone wants her dead."

"Thanks for reminding me." Cordelia snorted.

"My pleasure." Angel said.

"Just promise me you'll be careful!" Buffy said. "I know this is your responsibility, but don't drive yourself crazy over it, okay?"

Angel smiled. How well she knew him already. He forced himself to calm down a little and gathered her into his arms.

"I promise. You be careful, too, beloved. I don't want to visit you in the hospital ever again."

"I don't want that either, especially seeing as I barely survived being driven home by you the last time."

They both smiled and shared an oh too brief kiss good-bye, then Angel grabbed his black duster and walked out into the night, closely followed by Darla.

"Okay, people!" Buffy said. "You all heard the big boss man. Let's be about it!"

_________________________________________________________________________

8 - About Vampire Protocol and the Placement of Trust

#

Angel and Darla walked into one of LA's many office buildings and took the elevator to the top floor. If he hadn't been so worried Angel might have smiled. The last time he had attended a gathering of the Vampirium had been in 1908, but a few months after the Restoration, and it had taken place by candlelight in an old castle in France.

"Times change." He murmured.

"But the rules don't." Darla added. "You still remember them, I hope?"

"Don't worry about me!"

"I always do. You know that."

"Just be glad we never had to take Spike along to one of these meetings."

The two Vampires shared a small smile as the elevator arrived at the top floor. Darla and Angel passed inspection by four security guards, all of them armed, and were ushered through into a large conference room.

The room was empty except for a long row of tables arranged in a half-circle. Twelve chairs stood behind the tables, eleven of them currently occupied. Seven women and four men, all dressed in the finest of business attire, all of them radiating enough dark energy to saturate the room. The feeling of age hovered above them all like a heavy blanket and Angel could almost feel the millennia gathered here.

He remembered the protocol, which was a lot older than he was, and remained standing near the door, while Darla approached the table.

"State your claim!" One of the ancient Vampires addressed Darla.

"I am Darla Chamberlain, Eldest of the Order of Aurelius, Childe of Master Heinrich Nest. I am here to take my seat in the Vampirium."

The eleven Vampires nodded and Darla walked around the table to seat herself in the one empty chair. Twelve chairs, twelve Vampire orders, named after twelve Vampire Masters. Only three of the orders were still headed by the Vampires that originally gave the order its name. The millennia took their toll even on the immortals.

"The Vampirium is now complete." Master Jean de Chevallier said. Angel knew that this woman, who looked to be no older than twenty, was actually well over a thousand years old.

"Who has called this meeting of the Elders?" Master Grigori asked.

"I have, honored Masters." Angel said, walking into the half-circle.

"State your claim!"

"I am Liam Angelus O'Connor of the Order of Aurelius, Childe of Master Darla Chamberlain. I would speak to you of a happening of gravest importance."

"Speak then, Angelus!"

"Honored Masters, ninety-two years ago me and one of my Childer performed the spell known as the Restoration of Souls. The spell was taken from a book called the Necronomicon Nocturnum, a volume of dark magic which has, since that day, remained in my care."

"We are all aware of these facts." Chevallier said, the barest hint of boredom penetrating into her ancient voice.

"Honored Masters, it pains me that I have to inform you that the Necronomicon Nocturnum has been stolen from me two days ago."

Angel's words came close to shattering the calmness of even these ancient creatures. The silence that spread over the room was filled with worry and tension. Angel was acutely aware of the stares that centered on his person.

"Elaborate, Angelus!" Grigori said after a minute.

"The book was hidden in a bunker in Ireland, guarded by both magic and technology. The location of the bunker was known only to a handful of people. Nevertheless two days ago the bunker was breached. I was there yesterday and found that the Necronomicon is gone."

Several of the Masters were whispering to each other now. Angel watched them, wondering if one of them might actually be responsible for the theft. All of these were ancient Vampires, who had committed many evils in their long, long lives. They all carried memories of atrocities that made his own 150 years of slaughter and mayhem pale in comparison.

Might one of them have stolen the book to lift the burden of a conscience off him- or herself?

"Angelus!" Master Malya Tushumi rose from her chair and addressed him. "Ninety-one years ago the Vampirium decided that you, as the one who ushered in this new age of Vampires, were to be trusted as the Necronomicon's keeper. Do you now tell us that our trust was misplaced?"

"I can only tell you the facts, honored Masters. The decision on whether I am still worthy of your trust is not mine to make. Yet I feel that the first priority for all of us should be the recovery of the book."

He saw Darla flinch, as his words and tone were certainly lacking some of the respect the Vampirium deserved, or thought it deserved. Angel didn't think much of this ancient body of Elders, who never did much except make themselves feel important. He knew that Darla only took her seat here if it was absolutely necessary, not being very fond of most of the other people on this body.

"Angelus!" Grigori raised his voice again. "What danger does this pose to our people? What could someone do with this book in his possession?"

"Honored Masters, when the book first came into my possession I studied the spells contained inside it. I then decided that they were too dangerous to be tampered with and locked the book away. I would have destroyed it had that been possible, but the magic of the book resisted all my efforts in that direction."

"What of these spells?" Chevallier asked. "What can they do?"

"First and foremost the book contains the Restoration spell. A skilled mage might use this information to enact a counter spell that will undo the Restoration."

None of them should have been surprised by that information, yet Angel could feel the tension inside the room double. No matter how little he respected them, he knew that most of the Elders were decent people. They didn't want a return to the old days anymore than he and his friends did.

"There are other spells," Angel continued, "that might prove just as dangerous. The Necronomicon contains magics pertaining to all the major arcana of night and darkness. With it demons can be summoned, portals can be opened, plagues can be called down upon the Earth. The damage that one using the book could inflict, both on our people and on the world at large, is practically without limit."

There was murmuring among the Masters again and Angel waited, burning with impatience, but allowing no sign of it to penetrate to his face. He needed their help, therefore he had to play it by their rules.

"What steps have you taken to recover the book, Angelus?" Grigori asked.

"With my Sire's consent I have utilized all the means the Order of Aurelius has as its disposal. Members of the Order are scouring Ireland for signs of the thieves. My own people are working here in America, trying to find out whether the book might have been brought here."

He straightened and swept his eyes over all of them.

"The book could be anywhere, though, anywhere in the world. That is why I humbly ask you, honored Masters, to render all the assistance you can provide. The book must be found and quickly."

"And if it is found," Tushumi stated, "will you then bow to the Vampirium concerning the best possible disposition of this book?"

Angel managed to keep his anger from his face.

"I want the book safely locked away from any and all hands." Angel said. "I believe that is the best possible disposition for it. It is too dangerous to be in anyone's hands."

"Yet it was in your hands for nearly a century." Tushumi continued.

"And no one has touched it since the day we locked it away in 1908."

It was obvious that Tushumi wanted to say more, but Grigori rose from his chair and motioned for the Japanese Vampire to leave things for the moment. For a moment the two ancient Masters stared at each other, then Tushumi sat down again.

There was silence for a long moment, then Grigori looked at his fellow Elders.

"Do we have a consensus on providing the Order of Aurelius with all the aid it will need to recover the Necronomicon Nocturnum?"

The other Masters nodded their consent and Angel breathed a silent sigh of relief. He had feared that this might take a lot longer and have a far less favorable outcome.

"Angelus!" Grigori looked at him. "The Vampirium hereby authorizes you to make best use of all the means at our disposal to locate and retrieve the Necronomicon Nocturnum. We will receive regular reports on your progress and expect that you will bring this matter to a quick and successful conclusion."

Angel nodded and gave a short bow. With the resources of the Vampirium added to their own, there wouldn't be a place on Earth where the thief of the book would be safe.

Unless, of course, the thief was here among them.

________________________________________________________________________

9 - Connoisseurs of English Tea and Demon Literature

#

"I must say," Giles remarked, "that Angel has the most complete library of the occult that I have ever seen."

"Yes," Wesley said, "even the Council's main archive in London pales in comparison, doesn't it?"

The two ex-Watchers had spent most of the night looking through Angel's assembled books, looking to put together a possible list of suspects for the theft of the Necronomicon. They were also looking to find out more about the book itself.

"It says here," Wesley said, indicating the book on his lap, "that the Necronomicon Nocturnum is older than human civilization. It would seem it was not written by human hands."

"That would make sense. I went through Angel's notes about the Restoration and here it says that he was unable to decipher the language the book was written in. Only by performing something he described as a 'Judging of Worthiness' was he able to read and invoke the spell."

"So if the book has some kind of inbuilt safety mechanism," Wesley continued the thought, "then the only question is by what standards it judges the worthiness of the reader."

"Well, Angel was able to read it, but he is also the only one we know of who ever attempted to read it. There is no telling which of his ... qualities the book found to its liking."

Giles sighed, rubbing his tired eyes.

"I would kill for a cup of tea right now." He murmured.

"No need to go that far." Darla said, walking into the room with a tray in her hands. Giles' face brightened considerably upon seeing the tea cups on the tray.

"Thank you, Ms. Chamberlain." He said, gratefully taking a cup. "You are a life saver."

"Knowing Wesley's research habits," she smiled at him, "I felt it was certain that you two learned gentlemen would spend the entire night here without a single thought to your health. We can't have that."

"Thank you, Darla." Wes said, also taking a cup.

All three took the opportunity to just recline in their seats and enjoy the taste of the hot tea. For a moment Giles marveled that this young woman was able to make such magnificent tea, only to force himself to remember that the young woman sitting in front of him was actually centuries older than he. And an Englishwoman, if he remembered right. A very beautiful one at that.

"How did the meeting of the Vampirium go?" Wesley asked after a while.

"Quite good, actually." Darla said. "The Elders have authorized Angel to use their every resource to locate the Necronomicon. None of them would admit it, but they are all scared. The power this book has over our people is the stuff of nightmares."

Giles nodded, understanding the fear he could see in the ancient woman's eyes. It amazed how completely his world had changed in this last year. For decades he had worked in the service of the Council to destroy Vampires. Now here he was, sharing a cup of tea with one of them, helping them in their work, wanting to make the fear in the eyes of the woman in front of him go away.

Where had that thought come from?

"Where is Angel, by the way?" Giles asked, as much to distract himself from his own thoughts as anything else.

"I convinced him to go to bed." Darla said. "He hasn't gotten any rest at all since the Necronomicon was stolen. Even Vampires need their sleep, so I pretty much told him to go or I would be forced to knock him out."

Wesley smiled and even Giles could not suppress a slight chuckle. The thought of Angel being threatened by this small woman seemed ridiculous, until one remembered that Darla was Angel's Sire. Giles doubted that a human would ever be able to understand the bond that existed between Sire and Childe.

"I wish we had some more to go on." Wesley sighed, putting the cup of tea away and reaching for a book once more. "According to Angel's notes only four people knew the location of Newgrange and what it contained. Angel himself, Spike, someone called Luke, and you, Darla."

"Luke is a member of the family, Wesley. You might call him my brother, also a Childe of Heinrich Nest. I would trust him with my life."

"If it's safe to say that none of you four revealed the location to anyone, then we must assume that someone has located Newgrange and the book by magical means."

Darla sighed. "Yes, and only a mage could have gotten past Newgrange's magical defenses. We covered that subject a dozen times already. Have you come up with a list of likely candidates?"

"We are working on it." Wesley said. "Angel's books and records contain a surprising number of people who might be capable of the theft. We need to narrow it down somewhat."

The blonde Vampire shook her head.

"I fear I am too tired to think straight. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I will retire for the day. Maybe by then we will have some more to go on."

Darla walked out of the library and Giles put his cup away. He was much too wired to sleep, so he reached for another book, at the same time trying to banish some very un-Watcher-like thoughts about Darla from his mind.

#

Buffy looked up as he walked into the room and her face spread into a smile of delight. "Angel! I missed you."

He walked toward her, grinning. She came to meet him, full of love and trust, and it was the easiest thing in the world for him to strike her down. His blow hit her full in the face and threw her halfway across the room.

"Missed you, too, lover." He snarled as he stalked after her.

Buffy rose on her elbows, bleeding from the lip, her eyes full of confusion.

"Angel, what...?"

He grabbed her by the hair and threw her down again. Buffy could not even think of resistance when he pushed her face into the cold floor and straddled her body, laughing.

"I had a hard day at work, honey!" He told her. "Daddy needs some relaxation time."

"Angel, no!" She screamed as he tore open her blouse and brutally ripped the pants from her legs. His tongue flicked out to lick a cold, wet line along her spine.

"Sorry, honey bun! Your lover boy ain't here anymore."

He drew her head back even as he saw the horror of understanding spread on her face.

"Yes, darling!" He whispered as he pressed his face into her hair, the pulsing warmth of her neck just inches away from his mouth. "No more of that soul crap! It's time for you to meet the real me."

"Angel! Please, don't!" She whimpered as one of his hands crept between her legs, the other drawing her head even further back.

"Scream for me, love!"

With a hiss of delight he sank his fangs into her neck and she screamed.

#

Angel woke with a start, covered in sweat and panting heavily. For a moment he still had the wonderful taste of blood in his mouth. Her blood.

"My God!" He whispered. "My God!"

He looked around his empty bedroom, realizing that it had been but a dream. He was alone. Buffy was on her way to Washington with Cordy. Safe. Safe from him.

Angel balled his fists, trying to calm his rapid breathing. He was a man, damn it! A man, not a demon! He had rid the world of the demon over ninety years ago and he would never allow it to return. Never again would a killer wearing his face stalk innocent victims.

"Are you so sure about that?" The demon's voice seemed to whisper in his ear.

Angel sat on the bed, hugging himself.

________________________________________________________________________

10 - Say That You Love Me Enough

#

One week had passed since the theft of the Necronomicon and Buffy returned home to the Hyperion desperately hoping that there was some positive news. She had spent the last five days in Washington, riding herd on Cordy, who seemed determined to make friends with every Senator and Congressman in existence. Sometimes Buffy doubted that Cordy was human. She was the Slayer and completely tired while Cordy seemed as fresh as a daisy.

At least she would be free for the foreseeable future. Cordy's next big appointment was in Washington again, but that was nearly a month from now. She would have to deliver a big speech to a large crowd of movers and shakers and would probably start working on said speech tonight.

Buffy had better plans for the night.

"Hi, Giles! Wes!" She greeted the two Watchers, who were sitting in the lobby in front of a heap of books, printouts, and a laptop computer. That she would live to see the day Giles started using a laptop.

"Hello, Buffy." Giles greeted her. "All went well in Washington, I trust?"

"No further assassination attempts," she informed them, "and apart from that I didn't get much. There was a lot of talk about civil rights and stuff. I think Cordy blew them away."

"Cordelia does have the talent to overwhelm people." Wesley agreed.

"She certainly does." Buffy's smile vanished. "Any news about the book?"

"None I'm afraid." Giles sighed. "Not a trace. I am amazed by the reach the Vampirium has, but whoever took the book seems to be beyond said reach for the moment."

"The good news is, of course," Wesley added, "that nothing particularly malevolent has happened to our undead friends yet, so I think it's safe to assume that whoever has taken the Necronomicon has not figured out how to use it yet."

"Or they're simply waiting to lull us into a false sense of security." Giles said.

"Where is Angel?" Buffy asked.

"In his office. He is online with most of the Vampirium operatives worldwide. If you can, Buffy, you should convince him to get some sleep. He has been working nonstop for several nights and days now."

"I think I can find some ways to convince him." She assured them with a smile and walked towards Angel's office.

Angel was sitting behind his desk, two laptops and lots of paper in front of him, staring at the screens with red-rimmed eyes. He was cradling a phone to his head with one shoulder, while he was busily typing away on one of the computers, all the while talking in a language that Buffy didn't recognize. Sounded a bit like Chinese or Japanese.

Angel looked up and saw her, flashing her a brief half-smile, then returned to his phone conversation and typing. Buffy sat down in the chair in front of his desk, crossing her legs, and waited patiently.

For about two minutes.

"I think you should stop now, Angel!" She informed him. Angel looked up from his screen again and said some indecipherable words into the phone, then put it away. He leaned back with a sigh.

"I can't rest, Buffy." He told her. "We still haven't found a clue about the book's whereabouts. If I..."

"If you are completely tired out you won't be able to do a thing once the book is found, Angel. From what Wes and Giles told me, you got hundreds of Vampires scouring the entire world right now. Will it kill them if you allow yourself a few hours of sleep?"

He was about to open his mouth when Buffy rose and walked around the desk to straddle his lap. She put her arms around his neck and rested her forehead against his.

"Really, Angel! I love you, but sometimes you're a dummy. Get some rest! You're not gonna be of use to anyone like this."

Again he sighed. "Why is it that I can never win an argument against you, beloved?"

"That's not true." She said with a mock pout. "I always let you win the unimportant ones."

They shared a brief kiss, then Angel nodded.

"Okay, I will go to bed. Come with me?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "You are supposed to get some rest, mister. The two of us in one bedroom doesn't go together with that."

"I promise to be good." He whispered into her ear, brushing it with his lips.

"I don't know whether I'm glad or sorry to hear that." She smiled.

#

Angel had his eyes closed and did nothing but marvel at the wonderful feeling of the warm form that lay sprawled across his body. Buffy's head rested on his chest, her hair spilling down his side and into his fingers, which were softly playing with the strands. It felt so wonderful to have her here like this, alive, breathing, chasing the chill of death away just by her presence.

Once again he remembered the nightmares that were still plaguing him. The nightmares of what Angelus would do to this wonderful girl that rested in his arms. It made him shiver.

"You're brooding again." Buffy chided him, opening her eyes. She turned over until she was lying on her stomach, resting her chin on his chest and looking into his eyes.

"Worrying is more like it." He told her, fingers still caressing her hair. "With the book somewhere out there..."

"You're doing everything you can, Angel." She reminded him. "So please stop worrying for now, okay?"

He couldn't do that, of course. He had spent too much time doing nothing but worry. Ever since the Restoration there had always been something to worry about. How his people would survive without killing. How they would stay hidden from the humans. How they would find a place among them when hiding no longer worked.

He looked into her eyes. Every day he loved her more and that just gave him something else to worry about.

"Beloved, you have to promise me something!" He said.

"Anything."

"Should the worst happen, should the Restoration be reversed, you will have to kill me."

She rose in a flash, sitting back to stare at him with wide eyes.

"No, Angel! Never! I ... I couldn't ... Never! I can't promise you something like that!"

"Buffy, please ..."

"Don't Buffy me, okay? Angel, I love you! How can you even think of demanding something like that from me?"

He sat up as well, gently grabbing her by the shoulders, feeling the shivers that ran through her small form. It hurt him to demand this of her, but he had to make her understand.

"Buffy, listen to me! If I lose my soul, if the demon takes control again, it won't be me anymore. Just a monster wearing my face. You don't know what that monster is like, Buffy. You don't have the least idea."

"I read all the books on your past, Angel." She reminded him. "I know what you did when you weren't you, but..."

"Your read about it, Buffy. You didn't see it. I remember it all like it was yesterday." He looked down, trying to shake the memories away. "The demon is still in here, Buffy. He is inside my mind. I know what he will do when he gets free. I know what he will do to you. I have seen it in my nightmares, he whispers it into my ear when I sleep. The thought that he might ... might hurt you ... kill you ..."

"That will never happen, Angel!" She told him confidently. "We will find the book and you and your people will be safe."

"If the worst happens," he insisted, "I need your word. Don't hold back against me, because the demon won't. He will do everything in his power to hurt you. Promise me, Buffy! Promise that you will kill me if it happens!"

Buffy looked into his eyes, filled with desperation, and found herself nodding.

"If ... if that's the way you want it." She whispered.

"I do. I wouldn't want to come back if anything were to happen to you."

"But it won't come to that." She repeated, wrapping her arms around him to pull him close. "We will find that stupid book and this time we will burn it to make sure that it can never happen again."

He relaxed in her embrace, not bothering to tell her that destroying the book was not possible. He didn't know whether she actually would, or could, go through with killing him if it had to be done. He knew, though, that he would do everything in his power to prevent it from happening.

He was a man! And never again would he allow the demon free reign.

______________________________________________________________________

11 - Lift This Burden From My Shoulders

#

The Vampire studied the book lying on the table in front of him with something very close to reverence. This was the holy grail of Vampirekind. Had been ever since that fateful day in 1907. The day everything had changed. The day one of their own had damned them forever.

Angelus, he growled under his breath. Traitor to his own kind. Cursed them all with a conscience, only because he had run afoul of some Gypsies. Even thought that he had done them a favor, the swine.

He contemplated the book again. This small thing held the power that had changed them forever. Its black leather casing, strange and disturbing symbols etched into the cover, seemed to glow with an inner light.

Carefully he reached out and undead fingers slowly caressed the book, trying to get a measure of the danger it posed. The temptation to just flip it open and unleash its power was almost too much to bear.

"What a wonderful world," a voice made the Vampire flinch back from the book, "that has such wonderful power in it."

He looked up to see the approaching shape of the sorcerer, making not a sound as he walked through the corridor. The sorcerer's shape was clad in flowing black robes that hid everything but his face and hands from view. He seemed to float rather than walk, though it was hard to say. A chill seemed to precede him as he came into the room.

The Vampire knew that he needed the sorcerer, needed his skill and power if he wanted to achieve his goals. Yet at the same time he loathed this creature he was dependent upon. The sorcerer was not human, neither was he a Vampire. He was something the Vampire did not understand and that irked him.

"Can you hear its beautiful song?" The sorcerer asked, coming closer. The light of the candles flickered across his face, but the floor behind him was empty. He cast no shadow. He left no footprints.

"Yes." The Vampire said, observing these disturbing details. "Who could not?"

The sorcerer walked closer and reached out with his own hand, dark-skinned fingers hovering a hair's breath above the black cover of the Necronomicon. The barest shimmer of magic played across the back of his hand, tiny sparkles of energy as he tasted this thing of blackest sorcery he now called his own. He could feel the dark power that was seeping from these ancient pages and he relished it.

"I have dreamt of this moment for a long, long time." The sorcerer said.

"I hope you won't need that long to figure out how to use it." The Vampire said.

"Patience, my friend. The power of the Necronomicon Nocturnum is not something to be taken lightly. We need time and lots of preparation."

The Vampire snorted.

"Angelus worked the Restoration but minutes after he found the book, with more than a hundred Vampires about to rend him to pieces, and he was not even a skilled mage."

"Angelus was ready to sacrifice everything in order to fulfill his dream, he did not care for his own survival. I certainly do."

The sorcerer touched the book.

"Powerful magics bind these pages. To open the book is to subject oneself to them, to put oneself at their mercy. The Necronomicon itself decides who is worthy to work its power and we need to be sure that we are worthy, otherwise death by fire awaits us. I am sure neither of us is too anxious to have that happen, especially when we are this close to fulfilling our dreams."

The Vampire sighed, understanding but not liking it.

"One would think that an immortal such as yourself," the sorcerer said, "would have perfected the art of patience long ago."

"Who has the time to be patient when Angelus is scouring the world with the resources of the Vampirium behind him? Despite his youth he is not an opponent to be taken lightly. The Order of Aurelius stands with him, as does the Slayer. I want to get this over with before they find us."

The sorcerer chuckled softly, amused by the almost stark terror the mere mention of the Slayer invoked in Vampires. He was not worried about a little girl with superpowers. On the other hand a hundred or more Vampires led by a fanatic like Angelus did worry him.

"You could have opposed his use of Vampirium resources."

The Vampire laughed. "What? And be the only one to do so? I could just as well have stood up and confessed the thievery of the book. No, Angelus must not suspect my involvement, not yet. As long as he works with the Vampirium, I know what he will do. Should he find a trace of us, I will be prepared to face him."

"If that is so, then why are you so worried?"

"Let me worry! It is your job to get that damn book to work, spend your time with nothing else!"

The sorcerer's face showed no amusement.

"I will. Just don't forget that I am not one of your lackeys. We are partners in this. I will unlock this book and reverse the Restoration for you. After that the Necronomicon is mine to do with as I please."

The Vampire growled.

"I remember our deal, do not worry. Now get to work!"

The sorcerer nodded, his face neutral and still. It disturbed the Vampires that he could not read this man. More than a thousand years on this world had taught him how to read and understand the motivations of humans and other creatures by observing the tiniest nuances of face, speech, and body movement. None of it worked with the sorcerer. His thoughts and motivations were closed to him, he kept his own council.

He remembered what Angelus had said. The book contained more spells than just the Restoration. Spells of dark power that could summon demons, call down plagues. Until this moment he had not given any thought to what the sorcerer might do with the book once the Restoration was reversed, but now ...

The Vampire shook his head and turned around to leave the sorcerer with the book. Inside he was burning with impatience. It had taken him decades to find Newgrange, Angelus had hidden his treasure trove well. It had taken him even longer to find someone who could help him breach Newgrange's magical defenses, someone who would unlock the book's secrets and make them work. He did not know what the sorcerer wanted to do with the book once the Restoration was reversed and he did not care in the least.

Soon, he calmed himself. Soon this curse would be lifted from him. The memories of the past would no longer haunt him, the simple pleasures of hurting and killing would no longer chill him down to his soul, for that soul would soon be gone.

To be able to live again, truly live. Taste the blood of mortals without pain or regret, live in a world without worry or despair. To be free of this curse that Angelus had laid upon his people. Soon. Very soon.

Master Grigori smiled. Soon he would live again. Soon!

Behind him the sorcerer smiled as well, for reasons all his own.

_______________________________________________________________________

12 - Sometimes You Just Need Faith

#

"We gotta run, Buffy! Call me, okay?"

"Sure thing, Xan!"

Buffy remained seated at the table as Anya and Xander took off from the café. It had been good to see her oldest friend again, she mused, even if his new flame had to be one of the most superficial girls she had ever met. A bit like she herself had once been, she admitted.

Ever since becoming the Slayer, and especially since becoming involved with Angel, she had had too little time for her old friends. She and Xander had gone to High School together and this had been the first time they had met in months.

With a sigh Buffy resolved to do more of this catch-up work once she had a bit more time. Yeah, like that would happen anytime soon. The Necronomicon was still gone, not a trace to be found in more than two weeks. Angel was working with superhuman effort and seeing absolutely no return for it, which was slowly driving him crazy.

She would have to do something about that, she smiled to herself. Something to relax him a bit. Something that had nothing to do with Vampires, magic books, assassins, ...

Someone slid onto the chair on the other side of the table and Buffy froze.

"Hi, Buffy!" Faith said.

Faith! Buffy had almost managed to forget about her with everything else that was going on. Now Faith was sitting right in front of her and Buffy was speechless.

Faith looked unchanged from the last time she had seen her. Last time having been the night Faith had beaten her up, broken her arm, and then run off when Angel wanted no part of her. Buffy felt white-hot fury flood through her veins and started to stand up.

"Sit down, Buffy, please! No need to turn this café into a battleground."

Buffy looked around. There were at least fifty people close by, enjoying their drinks and meals, chattering, reading. People who could get hurt if she and Faith started fighting here. Reason won out and she sat down again, glaring at Faith instead.

"What do you want, Faith?" She asked, her voice trembling with fury.

"You're a hard girl to catch up with, Buffy." Faith said. "I've been trying to get you on your own for weeks now and it never worked."

"If you want to finish what you started six months ago I'll have to warn you. I will not be taken by surprise again."

Faith looked down, looking embarrassed. Which was about the last thing Buffy had expected. Now that she was taking a closer look, Faith didn't look at all like she was here to start a fight. She was dressed in a long skirt, carried no weapons that Buffy could see, and there were dark rings under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept properly in weeks or longer.

What was going on here?

"I'm not here to fight you, Buffy." Faith said, looking up again. Buffy had trouble reading the look in her dark eyes.

"Why are you here then?" Buffy asked, unable to keep the hostility from her voice. She owed Faith one for beating her up like that. She was the Slayer, damn it, and Faith had beaten her to a pulp. Intellectually Buffy knew that it had been due to the fact that she had not expected Faith to attack her, and certainly not with Slayer strength.

Emotionally though, Buffy wanted nothing better than to beat Faith's face into the ground repeatedly.

" Buffy, I ... I wanted to say ... fuck, I'm not good at this. I ... I am sorry. I spent a lot of time thinking these last few months. Thinking about what I did and, more important, why I did it. I .. I wanted to ... explain to you ... explain what happened."

Faith balled her fists under the table, shaking her head.

"When ... when the Watchers attacked the Hyperion all these months ago, I ... I watched the fight from upstairs. I saw how you and Angel fought together. Fuck it, I'd been in love with him since I first met him and not only had he never so much as noticed it, now he had found you, someone as strong as he was, someone who could fight by his side.

"I was furious, disappointed. And then ... then I saw the Watcher aim his gun at you and I ... I said nothing."

Buffy didn't say a word, her face a frozen mask. Faith didn't meet her gaze.

"I didn't even think about it. I saw him aim his gun and the warning died in my throat. Then he shot you and ... I don't know how, but ... but suddenly I felt so strong. It was like someone had poured liquid fire into my veins and I felt great, reborn. I realized that I was as strong as you now and I ... I sort of convinced myself that it was meant to be this way. Now, if I could only beat you, Angel would get together with me."

Faith gave a brittle laugh.

"Stupid, I know, but ... I don't know what was going on in my head. I just don't know. I kept my power secret, I trained, and when you and I were alone in the Hyperion I used my chance and jumped you. Well, ... you know what happened then."

Buffy was still silent as a statue. Faith found her courage rapidly dwindling.

"When Angel brushed me off, kept me from ... from hurting you, I ... something inside me snapped. Suddenly I realized that he didn't love me. That he would never love me. It was, it was like my whole life just broke into pieces at that moment. I had always been certain, completely certain that Angel and me were meant to be together, especially when I had been given that power completely out of the blue, but then ..."

Finally she looked up again and into Buffy's frozen eyes.

"These last few months I realized just what I had done. I ... I never thought I would be capable of something like that. Trying to intentionally hurt someone, to ... I'm scared, Buffy. Scared of what I have become. I tried to get a grip on it, but ... I can't. I just can't. I ... I am sorry, Buffy. I know that doesn't really cut it, but I'm sorry."

Buffy could clearly see the desperation on Faith's face, but something like a red haze had descended over her mind. She had hated Faith even before that little revelation about the day Buffy had nearly died from being shot. Faith actually had the nerve to come here and expect ...

"I know I don't have the right to ask you for your forgiveness, but ..." Faith began.

"You certainly don't." Buffy interrupted her. "Honestly, Faith! You come here, tell me your little sob story, and expect that everything is well between us? What did you think I would say? Faith, glad that you're back. Don't worry about your beating me up or your letting me be shot at! It's all forgotten, I don't hold a grudge. Is that what you expected?"

"No, I ..."

Buffy jumped to her feet, the chair falling to the floor behind her with a clatter that sent ripples of silence through the restaurant. Everyone was looking their way now.

"Stay away from me, Faith! Stay the hell away from me, Angel, and the others! If I ever see your face again I will tear it off, understand?"

Buffy stormed out of the restaurant, trembling with anger, trying to get her pulse down to normal again. The nerve of that bitch! To come here and ... and ... Buffy screamed in frustration and started toward the Hyperion. She needed to let off some steam.

#

Faith looked after Buffy as she left and sighed deeply. This had gone just wonderful, but what else had she expected? Buffy had every right to be angry with her after all that had happened. Maybe she should have left out the part about not warning her of the bullet coming her way.

No, she resolved. If this was to work she needed to be honest with them. She had tried to do this on her own and failed miserably. She needed them.

Every morning she looked at herself in the mirror and saw the face of a person she wouldn't have wanted to know. Someone who had stabbed her friends in the back. Someone who had tried to hurt the girlfriend of the best man she had ever known. Someone who had been given the power to make a difference and had abused it in the most terrible way.

She couldn't handle it. She just couldn't handle being this person. She had hoped that just staying away from them, away from the people she had hurt, would heal the wounds, but it hadn't. In her dreams she saw Buffy, lying on the floor, hurt and beaten, looking up at her with confusion in her eyes. What had Buffy ever done to her to deserve this?

She saw the deep disappointment in Angel's eyes. Not hatred, not disdain, not even rage, just a look of disappointment so deep that it had chilled her down to her soul. He had cared for her, she knew that, though never in the way she had wanted him to, and she had let him down. Worse, she had betrayed him, stabbed him in the back.

Then there was Spike. Spike whom she had used for her revenge plans. Bought him off with her sex like a cheap whore. She had fooled him in the worst way, made him an accomplice in her insane plan to steal Angel away from Buffy.

She had to make this right somehow, whatever it took. Angel, Spike, the others, they were the only real friends she'd ever had. Even Buffy, whom she had never gotten close to because of her jealousy. They were the only family she had left since that night over six years ago when she had lost her parents to the monsters.

The monsters. She saw one every time she looked into the mirror. Saw it behind her eyes, waiting to burst free. She felt the abyss close to her, felt it breathing down her neck, waiting for her to fall down into it. She didn't want this to happen, didn't want to become a monster, but without even noticing she had come so very close.

She needed to get away from the abyss. She had to prove to them that she was sorry, that she wanted to be a better person.

The only problem was that she had absolutely no idea how to do that.

___________________________________________________________________

13 - Cryptic Answers and Awkward Reunions

#

The boos of the patrons accompanied Angel off the stage. He had sung the song "Walking in Memphis" and actually thought that he had managed it quite well. At least if one compared it to the other times he had sung here in the Caritas. Which wasn't saying a whole lot, of course.

The Host was waiting for him behind the stage, smiling gently and shaking his head.

"I wish I could read auras without the singing," he mused, "at least in your case."

"Skip the funnies and tell me what you saw!"

Weeks of searching for the Necronomicon had worn away Angel's patience and he was all out of it right now. The Host looked at him for a long moment.

"I wish I could tell you more details, but I'm afraid there is no clear course visible. I can tell you some of the things I can see in your aura, but I don't think it will be of much help to you."

"Even a little bit would be more than I have right now." Angel said.

"Very well. I see blood in your aura, much of it. Blood is the key to dreams, yours and those of others. You will find the book or it will find you, I am not sure. You must have faith. An old one will try and use you for his own gains. A door will open and it will lead to death and worse. In the end only blood will remain, the blood of one you love more than life itself."

The Host sighed. "I wish I could tell you more, handsome, but everything is muddled."

He reached out with a hand and moved it a hair's breath over Angel's chest, as if brushing over an invisible barrier.

"There is much power here, dark power. It surrounds you like a shroud. The book, yes. The Necronomicon is here, with you. The two of you are connected. You worked its magic and it will not let you go. That is why you will find it. Unless it finds you first."

Angel frowned at the strange words of the Host, but the green-skinned demon wouldn't say anymore. Walking out of the Caritas he tried to make sense of the words his friend had told him.

The blood of one he loved more than life itself? Buffy's blood? No, he wouldn't let it come to that. An old one would try and use him? A member of the Vampirium?

He also remembered that Buffy had seen Faith a few weeks ago. When the Host had said "You must have faith" had he meant "You must have Faith"?

#

Buffy stormed into the Hyperion, still trembling with fury, looking for someone she could either beat up on or subject to furious rant. Considering that only her friends lived here it would probably be the latter.

There were sounds from one of the doors. The room behind it had started out life as a dining room, but Angel had converted it into a large library. Library equaled Giles, Buffy thought. He was always good at listening to her rants, good meaning that he was normally too flustered to interrupt her.

She walked in and stopped as if she had run into an invisible barrier. Giles was inside, true, but he was not reading a book. Giles in a library without reading a book? That alone might have sufficed to make her world view collapse in on itself, but not only was Giles not reading, he looked to be having a good time chatting with ... Darla?

“... been years since I saw a good performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream." Darla said.

“I hear one of the local theaters gives a very good accounting of it, though they are probably ruining it with their American accents."

Darla laughed and Buffy stared. When exactly had Giles and Darla gotten so chummy? One could almost think they ... no, don't go there! That way was madness and ugly thoughts about older men doing ... don't go there!

Buffy quietly retreated from the room to the sound of more laughter from Darla and decided to make her way to the training room. Some physical exertion was needed now, yes. Maybe if she pounded the punching bag into little free-floating particles she might feel better.

#

The sun would rise in a few more minutes and Spike approached the Hyperion, having spent most of the night beating up local snitches and informants. None of them knew anything about a magic book or who might have hired an assassin to go after Cordelia. Spike had worked all night and all he had to show for it were a few broken bones - other people's bones - and a need for sleep and blood.

He was about to go in when he smelled something in the air. Something ... no, someone he knew. Someone who's scent was all-too familiar to him. Spike balled his fists and smiled. Maybe this night wouldn't be a total write-off just yet.

He made his way around the Hotel without making a sound, his form melting into the shadows, and soon found his prey. She was leaning against the wall, spying through a window, and was oblivious to his presence.

Spike sneaked up behind her and cleared his throat.

“Hello, Faith!"

The girl spun around and threw a kick his way, but he easily blocked it, still smiling.

“Spike!"

“Nice that you still recognize me, pet!" He half-smiled, half-growled. “I see that you still haven't developed much of a brain, though. Coming here instead of running to the ends of the Earth doesn't say much for your smarts."

“Spare me the smart-ass remarks, Spike!" She snarled at him. “I'm not here to get into a fight with you."

Spike threw a glance through the tiny window she had looked in through and saw that it showed the inside of the training room. In the far corner Buffy was pounding away at the punching bag like there was no tomorrow.

“From the looks of her I wouldn't go in there," Spike said, “unless you're planning to get yourself pounded into powder. The Slayer looks pretty pissed."

“I saw her earlier today." Faith said. Spike couldn't quite keep the surprise off his face. “I wanted ... I wanted to apologize to her. For what I did."

“And what, she wasn't interested in your apologies?" Spike said with mock surprise. “Who'd have thought that? She certainly knows how to hold a grudge against people that break her arms and beat her bloody."

Faith almost winced at his words, which surprised Spike more. Something had changed about her, that much was for certain. He wasn't quite sure what to make of this new Faith yet.

“She has a right to be angry with me." Faith said, then looked up at him. “So do you. Spike, I ... I'm sorry that I ... that I used you the way I did. I ..."

“This is not a good topic, pet!" He growled at her.

She looked down again and Spike fumed. He had taught her the moves, the moves she had used to hurt Buffy, and he had been dump enough to let himself be bought with a few wild nights of sex. It made him want to beat her into a pulp right here and now.

“I have to say this!" Faith insisted. “I am sorry, Spike! I never meant to ... I don't know what was going on in my head at that time. The only thing I could think of was that Buffy had stolen Angel from me, never mind the fact that I'd never had him in the first place. I just wanted to get back at her and you ..."

“I was just a dumb fool in the right place, is that it?" He growled.

Her eyes met his again and he was surprised by the amount of pain and sadness he saw in them.

“I never meant to get you involved in this, Spike. It was only when you showed me how little I yet knew about fighting that I realized that I needed you. And ... and that pretty much was all there is to it as far as my messed-up brain was concerned. Spike needed to kick Buffy's ass. So I ..."

She sighed, stopping her babbling.

“For what it's worth ... I'm sorry Spike. I'm truly sorry. We never much liked each other. I remember how much I used to tease you and how often you almost tore my head off. Especially after our first bout in the gym."

It almost brought a smile to her lips, but Spike was not amused. That had been when she'd still been a normal human, no stronger than any other teen girl out there, and she had provoked him into a sparring match. Overconfidence on his part had resulted in him being flipped on his back with Faith sitting down on his chest. Moments later Angel had come in and exploded into a laughing fit.

“Bringing up those good old memories is not the way to get on my good side!"

Faith quickly vanished her smile and looked at him again.

“What I'm trying to say here, Spike, is that I'm sorry. We didn't much like each other, but I was wrong to use you like that. I made a mistake, I messed up. I don't know what else to say."

Spike didn't know exactly when he'd slipped into demon face and he didn't care. He surged forward, pressing Faith into the wall, holding her by the wrists, growling into her face.

“And you think that makes it all well again, vacuum-brain? You think you can just turn up here, go on about how you're sorry, and everything's forgotten? You're even more of a fool than I thought."

“I'm not asking for everything to be well again." She yelled back at him, but not making a move to pry herself loose. “I'm just asking you to give me a chance to make it up. Is that really so much to ask?"

The words took the wind out of his sails. Second chances. He remembered how, just eight months ago, a Slayer that had killed many of his people walked into the Hyperion, looking like she was going to her own execution, and reached her hand out to him. Reached her hand out to Spike, who hated all Slayers ever since he had lost his princess to one of them nearly a quarter century earlier.

He remembered thinking how anyone deserved a second chance. After all, if someone like himself had gotten one, than everyone else had just as much claim to it.

Still, this was Faith. Faith, who had fooled him into betraying his best friend. Who had hurt the girlfriend of his best friend. Who had used him like a dumb puppet.

“And how exactly to you plan to make it up, pet?" He growled.

“I don't know." She yelled at him. “I don't know, are you satisfied now? I don't have the slightest idea. I only know that I have to do it."

He stared at her for another minute or so, then slowly let her go. He believed her, which was probably very foolish of him, considering how she had fooled him before, but he believed her.

“So what now?" He asked her. „You plan on just going in there and say sorry to everyone you meet? Won't work with Buffy from the looks of it. And I'm not sure about Peaches. Seems to me that he'd be swaying between giving you a second change and tearing your head off, depending on where the mood swings."

“Well, I was sort of hoping to talk to Angel alone first. Since I made such a mess of things with Buffy."

“Gotta warn you, Angel is not in the best of moods right now. What with the Necronomicon and assassinations ..."

“What about the Necronomicon?" Faith asked.

Spike swore under his breath. Why was he telling her all this? He didn't trust her, not in the least, and here he was, his mouth one step ahead of his brain again.

“Nothing. Not your problem. If you want to get back into our good graces you got your work cut out for you without worrying about anything else."

He sighed.

“Give me a phone number where I can reach you," he said, “and I will talk to Peaches. He'll call you."

Faith gave him a thankful smile and scribbled her number on a piece of paper.

“Thank you, Spike, I ..."

“Just get out of here before I regret it."

She nodded and walked away into the approaching dawn. Spike looked after her for a moment, then quickly went into the Hyperion to escape the first rays of the rising sun.

_______________________________________________________________________

14 - Let's Not Forget About the Hate

#

Cordelia leaned back on the couch, sighing, trying to stretch the wariness out of her aching bones. These last few months she had been on the road almost nonstop and it was starting to take its toll on her. Not that she would ever allow herself to appear tired in front of the others, no way. She might not be the Beauty Queen of Sunnydale High School anymore, but she still had her pride.

She checked her time planner. Nine weeks to go until the big day. Nine weeks that were still filled with a lot of work, but mostly local stuff. Some more TV interviews - everyone wanted one after the assassination attempt had gone out live and in color - some meetings with senators, an interview for an article in Time Magazine.

There was, of course, that big final speech thing. It was a great honor, she knew that, to be allowed to hold a speech before the assembled Congress, and right before they would decide on the Vampire Legalization Act, too. Everyone would look at her and the words she spoke would help shape the future of an entire race.

She was not daunted by the prospect. Okay, maybe a little, but she had known what she was getting into the moment she had started working with the pro-Vampire lobby. Granted, she had never in her wildest dreams imagined that she would become the head of it, but Monica Chase's daughter would not let herself be intimidated by a bunch of dusty politicians or nation-wide fame. No way.

She still had to write that speech, though. Cordelia was good at improvising and did most of her speeches pretty much spur of the moment, but this was much too important to mess up. Some of her lobby colleagues had wanted to hire a professional speech writer for that one, but she would have none of it.

Darla had once told her that the reason for her success was that everyone who listened to her quickly realized that she believed every word she said. Which was true, Cordy did believe every word of it. Vampires were people, everyone who'd just spend a little effort on getting to know them would realize it. They deserved to be treated equal to everyone else.

With a chuckle she remembered the day she had spent watching Angel talk to Buffy when the Slayer had been a captive here in the Hyperion, still convinced that all Vampire's were the spawn of Satan. Angel had told her his story and she had made an offhand comment about how he wanted his poor little Childer to live in a nation where they would not be judged by the lengths of their fangs, but by the content of their character. Cordy had almost exploded into giggles.

Not that she'd be able to use something like that in her speech, sadly. Politicians were, for the most part, not very humorous fellows. So she would have to go to the heart of the matter. Gunn had been kind enough to loan her his records of Martin Luther King's speeches and she had gathered some more material from the net. Never hurt to let oneself be inspired.

Refilling her cup from the large coffee can standing on her desk, she began to scribble some notes.

#

In the workout room of the Hyperion Buffy put the coup de grace on the abused punching bag, kicking it off its hinges and making it fly halfway through the room. She had pounded on it for nearly an hour and didn't feel better in the least.

Her thoughts were still spiraling around the topic of Faith. Faith, who had beaten her bloody. Faith, who had tried to take Angel away from her. Faith, who had the nerve to just show up and ... she forced herself to calm down.

No, calming down didn't work. She looked at the pitiful remains of the punching bag and decided that she needed something else to beat up. Thankfully she heard a noise as someone passed by the gym and stormed out through the door, coming face to face with Spike.

"Spike!" She greeted him. "Just the man I was looking for."

"Who? Me?" He looked confused for a moment, almost like a kid that was caught doing something stupid. Maybe he'd been out drinking again? She couldn't smell any alcohol on him, thought that might just be a result of him not breathing.

"Yes. I'm still too worked up to go to sleep. I need a good sparring. You up for it?"

Something very much like relief spread across his face and Buffy was too wired to give it more than a passing thought. He accompanied her back into the gym and took off his coat, falling into a fighting stance.

"Don't hold back, okay?" She told him as she prepared to attack.

"Okay, but you keep Peaches off my back if you get too bruised for smoochies!"

"Deal!"

Moments later she was upon him, kicking and punching, drowning herself in the thoughtless action of combat. Spike matched her blow for blow, moving with the same inhuman swiftness she herself had. Both of them were sweating mere minutes into the fight.

Buffy felt the knots in her brain slowly loosening as the fighting helped relax her. This was actually the first time she had ever fought against Spike, they had never sparred before.

Something about his fighting style was very familiar, though. Her body seemed to remember fighting someone who moved just like him. Angel? No, Angel fought a different style, as did Darla. Spike, he moved almost like ... nah, couldn't be. Spike of all people ...

All that thinking about Faith must have screwed her up worse than she thought.

#

Marshall Kate Lockley sat behind her desk and stared at the mountains of paper that had descended upon it like an avalanche. She liked to think of paperwork as a tangible force of evil, trying to bury her in order to keep her from catching the bad guys.

It didn't help that she was essentially working without a partner right now. She didn't know exactly what was keeping Angel so busy these last few weeks, but it didn't take supernatural insight to see that it worried him tremendously. From what she had been able to gather he was neck-deep in arcane Vampire shit and she certainly didn't want to get involved with that.

That meant, though, that the solving of the assassination attempt on Cordelia Chase was left to her. Seeing as Cordelia was one of Angel's closest friends, whatever kept him away from this case had to be even more important than Kate imagined. He had just told her that he would not be able to devote much of his time to the investigation and that he trusted her to handle it.

She made a mental note of what she already knew.

The sniper's name had been Kyle Taylor, a gun for hire of the best caliber. His price had ranged somewhere in the six to seven digit range and he was wanted for questioning in several other cases of assassination, though no proof had ever been able to link him to any of these crimes.

The fake bodyguard's real name had been Graham Marks, not Riley Finn, and he was almost a blank page as far as criminal records were concerned. A few years ago he had been questioned in connection with a terrorist incident in Iowa, but never even been accused of anything.

Searching Marks' apartment had produced a large amount of cash in a nondescript envelope that held no fingerprints save Marks' own. If one added the sum paid to Marks to the average cost of hiring one Kyle Taylor one got a very, very large amount of money. Much more than your average hate group could possibly pay.

The FBI had managed to find one of Taylor's bank accounts, one which had received a large payment shortly prior to the assassination attempt, and followed a paper trail that led through at least three different dummy corporations and ended up in a country that, as Kate knew, was the home of an organization that was able and certainly willing to dish out this much cash for such a purpose.

Twenty minutes later Kate pulled into the parking lot of Los Angeles state prison and flashed her badge to the guard at the reception desk.

"Marshall Kate Lockley," she told him, "here to see Quentin Travis."

________________________________________________________________________

15 - Where Is a Worthy Vampire When You Need One?

#

The black-clad man was shivering with fear, sweat staining his brow, his hands shaking badly as he approached the table and the object lying on it. He was acutely aware of the eyes watching him from the twilight of the room, only the occasional flicker of candlelight allowing him to see their demonic visages.

With trembling fingers he reached out and touched the cover of the book. It felt like ice, sucking the warmth out from under his skin, drawing him down into a cold abyss. Reciting prayers under his breath he flipped open the first page and stared at the strange and disturbing runes he could see there.

The air around him filled with an eerie light as the book awoke under his fingers. The runes shifted and changed, power pouring out from them, surrounding him, probing deep into his mind and soul, looking for something.

Moments later there was a flash of blinding pain, an agony so terrible and all-encompassing that he did not even have time to scream.

The book fell shut again.

Master Grigori shook his head in disappointment as he beheld the pitiful remains of their latest attempt to open the Necronomicon. Someone worthy, it said. Someone the book found worthy of opening it. Apparently this one had not been worthy.

"He was a priest," Grigori growled, "by all accounts the most virtuous man around. And yet the book burned him."

"I guess virtue is not the answer then." The sorcerer mused, also looking at the heap of ash that had been a man just seconds ago. Eldritch flame was still playing across the remains and threw strange shadows on the walls.

Grigori threw his hands into the air and stalked around the room.

"These experiments of yours have gone on long enough, sorcerer. You have set how many people on this book yet? A dozen? More? It wanted none of them."

"If you are so impatient you are welcome to try and open it with your own hand, Grigori. Maybe the Necronomicon will take a liking to you."

The ancient Vampire stared at the black book lying peacefully on the table and cursed loudly. Weeks had passed and no progress, none at all. They had tried it with Vampire fledglings, humans, demons, priests, sinners, pregnant women, innocent children, none of it had worked. The Necronomicon had burned them all and the pages had closed once more of their own accord, what brief glimpses they had seen of its interior showing nothing but indecipherable runes and writings.

"It is difficult," the sorcerer said when Grigori made no attempt to touch the book, "to extrapolate what qualities the book is looking for in a worthy reader when all we have to go on is Angelus. I have searched records of the Necronomicon that go back thousands of years, yet Angelus is the only one we know of who was ever successful in opening it."

Grigori continued pacing the room while the sorcerer reclined on his chair, deep in thought. Grigori did not like being in the presence of this creature and his patience was running thin. The sorcerer seemed unimpressed by both his impatience and the continuous string of failed attempts.

"Maybe it is not so much the person who opens the book," the sorcerer mused, "but rather the intent behind it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that all the people we brought here opened the book because we told them to do it under threat of death. They were full of fear. Angelus, on the other hand, is a fanatic. When he opened the book he was thinking of nothing but his holy quest. Maybe that is what the book is looking for. Someone who approaches it with no fear and holy intent. Or what he himself thinks of as holy intent."

Grigori thought about that. His hatred for Angelus and what he had done to them all was an almost tangible thing, but he managed to look past it and approach things rationally. Angelus. Hounded by his own kind. Filled with a desperate need to spread his own curse among his brethren. A hundred Vampires on his heels with murder on their mind. The power to change the world in his hands. What had he felt at that moment? What had been going on inside his head? What had the Necronomicon seen in him?

Grigori considered his own state of mind. His was a holy intent as well, he did not doubt that for a second. To free his race of the curse of conscience. To kill the pain that assailed them all night and day. Yet was he without fear? Was he a man who had nothing left to lose? He stared at the Necronomicon and knew that it was not so. He feared what would happen should he touch it, he feared for his own existence, and that fear might well mean his doom.

"So what we need," Grigori said, "is someone who wants to open the book, is not afraid of dying in the process, and has a holy intent on his mind, is that what you are saying?"

"In essence, yes." The sorcerer said.

"Great. Where do you think we can find such a person to do it for us?"

The sorcerer gave Grigori a curious glance, maybe having expected that Grigori thought himself to fit into all these categories.

"Then again," the sorcerer said, "maybe we are approaching this entire thing all wrong."

"Yet a new idea?" Grigori snorted.

"All this time we have been looking for someone who can open this book for us. Yet why are we looking for someone new? Why not look to the person that we know is capable of opening the book?"

For a moment Grigori was confused, then he understood.

"Angelus? You want to make Angelus open the book for us? I think you are going insane, sorcerer. As you yourself said, Angelus is a fanatic. He would rather kill himself than do anything that might endanger his precious Restoration."

The sorcerer rose in a swirl of black robe and his inhuman eyes seemed to glow in the candlelight.

"There are ways to bend even one as strong as Angelus to our will, Grigori. Every man can be broken."

He approached Grigori and the Vampire felt the slightest trickle of fear run down his spine.

"Bring me Angelus!" The sorcerer said. "Deliver him to me and I promise you, I will make him open this book for us, Grigori. He will beg me to let him open it for us."

Grigori considered this idea and found it to his liking. It would be irony worthy of the drama. To have the same man that had laid this curse upon them be the one to take it away again. Grigori closed his eyes and imagined Angelus on his knees, begging for the pain to stop, begging to open the book for them.

It was a beautiful image.

"Besides," the sorcerer added, "once we have persuaded the Necronomicon to open to us and found a spell to reverse the Restoration, we will need someone to test it on. Can you think of a better candidate than the Scourge of Europe?"

Grigori smiled broadly. That was an even lovelier picture.

"Very well." He said. "It will not be easy, but I will deliver Angelus to you. You should better be able to do what you say, though, sorcerer. I know Angelus and I know the people who consider themselves his friends and comrades. Once he is in our hands they will move heaven and hell to find us and the forces allied against us will be terrible indeed."

"I will break him." The sorcerer said. "Just make sure he comes here!"

Grigori nodded, the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind. To capture Angelus out of the midst of his allies. Difficult, but not impossible. They would certainly come after him with all the force they could muster, maybe with the aid of the Vampirium behind them.

Then again, if he just played his cards the right way ...

________________________________________________________________________

16 - Vengeance From the Prison Cell

#

"Mr. Giles?" Kate Lockley asked.

"Yes. You must be Marshall Lockley."

"Please call me Kate. Thanks for agreeing to help, Mr. Giles."

"It is no inconvenience, I assure you. I am just as eager to clear this up as you are. Quite more so, I might wager."

Giles and Kate walked toward the interview room of the state prison, chatting. This was Kate's second visit to this cheery place in the last 48 hours, the first having been a total failure. Quentin Travis had completely refused to talk to her, though he had seen fit to tell her that he might be persuaded to talk to his old colleague.

Angel had filled her in on the details about one Rupert Giles. Formerly a member of the Watchers' Council, the same organization Travis belonged to, he had turned his back on them when the Watchers saw fit to eliminate the Slayer Buffy Summers for betraying her sacred duty.

Kate stayed at the fringes of Angel's tightly knit group of friends, reluctant to get herself involved to deeply in arcane Vampire shit, but it was impossible to miss the deep feelings Giles held for Angel's girlfriend. When he had been told that the assassination attempt on Cordelia that had resulted in Buffy being shot had likely originated with the Watchers, he had been very eager to help.

They sat down in a gray room that held nothing but a simple table and three uncomfortable chairs. Only minutes later a guard entered through the opposite door, bringing a man in gray prison slacks into the room.

"Hello, Rupert!" Travis said, giving his former colleague a cold smile.

"Quentin." Giles simply said, making no effort to hide his disdain for the other man.

Travis sat down and Kate motioned for the guard to leave them alone. After the door fell shut there was icy silence for a good long while.

"Life among the demons seems to suit you, Rupert." Travis said eventually. "Does your Vampire friend pay you a large salary?"

"You sent the assassin." Giles said, ignoring Travis' words.

"To the point, yes? Well, so be it. Seeing as I am stuck here in a prison cell I did not, of course, personally arrange things, but ..." He shrugged.

"Why Ms. Chase?" Giles asked.

"Why not your precious Buffy, you mean?" Travis asked with a smile. "Quite simple, Rupert. At this moment in time the lovely Ms. Chase is a much greater threat to the continued existence of humankind than the rouge Slayer ever could be."

Giles just looked at him, refusing to let himself be drawn into a discussion about how Vampires had changed and no longer posed a threat to humankind. Travis either didn't believe in the changes of the Restoration or he didn't care about them. Either way he would not rest until he saw all Vampires dead.

"Your little murder attempt has failed, though." Kate told the old Watcher.

"Yes, it did, didn't it? Thanks to your little bitch, Rupert. I imagine you are quite proud of her, aren't you? I heard she is sleeping with a Vampire these days. Tell me, Rupert. Have you discovered the pleasures of dead flesh yet?"

Travis' eyes blazed with anger, but Giles heard the undertone in his words.

"There is another assassin." He simply stated.

"While there is money ..." Travis shrugged, not saying any more.

"You do realize," Kate said, "that just because you are already in prison doesn't mean that we can't accuse you of another crime, Mr. Travis. Hiring killers to assassinate someone ..."

"... will get me what?" Travis asked. "I am an old man, Ms. Lockley. The years I have already been sentenced to in return for my efforts to save the human race mean that I have essentially been incarcerated for life. What else can you do to me?"

Giles struggled to keep his emotions under control and his voice sounded as flat and cold as ever.

"Even if you do manage to have her killed, what do you think that will achieve? Ms. Chase's popularity is already so that her death will turn her into a martyr, especially if it can be proven that the Watchers' Council is behind it. The American public isn't too fond of you, Quentin. Your deeds will make sure that the Vampire Legalization Act goes through Congress."

Travis shook his head, smiling.

"I know what another of your bunch of traitors has done to our reputation here, Rupert. Windham-Pryce might have turned the American public against us, but do you honestly think we care what this nation of idiots thinks about us? Let the Americans legalize their Vampires, it will be their doom before too long. We just want to make sure that Ms. Chase can not spew her venom any further than she already has."

Travis leaned across the table and his eyes shot holes into Giles.

"No Evil Shall Be Spared, Rupert Giles! Cordelia Chase will die! Neither you nor your friends will be able to stop it. No Evil Shall Be Spared!"

Kate had managed to control herself all through Travis' rant, despite seething inside. She wasn't the most patriotic of Americans, but hearing this bastard call them a bunch of idiots was not something she could just let pass. Travis' final words snapped her self control.

She rose from the table and grabbed Travis by his prison slacks, slamming him into the walls. The old man grunted with the pain.

”Listen well, you old bastard!" Kate hissed at him. “If anything should happen to Ms. Chase or anyone else because of you I will make certain that you get accused once more. I know a Judge who will be happy to sentence you to death for that. We'll dust off the electric chair and I'll watch you fry, you bastard! Understand me?"

Travis just looked at her and a smile played across his lips.

“You think threatening me will achieve anything? Go ahead, beat me up, kill me! It won't make a difference. Every true Watcher is prepared to die for the cause. Go ahead, Ms. Lockley!"

Kate was trembling with rage, but Giles' hand on her shoulder helped her regain her self-control. He slowly drew her away from Travis, whose smile never wavered.

Kate and Giles left the interview room, telling the guard to get Travis back into his cell.

“How can you stay so calm with this ... this bastard!" Kate asked.

“Hm?" Giles looked at her, seemingly distracted. “Oh, sorry, I was elsewhere. I have known Travis for quite some time, Ms. Lockley. Until a short time ago his ranting still made sense to me, as insane as it sounds."

He sighed.

“Besides, the only thing you could have achieved in there would have been getting yourself into trouble. He is not worth that. Travis wanted me there to taunt me, nothing more. He never intended to cooperate in any way and he won't. He is a fanatic of the most dangerous kind, Ms. Lockley. Ready and willing to die for what he believes."

Kate shook her head. She didn't understand how people could allow themselves to be so consumed by hatred and, truth to be told, she didn't want to understand.

They walked out of the prison and onto the parking lot, where the sun was shining down. Kate felt better immediately, as if the light could wash of the filth that had gathered on her skin just by being in the presence of that bastard.

“What was that slogan he mouthed off?" She asked Giles.

“Hm?"

“When he leaned over the table. That 'Spare No Evil' bit."

“No Evil Shall Be Spared. You could call it a mantra, if you will. It was the first rule the Council taught to its Watchers and the Slayer. There are greater and lesser evils in the world, but none of them is to be spared."

“Great motto," Kate said sarcastically, “if you can figure out a foolproof method to define good and evil, that is."

“I fear the Council was never much concerned with that last part." Giles said.

They arrived at Giles' car and shook hands.

“Thanks for coming, Mr. Giles. Sorry it was such a waste of time." “Don't be sorry. If there is anything else I can do to help, please let me know!"

“I will."

On the long drive back to the Hyperion Hotel Giles was deep in thought. There was so much to do. They still hadn't found a trace of the Necronomicon. He would have to warn Buffy and Cordelia that another assassin was likely to strike. There was the strange relationship that was starting to form between him and Darla, something he could still not quite make sense of.

So much to do, so much to handle. So why was it that the only thing he could think of Travis' face, warped by anger and hatred, and the words he himself had once believed in. “No Evil Shall Be Spared." Giles muttered under his breath.

_______________________________________________________________________

17 - Call to Arms and Furious Battle

#

Spike sat in the lobby of the Hyperion and watched the hands of the clock tick down. Any moment now, unless she was late. His eyes strayed towards the entrance again, then back to the clock, while his fingers were nervously running across the bump in his coat that hid the twin Winchester Magnums he always wore. Not that he expected to need them tonight, but it paid to be careful.

The entrance doors opened and Faith stuck her head inside, looking around nervously.

“Come on in, pet, they're not here yet!" Spike said.

Faith walked into the lobby and Spike took a moment to take in her appearance. She was dressed as close to timid as he had ever seen her. Black jeans, not leather pants, pale blue blouse instead of a skimpy top, her hair tied back into a pony tail. If he hadn't known better he might have mistaken her for a shy school girl.

“Did ... did Angel talk to her?" Faith asked, coming closer.

There was a crashing sound from somewhere upstairs, followed by a loud yell.

“I believe he is doing so right now." Spike chuckled.

#

“I can't believe you're doing this!" Buffy yelled at Angel, her eyes darting around for something else she could break.

“Calm down, Buffy! Please!"

“Calm down? Calm down? You just told me that you invited the psycho bitch that tried to kill me not once, but twice, over for dinner? How the hell do you expect me to be calm?"

Angel quickly darted across the room and caught the second vase Buffy had just knocked down, setting it safely on top of the table. Buffy was trembling with outrage, he could feel it when he put his hands on her shoulders.

“Faith made some mistakes, Buffy, but ..." “Mistakes? She tried to kill me, Angel! She didn't warn me when Travis nearly put a bullet through my face and then she jumped me and tried to beat me to death. How the hell do you expect me to..."

Buffy ranted on and Angel sighed. He had hoped this would go a little more smoothly, but weeks and weeks of looking for the Necronomicon and worrying had left him tired, edgy, and rapidly approaching the end of even his limitless patience.

“Buffy, stop this!" He thundered at her, which actually caused her to shut up for a second. Angel never yelled at her. He never did.

“Faith did something very stupid," Angel said, “but she is trying to change. I talked to her and I am convinced of it. She regrets what she has done and all she is asking for is a second chance from us. A second chance, Buffy. You remember what that is?"

He could see her flinch when he said those words and it pained him. He didn't want to remind her of the things she had done in the service of the Watchers' Council, but he needed to break through to her. He walked closer and grabbed her hands in his.

“Beloved, I know how much she has hurt you. Under normal circumstances anyone who has hurt you would get nothing from me but a very painful beating. But I know Faith, I have known her for years. She is a confused child. She thought you would take her place in my heart. Then she suddenly found herself with superhuman strength and took it as a sign that her loving me was meant to be. She made a lot of mistakes, but that shouldn't ruin her entire life."

Buffy looked up at him, anger and hurt battling inside her.

“She tried to take you from me." She whispered.

“No one can do that, beloved. No one. This isn't about us, Buffy. This is about giving a confused young girl a second chance. The same thing each of us has been given. How can we deny it to her?"

Buffy shook off his hands.

“I don't understand how you can be so trusting of her. I mean, granted, I am still pissed at her for beating me up, but that isn't the whole point. Doesn't it strike you as odd that Faith comes back just when the Necronomicon is stolen and the Watchers' Council sends assassins after us?"

Angel shook his head.

“The Watchers' Council doesn't know about Faith, Buffy. And Faith never knew anything about the Necronomicon except that it exists. I have talked to her. I believe that she is honest with us. Do you trust my judgment?"

“That is a very unfair question." Buffy pouted, pacing up and down the room.

“No, it's not. Do you trust my judgment?"

Buffy opened her mouth to say more, but the look in Angel's eyes shut her up. He meant that question, she realized.

“Yes, I do trust you." She finally mumbled.

“Good. Then we'll go downstairs and meet her. I'm not asking you to be best friends with her, Buffy. Just give her a chance, okay?"

Buffy nodded, clearly not happy about the situation. Angel sighed in relief, he really didn't need any fights with her right now. Together they walked down into the lobby.

#

Spike watched as Angel and Buffy came down the stairs, sensing the tension between them. Small wonder, he thought. Buffy stopped walking as she saw Faith standing beside him and the tension in the room multiplied.

“Hello, Buffy." Faith said, doing her best to sound and look unthreatening.

“Faith!" Buffy simply said, her voice cold as ice.

Angel nudged Buffy and got her to continue walking down the stairs. Spike and Faith slowly walked to meet them. The two girls stopped facing each other with Angel and Spike on either side, hoping they wouldn't have to go between them.

“Thanks for having me here." Faith said.

“Not my decision." Buffy mumbled, glaring at Faith.

“I prepared us something to eat." Angel said, trying to break the tension. “We can sit down and talk things through over dinner."

For a moment Spike thought that no one had heard a word Angel had said, but then Buffy shrugged and started walking toward the dining room. Faith threw a look at Angel, who gave her an encouraging nod, then everyone started following Buffy.

Spike was halfway to the dining room when something made him tense. Something had jerked his supernatural senses wide awake and he found himself aware of everything around him. The smells, the sounds, ...

Something was moving in the shadows. Something that smelled of old death.

Angel turned halfway toward Spike and both Vampires communicated without words. They were not alone. Spike saw Buffy tense as she noticed it, too. Faith needed a moment longer, but she also fell into what Spike recognized as the fighting stance he had taught her.

Spike was about to motion the others to move on into the dining room when the shadows around them came alive. Spike had time to see at least a dozen shapes running toward them, then he was busy fighting for his life.

“Stay together!" Angel yelled even as he threw a kick at one of the black-clad shapes. Spike shoved one of the attackers back and reached for his guns, but another tackled him to the ground before he could aim the guns. He saw the gleam of a large blade, large enough to take his head off, and then the attacker was gone. Faith offered him his hand and pulled him back to his feet.

There was no time for a thank you. Two more attackers pounced on Spike and Faith. He had time to recognize them as Vampires and then it was all fighting. Punch, kick, duck, faint, weave, punch again. He felt a face break under his fist even as something solid and painful caught him in the side.

The unmistakable sound of Vampires exploding into dust reached his ears and he saw that Buffy had demolished a chair to get herself some weapons. Another Vampire fell victim to her improvised stake and Spike finally managed to draw his guns.

He started pouring bullets into the two shapes immediately in front of him, knowing it wouldn't kill them, but put them down for the moment. Buffy quickly rolled across the floor and finished the wounded Vampires.

Spike saw Faith and Angel several meters away from them, separated by a nearly solid mass of attackers. Spike pumped bullets into every shape in sight, not caring whether those he wounded would stay down for any length of time. The attackers seemed to concentrate on Angel and he saw blades and stakes in some of their hands.

The lights in the lobby fizzled and died, the room descending into darkness. Spike tried to get a bearing but even his excellent night vision had trouble making out the attacking Vampires in this pitch blackness.

He allowed instinct to take over, diving into what his senses told him was the thickest mass of attackers, and threw punches left and right. He heard some more dust explosions and just hoped that Angel was not among them. He heard Buffy swear some distance to his right, followed by yet another dusting. She seemed to be holding her own.

Where were Faith and Angel?

Something exploded and what little Spike still saw of the room was clouded out by some kind of thick, black smoke. Blackout bomb, he realized. Even Vampires wouldn't see a thing where those things detonated. He considered just shooting into the cloud, then shelved the idea, remembering that there were two girls out there who were rather receptive to bullets.

“Peaches!" He yelled, grabbing a shape that suddenly appeared right in front of him. He was rewarded with a hard kick, accompanied by a string of cursing he recognized only too well.

“Buffy, it's me!"

“Spike?"

The two of them held on to each other for reference and made their way through the complete dark until they reached a wall. Spike didn't hear the sounds of fighting anymore, but maybe they were just lying in wait.

After what seemed like an eternity the darkness faded and the lights came back on. The sound of running feet made both of them turn around, only to see Wesley, Darla, Giles, and Doyle run into the lobby, shortly followed by Cordelia. Most of them were armed.

“What was going on here?" Giles asked. “We heard the shooting."

Spike looked around the lobby and saw that it was empty except for them and some piles of dust. Buffy stood beside him and he saw her eyes dart around the room.

“Where is Angel?" She whispered.

Spike reached out with all his senses, trying to feel the presence of his Sire. He wasn't here, he was sure after a second. His eyes found the dust heaps on the floor. All the attackers seemed to gun for Angel. Was it possible...?

“Angel!" Buffy whimpered.

Giles was by her side immediately, draping his arms around her. No, Spike thought, it just wasn't possible. Not Peaches. He was so distraught that, for a long moment, he didn't realize that someone else was missing.

Where the hell was Faith? 18 - What Do We Know?

#

”He is not dead!" Buffy yelled.

“Buffy," Giles said, trying to soothe her, „we must face the facts here. He was right in the middle of that battle, Spike said the attackers seemed to be centering on him, and ..."

“He is not dead!" Darla said matter-of-factly.

“What?" Giles asked.

“He is my Childe, Rupert. I called him forth from the grave. I would know it had he passed on. Believe me, he is still alive."

Spike walked through the remains of the battle, inspecting the heaps of dust.

“Whoever these buggers were," he said, “they were thorough. Nothing left behind, no weapons, no traces of where they might have hailed from. Or where they went."

“If we assume that they have captured Angel," Doyle said, “what do you think they want with him?"

Wesley looked around, his forehead furrowed with thought.

“If this is the work of our thief, I think he is getting desperate."

“How so?" Buffy asked.

“Well, he or she stole the book over a month ago and yet nothing has happened. Odds are they have not figured out how to make the Necronomicon work for them. They also probably know that just about every Vampire worldwide is looking for them."

Giles nodded. “So they kidnap the only man in the world who has opened the Necronomicon and lived to tell the tale."

Doyle was taking out his cell phone and talked to Gunn, telling him to put his people on every airport and train station leading out of the city. Once Gunn learned that Angel had been kidnapped he did not hesitate to get to work. Spike did the same with the local Vampires working for Angel, telling them to get going or he would hurt them badly.

Buffy stood in the middle of this pandemonium and all she could think about was Angel. They had taken him from her. He had said no one would take him away from her and yet they had. They would try and make him open the book for them. Once that happened he would cease to be her Angel and turn into a demon. A demon she would have to ...

“We'll get him back." Darla whispered to her, draping her arm around the Slayer.

“How?" Buffy asked. “We haven't the slightest clue who has taken the Necronomicon. We don't even know where to look for him."

Darla was about to say more - some empty words about how things would work out fine in the end - when Buffy suddenly tensed. A strange look appeared in her eyes and Darla involuntarily took a step back as the demon inside her recognized what was going on. The Slayer was coming to the forth with a vengeance.

”Buffy, what ...?" She asked, but Buffy motioned for her to be quiet.

A second later Buffy moved with a speed Darla found almost impossible to follow and thrust her fist through a closed door nearby, which led into a closet. She grabbed something inside and pulled. A large body crashed through the door and landed at the Slayer's feet.

“It's one of them!" Spike yelled, going for his guns.

Darla was by Buffy's side in an instant, looking down at their prey. A large Vampire, dressed in a black combat suit, or rather the remains of one. Most of his chest was gone, flesh torn, broken ribs sticking out. His heart was still intact. They could all see it very clearly.

“They left him behind?" Doyle asked.

“Probably Spike's bullets," Darla said, “took him down and he crawled away from the battle."

She could see the prone Vampire trying to reach something hanging from a shoulder strap, only his mangled arms wouldn't obey his commands. Darla quickly snatched it away from him, holding it out for the others to see.

“Incendiary charge." She said.

“The Vampire version of a cyanide capsule." Spike told the non-Vampires present.

“The others who were wounded and unable to get away probably dusted themselves with that," Darla continued, “but our friend here was too badly wounded to do so, so he tried to hide."

For a moment all of them just stared down at the crippled Vampire, then Buffy was upon him, pulling him by clenching her fingers into his torn chest, snarling into his face.

“Where are they taking him?" She yelled at her prey. “Who sent you? What will they do to Angel?"

Darla motioned to Spike and he gently pulled the Slayer away.

“Why don't you let Darla handle this, pet?" He told her as he held her back. “She has a lot of experience in doing these things."

Darla sighed, not very fond of how she had come by said experience. This was about Angel, though. No matter that they were not lovers any longer, he was still her Childe. More, he was her friend.

She knelt down in front of the crippled Vampire and her face shifted into its true form. Glowing amber eyes locked with those of the other and she flung her power out toward him. The Vampire tried to crawl away, but Doyle and Spike immediately crouched down to hold him tightly.

Darla gazed into his eyes and penetrated past his defenses. He was an old Vampire, old and strong, but he was not a Master. Only very few Vampires, those directly descendant from one of the twelve great bloodlines, had the potential to develop all the powers the mortals so liked to display in their movies.

Darla could not turn herself into a bat or compel vermin to do her bidding like some of her fellow Masters could, but the day she couldn't mesmerize a mere Vampire foot soldier was the day she'd walk into the sun.

“You are in me!" She whispered to the other Vampire, who slowly nodded, his eyes following her every movement. Darla remembered Drusilla, her other Grandchilde, who had been even better at mesmerism that she was. She wished Dru was here right now, because the resistance this Vampire put up was astounding.

“Who is your Master?" She asked him, pouring every erg of her willpower into her gaze. She could feel the barriers inside the Vampire's mind. Someone else had put them there, she was sure. This simple soldier was not strong enough to shield himself from her.

“My Master ..." the Vampire mumbled, his voice barely there due to a punctured lung. “Who is it?" Darla repeated her question.

She saw a crack in the barrier and lunged at it with all her willpower. The Vampire opened his mouth to speak again, but screamed instead. Darla had half a second to realize what was happening and withdrew her mind from that of her prey.

The crippled Vampire surged to his feet, broken limps shrugging aside those that held him. He managed two steps, then crumbled to the floor, spilling some of his innards out onto the carpet. He didn't move anymore.

“Darla, are you okay?"

Darla needed a few seconds to recognize Giles' face looking at her. She had gotten out just in time. “Booby trap." She told the others. “Someone warded his thoughts against this kind of intrusion. I am afraid there is not much left of his mind or his memories."

Buffy knelt down and pounded her fists into the floor hard enough to rip the carpet and crack the floor boards underneath.

“Damn it! We don't know a thing, not a thing!"

“Quite the contrary." Giles said. “Darla, unless I am mistaken there are not a lot of Vampires who could ward their minions' minds like that, are there?"

“No," Darla shook her head, “only another Master could have done this."

“The Vampirium!" Spike growled.

“Probably." Darla consented.

“There are rogue Masters outside the Vampirium." Doyle said. “Or so I have heard."

“Self-proclaimed Masters." Darla said. “Not one of them is capable of this. No, only one of the Vampirium can be behind this. Only the Masters have the resources to mount this kind of attack, too."

“Or the guts." Spike added.

Buffy rose, fury clouding her face.

“Then let's go to your precious Vampirium and get our answers!"

“Not a good idea, Buffy." Giles said.

“The Vampirium Elders are much more powerful than any Vampire you've ever met." Darla said. “I am the youngest of them. If we just walk before them and start throwing accusations around they will not only not listen, they will probably kill us."

“We need some kind of proof." Wesley said. “Something tangible to bring before them."

“How about that?" Spike asked.

Everyone looked down to where Spike crouched next to the fallen Vampire. He had ripped the combat suit the other wore down to the waist, making the branding on the left shoulder visible to all.

“Old-fashioned bastard!" Darla shook her head.

“What is that?" Buffy asked, leaning closer.

“I believe this is the brand of a Vampire Order, Buffy." Giles said. “Though I thought the custom of branding one's minions had gone out of fashion centuries ago."

“Only for the more modern Orders, Rupert." Darla said. “Some still like to cling to their old ways."

“You know that symbol?" Buffy asked, trembling with the need to do something.

“Oh yes, I do." Darla said.

Her eyes looked at the symbol burned into the Vampire's shoulder. A winged animal, a snake's tail curled behind it, flanked by two stars. The symbol of the Order of Grigori.

_______________________________________________________________________

19 - To Make the World a Better Place for Demonkind

#

"I don't expect you to understand me." One Vampire said.

"Sadly I understand you only too well." The other answered.

Grigori looked at Angel through the steel bars that separated them. The Vampire imprisoned here was almost a millennium younger than he was, yet Grigori felt a chill looking into Angel's dark eyes.

"You laid this curse upon us." Grigori accused him.

"I do not see it as a curse, Nicolai."

"Of course you don't. You see it as a blessing. A great thing you done for the Vampire race. We should all be thankful, correct? You probably expect us to kiss your feet."

Angel shook his head.

"I only wanted to stop the killings."

"Oh, did you?" Grigori asked. "Well, then I guess you failed. You didn't turn us into saints, Angelus. No, you turned us into humans. And humans do a very good job of killing each other, don't they? In fact they do it much better than us. I was there at Nagasaki, Angelus. I saw them drop the bomb. We never did anything like that, did we?"

"What do you want, Nicolai?" Angel asked.

"Did you ever think that there might just be a reason why we were as we were? A reason why we were soulless monsters, preying on the humans?"

"I am sure you have arrived at a conclusion for yourself that you intend to share with me."

"Correct, Angelus. You see, the humans need us. They need us the way we were. To keep them in check. The predators are gone these days. And the prey has just about destroyed this world as a result. They need us, Angelus."

Angel gave a low chuckle.

"What is this, Nicolai? Some kind of cheap explanation for what you want to do? You don't need to convert me, not that you could. And from looking at you I'm sure I already know your real motivation."

Angel walked closer to the bars.

"You are coward, Nicolai Alexandre Grigori! You're afraid to deal with your own conscience. Do you have nightmares when you sleep? Do you see the victims of your demon when you close your eyes?"

Grigori's face was a mask of naked fury.

"I wouldn't have to deal with my conscience if it hadn't been for you, Angelus. You put this curse on all of us. We didn't ask you for it."

"Of course you didn't. Why would a demon want a conscience? We are not demons, though. We are people, Nicolai."

"For now!" Grigori said, smiling.

Angel chuckled again.

"I guess my presence here is due to the fact that the Necronomicon rejects you. So you think having me here will help. Maybe you think that you might ... convince me to help you. I am curious, Nicolai. How do you plan to go about this? Enlighten me!"

"Oh, I will enlighten you, Angelus. To be precise, once I know how to reverse the Restoration you will be the first the enjoy the return to the old ways."

Grigori leaned forward.

"I am looking forward to meeting the Scourge of Europe once more."

"That will never happen." Angel said matter-of-factly.

"I will remind you of those words." Grigori said, then walked away. Angel was left alone in a small cell and looked around for a way to escape.

#

"We don't have much time." The sorcerer said.

"What do you mean?"

"The signs. There are forces allying against us. Angelus's allies are going to come for him."

Grigori shook his head.

"This is not possible. We left no trace for them. My men are professionals, they don't make mistakes."

"Everyone makes mistakes." The sorcerer said. "We need to make haste."

"Then I propose you get started with convincing him to help us!"

"I won't need long, Grigori. Angelus' is a very strong man, but his guilt and pain over the things he has done are even stronger. Given the right … incentive he will be more than happy to aid us."

"Get to it then! I want to get this over with as much as you do."

Grigori stomped off and didn't see the sorcerer's lips spread into a broad smile.

"I don't think so, Grigori," he grinned, "I honestly don't think so."

#

In another part of Grigori's fortress-like retreat one of his commando troops ducked into a shadowed corner and sighed in relief. Thankfully Grigori's troops wore special sound-dampening and heat-masking combat suits, otherwise every other trooper on the plane that had brought them here would have noticed some very unusual characteristics about this 'Vampire'.

A heartbeat, for example.

Faith took off the mask she had taken from the wounded trooper just before he had crumbled into dust. Getting caught up in the attacker's retreat had been more a coincidence than anything else, but she intended to make best use of it once she had seen whom they had taken with them.

Angel was here, a prisoner. From what she had heard they intended to do some very unpleasant things to him. She needed to help him, that was the sole reason she had gone on this suicidal adventure. And, a selfish voice inside her whispered, saving him might go a long way toward making things right between them once more.

She calmed herself down. Time to concentrate and figure out what to do. Okay, she was in a fucking fortress somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Russia, if she had read the map on the plane right. They had flown for nearly fifteen hours, so that should work out, too. Not that she knew Russia from Iowa, she admitted to herself.

Stuck somewhere in Russia, hundreds of Vampires all around, and she all by her lonesome. Not very good odds, even for someone with Slayer strength. The best she could do in the current situation was to stay low and look for some way to call in the cavalry.

Now she only needed a really good idea how to do that.

In the movies the guy that got stuck behind enemy lines always managed to get to a radio and send a message to his friends. Only problem with that plan was that Faith had no idea how to operate a fucking radio. And even if she had, why would Spike, Darla, Buffy, and the others listen for a radio message? They didn't even know she was here, they probably thought she had bolted at first sign of trouble. Or worse, been in on the attack.

There had to be a way. Maybe a phone? She knew how to use a phone. She even knew the area code for Los Angeles and the number of the Hyperion. The country code for the US? Yes, she knew that one, too. She thought. Her parents had taken her on a short trip to Canada once, before they died, and little Faith had been excited to call home and talk to her grandmother, telling her of all the exciting things she had seen.

Of course whether the code was the same when phoning from Russia as it was from Canada was anyone's guess.

Lacking a better idea Faith started looking for a phone in this Vampire fortress. Her stomach also reminded her that she hadn't eaten anything these last twenty hours or so.

She just hoped there was something else than blood to be found around here.

__________________________________________________________________________

20 - Guilty as Sin

#

Ten Vampire Masters looked on in consternation as the eleventh of their number threw the body of a brain-dead Vampire at their feet.

"Would you care to explain this to us, Darla?" Jean de Chevallier said with every bit of dignity she could muster.

"I intend to do so." Darla said, taking her seat at the table. "This soldier was part of an attack upon my childe Angelus. His comrades have captured Angelus and spirited him away to parts unknown."

"You have our sympathy, Darla," Master Elizabeth Mayhew said, "yet I do not understand why you bring this matter before the Vampirium."

Spike, who had accompanied Darla - after being given explicit instructions to keep his mouth shut and not to attack anyone - walked toward the fallen Vampire and wrenched the suit from his back, exposing the brand on his shoulder.

"This attacker is one of Grigori's personal troops." Darla said into the hush. "I demand that Master Nicolai Grigori be summoned before the Vampirium and answer for this insult to the Order of Aurelius."

There was whispered conversation among the other Masters for a moment, then Chevallier straightened and looked at Darla.

"Master Grigori has informed us prior to this meeting that he would be unable to attend. Therefore I propose that this matter be postponed until ..."

"Not satisfactory!" Darla interrupted her fellow Master.

For a moment stunned silence reigned and Darla did not give anyone the opportunity to comment on her break of protocol.

"Grigori has kidnapped my childe. Furthermore evidence suggests that he might well be the one responsible for the theft of the Necronomicon Nocturnum."

"This is preposterous!" Master Malya Tushumi said. "The members of this body are ..."

"Only a Master has the resources and means to achieve the theft." Darla interrupted again. "Only a Master is capable of warding his minions' minds to the point where they suicide before revealing their Master's plans. And now Grigori has kidnapped the only man on the face of the Earth who has ever successfully used the Necronomicon Nocturnum. Do I need to say more?"

She hoped not. While it was clearly proven that Grigori was responsible for Angel's kidnapping, connecting him with the theft of the book was guesswork at best. Logical guesswork, surely, but there was no proof.

"He is also the only one who was unable to attend this meeting." Darla added.

"Yet wasn't it Grigori who most actively supported the use of Vampirium resources to help in the recovery of the book?" Chevallier asked.

"Certainly." Darla answered. "That way he always knew where we looked and how close we where to him. The better to hide from us."

Again there was a lot of whispered discussion among the other Masters while Darla was burning with impatience. This was taking too long. God alone knew what Grigori was doing to Angel in order to make him cooperate. She knew how strong her childe was, yet she also knew that every man could be broken, no matter his strength.

"Darla!" Chevallier once again addressed her. "We concede that the evidence you present warrants further investigation. What do you propose?"

"Master Grigori must answer these accusations." Darla said. "He must be brought before the Vampirium, by force if necessary. The Order of Aurelius is ready and able to accomplish this, if we are given the location of Master Grigori."

Most Masters guarded the locations of their private retreats even from their fellow Masters. Darla knew only too well that she and Angel had made themselves more vulnerable by making the Hyperion their home, a location that was known to all the Masters. There was no telling if any of the Vampirium knew where Grigori was holed up.

Chevallier looked around at her fellow Masters and saw nothing but empty looks.

"I am afraid that Master Grigori has kept the location of his retreat secret from the Vampirium." She said.

"Since that is the case," Darla said, trying to maintain her calm, "I want the Vampirium's permission to utilize the same resources given to the Order of Aurelius for locating the Necronomicon in the search for Grigori. And I want the Vampirium's consent that, once he is found, those same resources might be applied to capturing him."

There was shocked silence again. It was unheard of in the long history of the Vampirium for all the Masters to combine forces against one of their own number. There had, of course, been conflict between individual Orders more often than not, but never had one warred against all the others.

Yet this was a situation unlike any other. So were the stakes.

#

Buffy and Giles were waiting outside in the car, anxiously awaiting Darla and Spike's return. When the two Vampires finally exited from the building and came toward them Buffy was too impatient to wait even a second. She climbed out of the car and ran to meet them.

"What did they say?"

"They weren't happy." Darla said. "Which is putting it mildly. Yet they agreed to question Grigori. They also agreed to give us all the help we need to locate him. If Grigori refuses to cooperate we have their consent to use force against him."

Buffy sighed in relief, but then went through Darla's words once more.

"They will help us locate him? That means they don't know where he is?"

"Unfortunately not." Darla nodded unhappily. "Grigori's retreat is know to be somewhere in Russia, but that is a very vast area to look for a single Vampire."

Buffy balled her fists in frustration.

"Great! That means we're back to square one. How the hell are we to find him anyway? We didn't have much success these last few weeks, did we?"

Everyone could hear the fear in her voice. It wasn't just a matter of the book anymore. That was a danger that seemed distant to her. Angel, though, he was anything but distant. Losing him, even thinking about it, made her sick with fear.

"I've made some calls on the way down." Spike said. "There aren't a lot of Grigori's lackeys here in America, but we will round up those we can find and make them tell us where he is."

"The last one wasn't very talkative." Buffy said.

"I also called Luke." Spike just said, in a tone that sent a chill down Buffy's spine. "He's on his way here."

"Luke?"

"He is a fellow childe of Heinrich Nest." Darla said. "He has a way to ... convince people. Nothing to do with hypnosis or anything."

Buffy nodded, allowing herself to feel the tiniest ember of hope.

#

Buffy and Spike took off in one car, heading for a local Vampire hangout where Spike was sure they'd find some members of the Order of Grigori. Giles and Darla slowly drove back to the Hyperion.

Giles looked at the quiet Vampire sitting beside him and could feel her worry like a tangible thing.

"You think we will find him?" He asked her.

"I hope so." Darla just said, looking out at the dark street. "I'm just not sure we will be in time."

A moment later she turned to him with a very serious expression in her midnight blue eyes.

"Rupert, you have to promise me something. I know that Angel already made Buffy promise him the same thing, but I am not sure she will be able to go through with it. She loves him so much."

"Promise?" Giles asks.

"If Grigori succeeds, if the Restoration is reversed, you have to kill us! Help Buffy kill us, all of us, before we can do any harm!"

Giles' first instinct was to protest. How could she even think about demanding this from him? Especially now when the two of them ... the two of them what? He and Darla might have grown closer over the last few weeks, but did it really mean anything? He was an old man, while she would be eternally young. Maybe she enjoyed his company, but that didn't mean she wanted more. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted himself, after all.

Besides, he had to approach this from a rational standpoint. If the Restoration was reversed they would have a horde of bloodthirsty killers on their hands. Giles had read the book on Angelus, the Scourge of Europe. He had also read about Darla, William the Bloody, and the other members of this illustrious family.

By now he was sure that he knew Darla the person, at least to a certain degree. She had nothing in common with the demon that had worn her face and reverting to that would kill this woman that he was so fascinated with as surely as a stake through the heart would.

He cared for her, there was no denying that to himself. That meant he had no choice.

"I promise!" He simply said.

"Thanks, Rupert." She said, squeezing his hand for a moment, then turning back to stare out into the night.

#

"Now we can begin." The sorcerer mumbled, concentrating on the magic gathering between his fingers.

In the cell some rooms away Angel suddenly found that he was no longer alone. In the cell with him were several dozen people, coming toward him with grim faces.

He knew all those people, he realized. He clearly remembered killing them.

The sorcerer smiled when he heard the first screams.

#

In another part of the fortress Faith was raiding an icebox to silence the rumbling in her stomach, at the same time trying to figure out how to convince the non-English speaking operator on the other end of the phone to connect her to America.

_________________________________________________________________________

21 - Airborne Slayer Squadron

#

Four days.

Four days since Angel had been kidnapped by Grigori's men. Four days in which the man she loved might have undergone the worst of tortures in order to make him open the Necronomicon Nocturnum and take the souls away from the Vampire race.

Three days.

Three days since a telephone call from Faith had given them a location somewhere in Russia, where Grigori was be hiding. No one was certain that Faith could be trusted, yet neither could they afford not to follow up on her call for help.

One day.

One day ago they had finally managed to get underway with enough manpower to take on the Vampire army that Grigori had gathered to defend his retreat, if Faith's information could be trusted. Luke had arrived with the best the Order of Aurelius had to offer. The Vampirium had sent their own special enforcers, the Order of Tarakan.

Ten minutes.

In ten minutes the assault on Grigori's retreat would begin.

Buffy looked around the cramped interior of the plane and tried to calm her Slayer sense, which was tingling like mad. Not surprising, since she was currently one of only three living humans on board this plane. All the others were dead.

Luke was a big and muscular Vampire, not a man of many words, but with a stare that could speak volumes. He and the Vampires he had brought along wore black combat suits and were currently busy loading up with enough weapons and munitions to start a small world war.

The men and women of the Order of Tarakan sat on the other side of the aisle, looking grim and ready. They were dressed in black as well, but carried few firearms or the like. Each had a large sword strapped to their backs and several smaller weapons Buffy had never seen before. She didn't doubt they were every bit as deadly as Luke's men. Giles had paled when he heard who they were.

Buffy herself had been outfitted by Spike, who sat beside her with a look of determination on his face. Black combat suit, two guns with silencers that rode low on her hip, a knife so long that it was almost a sword strapped to her back, night vision equipment, earplug radio with throat mike, everything the happy black ops commando needed for a midnight raid.

Truth to tell she felt a little out of place here. Not because she was the only non-Vampire that would participate in the actual attack on the castle, but because she was the only one not trained for attacks of this kind. The Slayer handbook didn't include things like parachute jumps or automatic weapons. Luke and Spike had given her a crash course in commando tactics on the way here and she felt fairly confident she could hold her own, yet the butterflies in her stomach remained.

Wild horses couldn't have kept her away, of course. Thankfully neither Luke's men nor the Tarakans had objected to having the Slayer along. If anything her reputation far exceeded her actual accomplishments. She shook her head. A year ago she wouldn't have dreamed of something like this. A commando raid with more than three dozen Vampires beside her on a fortress somewhere in Russia to free yet another Vampire.

A Vampire she loved more than life itself.

"Two minutes!" Luke said, coming out from the cockpit where Buffy caught a short glance at Giles, Wesley, and Darla. Darla was dressed for the occasion and looked every bit as determined as any of the other Vampires. She was quietly talking with Giles and Wesley. The two ex-Watchers would remain on the plane, much to their own chagrin, yet Buffy was glad they wouldn't come with them.

This was not a place for humans.

"One minute!" Luke said.

Everyone started to saddle up. Buffy slipped on the breathing mask Spike had given her. She was the only one here who needed the oxygen that was sorely lacking at a height of more than fifteen thousand feet. That was the part she didn't like about this entire attack. The little fact that the plane wouldn't land.

Their plane was following along commercial air routes, so that any radar coverage Grigori might have wouldn't think twice about them. Luke had explained to Buffy what a HALO jump was and she didn't like it at all. She had never jumped out of a plane before - figuring she had more sense than to jump out of a perfectly serviceable airplane - and now they expected her to do something like this.

HALO jump. High altitude, low opening. Meaning she would spend most of the fifteen thousand feet separating her from the ground in free fall. Only when they dropped below the altitude where radar could pick up their parachutes would they open them, so as to come in undetected. Sounded easy, Buffy thought. Right.

"Go!" Luke yelled. The door was wrenched open and the cabin pressure dropped like a stone. Bad analogy, Buffy! Bad analogy! Men and women started jumping out the door. Spike was by her side, as was Darla. They would jump hand in hand until they had to open their chutes, then she was on her own.

The next moment she was past the door and the only thing she saw were clouds and a dark landscape far below her, coming closer extremely fast.

#

Grigori and the sorcerer watched with smiles on their faces as Angel was curled in a corner of his cell, burying his face between his knees, whimpering incomprehensible words. They couldn't see the nightmares that had been assaulting him nonstop these past three days, but the results pleased them.

"Angelus!" The sorcerer called out to him.

"Make it stop!" Angel whimpered between sobs. "Make it stop!"

Grigori watched him and felt a pang of sympathy in his thrice-damned soul. It was bad enough to remember everything he had done and feel regret, yet seeing all his victims in the flesh, accusing him, tormenting him, ... he didn't want to imagine what it felt like.

Not even one as strong as Angelus could bear it.

"We can make it stop, Angelus!" The sorcerer said in a voice sweet as honey.

The captured Vampire looked up, bloodshot eyes staring at them with but the barest hint of sanity visible in them. His clothing was in tatters, his skin covered with scars where he had torn into himself in a desperate attempt to get rid of the ghosts. He was starved, having been without blood ever since he was captured. He hadn't been allowed sleep ever since his capture.

He was ready.

"Make it stop?" Angel asked, unable to keep the desperate hope from his voice.

"We can silence the voices, Angelus! We can silence them forever! But we need your help to do it."

"Help?"

Grigori motioned for a minion to open the cell door and the sorcerer beckoned for Angel to come on out. Angel rose to his feet, swaying with the effort, and slowly came toward them. He flinched now and then, as if someone was striking at him. The ghosts were still there, it seemed. Still lashing out at him.

"You must do just a small thing for us, Angelus." The sorcerer said. "Then the voices will stop. They will go away forever and never bother you again."

"Never again?" He asked.

They led him out of the room and toward a table. Angel's eyes found the dark object lying on top of it and his steps faltered.

"No!" He whispered. "I ... I won't ..."

"It will make the voices stop, Angelus!" The sorcerer reminded him. "Just open the book for us and you will be free."

Angel stumbled as a man he had killed over a hundred years ago slapped him across the mouth, calling him a monster. His father was there, telling him how much he hated him. His little sister, who had invited him into their house, screamed in terror as she saw his face, his real face.

"They will go away!"

The book was there, the Necronomicon Nocturnum. Angel felt it calling to him. More than ninety years had passed since he had last touched it, but he remembered the feeling. The book remembered him as well and called out to him across the room. It wanted him to touch it. It wanted to open for him, for he was worthy.

Angel made a step forward.

#

Faith watched from the shadows of the ceiling, feeling tired, hungry, and extremely pissed. Where the hell was the cavalry? She had called them three days ago and even though their connection hadn't been the best she was sure that Wesley had said something about coming as fast as they could.

She had exercised more patience and restraint these last three days than she would have expected herself to need across an entire lifetime, but now time was running out. She had played with the thought of freeing Angel, but he had been guarded at all times. From the look of things he was about ready to break - something she wouldn't have believed possible a few days ago - and no matter what happened, she couldn't allow him to open the book.

Faith knew only the barest essentials of the Restoration and the Necronomicon Nocturnum, but a little guesswork and lots of overheard conversations during the last three days had enabled her to piece things together. That was the book Angel had worked the Restoration with. The bad guys wanted to undo it and become even more bad in the process. She didn't need to know any more than that.

There were at least a dozen Vampires in the room right now, minions watching their Master, prepared to intervene should Angel not be as broken as he looked. Too many to take on all by herself. Yet what choice did she have? If she didn't stop them now ...

Where the hell was Buffy?

#

Buffy had no clear idea how she had reached the ground and she didn't want to think about it. She only remembered an endless fall and a sudden lurch when her chute had opened. It would probably give her nightmares in the nights to come, but now all thoughts of it were banished from her mind.

The Tarakans went in first, not making a sound as they quickly overwhelmed the perimeter guards around Grigori's retreat. They didn't kill the guards, as the explosion of dust was too loud for their comfort. They simply used their swords to slit throats, then cleaved off arms and legs and left things like that, helpless bundles of flesh in their wake.

The retreat itself was some kind of old mansion, almost a castle. Buffy wasn't here to sightsee, though. She followed Spike and Darla in complete silence, watching the Tarakans do their bloody work with a shudder running down her spine. It took them but a few minutes to reach the mansion proper and find an entrance.

It didn't go down without casualties.

Grigori's men were good and one of them lived long enough to shout out a warning. Pandemonium started scant seconds later. The silence was shattered by the sounds of machine guns and screams, shouted orders and explosions of Vampire dust. Buffy had her knife in one hand, a gun in the other, and stopped thinking.

The world was reduced to small corridors filled with black-clad shapes. Allies and enemies could be told apart only by the barest nuances and Buffy surrendered herself to her instincts and reflexes. A shudder went up her arm every time she swung the knife, the recoil of the gun was almost familiar to her by now. Dark figures dropped left and right as the Slayer carved her way through the mansion, flanked by grim-faced Tarakans and gun-wielding Aurelians.

With stealth abandoned the number of enemies grew quickly, yet Buffy didn't care. Angel was here, that was the only thing on her mind, and everybody between her and him was just another obstacle to be removed. Terror spread ahead of her as the guards realized that the boogeyman of Vampirekind moved among them.

Buffy had never experienced anything like this, but the horror of it didn't touch her. Maybe later, but right now the Slayer was ascendant inside her and turned her into the very killing machine the Watchers had always wanted her to be. The Slayer moved, the Slayer killed. Nothing else existed.

She had no idea how much time had passed when they exploded into a room filled with Vampires and lit only by candlelight. The Slayer inside her quickly catalogued the number of enemies present and decided how to best dispose of them.

Buffy only saw Angel, though, standing on the other side of the room, one hand hovering above a large black book.

"Angel!" She yelled, even as she suddenly saw Faith drop from the ceiling like a wraith of death.

Then the screaming started.

______________________________________________________________________

22 - Two Slayers are Better than One

#

Faith heard the commotion outside and figured that the cavalry had arrived in the nick of time. From the sound of things Spike and the others were kicking serious ass. The big Vampire called Grigori was distracted, talking to his men, listening to shouted reports, but the magic guy in the flowing black robes never wavered.

Angel seemed unaware of the calamity surrounding him, his eyes were glued to the book. Faith cringed inside seeing the sorry state of him, yet she couldn't allow that to touch her right now. Grigori had just sent a few of his men outside to help in the battle. Now, if he only sent a few more of them away, she'd be able to ...

The big doors of the room exploded into shrapnel and a dark tide of fighting Vampires surged through. Faith had half a second to see Buffy and Spike right in the thick of it, then her eyes snapped back to the spectacle directly below her. Angel was reaching out to touch the book.

Thought and action became one as she abandoned her hiding place and dove into the mayhem below. She touched the floor directly beside Angel and slammed him aside, snatching his hand away before he could touch the Necronomicon. Grigori screamed and the magic guy yelled something in a language that made no sense to her whatsoever.

She was barely back on her feet when something caught her around the throat. She didn't see anything, no hand, no claw, nothing, but something constricted around her neck like a noose and stole the air from her lungs. Faith saw the magic guy, his hand moving as he was strangling someone. Who did he think he was, Darth Vader? Unfortunately it seemed to work.

The sound of the fighting died away as the only thing Faith still noticed was the pounding in her ears and the burning need for air in her chest. When had she fallen to her knees? She couldn't remember. The magic guy was grinning at her and she wanted to rip him into pieces, but she couldn't move, her strength was draining away. Her vision started to grow fuzzy.

A dark shape slammed into the sorcerer and suddenly Faith could breath again. For a long moment she just knelt on the floor, pumping air into her lungs, then she was back on her feet without needing to think about it. She saw Angel, his eyes blazing with anger and a barely restrained demon, raining blows down on the sorcerer.

Grigori was behind him suddenly, a knife in his hands. Faith was moving toward him before she finished that thought and slammed into him like a missile. The knife that had been aimed at the heart scraped along Angel's back, drawing blood.

Neither Faith nor anyone else saw one of the drops of blood fly through the air and fall on the Necronomicon Nocturnum.

#

Buffy managed to break free of the seemingly solid mass of fighting in time to see Faith tackle Grigori. Angel screamed as the knife scraped along his back, but he seemed able to get past the pain. The man he held down tried to fight, but Angel just continued pounding him into the floor.

Buffy's first impulse was to be by his side, but she realized that he didn't need any help right now. Faith did. Grigori was a mountain of a Vampire and a blow he landed almost took Faith's head off.

Buffy was there in an instant and attacked him. He seemed to barely feel her blow, yet it diverted his attention away from Faith. The moment he swung at Buffy, missing by the barest margin, Faith was back on her feet and kicked him into the back. Buffy struck next, then Faith, the two of them falling into a rhythm without needing any words.

They moved like a single entity with two bodies, attacking Grigori from all sides at once. The ancient Vampire fought with the strength of a hundred men, but he was unable to so much as touch one of his opponents without immediately paying for it at the hands of the other. He was quickly bleeding from a dozen wounds and started to slow down.

Angel's scream shattered Buffy's concentration. She saw him staggering back from the man in the black robes, who had somehow gotten his hands on Grigori's knife. Angel's shirt was in tatters and a large, ragged cut drenched his chest in blood.

The moment of distraction was too long. Grigori's fist connected with Buffy's head and threw her halfway across the room, almost back into the ongoing fight that still surged near the big double doors. The room spun around her as Buffy tried to regain her balance, she saw Luke and Spike, Darla, the Tarakans, Faith, Angel, ...

The Necronomicon was on the table and it was glowing. The robed man was staring at it in wonder, as well as at his own hands, drenched in blood. Angel's blood. He moved toward the book.

"Yes!" Grigori yelled and swatted Faith aside, leaping for the table. The robed man was there, his hand hovering over the book. Buffy raised her gun, not really knowing if she had any bullets left. Faith flipped back to her feet and started to leap.

The robed man touched the book, Angel's blood on his hand, and the room was filled with an unearthly brilliance that forced Buffy to cover her eyes. Someone laughed and the fighting stopped immediately, everyone too busy saving their eyesight to do anything else.

By the time Buffy could see again three things had happened.

The Necronomicon was open and glowing.

Everyone in the room was frozen, their bodies surrounded by a dim red glow.

The same glow surrounded her and she found herself completely unable to move.

"Blood is the answer." The robed man said triumphantly. "I wouldn't have believed it to be so simple. Thank you for the donation, Angelus!"

Angel was standing but a step away from them, frozen as the others, staring at Grigori and the robed man with mad fury in his eyes. For the first time Buffy could get a full look at him and the state he was in made her want to weep. What had they done to him?

"Just touching it strengthens me a hundred fold." Only now did she see that the robed man's hand was glowing the same dim red as they all did. He had to be a mage. Magic was holding them all immobile. If she could just take him out ...

"Then what are you waiting for?" Grigori asked, sounding extremely impatient.

The sorcerer looked at the book that he was now touching, touching without bursting into flames. He laughed as the runes formed themselves into words he could read, words of power he could invoke.

He saw the spell that had worked the Restoration of Souls. He knew the spell, knew it inside out.

Knew how to reverse it.

"Shall we test it now?" The sorcerer asked Grigori, flush with the power in his hands.

Grigori looked at Angel, grinning broadly.

"Yes," he said, "do it!"

The sorcerer complied, the words he could see forming on the pages beneath him spilling across his lips, power building between his fingertips. Angel was straining against the crimson glow that held him, but to no avail.

Golden light exploded from the sorcerer's hands and enveloped Angel where he stood. Buffy lost sight of him in an instant, but the room was filled with his scream.

"Angel!" She yelled, putting all her strength against the spell that kept her immobile. She could feel it give, the sorcerer distracted by the new spell he was weaving, and managed two awkward steps forward. Just two more and she would reach the mage, then she could ...

The golden light faded and Angel knelt on the floor, no crimson glow surrounding him. After an endless moment he stood, his face turned away from her.

"Angel?" She asked, forgetting about everyone and everything else in the room.

"How do you feel, my friend?" Grigori asked.

Angel looked up, a smile spreading on his lips.

"I feel just fine." He said, then started to laugh.

____________________________________________________________________________

23 - The Terror

#

"Angel?" Buffy asked, not believing what her brain was trying to tell her. It couldn't have happened, it was simply not possible.

Angel stood in front of her, his clothing in tatters, bleeding from a dozen wounds, and he was laughing. His face slipped into the demon visage, amber eyes blazed, and he laughed. She had heard him laugh a few times before - not nearly often enough, she had thought before now - but never like this.

"I forgot how good it feels." He said as he finally stopped laughing. "So very good."

"Angelus, I presume." Grigori said, smiling.

"Let me check!" Angel said. "Fangs, check! Unbeating heart, check! Soul? Soul?" He tapped his hands over his clothing, as if he was looking for something in his pockets. "Nope, no soul. I guess I lost it somewhere."

Buffy could do nothing but stare at him. The crimson glow she had briefly broken free from surrounded her again, keeping her completely immobile. The sorcerer needn't have bothered right then, though. Buffy couldn't have moved for the world.

Angel's eyes turned toward her and a cruel grin spread on his lips.

"Hello, baby!" He said, coming closer. "I see you came to rescue me. I have to think of a good way to thank you for that. Flowers maybe? A nice candlelight dinner?"

He moved forward until their bodies touched in a line of flesh. Buffy looked into amber demon eyes and looked for any trace of the man she knew, the man she loved.

“Maybe a quick death? Eh, love? Believe me, you'll thank me for it."

This couldn't be true. It had to be a nightmare. She wasn't here, she was home at the Hyperion, sleeping in Angel's arms. Any moment now she would wake and find that all of this had been a single horrible nightmare.

Angel drew her in for a rough and bruising kiss, then shoved her away with total disregard. Buffy hit the ground with tears in her eyes, her lips trembling. Angel shook his head and walked toward Grigori and the sorcerer, wiping his lips.

“Something about this must have tasted good at one time." He mumbled.

“It is good to see you back, Angelus." Grigori said, smiling.

Angel walked toward him and sniffed, a look of distaste spreading on his face.

“You stink, Nicolai!" He said, his voice dripping with disdain. “You stink of humanity."

“We will have that fixed in a moment." The ancient Vampire said, turning toward the sorcerer. “Continue! It is time to restore our people to what they once were."

The sorcerer gazed down at the glowing pages of the Necronomicon, felt its power run down the length of his body. There was an element of danger here, he realized. The book believed that Angel had opened it. His blood was what allowed him access. The Vampire was connected to this dark power in a way he did not fully understand.

He needed to be very careful. He didn't care about Grigori's dream, but his own was so close at hand that he didn't dare risk anything now.

“I will need my full power to revoke the Restoration worldwide." The sorcerer said, his dark eyes sparkling. “We should take care of these distractions first."

Grigori looked across the room, where both the attackers and his minions were frozen by the sorcerer's power. He felt a slight chill as he saw members of the Order of Tarakan among them. The Vampirium was against him. For the moment at least. Soon they would thank him on their knees.

“Release my minions." He told the sorcerer. “Then, I think, we can do some further testing of your spell. Just to be sure."

He nodded at Angel. “First, though, would you be so kind as to remove this stink from me!"

Angel laughed and the sorcerer murmured the spell once more, the golden light spilling across the room. Some part of Buffy again felt the crimson glow that held her weaken, but she couldn't take advantage of it. Her eyes were riveted to Angel, that thing that walked around with her lover's face, even as he watched Grigori undergo the same spell he had gone through but minutes earlier.

She remembered his words. Should it happen, should he revert to what he had once been, he had wanted her to kill him. Could she do it? Could she really take a stake and ram it into that chest she knew so well?

She didn't know. She just didn't know, not even now.

It was also becoming increasingly unlikely that she would get the chance to find out.

The golden glow faded and Grigori rose from his knees, throwing his head back in mad laughter.

“Yes!" He screamed. “At last! Freedom at last! Free of the voices! No longer do I hear them, no longer do they torment me!"

Angel walked closer to him, sniffing again.

“Nice to see you, Nicolai." He said, smiling broadly.

Grigori laughed again, a sound that sent chills down Buffy's spine.

#

“This is taking too long." Wesley said, looking over the shoulders of their pilot. Over an hour since they had jumped and not a word.

“Giles, do you think we should do something?" Wesley received no answer. “Giles?"

The other ex-Watcher looked up from where he sat. “Hm?"

“I asked if you think we should do something. Where were you just now?"

“Sorry, I was lost in thought. I agree, it has been too long, but I do not know what we can do."

Wesley looked at him for a long moment and Giles knew what his colleague was thinking about. It had been Darla's idea, a means of last resort if all else should fail. Both their heads turned back toward the belly of the plane. They couldn't see it from here, of course, but Giles was convinced that he could feel it.

He had no idea where the Order of Aurelius had acquired a tactical nuclear weapon from and he honestly didn't want to know. He only knew what Darla had told him. That they were to use it if all else failed.

“Not yet." Giles just said, wrenching his gaze away from the back of the plane where he could almost feel this dark thing rest. This wasn't a thing of black magic or demonic power. It was man-made and that scared him more than he thought possible.

“Not yet." Wesley agreed and went back to listening for a message from below.

#

“We should continue now!" Grigori said. “We have an entire world of Vampires to free from this curse."

Angel nodded, looking across the assembled Vampires. His eyes found Darla and his smile grew.

“I am looking forward to it." He said, licking his lips.

Grigori laughed and stood close to Angel, relishing in the empty feeling where his humanity and conscience used to be. The voices he had heard for so long were gone now. No more pain, no more remorse. He would have liked nothing better than to sink his fangs into soft human flesh right here and now, enjoy that wonderful taste without the pain it would have caused in his soul.

Priorities, he thought, priorities!

“Choose one, Angelus! Choose one who shall be the next to receive this grace! No need to hurry anymore now. We can take the time to enjoy this."

Angel's eyes moved across the crowd, resting on Darla again, then traveling to Luke, Spike, the members of his family.

“Why not Spike?" Grigori asked. “I heard your childe was one of the most vicious Vampires around in the good old days."

Three minions grabbed Spike's frozen figure and dragged him in front of the two Vampires. The only thing moving was Spike's face, his eyes blazing with anger. Angel laughed, draping an arm around Grigori's shoulders.

“You are right about that one. William here was a rotten bastard before the soul. I have to tell you, though, I am afraid it won't work with him."

Grigori looked at him, confused.

“What?"

“It won't work." Angel repeated. “You see, Nicolai, your little mage here can reverse the Restoration, we have seen that. Pretty darn impressive, I admit. My boy Spike here, though, he didn't get his soul from the Restoration. It was a gypsy curse and your spell will be quite useless in negating that one."

Grigori's eyes widened.

“I should know, after all." Angel said, smiling.

_______________________________________________________________________

24 - Out Of the Frying Pan ...

#

Grigori had about half a second to realize what Angel's words meant, then he stopped thinking about anything except the sharp pain that suddenly stabbed through him. He looked down and spent a brief moment wondering where Angel had gotten the large knife from, the one that was now sticking out of his chest where his heart should be. The knife with the wooden inlays, one of those the Order of Tarakan used.

Over a thousand years of age caught up with him at that very moment and Nicolai Alexandre Grigori, founder of the Order of Grigori, crumbled into dust.

Angel didn't watch it. The knife had barely penetrated Grigori's chest when Angel whirled around and faced the sorcerer. Fury was sparkling in the mage's inhuman eyes, but Angel wasn't impressed. Ignoring the many wounds he had sustained Angel moved forward in a blur of speed and was by the side of the table in an instant.

The sorcerer opened his mouth to invoke a spell, probably something very deadly, but Angel didn't give him the chance. His hands reached out and found the sorcerer's neck, giving it a twist.

Crack!

The crimson glow that had held everyone prisoner faded and over fifty Vampires and two humans started moving once more. Barely. All of them were staring at Angel, the ashes of Grigori, and the body of the sorcerer, who slipped the floor even as they watched.

Angel looked up at stared at the remaining minions of Grigori.

“Now would be a good time to surrender." He told them in a neutral voice, hiding the stark exhaustion he was feeling.

Grigori's men looked around, considering their chances against the Slayer, the Tarakans, and the Order of Aurelius, now that their Master was dust. Common sense quickly prevailed and they dropped their weapons, raising their hands above their heads.

Luke immediately started ordering his men to secure the prisoners and tried to get some semblance of order back into this chaos. From the sounds of it there were still some fights going on outside this room, stray guards that didn't know the battle was already lost.

Angel didn't care about any of that. His eyes found Buffy and saw her staring at him with eyes widened by shock. He made a few small and hesitant steps toward her, afraid of her reaction.

“I am so sorry about this, beloved." He said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I hated doing this, fooling you this way. It was the only way, Grigori had to think I was on his side. I am so sorry."

He could see tears in her eyes and hated himself for putting them there. How could she ever forgive him after he had treated her this cruelly?

“I thought I had lost you." She whispered.

A moment later she launched himself into his arms and he stumbled, falling to the ground with her on top of him, wincing when he hit the floor, and not caring about the pain at all. Buffy held on

to him as if he would vanish at any moment and he hugged her right back, relief spreading through him.

“I thought I had lost you." She repeated again and again.

“Never, beloved!" He said, kissing her. “I will never leave you."

After a long moment she seemed content that he would stay and let go of him, rising to her feet and pulling him up with her. Luke and Spike were busy rounding up the last of Grigori's men. Darla and Faith stood close by, not wanting to disturb this reunion, but clearly waiting for them to be finished.

Angel turned toward Faith, who looked at him with relief in her eyes.

“I'm glad you're okay." She said, sounding like she wasn't sure of the welcome her words would receive.

“Thanks to you." Angel smiled and pulled her in for a hug.

Faith was more than a bit surprised, but quickly returned the embrace. When Angel finally let her go she found herself face to face with Buffy.

“Faith, I ...," she began, “oh, I'm *so* not good at this."

Faith suddenly found herself in another hug and started to fear for her ribs. Buffy let her go again and looked at her with earnest gratitude in her eyes.

“Thanks!" She just said. “I know I was a bitch before. I ... there is a lot we have to talk about, but, as far as I'm concerned, all is forgiven. Thanks for saving him!"

Faith swallowed he lump in her throat and managed to mumble “My pleasure!" while wiping at a stray tear that trailed down her cheek.

Darla smiled at Angel. “How do you always manage to get yourself in so much trouble, my dear boy?" She asked him.

Angel also smiled, shaking his head.

“I never get myself into trouble. Trouble always finds me."

The two of them embraced, when Darla suddenly thought of something.

“I should let Rupert and Wesley know that we are all right. I don't want them to get any ideas."

Angel looked at her, puzzled, but Darla just pulled out her radio and sent a message up to the circling plane. Angel turned back to Buffy.

“You weren't hurt, beloved?" He asked, checking her body for injuries.

“Look who's talking, Mr. Walking Dead! You look like you need about a dozen hospitals right now." Her light tone couldn't hide the worry he could see in her eyes.

“Don't worry about me. I will be all right after a good day's sleep and some blood."

“What did they do to you?" Buffy asked, concerned. He had a haunted look to him, like a man who had seen his worst nightmares take flesh.

Angel shook his head. “Not now! I will tell you about it, but not now. I would like to get out of this place now."

#

So close!

He was so close. So close to fulfilling his dream. After all these years, a prisoner in this ugly world, full of humans and petty minor demons, he was now so close.

Portals. The Necronomicon Nocturnum could open portals. Portals to other worlds, other places. It would have bring him home again. Every night he would dream of home, a world of bright fire and red skies, where the beautiful screams of the Damned would sound day and night.

So close! He was so close! He wouldn't allow this weak human body he had been forced to hide in for so long stop him now.

No one saw him move. Fools, these humans. Even the Vampires, so human themselves now. They thought that a simple broken neck could stop him. Pain was a friend, an ally. He forced his broken form to move, to rise. His strength was fading, but he could yet get home.

Everyone was distracted. Concerned with their own petty emotions, so disgusting to behold. They would all pay for his imprisonment here. All of them would pay. He only needed a little more strength.

He had wanted to fulfill Grigori's wish, for a pure Vampire race would have helped his cause. Still, even without it, there was evil enough in the world. Evil enough to draw strength from. He could feel it in his veins, flowing through his broken body.

Enough to fulfill his dream.

#

“Guys!" Faith yelled suddenly and everyone turned to see the sorcerer, who had risen to his feet. The robes had been ripped open and they could now see that his body was decayed and rotting, yet he moved. An unearthly fire was burning in his eyes.

“Strong enough!" The sorcerer screamed and his hand started to glow. Faith, Buffy, and Angel moved toward him, but suddenly found themselves being thrown backwards. Darla drew her gun and took aim, but by then the sorcerer's hand had found the Necronomicon and the room exploded into brilliance,

“What is he doing?" Darla screamed, trying to see past the glare to get a target.

“I can't see a thing!" Buffy was back on her feet, unable to even open her eyes as the glare penetrated past her closed lids.

Angel could feel the power pouring out of the Necronomicon, felt how it connected with him. His blood had opened the book and before his closed eyes he could see what page the sorcerer had opened.

When he had found the Necronomicon over ninety years earlier he had only skimmed across the pages. He had seen enough to decide to lock the thing away forever. He had also seen enough to know what the sorcerer was doing right then.

Angel threw himself forward into the light, blindly searching for his opponent. He didn't know what to do once he found him, seeing as he had already survived having his neck broken, but anything was better than just waiting for that spell to be completed.

“Arise!" He heard the sorcerer directly ahead of him. He could just make out his silhouette.

“Stop this!" Angel yelled, leaping at him.

He felt the spell close with an almost audible snap, he felt the power surging inside his blood. His blood was singing to the book and the book poured out more power to bring something into existence. Something the sorcerer had summoned here.

“I will go home!" The sorcerer screamed as Angel tackled him to the ground.

“No you won't!" Angel drove his hand deep into the sorcerer's decaying body, his fingers closing around a black and rotten heart. “You're not going anywhere!"

Whatever he, or it, had been, Angel felt it die beneath him. But it was too late, he knew that. Something snapped into existence, called down upon the Earth, and took form right next to him.

“What the hell is that?" Buffy yelled, coming closer as a figure appeared in the glowing light next to the book. A huge, inhuman figure. Angel saw it and his prayers that he had erred, that this was not the spell he believed it to be, went unanswered.

“May God have mercy on us all." He heard Darla whisper as she, too, recognized the creature the sorcerer had called here with his dying breath.

“Ugly fellow!" Faith commented.

The arch-demon Akathler took shape and opened its jaws to roar.

________________________________________________________________________

25 - ... Into the Maw of Hell

#

Barely a minute had passed since Darla had called them to say that everything was all right. Angel was alive, the Restoration hadn't been reversed, and none of their friends had been killed in the attack. Giles had breathed a silent sigh of relief that they were all okay, though he wasn't quite sure at the moment whether he was more relieved about hearing Darla's voice or hearing that Buffy was all right.

Then came another radio message.

“Rupert! Wesley!" They heard Darla's voice through a hale of static.

“Darla, what is it? I can barely understand you."

“No time for talking! Arm the bomb! Quickly!"

Giles' blood froze.

“Darla, what ...? I don't understand. What is going on down there?"

“No time, Rupert! Just do it! If you don't hear from us in the next five minutes drop the thing and get out of here as fast as you can!"

“Darla, what the hell ...?"

“Exactly!" Darla just said. “Five minutes, Rupert! If you don't hear from us by then there won't be anyone left down here."

Darla's voice fell silent and the connection broke. For a long moment Giles could do nothing but stare at the radio in front of him, not believing what he had just heard. Wesley looked down through the window and could just see an eerie light shining down in the dark landscape.

“Let's get to it!" Giles said finally.

#

The demon had barely manifested when it opened its mighty jaw and growled, a bright vortex of energy beginning to form right in front of it. All eyes were drawn to it, the eerie light shining from it seemed composed of the worst nightmares they had ever seen, a light that heralded the end of the world.

“Akathler!" Angel whispered. “I never dreamed ..."

“What is that thing?" Buffy yelled, frightened by the expressions of terror she could see on both Angel's and Darla's faces.

“Akathler." Angel told her without taking his eyes away from the growing vortex. “A demon that bridges dimensions. I have read about it. With one breath it can create a vortex that will swallow a world and everything on it, damning it to Hell for all time."

A wind was starting to pick up inside the room, a searing breeze that slowly but surely grew in intensity. Buffy found herself drawn toward the vortex, a small portion of her mind attracted by the glare she could see inside. What would it be like to jump into it?

Angel started moving all of a sudden and for a moment Buffy thought that he would do just that, jump into the vortex. Angel ran past it, though, and arrived at the table where the Necronomicon still rested. Without hesitation he picked up the book and an aura of light surrounded him.

“What are you doing?" Buffy yelled, the wind becoming louder and stronger by the second. She could see some loose papers from a nearby table drifting toward the vortex.

“The Necronomicon can summon Akathler." Angel just said. “I just pray we can find a way to banish him again. Otherwise..." He didn't say anymore.

Buffy noticed Darla talking into her radio and understood enough of the words to realize that the situation was quickly spiraling out of control. She turned around to face the large crowd of Vampires still standing behind her, most eyes riveted to the vortex.

“Get them out of here!" She yelled at Spike and Luke. “Get as far away as you can and quickly!"

Luke hesitated for a moment, but Darla nodded and he began screaming at his people to evacuate. Spike remained where he was, though, as did Darla and Faith. All of them were busy watching Angel, who was immersed in the book. The glow of the Necronomicon seemed to grow stronger as well.

Buffy could see drops of blood from Angel's open wounds stain the pages.

“Angel!" She yelled, walking closer to him.

He didn't hear her. His thoughts were focused on the Necronomicon, trying desperately to convince the magical book to reveal a way out. His every cell was singing with the dark power swirling around him. The vortex grew and the wind picked up. Dark shapes could be seen moving against the glare inside.

Blood is the key to dreams, both the sorcerer and the Host of Caritas had said that. His blood had opened the Necronomicon, had activated it. The Host had said that he would find the book or it would find him. He had also said that a door would open. And that only blood would remain in the end.

“Blood is the key." Angel murmured and a page of the book opened of its own accord.

The runes on the blood-sprinkled page reformed themselves into words of meaning, though Angel wouldn't have been able to say which language it was. He knew them, that was the important thing. He also knew what he had to do.

His blood had summoned Akathler and opened the portal to Hell. His blood would close it once more.

“Angel?" He became aware of Buffy standing close, her eyes looking at him full of desperation.

“We need to get out of here!" She said. “Darla has told Giles and Wes to nuke this place. Let's get going!"

“No, that won't work." Angel said. He knew it wouldn't. The Necronomicon was telling him so right at this moment. “I have to close the vortex."

Buffy stared at him, then at the still growing portal. The shimmering disk was now the size of two men and the wind was starting to pick up small objects. She could see images inside the portal amidst flickering fire, things too disturbing to name them. Things that shouldn't exist outside a child's scared nightmares.

“Close it?" She asked. “How?"

Angel didn't say anything. Instead he just pulled her in and pressed a kiss to her lips, embracing her with an intensity she had never known from him before. For a moment Buffy relaxed in his embrace, forgetting about the catastrophe about to happen. Then she realized what was going on.

“Angel?" She asked him as he let go, her eyes telling him that she knew what he was planning.

“Just remember I'll always love you." He whispered.

“Angel, no! I won't ..."

Without further warning he hit her in the face and Buffy slumped to the floor, unconscious. Angel nodded to Spike and he picked her up in his arms, staring at Angel all the time.

“Make sure she gets to safety!" Angel told him. “And get yourself out of here, too!"

“Is there no other way?" Spike asked. Darla and Faith stood by his side, also staring at Angel.

“I am afraid not. This thing will not be stopped by a nuke or any other earthly weapon. My blood opened it. There is no other way."

Bloody tears ran down Darla's cheek, but she nodded. Spike's face was an immobile mask.

“Give 'em Hell, mate!" He just said, then turned away and ran toward the exit with the Slayer in his arms. Darla followed him after a moment's hesitation, the emotions she couldn't put into words pulsing across the link Angel still shared with her. They didn't need words between them.

“Get going, Faith!" Angel told the only other person still present.

She stared at him for another long moment, tears beginning to trail down her cheeks.

“I love you, Angel." She told him.

“I am sorry I couldn't give you what you wanted, Faith." He said, smiling sadly at her.

“You gave me more than anyone else ever did." She replied. “I will never forget you!"

With that she was gone and Angel stared after her for a moment, then turned toward Akathler. The vortex was still growing, having swallowed half the room already. He stared at the book he held in his hands. The book that had changed the world and made his dream come true.

“Is this the price then?" He asked it, not expecting an answer. The Necronomicon Nocturnum still glowed and the glare of Hell in front of him grew brighter.

“So be it!" He whispered and used the knife he had rammed into Grigori's chest just minutes earlier to cut open his left arm. Blood flowed out of the opened vein and splashed onto the Necronomicon, the paper drinking it up like starved ground. Angel could feel the dark power around him growing, his blood sparkling with unleashed energy.

With the light of hell reflecting in his eyes Angel began to chant.

______________________________________________________________________

26 - Is This Death I See?

#

For a long time Buffy had a lot of trouble thinking about anything beyond things like "Oh, what pretty stars!", but gradually awareness returned. Awareness that she was being carried by someone. Memory also returned and she remembered that Angel had knocked her out.

She also remembered why.

Spike didn't have any chance to react. What had been a quiet bundle of flesh but moments ago came awake like a whirlwind and was out of his arms a moment later, knocking him to the floor in the process. He looked up in time to see Buffy running back the way they had come.

"Buffy! Come back!" Knowing that he should not take the time to think things through, because then he would never do it, he started after her. He had promised Angel he would get her to safety and he would bloody well do so.

Grigori's retreat started to crumble around them as the unleashed energy of the portal ate away the building's structure. Spike was ten steps behind Buffy when the ceiling between them caved in and he had to jump back. Unleashing a string of curses he had to waste precious time to seek an alternate route.

Buffy never even noticed that Spike was on her heels. She didn't pay much attention to the collapsing building either. The only thing she knew was that Angel was doing something incredibly heroic and stupid and she would be damned before she left him like this.

"You said you'd never leave me!" She muttered to herself as instinct guided her way back to the room where Hell was coming to Earth. "You promised."

#

There wasn't anything left of the room. Angel noticed that almost clinically, loss of blood and his tiredness robbing him of the strength to care. There was nothing left except the widening portal that would devour the world and him, standing on what remained of the room's floor. Or maybe he was floating by now, he couldn't tell.

The Necronomicon was still in his hands, pouring out power even as it swallowed his life's blood. The blood was not behaving like it should, a part of his mind told the rest. Blood was supposed to run out of the wound and then fall to the floor, preferably at a right angle to it. It wasn't doing that right now.

The blood was flowing out of his wounds and stopped paying attention to gravity right then and there. Angel watched with a kind of morbid fascination as droplets of his life floated around him, sparkling with unearthly energy, seeming to form a pattern that was just beyond his perception.

The Necronomicon was murmuring with him right now, the words spilling out of his mouth without ever going past his conscious mind. He could feel Akathler just ahead of him, widening the portal with every foul breath it took. Magical power was gathering in the room and Angel felt like it would tear him apart at any moment now.

His first time with the Necronomicon hadn't been like this, though he hadn't really paid much attention to it then. A hundred Vampires had been on their tails, looking to rend them to pieces. Angel had never given a second thought to what might happen if he did the spell wrong or if the book didn't accept him in the first place. He had just opened it and unleashed the power, thereby changing the world.

It was different this time around. So much of his life was flowing into this spell that his very mind seemed to merge with the book. He could feel its incredible age, putting the combined years of the Vampirium Elders to shame. Power beyond his imagination had gone into the forging of every page, the carving of every rune. He looked at the Necronomicon as he had never done before and it was looking right back at him.

"Let the door be closed now and forevermore!" Angel spoke the final words of the spell and could feel all strength seeping away from his body. Blood was still running from his wounds, mingling in mid-air, pouring his life into the spell that closed around him with a snap. Akathler roared as power pushed against power.

Angel was reduced to a spectator as a demon older than civilization struggled against the power of a book older than language itself. The air between them was burning, hellfire spewing forth from the portal and meeting flying droplets of blood in a fireworks of thundering energy. Angel wanted to avert his eyes, but could not find the strength to even close his lids.

After an indefinite amount of time the pressure suddenly fell away and Angel found that there was nothing holding him up anymore. The Necronomicon slipped from his fingers and closed of its own on the way to the floor, looking to all the word like a perfectly ordinary book. Angel didn't much care at this point. He slumped to the floor and his eyes finally closed.

For a moment he imagined that someone was calling his name.

#

Buffy's world was reduced to cracking walls, unstable floors, and the sound of a building in its death throes. She was close now, she could feel it. The searing heat she had felt earlier when she stood in front of the portal was permeating the corridors around her and grew stronger with every step she took.

The floor directly ahead of her crumbled and fell down into another corridor. Buffy took two more steps and leapt, easily making the gap, and hit the ground running on the other side. Something inside her was screaming to hurry up, as there was not much time left. She didn't know whether that voice was talking about the building or Angel, but she was quite sure that neither of them were in great shape right now.

Had Darla told Wesley and Giles to hold the nuke? Or was the bomb falling down on her as she ran? She didn't know. Neither did she have the time to stop and talk to them over the radio, even if she had managed to make herself heard over the noise surrounding her now.

An eternity seemed to pass while she was just running through corridors and keeping the building around her together by sheer refusal to have it collapse on her when she finally reached the room she had been in just minutes earlier. What was left of the room anyway.

Even as she watched she saw that Angel had done it, whatever it was he had done. The portal was still there, but shrinking before her eyes. The huge demon that the sorcerer had called into existence with his dying breath was screaming and growling, but it didn't seem to help any. The portal collapsed and seemed intent on sucking in the rest of the room while it was doing so. The wind picked up and Buffy had to hold on to the remains of the door to keep her footing.

Angel was lying on the floor, not moving, slowly being pulled toward the portal.

"Angel!" She screamed his name, but he didn't react in any way. Abandoning her handhold she ran toward him, skidding to a hold right next to his prone form. The wind was tugging at her with increasing force, but the Slayer simply refused to be moved. She dug in her heels and held on to Angel.

Seeing him almost made her cry. He was pale as a sheet, looking as if every last drop of blood had fled his body. The many wounds he had sustained didn't bleed anymore, what remained of his clothing was drenched in drying blood. Buffy felt tears run down her face but didn't pay attention to them as she pulled at him, slowly drawing him away from the collapsing vortex.

"You said you'd never leave me!" She kept muttering as the tears streaked down her cheeks. "You fucking said you'd never leave me!"

Buffy had lost all sense of time when the portal finally collapsed and the pull vanished. She stumbled back, still holding on to Angel, and landed on her behind with a painful thud. She didn't care even a second. Angel had not moved once during all the time and she drew him into her lap, desperately looking for any kind of life sign.

"Wake up, Angel!" She whispered as she caressed his cheeks. "Please wake up! You said you'd never leave me! You can't break your promise like that! It ain't right!"

She had no clue on how to tell a dead Vampire from a live one. Both were dead bodies, right? So how did one tell them apart? Weren't dead Vampires supposed to crumble into dust? That meant he was still alive, right? He had to be.

Without conscious effort her mind went back to their last words. Angel had held the Necronomicon and mumbled something about blood being the key. Yes, she remembered. He had told her what the Host of Caritas had said to him, those cryptic remarks that hadn't done a thing to help him.

"In the end only blood will remain, the blood of one you love more than life itself." Buffy mumbled, remembering the words. Blood, yes! Angel had lost so much blood, pouring his very life into that thrice-damned book to close the portal. He needed blood.

She hoisted his limp body up until his face rested against the crook of her neck, desperately trying to get some kind of reaction out of him. She slapped his cheeks, yelled into his ear, but nothing worked. Was he too far gone already?

Buffy saw a knife lying on the floor close by. It was one of the Tarakan knives, with wooden inlays so it would kill a Vampire. The blade was stained with blood and before she consciously realized what she was doing she had picked it up and held it to her own neck.

"I just pray this works." She mumbled to herself and made a shallow cut, causing blood to well to the surface.

It didn't take a second until she heard a growl and felt a sharp pain enter the side of her neck.

__________________________________________________________________________

27 - I Would Give My Life For Yours

#

Spike was busy cursing all the way, trying to find a way through the crumbling mansion. He had a running bet against himself that the building would collapse on him before he found Buffy and it looked like he would win.

"Stupid bloody idiot bitch!" He mumbled under his breath. "Just has to go and risk her bloody, scrawny neck to save that idiot poof who just needs to put his fucking ass on the line to save the goddamned world. And here comes Spike, William the soon to be Dusty, chasing after them just because he bloody promised the big poof he would save his idiot girlfriend. I've had it up to here with all that crap!"

He reached the room where all this had started and skidded to a halt, his jaw dropping. There was no sign of Akathler, no sign of the portal, except that the part of the room where it had been was simply gone without a trace. He could see the Necronomicon lying on the floor, seeming to smile at him with a mockingly innocent expression.

Just two steps away from the book Buffy was kneeling on the floor, cradling Angel to her side. Spike blinked. The scenery didn't change. He blinked again. Still no change. Angel was drinking her. What the hell was he doing?

Spike was by their side and all set to pull Angel off Buffy when she noticed him and opened her mouth in a silent scream.

#

The sensations overwhelmed her within seconds. The pain vanished and was replaced by sensations she had never dreamed existed. Her entire body seemed to be singing, humming along with every sucking motion she could feel against her skin. Her blood was thundering through the twin wounds like white-hot quicksilver and filled every cell of her body with song.

Angel's cold hands were holding her now, instinct making them grab her to prevent her escaping him. Like she would have wanted to. One of her hands was still tangled in his spiky hair and pressed his head into the side of her neck with desperate strength, urging him to continue, to fill his cold flesh with her warmth.

Something made her open her eyes, even though she couldn't remember closing them. Her Slayer sense was screaming at her to pay attention and suddenly she saw a Vampire sitting in front of her, staring at her in disbelief.

Spike? What was Spike doing here? Shouldn't he be somewhere else? Her thoughts were flying away from her like frightened birds, slipping from her grasp like water. She could see Spike's blue eyes staring at her. Why did he look so surprised, she wondered. One would think he knew what a Vampire feeding looked like.

She could see his hands moving toward them and suddenly she knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to separate them, wanted to take Angel away from her. No, she would never allow that! Angel had promised he would never leave and somehow she knew that they mustn't be separated. It would kill him. He needed her, needed her strength.

Buffy tried to move her arms, but they refused. Every muscle in her body felt like jelly, the sensations of Angel drinking from her neck had reduced her to little more than a smile and fuzzy feelings. She had to stop Spike, though. He mustn't take Angel away!

Somehow she had to tell him.

#

Spike paused and looked into her eyes, seeing the pleading look inside them.

She had made him do it, he realized. She made him drink her blood to heal him. He now saw Angel's face and saw that his Sire was completely out of it, looking like death warmed over thrice, sucking the blood by sheer animal instinct.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done, but Spike waited. He waited while the building groaned around them, reminding Spike of the running bet he had with himself. He didn't take his eyes off the two people in front of him for even a second. He saw Buffy's eyes roll back as the blood loss took its toll on her, but still she kept Angel's head pressed to her neck. He saw Angel's paleness begin to vanish as his dead flesh filled with stolen warmth.

He forced himself to wait until his senses told him that Angel would make it, then he grabbed his Sire's head, wrenching him away from the Slayer. Buffy was completely out of it, pale from loss of blood, but he could see her hands blindly searching for Angel, wanting to have him near again. Spike knew only too well the addicting effect being drained by a Vampire could have on humans. There were quite a few Vampires out there who earned their money that way.

"Wake the hell up, Peaches!" He slapped Angel in the face. "I can't bloody carry both of you out of here!"

"You won't have to!" Spike almost jumped when Faith suddenly appeared by his side.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I saw you and Buffy double back, so I thought, what the hell! You wanna make something of it or do we get the fuck out of here?"

Spike swallowed his anger and motioned for Faith to grab Buffy, hoisting up Angel on his shoulders. For a moment his eyes rested on the Necronomicon and he was about to pick it up and take it along when he had a better idea.

#

Angel awoke shortly after they had made their escape from the building and ran toward a field close by where the plane would be able to land and pick them up. He slid from Spike's shoulders after a moment of confusion, being pulled along by his childe without any time for explanations.

What had happened here? The last thing he remembered was falling to the floor after completing the incantation. Had it even worked? Was the portal closed?

A side glance showed him Faith, who carried a limp form over her shoulders and all thoughts of hell and the Necronomicon fled from him.

"Buffy!" He darted over to Faith and wrenched Buffy's body from her shoulders, cradling it in his own arms. Faith didn't protest, but continued to pull him along toward the waiting plane even as Angel checked Buffy for injuries. What had happened to her?

He found the still-bleeding bite mark on her neck and suddenly he remembered. He still had her taste on his lips.

"Oh God no!" He whispered.

"She made you do it, mate!" Spike was by his side. "She saved your life, so don't bloody zonk out on me now, okay?"

"But I ... if I hurt her ... I would never ..."

"She isn't hurt, mate!" Spike told him. "I was there and pulled you away the second you had enough. She is out of it and maybe she'll need a transfusion, but the girl is tough. She'll be up and about again in no time flat!"

Angel didn't say anymore, just stared at the closed eyes of the girl in his arms and cursed his own existence. He never even noticed them boarding the plane or taking off.

Some minutes after take-off Buffy opened her eyes, smiling weakly at him.

"Hi, Angel!" She whispered, managing to raise her arm and put her hand on his cheek.

"Rest beloved!" He told her, his joy at seeing that she was awake again overcome by the guilt. He gently removed her hand from his face, the touch of her too much to bare at that moment. He couldn't even look at her.

"I love you, Angel!" She whispered, her eyes starting to fall shut again. "Please don't blame yourself!"

Before he could reply anything she had fallen asleep again.

#

Half an hour later, with all people safely evacuated, the retreat of the late Master Nicolai Alexandre Grigori, along with a certain book, was consumed by a nuclear fireball.

________________________________________________________________________

28 - Cordy's Big Day

#

"We are not living in a Dracula novel." Cordelia continued her speech. "This is the real world. With real people in it. People who just happen to live in dead bodies, but are no less alive because of it. People that deserve to be treated the same way as anyone else."

Quentin Travis watched the speech on the television of the prison common room and had to control himself not to sneer with disgust. That young girl sure knew how to wrap things up in nice and fluffy words. As he listened to her he knew that the Vampire Legalization Act would be approved. These idiot Americans were eating out of Chase's hands.

It wouldn't make a difference, he reminded himself. Let these Americans invite their own doom by giving the monsters civil rights. The important thing was that the lovely Ms. Chase would be dead within the hour and would never again spew her venom out into the world.

He smiled as he thought about his assassin. What a wonderful way to end this little chapter of the good fight. It didn't hurt matters that it would probably break Buffy Summers into little pieces in the process. Might make her sloppy. Might mean a new Slayer would be called very soon.

"Hey, Travis!" One of the guards yelled at him. "Visitors for you! Get your snotty British ass over here!"

Travis sighed, regretting that he would miss the final part of the speech, but resigned himself. After all, he knew how it would end. He had given the assassin explicit instructions and knew they would be obeyed to the letter. Cordelia Chase would die, whether he watched or not.

The guard led him into the visitor's room and he sat down at the table, waiting for whomever wanted to visit him. Maybe it was that idiot Marshall Lockley again, trying to threaten him into cooperation once more. He had almost come to enjoy her visits, they gave him something to laugh about.

"Glad to see you are in a good mood, Quentin!" A voice said from the open door and Travis' heart skipped a beat as he saw who had just entered.

#

"At this moment these people are living in a nation where they have no rights, no protection. Some might argue that they don't need any protection, or that they don't deserve it, but ..."

Buffy watched Cordelia deliver her speech from the entrance of the Congress chamber, standing in the corner she and the other bodyguards had been banished to by Congress security. Angel was standing close by, having managed to get inside by flashing his PID badge and calling in a lot of favors owed.

They stood close, but not too close. Not just because they were out in public. There was still tension between them. Buffy's fingers needed constant supervision or they would crawl up to that itching spot on her neck, where the scar tissue was still tender and raw, which would inevitably produce a fresh dosage of guilt in her quiet lover.

She could feel Angel's eyes upon her and saw the regret in his eyes. She knew that he felt incredibly guilty for having drunk from her, though she had told him time and time again that he had been all but unconscious at that time and that she had forced him to do it, so he had nothing to blame himself for.

If there was a reason for her to be mad at him it was because he had knocked her out before that. She understood why he had done it, of course, she just didn't like it.

"Stop beating yourself up!" She whispered to him.

"Hm?" He looked up from her neck.

"I can hear the smacking all the way over here, you know? Stop beating yourself up!"

He looked away and Buffy sighed, moving closer to him.

"It's been weeks, Angel! We are all safe, all the Vampires still have their souls, and that stupid book was incinerated in a nuclear blast. You have nothing to be sorry for. Except for that knockout blow you gave me and I promise you I will get even for that before too long."

The last comment actually managed to produce one of his patented half-smiles that made her want to melt into her socks. The first few days after they had returned to LA had been very difficult, a lot of awkward tension between them.

Angel had been on the verge of leaving her, so wrecked with guilt and pain had he been. It hadn't helped that, in the days before they had rescued him, he had been hit with every bit of nightmare and guilt he had stored up in 150 years of being a demon, thanks to the sorcerer's spell.

They were getting past that now, slowly but surely. It would still take a lot of effort, Buffy knew that, but she was determined to make it work once more and Angel had found himself helpless before that determination.

"Think positive!" She told him. "Cordy is blowing them away as we speak. And unless I'm very much mistaken a certain Watcher is getting his ass handed to him right now."

That again produced a smile from Angel.

#

"This isn't possible." Quentin Travis sat as he looked at the man who, at this moment, should be on the other side of the continent. He should have been in Washington right now, preparing to kill Cordelia Chase, not sitting on the other side of the table and looking at him with rage shining in his eyes.

"You of little minds." Darla said, coming into the room to stand behind Giles.

"How ...?" Travis began before his words died away.

"How did we find out about the little hypnotic suggestion you left in Rupert's mind?" Darla asked, her face icy and her voice cold enough to freeze the air in the room. "The one that should have turned him into an assassin in order to kill Cordelia?"

The blonde Vampire leaned on the table and her human face changed, demon eyes staring at Travis from less than a hair's breath away.

"Not that difficult for a Vampire Master, I assure you."

Travis flinched back, which put him face to face with a very angry looking Rupert Giles.

"You tried to turn me into a murderer." Giles growled. "I thought you a despicable bastard before, but now ..."

"It can't have failed." Travis murmured. Every Watcher had certain hypnotic command words implanted during their training, compulsions that would enable the Council leaders to retain control of them should a crisis situation arise. Travis knew that he himself probably had some control words in his mind he didn't know anything about. He didn't like the thought, but he accepted it.

He himself had activated Giles' compulsion when they had last met here in this very room. The words "No Evil Shall Be Spared, Rupert Giles", along with the name of Cordelia Chase should have sufficed to make him kill her. The compulsion had never failed. How could it possibly have failed?

"You should be glad it failed." Darla hissed at him. "Otherwise I would break every bone in your body right here and now."

"And that would be after I got through with you." Giles added.

Travis stared at the monster and the treacherous Watcher, unable to so much as utter a word.

"Thankfully," Giles said, rising from the table, "it did fail. Just so you know, Darla has removed all the command words from my mind. She did the same for Windham-Pryce. Cordelia is alive and well and, in case you are interested, she will be interviewed by a few reporters later today for an article in the London Times and several other European newspapers."

A cruel smile played across Giles' lips.

"So I guess she will 'spew her venom' into the Old World after all, old friend."

"This can't be happening!" Travis whispered.

"Oh, it is." Darla said with a grim smile on her face. "You better pray they never let you out of here, Watcher! Because the moment you do, you will answer to another kind of justice. Not nearly so lenient."

#

Giles sighed when they walked out of the prison into the warm night of California. Three time zones away Cordelia was holding her final speech before the Congress. Giles shuddered, thinking about what might have happened at this moment if not for Darla.

She had first noticed something when she had mesmerized that captured Vampire a few weeks ago and accidentally brushed across his surface thoughts as well. His constant spells of distractions after that had gotten her curious and finally he had agreed to let her enter his mind. And thank God that he had allowed it, otherwise ...

The blonde Vampire sensed his distress and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"We defeated him, Rupert!" She said softly. "He will remain in his little cell with only his petty hatreds to keep him company."

She cocked her head to one side. "And I think Marshall Lockley told me something about planting the rumor in prison that Travis shot a child. Which is the truth, more or less. It will not make him any friends in there."

"I know all that." Giles said. "But just the thought ..."

"Don't think about it anymore then!" Darla just said, draping her arm around his waist. "Besides, we have other things to do, remember? We might get back to the Hotel in time to hear the results of the Congressional vote on the VLA."

Giles knew that, despite Darla's relaxed expression, she was as nervous and anticipatory as every other Vampire within the United States at this moment. In an hour or so they might become legal citizens. None expect the really stupid ones expected that to mean that everyone would suddenly accept the presence of Vampires in human society, but it was a huge step forward. Or it would be, if it went through.

"Let's go home then." Giles said as they walked back to his car.

#

Cordelia left the podium to thunderous applause from the Congress and hurried over to where Buffy and Angel stood, needing to see at least a few friendly faces before she would have to face the mob of reporters just waiting beyond the doors.

"How did I do?" She asked them, trying not to sound too anxious. The fate of Angel's people had rested solidly on her shoulders during those agonizing minutes up there. The thought of disappointing the dark Vampire, who had come to mean so much to her, was too ...

Angel gave her a genuine smile and Buffy came over to hug her.

"You were great, Cordy!" Buffy said. "You blew them away! They won't have a chance but to pass the Act now."

Angel had his own turn to hug her and then held her at arms' length. "Thank you!" He just said, which meant more to Cordelia than she could put into words. Damn, she couldn't cry now, it would ruin her makeup.

"I'm afraid the vultures are circling outside." Buffy said, having stolen a peek at the mob of reporters that waited outside the Congress Chamber.

"Let them come!" Cordelia said, putting on her professional smile once more. "What can a hundred reporters do after I have already massacred the Congress tonight?"

Buffy giggled.

"Is my hair okay?" Cordelia asked with a sudden earnest expression.

____________________________________________________________________________

29 - A Better World

#

Angel stood on the roof of the Hyperion Hotel and looked out across the ocean of light that was Los Angeles. He knew that a lot of parties were going on out there right now, as well they should, and one of the biggest was happening inside the building he stood on right now.

They had done it. They had really done it. He still had trouble believing it.

"Hey!"

He turned to see Buffy coming toward him, one of his coats draped around her shoulders against the cold wind up here. He had to smile when he saw her, and not just because she looked completely adorable wearing his clothing.

"I couldn't help but notice you making a stealthy exit down there." She said, standing next to him. "Not in a party mood?"

"I needed some minutes of silence." He answered. "Truth to tell, I'm still having a little trouble believing that it actually happened. That we actually did it."

She snuggled into this side, taking his arm to drape it around her shoulders like a big shawl. For a moment he tensed, seeing the scar on her neck, but she simply refused his moving even an inch away from her and he surrendered, pushing the guilt from his mind.

"I never doubted it for a moment." She told him. "I mean, you're the guy who does the impossible, remember? Turning a race of demons back into people, closing the gates of Hell, making a Vampire Slayer fall in love with you, those aren't small feats."

He smiled down at her.

"I can't really take credit for that last one. It just happened."

"And I'm glad it did."

For a few minutes they just stood on the roof, arm in arm, looking out across the city.

"You realize that this isn't the end, right?" Angel asked her.

"Of course not. We made the law accept Vampires. Now we have to do the same with the people."

"You make it sound easy, beloved." He said, kissing the top of her head.

"I know it won't be." She replied. "But we will make it."

A smile spread across her lips and she added. "Especially if Cordy accepts that offer from the Democrats."

Angel chuckled under his breath, remembering the look on Cordelia's face when a representative of the Democratic party had approached her to run for Congress.

"I bet a few politicians are cursing the day they lowered the age limit of political offices to twenty-one." Angel said, smiling.

"Yeah! Now nothing can keep them safe from Cordy. I bet she becomes president before she hits thirty."

They both laughed, picturing Cordelia sitting in the Oval Office and handing out orders to aged Senators and Generals. The picture was just too funny for words.

#

Spike walked past the gym on his way back from the john and heard someone inside. He had thought everyone to be at the party in the lobby and curiosity got the better off him. He looked inside and saw Faith pounding away at the punching bag.

"Now why do I get a sense of déjà vu here?" He asked, walking inside.

Faith looked up, wiping some sweat from her forehead.

"Maybe because we always seem to meet in here?" She asked, smiling at him.

"This Hotel does have other rooms, you know?"

She walked toward him, swinging her hips like he remembered her doing at a certain night several months ago, the same smile on her face that told of the wicked things she was thinking.

"What kind of rooms are you thinking about?" She asked him.

She stopped directly in front of him and Spike found himself smiling as well. Faith had always managed to get a reaction from him. Most of the time it was the desire to spank her black and blue or tear her head off and be done with it, but there were other times, too. Like right now.

"Maybe we should look around a bit." He said. "Until we find one that we like."

Her face grew serious as she looked up at him.

"I like you, Spike." She said. "I didn't see it before, I was too fucking obsessed with my crush on Angel and my mad-on against Buffy, but I like you."

She looked down for a moment, then looked up and Spike could hardly believe the shy smile on her face.

"Do you ... do you like me, too?" She asked, almost a whisper.

Spike looked at this girl that always managed to drive him up the wall so very easily. She reminded him of Drusilla in many ways, yet at the same time she was completely different. He had always known her tough exterior was but a mask to hide her insecurities and fears, but he hadn't suspected the depth of what hid below that. Faith had certainly changed in the months she had been away and he found, much to his own amazement, that he liked the way she had changed.

"Fancy that!" Spike said and leant down to kiss her. He had a certain kind of room in mind right now.

#

Closing the library door almost managed to shut off the noise from the party outside. With just about every Vampire that was in some way connected to the Order of Aurelius present, as well as Gunn's men, members of Cordelia's lobby, and a lot of other people, the lobby was overflowing.

Darla wasn't surprised to find Giles here in the library. He wasn't really the party kind. Instead he sat on the couch in front of the fire place and sipped some tea.

"Rupert!" She greeted him as she sat down on the couch beside him.

"Darla, hello." He sat the tea aside to look at her.

"Getting tired of the party outside?"

"I think I'm a little too old for that kind of music."

"Oh, I don't know." Darla mused. "Figuring the average age of the people present tonight, you are one of the wee ones, I think."

That wrung a smile from his face and Darla found that she loved seeing him smile.

"Darla," he said, his face growing earnest again, "I am not sure about this."

"This?" She asked.

"Us." He said. "If there is such a thing. I ... I have feelings for you, Darla, but I am not sure they are right."

"Why? Because I am a ..."

"It's not because of that, I assure you." Giles interrupted her. "A year ago the thought of feeling for a Vampire would have repulsed me, but all that has changed. How could it not, seeing Buffy and Angel together? It's just ... Darla, I know that you are over four centuries old, but you are still a young woman and will always be one. I, on the other hand, am an old man and will just go on getting older. I don't think ..."

Darla laughed, which made Giles look up with an air of indignation.

"Sorry," Darla sputtered, "but you're just too funny, Rupert. Do you honestly think that I care about your age? After four centuries I'm long past judging a man by his appearance. And even if I weren't, you still are one of the most handsome men around, Rupert."

"Darla, I ..." He began, but this time she interrupted him.

"Shut up when your elders are talking!" She told him. "Rupert, I wouldn't have allowed things to go this far if I didn't want it, you understand? Now the only thing you need to figure out is whether you want it, too."

With that she rose from the couch in a graceful movement.

"Once you do, I'll be upstairs." She told him with a smirk and left the library.

Giles pondered that for about a minute, thinking about age, experience, morals, doing the right thing, and the wonderful way Darla's hair had gleamed in the light of the fire.

"No fool like an old fool!" He muttered, rising from the couch to follow her upstairs.

#

"We will make it, I think." Buffy said, still looking out across the lights of LA.

Angel hugged her closer.

"I believe that."

#

Beneath a landscape fused into glass by nuclear fire there was a book. Buried beneath a million tons of molten rock it waited. The heat of a thousand suns had not touched it, for it was far beyond destruction by any earthly means.

The Necronomicon Nocturnum didn't care about its present circumstances. Sooner or later someone would find it again, someone always did. Maybe someone worthy, someone who would unleash its power upon the world once more.

Beneath a landscape fused into glass the Necronomicon rested and waited. It had all the time in the world.

THE END

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