Dark Angels, a buffy x-overs fanfic

Title: Dark Angels

Rating: PG13

Spoilers: Spoilers through the fifth season of Buffy and first season of Dark Angel.

Feedback: Is appreciated. No flames, please, but I like constructive criticism.

January, 2020, Seattle

The young, dark-haired girl walked quickly through the streets, trying to huddle deeper into her jacket. Her eyes jumped nervously from left to right, trying to keep an eye on everyone while shivers racked her thin body.

Noticing a man eyeing the legs left bare by her short skirt, she picked up her speed, praying that he wouldn't try anything.

She was scared and alone. Her boyfriend, who decided he preferred men after all, had kicked her out of their apartment earlier that day. She had been living with him for over a year, and had quit her job at his urging. The only thing she had now were the clothes on her back, which were inadequate for the cold, and the bruises he had left her with, a macabre parting gift.

She turned a corner, leaving the main street behind. The alley was dark and deserted, but she didn't hesitate to use it. With all the hover cameras around, the streets of Seattle were safe, right?

Head down, she rushed towards the end of the alley, and relative safety. She never noticed the tall, broad-shouldered man step into her path.

"Hey!" he yelled when she bumped into him. "Watch where you're goin'!"

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered as she stared fearfully up into his blue eyes. "I di-didn't mean t-too."

His expression softened once he got a good look at her face. "Ah… Don' worry 'bout it. You OK? You look scared."

"I-I'm fine." she muttered as she tried to step around him.

Instead, a particularly harsh muscle spasm shook her. Her ribs protested the further abuse, still not recovered from being kicked by the ex-boyfriend. She fell to her knees, gasping for air, which only made her chest ache more.

"No, you're not. Here," he said, helping her up. "Your comin' wit' me t' my apartment. You'll be safe there."

He smiled kindly at her, making her relax a fraction. "Name's James. You?"

"Teri."

"Well, Teri, don' you worry none. I'll take good care of you."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

James escorted Teri into his apartment. It was little, much smaller than her old place, and dingier, too. Teri unconsciously wrinkled her nose, at the slight smell that permeated it. It reminded her of old bacon grease, the kind her mother used to save in the refrigerator.

"Take off your coat. You'll be more comfor'ble."

Teri complied, revealing a small tank top under her coat. The tank top itself revealed a multitude of bruises, starting at her neck and travelling down below her waist.

James sucked in his breath at the site of her. "Damn," he whispered.

Teri looked away, embarrassed by the bruises and what the said about her life. "They don't hurt. H-honestly."

James shook himself out of a trance before speaking again. "How 'bout some tea? I'm sure it'll make you feel a lot better."

"Sure," Teri shrugged.

As James busied himself in the tiny kitchen, Teri explored the apartment. It was sparsely furnished, containing only a loveseat and a mattress. The walls were covered with framed pictures, an extravagance compared to the rest.

She looked closer and saw that all of the pictures were of women. They were of all ages and ethnic backgrounds. She saw young blondes next to old Chinese women.

"Who're they?" she asked as James handed her a cup of tea.

"Women I've helped. Women much like yourself, runnin' from somethin' or other."

She smiled as she took a sip of the drink. The warmth soothed her.

"Where are they now?"

"Oh, here an' there. They all went on to somethin' better."

Teri smiled, taking another sip of tea. "So, you make a habit of rescuing damsels?"

He shrugged. "You could say that. I jus' do what I have t' do."

James returned to the kitchen to get his own teacup. When he came back, his guest had sat on the couch.

"This is really good," she said, indicating her half-empty cup. "What's in it?"

"My own specialty," he said, sitting upon the bed.

"Think I could get the recipe?"

"Well, I could give it t' you, but then I'd have t' kill ya." He joked, causing her to laugh.

Teri squirmed for a minute before blushing bright red and asking, "Could I use your bathroom?"

"It's the only door 'sides the one t' the outside." he smiled and pointed it out.

"Thanks," she said, and made a bee-line for it.

James smiled when he noticed that she took her cup of tea with her. He liked it when his guests enjoyed the things he gave them.

When she came out, she sat upon the couch again, teacup cradled in her hands.

"I'm almost out of tea. Do you think I could have some more? I like the way it makes me feel, all warm and fuzzy."

Teri didn't notice the look that flashed through James's eyes before he smiled and replied. "I jus' have t' make more. It'll be a few minutes."

"OK," she sighed as she leaned back against the couch.

Whatever was in the tea was having a soothing effect on her, making her relax more and more. By the time James came back with another cup, she was almost asleep.

James looked at her for a few minutes and smiled. If Teri could have seen his face, she would not have been so relaxed. His smile was like a crocodile's: malicious.

"Teri?' he called. His smile grew wider when she didn't answer. She was firmly in Morphius's grasp, peacefully asleep and unaware.

He reached under the bed and pulled out a camera and an intricate black box. He snapped off a whole roll of pictures without waking his sleeping guest.

James opened the carved box with reverence, revealing an equally intricate knife. He let the light play on the blade for a moment before turning his attention back to Teri.

He pressed the tip of the blade against her skin, reveling in the feel of flesh bending to the will of steel. Only bending, not parting. There was plenty of time for blood later, after he had his pleasure.

His grin was almost a snarl as he deftly cut her tank top from her body. He sucked in a hissing breath as he cursed the amateur who bruised her otherwise perfect skin.

Teri's black bra made a beautiful contrast to her warm, honeyed skin. It highlighted the dark bruises that marred her ribs. Her nipples peaked from the sudden influx of cold air, straining against the black silk.

James smiled in appreciation. Despite the fault of bruising her, her ex had taken care of her well. He reached for her skirt with the knife, intent on finding out if her underwear matched her bra.

"James?" Teri mumbled. "Wha' are ya doin'?"

He looked up to find her eyes open and glazed. His smile managed to turn even more malicious. He enjoyed his diversion more when his guests were awake but helpless.

"Shhh. It's alrigh'." He said as flicked off the top button of her skirt. "This won' hurt a bit."

He turned his attention back to her skirt, only to be interrupted by her voice calling his name again.

He looked up at her, annoyed at being distracted.

"You're right," she said, her voice suddenly clear. "This won't hurt me at all."

She slammed a fist into his nose, smiling when a fountain of blood suddenly erupted from it.

"You see," she continued, striking his breastbone, "This doesn't hurt. Well, not me, at least." She doubled him over with a knee to his stomach. "Unfortunately, it's going to hurt you a lot."

Taking advantage of his stooped position, she raised her knee up once again, forcing his head down at the same time. She gave a satisfied grin when she heard his nose break.

James fell to the floor once she released him. Teri shook her head and sighed.

"James," she said, crouching beside him. "I'm disappointed. You'd think that someone who enjoys inflicting so much pain would handle receiving it better."

She stood back up and sighed. "As big of a scumbag as you are, I just have to confess – you're not worth my time."

She turned towards the door, not noticing that he struggled to his feet and rushed at her.

As he was about to tackle her, she turned around and met him head on. With a grim smile, she shoved his head down, using his own motion against him, and forced his head between her knees. As he kept coming, unable to stop, she grabbed him by the belt and lifted him up slightly, causing his body to roll while his head remained trapped by her legs. His neck snapped instantly, and he fell to the floor, dead.

Max Guevara cast one last distasteful glance at the body and looked at the pictures once again. There were more than thirty photographs, five of which featured women who had turned up dead in the past year. She had no idea when or if the others' bodies would ever appear, but she knew instinctively that they were dead.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Women in Seattle can breathe a little easier tonight. James Burton, a sadistic murderer of at least five women, no longer walks this plane of existence. May you rot in Hell, James. This has been an Eyes Only broadcast."

Logan Cale hit a key on one of his many keyboards, ending his pirated transmission, before maneuvering his wheelchair around.

Max stood leaning against the doorframe, watching him with her cat-like eyes.

"You know," she said. "You really need to send me after richer guys. Burton had nothing to fence."

"Scum knows no wealth restrictions, Max. Besides, why do you need money?"

Max stared at him for a moment before answering. "Drug habits are expensive. Or haven't you heard?"

Logan sighed and wheeled towards the door. Max moved at the last minute, letting him pass without a word.

"I told you I'd get the triptophan for you. No strings."

"No thanks," she said, curtly, following him. "It's bad enough that you have me righting wrongs to get information on the others. I'm not getting any more indebted to you."

Logan stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a pot out of one of the lower cabinets. "You know that you don't have to work for me. I think you do it because you want to. Hand me the spaghetti out of that cabinet."

"Don't I get a please?" Max gibed.

"You're getting dinner." He said as Max handed him the noodles. "You know, since I seem to be constantly feeding you, you could return the favor once and awhile."

"I can't cook."

Logan stopped what he was doing and stared at her. "You must be joking," he said. "You can jump out of buildings and beat up retired linebackers and you can't cook?"

"I just never thought it was that important." She shrugged.

"Well, now you're going to learn. Put a handful of the noodles into the pot, and fill it with water."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The man stalked the streets of Seattle, radiating danger. He didn't look at any of the people who scurried out of his path. He paid no attention to the hover-drones that floated above the crowds, keeping an eye on the citizenry. Instead, he searched with a different sense, one not defined in mortals.

His short hair was dyed to a black so pure that light seemed to shrink from it. His nails, conversely, were painted virgin white. At one point, the two colors had been switched, but the man, always one to try new things, had decided a change was in order.

His extra sense gave a tingle, and he pulled up short. For the first time, he looked at his surroundings, searching with his eyes what his other senses told him was there.

He let out a sigh of frustration when he saw the dark-haired man. But, he started towards him, albeit reluctantly.

"What the bloody Hell are we doing here, anyway?" he practically snarled at his companion.

"Looking for her," the dark-haired man said.

The first man sighed, the unneeded breath filling his wiry chest before deflating it. He knew what the answer would be. It had been the same every time he had asked. Still, he got a perverse pleasure out of asking it.

"Why didn't you kill her when you had the chance?" he asked, as he had hundreds, perhaps thousands, of times over the years. The answer was the same as it had always been.

"You know why." The more muscled man stated.

"Yeah, I know."

He looked around the small clearing that surrounded them. If people avoided him when he was alone, they did so doubly when they were together.

"Are you sure she's in Seattle?" he asked, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes. Seattle became one of the hubs of humanity after the pulse. You know that as well as I. What better place for her to be."

The first man sighed once again.

"You better stop doing that," his companion warned him. "You're starting to sound 'all soul having.'" He mocked the other's accent when he said this.

"Ponce," Spike snarled at his sire.

Angel smiled, not in the least disturbed by his childe's curse.

"Why am I here again?" Spike asked rhetorically. "Oh, yeah. Because I'm a bloody idiot!"

Angel suppressed a laugh. "Because she asked you to." He reminded his companion.

Spike muttered under his breath, cursing his sire and the female who was at the root of all of his problems -- a woman who had been dead for twenty years.

"Alright," he groused. "Let's keep looking. We still have several hours until dawn."

He walked off without waiting for the other vampire's agreement.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

'Bloody Hell!' Spike, once known as William the Bloody, thought as he maneuvered through stalls at a street market. 'All of this because I'm love's bitch. Why didn't I learn my lesson with Dru?'

Dru had been his black goddess, his princess. At least, until their sire, Angel, had lost his soul. Then, she was 'Daddy's.' Even after Angel left them again, she never returned to Spike.

Distraught, he had returned to the one place he cursed beyond all others: Sunnydale, the bane of his existence.

If he was honest with himself, Sunnydale wasn't actually the problem. It was over a Hellmouth, which made it a great demonic vacation spot. The problem with the burg was the fact that the slayer lived there.

The slayer was the one girl in the whole world who could fight vampires. At least, that was what she was supposed to do. She was destined to give up her life, to be taken from her parents at a young age, to train for her role in the big picture. Then, she would die and another would be called.

Once in awhile, a girl would slip through the cracks of the system. But it was rare. The esteemed Watchers Counsel was fanatic about keeping the girls under its thumb. The idea of a rogue slayer was abhorrent to them.

But, as always happens, someone messed up somewhere. A girl slipped through the cracks in a big way. She didn't begin her training until she was fifteen, when she was called. She refused to give up her life, her friends.

Buffy Summers was the Watchers' worst nightmare. She didn't listen to her Watcher. She had friends. Even worse, her friends, several of which were demons, knew about her destiny and helped her fight the evils that travailed the darkness.

Spike sighed once again as he remembered the petite firebrand. She had been unconventional. So unconventional that she fell in love with her worst enemy, the vampire Angel. She used magick and tricks to win her fights. She quit the Counsel, refusing to work for a group of people who would let her love die. But, perhaps most extraordinary of all, she had died and had been revived, causing the world to be blessed, or cursed, depending on your point of view, with two slayers

She had died at the ripe old age of twenty-eight. It was an unheard of age for a slayer to die. Most died before they even turned eighteen. The oldest before Buffy had been twenty-five.

She had done everything wrong. Spike, who had killed two slayers before she was ever born, knew this for a fact. And because of it, she was a legend among demons.

She had died fighting the good fight. Saving the world once again from a demon Hell-bent on destroying it.

It had all started so innocently. There wasn't even a prophecy involved, just a couple of demons, Toxvas, who were performing a ceremony. They just didn't know that it was to open every Hellmouth wide open, or that there was a similar group of Toxvas at every site. The Counsel didn't deign to tell her because she didn't work for them.

Yet, despite that, she had saved the world. Most of it, at least. The Toxvas' spell had a trigger that was pulled when it was interrupted. A trigger not even the Counsel knew about. It had created an electromagnetic pulse that ended the reign of America as a superpower.

If you listened to the officials, what happened was that this or that country detonated an atom bomb over the US. It wiped out everything East of the Rocky Mountains. America became chaotic without the computers that controlled everything.

Within the first year, over a million people died just from lost records. Seniors who never received their Social Security checks died of starvation. Patients were given the wrong drugs. The list ran on and on.

Spike had been in New York State at the time, along with Buffy and her friends. They were trying to stop the Toxvas that were stationed at that Hellmouth, since they didn't have time to get back to Sunnydale. They had been on vacation, of all things, when they found out what was happening.

They had rushed to the nearest Hellmouth, intent on stopping the ritual. He remembered Willow, the redheaded witch's shock at the sight of the Toxva demons. They looked like small children, nothing that could cause so much harm.

They packed quite a punch, though. Spike had ended up walking with crutches for a month afterwards, even with his vampiric healing powers. Others had not been so lucky.

Anya, the girl who had once been a vengeance demon, died first. She was thrown a hundred feet to a jagged cave wall.

Harash, a powerful warlock, was the next to go. He was the one who actually broke up the spell, sending the US into chaos.

When Harash killed the leader of the Toxvas, the spell released, incomplete but still terrible. Instead of a magickal pulse that would open every gate to Hell, it manifested itself as an electro-magnetic pulse.

The pulse wiped out everything electronic, including the small chip embedded in Spike's own brain. It was that chip that had brought him to the slayer's side in the first place.

At the time, he didn't realize that the chip had been destroyed. He was too worried about Buffy, the slayer he had secretly loved for nine years. The slayer that had belonged to his sire. The slayer who was badly wounded in the fight against the Toxvas.

They rushed her to the closest hospital, yet they were not too worried. She had survived worse injuries. But this time was different. This time, none of the needed equipment worked because of the damnable pulse.

They sat in the room with her, agonizing with her as she slowly died from injuries that modern medicine was supposed to be able to fix. Spike, furious with fate, had lashed out at the young intern attending the slayer, never even realizing that doing so caused no pain.

She asked each of her friends a favor. Willow was asked never to give up her innate innocence. Xander was instructed to right past wrongs. She asked Giles, her Watcher, to take care of her mother. She also revealed, for the first time, the secret that surrounded her little sister. She asked all of her friends to protect Dawn, with their own lives if necessary.

Of Spike, she asked the one thing that was hardest for him to do, with or without chip. She asked him to help his sire, her true love. He could do nothing but agree. His own love for her and his love for his sire meant that he could do nothing else.

Spike was brought out of his mental wanderings by the sounds of a fight. His preternatural senses told him that at least one vampire was in the direction of the noises, so he hurried off in that direction.

He found the action in a deserted alley. Five vampires surrounded a petite girl, taking a shot at her every now and again. Despite this, the girl stood proud, blocking punches and kicks as much as she could.

He reached into his pocket, retrieving a stake when the girl leapt into action. She moved so fast that he could barely follow her. The vampires were outmatched in this one girl.

Spike watched in awe as she broke one demon's neck and forced another's nose into its brain. He could only watch as she crushed yet another's sternum with an audible crack and tore another's diaphragm.

She faced off with the last and largest one, ignoring the others that she thought were either dead or close to. That's when Spike realized that for all of her speed, agility, and strength, the girl didn't know what she was up against. Yes, she had hurt the vampires, but they wouldn't stay down long.

The standing vampire took a swipe at her, which she easily blocked. With a negligent little bounce, she jumped over his head and landed behind him, kicking him in the back of the knees at the same time. While the demon tried to regain its balance, she delivered a blow to the neck strong enough to fracture it.

She looked satisfied as the last demon slumped down. Spike continued to look on, curious as to what would happen once she realized that the first one she took out was now rising to its feet, unsteady but intent on its target.

It didn't take her long to notice the vampire. Spike could here her mutter an expletive under her breath. With a smirk, he decided that it was time he stepped in to help.

"They're vampires, Luv," he called to her as he tossed her the stake. "Unless you can rip its head off, shove that into its heart."

She deftly caught the piece of wood and followed through with his advice. She didn't even blink as the creature in front of her crumbled into dust.

Spike took out another stake and set to work dispatching the rest of the fang gang. It only took a minute or two, but when he looked back at where the girl had been, she was gone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Spike entered the room he was sharing with Angel in a run-down, supposedly empty, building. They paid a cop a little bit every week to forget that he saw them, just like the rest of the residents on the floor.

He groaned once he saw that his sire had once again gotten back before he had and had taken over the bed, which meant that he was forced to sleep on the couch. Sometimes he didn't know what was worse, having to share the tiny apartment with his sire or having Angel know why he was helping him. The former was pure torture for its own reasons while the later made him want to murder Xander for letting it slip.

Angel was asleep, but that didn't matter to Spike. A swift kick to the butt was enough to ensure that the elder vampire was awake and alert in no time at all.

Angel leapt to his feet and growled at his childe, demon visage in place.

"Damnit, Spike!" he snarled.

The younger vampire blessed his sire with an innocent smile before speaking.

"You know where the slayers are?"

Angel nodded but remained silent.

Spike raised an eyebrow, grinding out, "And where would that be, Poof?"

"Sarah's in New York. The Counsel's girl is in London. Why?"

"Are you sure? Could one of them have just died?"

Angel sighed. "No, Willow would beep me if something happened to Sarah."

"What about the Counsel's chit?"

"We have a tentative truce with the Counsel, you know that. If their slayer died, they'd tell us. The pulse proved to them that they have to use all the resources available, even the ones that they don't agree with."

Spike knew that Angel was right. After the pulse, the Watchers' Counsel had made drastic changes. They began incorporating the elements they had previously ignored. Namely, they began to acknowledge the usefulness of good demons and magick.

The Counsel was now a very different beast than the one that existed ten years ago. The head of the Counsel was even an empathic demon.

"Why?"

The lean demon looked back to his sire and shrugged. "I found a girl fighting vampires. She was too old to be newly called, but I wanted to double check."

"A girl?" Angel questioned. "Any girl can fight vampires, you know that as well as I. The only difference is that slayers are born to do it."

"She was different," Spike told him. "She was strong, fast. Like a slayer."

Angel plopped down on the couch and stared at his childe. "You aren't suggesting that there's a third slayer, are you?"

"No, I don't think so. She didn't know what they were. She fought them like they were human."

"How many did she go up against?"

"Five."

Angel sat up, shocked by the revelation. "She beat five vamps?" At the younger's nod of agreement, he once again stood up and started pacing. After a minute, he turned to the phone.

"I'm calling Willow. She may have an explanation."

A half hour later, they were still in the dark. Willow, the Watcher to the slayer named Sarah, had been as befuddled as they were.

They decided that there was nothing that they could do about the mysterious girl then. The sun was up, trapping them in their run-down building.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Max strolled into Logan's penthouse apartment, unconcerned by the muscular guard stationed inside the doorway.

"Hey!" he said when he saw her. "What are you doin' here?"

Max just looked at the guard, silent.

"You're not allowed up here, Girly. Get out."

"You must be new," she said, her voice mild. "He's expecting me." She started to proceed down the hall, but he stopped her with a beefy hand on her arm.

"I said you aren't allowed up here."

Max looked from his hand to his face and smiled a sexy smile. She delicately laid her own hand upon his, her smile growing at his interested look.

The next thing the guard knew, he was on his knees. His thumb was trapped in the girl's hand, where she was applying only a small amount of pressure. To him, it was excruciating.

Logan chose that moment to wheel past the doorway and stopped at the sight that greeted him. The guard was looking up at the petite girl, tears of pain in his eyes.

"Max, how many times have I asked you not to hurt my guards?"

She looked coyly at her friend. "He needed to learn some manners," she quipped.

Once she released the guard's thumb, Logan addressed the shamed man. "This is Max. As you can tell, she doesn't like to be detained. I would suggest that you never do so again."

The guard whimpered and nodded, causing Logan to smile. He turned around before the poor man could see it, hoping to spare him some embarrassment.

"So, Max, what do I owe this pleasure?"

Max followed him down the hallway to his computer room.

"Vampires."

Logan spun around with a mockingly shocked look on his face. "Com'on, Max. Don't tell me you believe the rumors of vampires roaming the streets?"

The genetically enhanced girl shrugged. "Nah. If I believe bunk like that, next thing you know I'll think the government used to try to make a perfect soldier."

"Point taken," Logan sighed. "OK, let me see what I can find."

Max nodded and left once again, smiling at the way the guard backed away from her.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Max pushed open the door to her apartment to find Kendra surrounded by her Japanese language students. They were dutifully repeating the words their teacher was reciting, working on pronunciation and meaning.

Kendra noticed her and smiled. "Max, do me a huge favor and go down to where the new guys are staying. They haven't come by to give me this week's money yet."

Max nodded and once again left the apartment.

While walking to the far apartment, she thought about her meeting with Logan earlier. He was a nice guy. So nice that he was going to get himself killed doing his crusader schtick. He had already ended up in a wheelchair because he got too involved. Luckily for him, the doctors said that with patience and work he'd regain the use of his legs.

She tried not to think about why that made her so happy. Logan was just a friend, a business partner.

'Yeah, right,' her inner voice told her. 'That's why you went to him when you were having the seizures. You let yourself be vulnerable around him, something that you don't do even with your best friends. You can tell yourself that he's not important to you all you want. But you know the truth.'

She had slowly come to trust Logan. She didn't really even know why. Maybe it was his eyes. They were so innocent and wise at the same time, their blueness piercing her heart faster than a bullet.

She sighed as she stopped outside the door of the apartment. They'd had a lot of problems finding someone desperate enough to live in the little rat-hole apartment. It had no windows, making it seem claustrophobic to most people. The two men who had just moved in thought it was perfect, though. They claimed that they worked at night and that having windows just made it harder to sleep.

That was their story, at least. Max thought it had more to do with the idea of two men living in one apartment. Even in the backwardness of modern America, homosexuality was frowned on by a lot of people. A lack of windows meant that no one could look in on them when they did their thing.

She shook herself out of her thoughts and knocked on the gentlemen's door.

After several minutes a rumpled man opened the door and glared at her for a minute. Then, suddenly his eyes cleared and he smiled.

"Well, Hell," he said with a British accent. "What do we have here but our mystery girl? Hey, Angel, get your arse outta bed." The last was yelled over his shoulder at the sleeping figure on the bed.

He stepped back and gestured for her to enter. Max did so confidently, knowing that two men could not stop her from leaving if she wanted to.

The figure on the bed hadn't moved, so the first man kicked him on the butt to wake him up.

"Damnit, Spike! That's twice in a few hours!" he yelled as he leapt to his feet.

The called Spike smirked. "Angel, you nancy boy, the girl I was telling you about is here." He pointed to Max.

Angel looked at her with blurry eyes. H grunted out a hello and wandered into the kitchen, presumably to make coffee.

"By the by, I'm Spike. The ponce in there is Angel. And you are?"

"Here for your portion of the take money. Unless you want all of us kicked out into the street?"

"Of course," he said as he reached for a long coat thrown over the back of the couch. Max noticed that the couch had a pillow and blankets on it, signifying that either they weren't gay or that they'd had a fight. She hoped it was the former; Angel would come in handy the next time she couldn't control her hormones.

Spike noticed the direction of her thoughts, and of her eyes and tisked. "Trust me, Luv, you don't even want to go there. Angel's a ponce, yes, but he's much worse when he's happy. You'd regret it in no time." He grinned at her sour look. "Me, on the other hand, I'm always pleasant."

"How much is our share?" He pulled out a large wad of bills. When she named a figure, he pulled off the top bill and handed it to her. "That should more than cover it."

Angel returned from the kitchen, a cup of coffee clutched in his hand. His hair was standing on end, and there were pillow creases on his cheek.

"I'm Angel," he said, holding his hand out.

"Max," she returned.

Angel sat down after moving Spike's blankets aside and took a long sip of coffee. He didn't seem to mind the heat that caused the liquid to steam.

"Now why didn't I rate your name?" Spike asked with a fate pout.

Max ignored the question and asked, "How do you know about vampires?"

The men exchanged a glance before Angel spoke. "We've known about vamps and other demons for years. How did you manage to fend off five of them?"

She shrugged. "Luck."

"I don't think so," Spike contradicted. "Even a slayer would have a hard time with five to one odds. You treated them like they were an annoyance."

"Slayer?"

"'One girl in all the world,' yada yada yada."

Angel glared at his childe. "Slayers are born to hunt vampires. They have inhuman speed, strength, and agility. They know instinctively what vampires are and how to kill them."

"So, you think I'm a slayer?" she asked after letting the information settle in her mind.

"No," Angel said.

"You didn't know how to kill the buggers," Spike explained, earning yet another annoyed look from his companion.

"You're something else. Maybe a half-demon." Angel continued.

"Nice," she quipped.

"So, what are you?"

Max looked at them for a long moment, trying to decide if she could trust him. Taking a chance, she shrugged. "A chimera."

Angel looked at her for a long moment. "A mythical beast made out of different animals. The head of a lion, the body of a goat, a tail that's a snake."

"In a nutshell."

"How?" Spike questioned.

Max shrugged. "Government."

Spike reached a hand up and rubbed a spot on the back of his head. "The Initiative," he ground out.

"I figured they'd give up on human experiments after the debacle in Sunnydale." Angel murmured.

"No, not the Initiative, whoever they are. I was created as something called Project Manticore. I was engineered from birth."

Angel leaned back on the couch and rubbed his eyes. "Of course. The Initiative only experimented with adult humans and demons. That's why they failed. To create the true perfect soldier, they'd have to start at conception."

Max nodded.

Spike groaned. "So, you're a human-demon hybrid of sorts?"

"No. They mixed my DNA with a cat's. The others were mixed with different things: dog, bear, snake, even deer."

"Others?" Angel questioned.

"Of course," Spike supplied. "They had to make more than one perfect soldier. What'd they do, make one of each combination?"

"Two," Max corrected. "A male and a female. If we were successful, more would be made."

"You were prototypes," Angel guessed. At Max's nod, he continued. "I'm assuming that they didn't just let you go?"

"We were imperfect. Several of us would have seizures. The ones that did were exterminated. A few months before the pulse, twelve of us escaped."

"Do you know where the rest of them are," Spike asked, curious.

"We got separated before we ever crossed the fence. Luckily, the Pulse wiped out most of the records on us, so most of the government never knew we existed. We disappeared."

"Lucky you," Spike quipped.

Max was about to shoot back a smart-ass reply when her beeper went off. She took a quick look at the number the tiny machine displayed before speaking.

"I have to jet," she announced. "I'll talk to you later about vampires."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"You rang," Max joked as she entered Logan's computer room.

"I found something on your vampires."

"What?" she asked, coming to sit beside him.

"Not much." He punched up a web address on the computer. "I found a very interesting web page that my sources tell me is where to go for this kind of thing. The fact that they know this scares me."

The page finished loading, revealing a line drawing of an angel. There was a discrete code box at the bottom of the page.

"Here's the problem," Logan said. "I've tried every program I know of to get me past the front page. None of them have worked."

Max looked at him, surprise barely showing on her face.

"I know," he supplied. "Whoever created this is a master coder. And, I'd say that they know that someone has been trying to break into the site.

"Fortunately, they'll never find out who it is. I've run the connection through so many dummy sites that it would take them two years to trace it."

He shot a smug look at Max, disappointed when she did not share his enthusiasm.

"Anyway, I did manage to discover a few things. Vampires can be killed three ways: a wooden stake through the heart, decapitation, and sunlight. Holy water, crosses, garlic, and roses hurt them, but don't kill them. And apparently, they have an aversion to crossing running water."

Max nodded. "Good. That information will come in useful if I ever run across any."

Logan looked at her, confused. "You mean you don't think you will find any more."

"I'm not going to go out and looking for these things. They're not my problem. If I get attacked by any, I'll deal with them, but I'm not going to hunt them."

Logan didn't say anything, but his thoughts were loud in the quiet room. Max knew that she wasn't really fooling him. He knew that she was bluffing. It gave her a strange sort of thrill that he knew her so well.

She smiled at her friend, willing him to openly contradict her. When he didn't speak, she asked about the possibility of lunch.

"Only if I cook it," he joked.

"It wasn't that bad," she denied.

He turned his wheelchair around and started towards the kitchen. "Max, I know that the ancient Chinese used to use rice to make glue. But we're a civilized society. We can buy glue in a store, we don't have to make our own."

His friend glared at him, causing him to laugh.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Angel dropped the earpiece of the payphone back into its cradle and turned to his childe.

"What does the witch have to say?" Spike asked.

"Someone tried to hack into the Angel Investigations page earlier today. Willow managed to trace the person to a building not far from here."

Spike smiled a demonic smile. "Want to go see what the bloke is up to?"

Angel nodded his consent and the two started walking towards the hacker's homebase.

It took them forty-five minutes to get to the high-rise apartment complex where Willow Osborne claimed the hacker was stationed. According to their friend, he or she was living on the top floor of the building.

They rode up the elevator in silence. The building was ostentatious, so much that the vampires were shocked. People were starving in the streets while others lived in opulence.

The elevator doors opened into a small entryway. Across from the elevator was a set of double doors -- the penthouse.

Angel took the initiative of knocking, producing the immediate response of one of the doors being opened by a burly man.

He stared at the demons silently, waiting for them to speak.

"We're here to see your boss," Angel announced.

The guard nodded and spoke into the small headset that looped around his ear. Hearing a reply, he motioned for them to enter.

"We'll wait here," Angel told him.

The guard raised an eyebrow but made no comment.

After a few minutes, a young man in a wheelchair came into view. Spike winced at the sight of his chair, the contraption bringing up unpleasant memories of when he was confined to one.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" the wheelchair-bound man asked.

"We'd like to talk to you," Angel said.

"About what?"

"About the webpage you tried to hack into this afternoon."

The man raised a blonde eyebrow. "Who says I did?"

"A hacker who's better than you are," Spike gibed.

"My name's Angel O'Connell. It was my site that you tried to hack." The blonde man remained silent. "I assume you do want to know about vampires? Or demons, perhaps."

The man was still expressionless, but he opened the door wider and invited them in.

"My name's Logan Cale," he announced as he escorted them into the living room. The guard followed behind like a well-trained puppy. "It's OK, Sean. I you can go. I'm expecting Max. Try not to get hurt this time."

The guard nodded and silently left the room.

"I'm Spike," Spike named himself.

Logan took the name in stride, not even blinking.

"So, you know about vampires?"

"You could say that," Angel told him with a slight smile. "My companion and I have been fighting vampires since before the pulse."

"You must have been young. In your teens?"

"Something like that," Spike said, matching his sire's smile.

"So, what can you tell me that I can't discover by reading old horror novels?"

"Most of that shit's garbage," Spike announced. "Garlic, roses, running water, none of that works. Silver's for werewolves, not vampires. Some is good: stakes, crosses, holywater."

"Decapitation?"

"Decapitation will kill anything," Angel said.

Logan nodded.

Max chose that moment to make her appearance. "Logan, I see you've met Angel and Spike, the local vampire experts."

"You know each other?" Logan asked, a hint of jealousy showing.

"We've met," Angel supplied.

Max sat on a table as Logan continued. "I'm still not sure that I believe this whole vampire thing. I mean, Max said she came across a few, and I trust her with my life. Still— It's hard to imagine some blood-sucking creature turning into mist and a bat."

"Where'd you get your information, Mate?" Spike laughed. "Been reading Dracula?"

Max stood and walked to where Spike was sitting. "Leave him alone," she said, enunciating each word to make sure that he was perfectly clear as to her meaning.

"Bring it on, Luv," the vampire said, enjoying the possibility of a little violence.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Big bad man getting beat up by little ol' me."

Spike smiled. "Oh, yeah."

"Faith," Angel murmured loud enough for both Spike and Max's enhanced senses to pick up.

"What the bloody Hell does she have to do with anything?"

"Max, do you happen to know who your mother is?"

Max glanced at Logan before replying. "I don't know much about her. All the women that Project Manticore used were young, friendless. Most of them were in it for the money. They were kept on drugs the whole nine months.

"My mother, whoever she was, was different. She wanted to keep me. The doctors had to drug her and induce her labor because she kept trying to escape."

Spike sat down with a plop. "Bloody Hell," he whispered.

"Faith was a friend, a slayer, a girl who can fight vampires," he supplied for Logan's sake. "In 2000, she was taken from prison, where she was serving time for murder. She was returned over a year later with an incredible story.

"She said that she had been taken to a military base, where they impregnated her. There were other girls there -- young, scared, willing to do anything for money. Faith said that they were all given drugs that would make the pregnancy go smoothly.

"Around the eighth month of her pregnancy, she overheard a few of the doctors talking. The drugs were fetal enhancers of some type, she never could find out exactly what they were."

Max and Logan exchanged looks. "So," she said, looking back at Angel. "You think she was part of Manticore?"

"I think she was your mother. See, Faith, once she figured out that something wasn't right, tried to escape—several times. She never succeeded. She told me that they drugged her and took the baby. She never even found out if it was a boy or girl."

Angel looked at Max to find her staring off into space. "Faith," she whispered.

"She was killed a year after the baby was born," he told her, regretting the sadness that stole over her eyes.

"Yeah, OK, so she had a name," Max finally said. "It doesn't change anything."

Logan looked on sadly as she left the apartment.

"Should someone go after her?" Angel asked.

"No, she'll be fine. She'll be back when she wants to talk."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Max showed up three days later, acting as if nothing had happened. Logan took his queue from her and played along.

"Angel and Spike are looking for a vampire named Darla," he told her, filling in the information he had learned. "She's a real doozy, apparently."

"They're vampires," Max announced.

"Yes, I already know that there are vampires." Logan responded, misunderstanding her.

"Angel and Spike are vampires." She corrected.

Logan looked up at her, shock reflected in his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. But, I don't think they'll harm us."

"So, you trust them?"

"Of course not."

Logan smiled and continued to type on his keyboard, looking for a hint of the vampire Darla and Max's siblings.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Angel knocked on Logan's door a few hours later. The guard, a different man than the one who had been there earlier, opened the door and granted him access.

"Angel," Logan greeted his guest. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"We found Darla. Spike's at her lair, keeping an eye on her. I was wondering if you knew where Max was. Darla's gathered quite a few minions and we need her help."

Logan nodded and went to the phone. After dialing a series of numbers, he hung up and turned back to his guest.

"I beeped her. She'll either call or be here soon. Sit down."

After Angel had made himself comfortable, Logan broached the subject that had been preying on his mind all day.

"So, you're a vampire—what's it like?"

Angel looked at his host in shock. "How—"

"Max. She knew, somehow."

The vampire watched him for a moment. "You're not afraid of me?"

Logan shrugged nonchalantly. "You have free access to my home, you could easily take out the guard and kill me. If you wanted to hurt me, you would have done it by now. I want to know what it's like."

"First you must know that vampires have no souls. They are pure evil. They have the memories and thoughts of the humans they used to be, but not the morality."

"What about you and Spike?"

"I was one of the worst vampires ever created. My first act after I died was to kill my whole family. I was called the Scourge of Europe. Then, I fed off a gypsy princess. Her tribe cursed me with a soul as retribution.

"I spent the next hundred years living, of sorts, from moment to moment. I avoided humans for the most part. I never let myself become involved.

"One year, it all changed. I was living on the streets when a demon directed me to the slayer that was about to be called. I fell in love with her instantly."

"Rather star-crossed, wouldn't you say?"

Angel nodded in agreement before continuing. "Buffy, the slayer, found out what I was while I was helping her. Yet, she still trusted me; still loved me. She forced her friends to do the same.

"Then, the unthinkable happened—I lost my soul. I terrorized Buffy and her friends. I rejoined my progeny, Spike and Drusilla, and became intent on destroying the world. I almost succeeded, too.

"Willow, the woman who traced your hack, managed to restore my soul, but not before I opened a portal to Hell. Buffy had to send me into it to close it. It almost destroyed her.

"I returned, somehow, and helped Buffy fight vampires again, but it was never the same. So, I left, moved to LA.
"In LA, a lawfirm raised my sire from the dead. Made her human. The same sire I had killed to save Buffy. Darla."

"The same Darla?"

"Yes."

They sat in silence for a while until Logan had processed it all. "And Spike?" he finally asked.

"Spike," Angel sighed. "He's soulless, just like every other vampire."

"So, why—"

"Does he help?" Angel finished for him. He gave a wry smile. "I wasn't the only vampire who fell in love with a slayer. Spike loved Buffy as well. Her dying request of him was that he look after me. He can do nothing but obey that command."

"Interesting story," Max said, interrupting them. "If you like fairy tales, at least."

Logan, used to his friend's habit of sneaking up on people, simply smiled at her. Angel, on the other hand, looked chagrinned at being caught unawares.

"What do you need?" she asked.

"Your help," the vampire supplied. "We found Darla, we need you to help defeat her."

Max nodded and began leaving once again. "You comin'?" she called over her shoulder.

"I'm coming too," Logan said, following the two towards the door.

Max whirled around and glared at her friend. "No, you're not. It's too dangerous."

He glared at the enhanced female and contradicted her. "I'm going."

Max looked at Angel to see if he had anything to say. The vampire winked at her and turned to the hacker.

"Logan," he said. "You understand why you can't go, right?"

Logan continued to look stubborn, causing Angel to grimace.

"All right," Angel sighed before balling up his fist and landing a powerful uppercut to Logan's chin. He immediately slumped in his chair, unconscious.

Max raised an eyebrow at the vampire before pushing Logan's chair into his bedroom. Once there, she gently laid him upon his bed, then looked down on him for a moment.

"I'm not doing this because I like you, you must know that. I just can't have you interfering, you might get hurt."

She took off his glasses in a move that would have been considered tender from anyone else. With a small smile, she left the room, gently closing the door behind her.

She rejoined Angel and they headed out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Angel, Max, and Spike returned to Logan's apartment at midnight, dusty, tired, but relatively unhurt.

Logan met them at the door, fuming at Angel's deception. The three warriors looked at him and tried to appear chagrined, but failed miserably.

"That was a cheap trick," he practically growled at the elder vampire.

"I'm sorry, Logan, but we couldn't risk you being there. If Darla or one of her henchmen happened to capture you… We had to insure that there were no distractions. For your own safety as well as ours."

Logan didn't look convinced. He silently wheeled around and went into the kitchen. The others followed.

Once there, Max plopped a large bag on the counter. She then proceeded to dump the contents of another heavy bag on the kitchen table. Masses of antiques tumbled out, littering the table.

Logan raised an eyebrow at the proof of his friend's kleptomania. "Had a good haul, did we?"

"This was all I could carry. I'm going back tomorrow to clean out any vampires stupid enough to go back and to get the rest of it."

Logan took a closer look at the loot. There were several artifacts he recognized as items that had been stolen from a local museum. Others were familiar in other ways. One was even an item that had been missing from his own private collection since before he had met Max.

He picked up the statue of Bast and smiled. "I was wondering where this had gotten off to. Mind if I keep this one, Max?"

She eyed the statue. "Didn't I steal that from you?"

"No," he stated, wheeling to where the statue's double sat. "I gave you its mate, then bought it from the black market again. This one has been missing for almost a year."

"Well, I didn't take it."

"No, my old housekeeper did. She stole several items from me over the years. I usually just bought them back.'

Spike looked confused. "Why didn't you fire the bint?"

"Because she was supporting five children, a deadbeat husband, and a drug addicted sister. All of her paychecks disappeared from her purse within minutes of getting home. We had an unspoken agreement about it."

He placed the statue it its rightful place and turned his attention back to his guests. "So, the night was successful?"

"Very," Angel confirmed. "Darla's dead, hopefully for good this time."

"We also killed about twenty minions," Spike supplied. "Stupid buggers."

Angel smiled in agreement.

"So, what now?" Logan questioned.

"We go back to Sunnydale," Angel said. "The vampire situation here isn't that bad, Max can take care of it easily enough. Sunnydale is a very different story, though."

Logan nodded, understanding their need to protect those that couldn't protect themselves. "Can I use you first? I want to get the word out to the public, warn them about vampires. Even after the two years I've been reporting, they won't believe this without proof."

Spike nodded and volunteered for the job. "Always wanted to be on the tely," he quipped.

He followed the hacker into his computer room and the Eyes Only Network's newest expose was underway.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dawn as about to appear over Seattle, bathing the land in its pink glow. Max had a perfect view from the top of the Space Needle.

She looked out over the city and smiled a small smile. She was changing; she could feel it. A few months ago, she wouldn't have cared if more of the city's population ended up dead or undead. Now, she cared. This was her city, and she was going to do her damnedest to keep it safe.

"Spike," she greeted the vampire who was approaching her from behind.

"How'd you know it was me, Pet?"

"The way you walk. I could feel the vibrations through the metal."

Spike grinned as he crouched beside her.

"Don't you have to get out of the sun?"

"I still have a few minutes. The Needle has sewer access, so does our building. I can get home, safe and sound, without ever touching daylight.

"We're leaving tonight." He was silent for a moment, enjoying her company, before continuing. "You could come with us. You'd be appreciated in Sunnydale, for your strength and for your beauty."

Max looked at him, weighing his words. "I can't. Sunnydale has you and Angel to protect its population. Seattle only has me."

Spike nodded, understanding. "In that case, let me give you some advice: tell him how you feel. In this ever-changing world, you never know when people are going to be taken away from you."

The vampire rose and walked away, leaving Max to her thoughts.

'This has been an interesting week,' she thought to herself. 'I made some new friends, learned a little more about the world.

'My mother was a slayer. She was strong, like me. Maybe that's where I got it from.

'Logan… I realized something startling about him. I love him. Not that I can tell him that. Or that it will make any difference in the greater scheme of things. But, it does, somehow.

'I have connections now. A family. That means that I can't just pack up and leave, not anymore. Life has changed.

'I wonder if it's for the better."