THE FIGHT, THE DRINK, THE GIRL (1.01.01)
The desert is dark. A girl is running down the dunes. She trips on her torn jeans and rolls the rest of the way down. For a few seconds she just lays there, in a heap. She gets up, groaning and brushing off the sand. As she starts to run again she finds herself surrounded by a huge group of people. She looks around at them and laughs when she senses the power of someone, someone familiar.
"You know, ducks, it's not easy to play the game when you're running like a scared little girl behind dear mummy's skirts." she proclaims to the crowd, in a painfully obvious British accent.
A voice shouts out from the din, "I'm not the one who was running"
The girl looks nervously in the direction it came from, "True enough. But at least you've seen my face. I've yet to rest eyes on yours"
"Don't waste you're breath"
"Breath's not all that precious to me, pet. Come now, show yourself like a good little spook."
"Patience, little one"
The girl lights a cigarette, grunting, "Patience was never my forte. Now, I've asked politely. And it's crossed my mind that you shouldn't make me... disagreeable."
"And if I don't?"
"Then you die."
She drops her cigarette and a burst of fire shocks out from it in ripples, only to be immediately extinguished.
She laughs again. The people around her start backing away a little, in fear. They think she was insane.
"Oh, this is really good! Nice one, ducks."
"You won't kill me."
"Fine," she shrugs, "Then I'll have to settle for killing them."
LA, 2004
(Last scene from Angel... then)
All hell breaks loose
Angel runs in and grabs a Ferhl demon by the head, ripping it off in the process. Spike approaches a Chaos demon. He punches it in the face, then dips down swinging at its legs. The demon falls to the ground, stunned. Gunn randomly swings his sword around, hoping to kill something bad. Even in blind panic he still manages to kill dozens of vamps. Illyria simply walks in, taking demons out left and right
They're going through, but they're losing their hold. Angel gets hit in the face, then the stomach. Spike gets smashed into a wall. A werewolf attacks Illyria, she slaps it on the head. An axe is buried in her side. In one smooth motion, she pulls it out and flings it right into the head of the once again charging werewolf.
The girl is standing on the roof of a building, watching the fight. She's wearing a black mini skirt, a black tee-shirt, on top of a long sleeved white tee, with the word 'DOOMSDAY' written across the front, chucks (all-stars) that go all the way up her thighs, and black arm warmers. She wears a ring on every finger and a necklace with a guitar pick on it. Her hair falls down over her face. Heavy mascara and eyeliner along with clear lip-gloss is all the make-up that she wears.
Angel throws a stake at a vamp, it dusts.
The girl's face is covered with her hands. When she brings them back down her eyes glow red. "Discedo nobis (leave us)." she whispers. It's unusual for a witch's eyes to glow anything. They usually get black. But still, her spell works.
The demons stop fighting back. A sliver of light comes through the sky. All of the demons look up at it. Even though our heroes can see their screaming faces, the alley is deafeningly silent. As the light shines on them they're pulled through the tare in reality. The dragon pulled in last, letting out one last majestic roar.
"What the bloody hell...?" Spike mumbled to himself.
The girl smiled at herself and kisses two fingers, saluting them in farewell. Then she whispers, "Till next we meet. Promise it'll be fun." With that she runs off the opposite side of the building.
Angel turns to face his gang, " That was weird, right? I mean, I know this is LA and all, but that was beyond normal weird."
Illyria sniffs the air. As she follows a familiar scent, her eyes lock on the place where the girl had been only moments before. "I wonder why she left."
Spike looks at her, confused, "Who?"
Illyria looks at him, "A friend and an enemy."
Spike looks at Angel for clarity. Usually the Poof knew what Lady Luck was talking about. When his grandsire shrugs at him, Spike sighs. 'Bloody wanker'
"Better turn in then." Gunn says, attempting to stand.
"Where?" was the only thing Spike wants to know.
"Nobody's had a chance to cancel the payments for the hotel yet, right Gunn?" Angel inquires.
"Nope." Gunn wheezes out
Spike snorts, "Always something with you, innit?"
"It's a nice place!" Angel yells defensively.
"Yeah, sure. Of course it is."
They retreat from the alley, all four still very much alive.
The entire group is sitting around the reception area, talking. At least, Gunn is.
"Ok. So, Angel, I was finally able to convince Lorne to come back. With one condition. We have to let him use the first floor ballroom as a nightclub. Not kareoke, though. Looks like he's over that scene. He wants a regular band, and tryouts are in three weeks on Saturday."
Spike raises his hand mockingly before he addresses him, " What do we care?"
Gunn glares at him, "We have to be there to kill em' if they're evil."
"Oh, that."
For the first time in the meeting Angel actually listens, and weights in on, the discussion, "Lorne doesn't like your kind of music, Spike."
"Why not?" Spike shrugs, "It's music innit?"
"Because he's got taste."
"And you're sayin' I don't?"
"Yes!"
"Oh, what... like Barry Manillow?"
Gunn jumps in, "It's the truth of the thing that counts."
Spike throws his hands up in the air, "Bloody hell!! Don't you think for a single bleedin' second that I'm going to listen to some Maddona-lovin'-boyband sing some sodden song about their bloody love lives!!"
Angel grins mischievously, "They'll probably like Cher too."
"Oh! Come off it!"
"Too late, you already volunteered!"
Gunn crosses his arms trying, and failing, to suppress a laugh.
"What?" Angel asked him angrily.
Gunn laughed some more, gasping for air before he answered him, "You volunteered too"
Angel's mouth opened wide in shock, "ME! But I..."
Spike joined Gunn in laughing, "No buts Peaches, looks like we're both bound to it." He opened the fridge and stuck his head in. All the wanker had in his sodden fridge was blood, where was the manly stuff?
"I'm going to get a beer. A body want a bit?" Spike asked the others. Half the time they didn't understand his slang, but Angel usually got the gist of it all. "No, thanks." was his reply. Spike left the room shouting behind him, "Suit yourselves, mates."
With Spike gone Gunn could finally get down to business, " Angel, you know we can't do this without someone to do the research. And with Spike sticking around... I mean he's a good fighter, maybe better then you," Angel shifts uncomfortably, " but with the two of you guys always at odds... Well, you're both as good as MIA. That leaves me n'Illyria to do the fightin' thing."
Angel looks up at him, "I know. Maybe if we built a training room. Build our strength. That should help!"
"For a while, Angel. But what about the research part?"
"Maybe I can help you there." Both the young men looked to see Buffy standing in the doorway.