Disclaimer- Joss Whedon owns all things Buffy.

note- writing this in parallel with My Own Worst enemy which is a precursor for this fic.

Intervention

"How did you think this would end."

Angel struggled in the commando's grasp. Normally a quartet of humans, even mercenaries wouldn't pose much of a problem. His strength however, or at this moment lack of it, presented a problem. The effects of the taser had yet to wear off, and with the other two holding Darla prisoner…..

Drusilla began to glide closer to Darla, excitement in her eyes, only to suddenly fall forward.

"Obviously not like this."

All eyes turned to the door. The figure stood in the doorway, cloaked by the shadows from the dark streets and the evening sky.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Angel tore free of his captors, seeing but a gun placed to Darla's temple by one the two remaining men holding her, stopped in his tracks.

"This matter is not your concern. Leave"

The intruder took a step into the room, his features now visible to the group. The figure was male, standing just over six feet, platinum grey hair falling just shy of his shoulders, his head slightly bowed hiding the rest of his facial features from view.

"You may as well be talking to a mirror." The man's voice was cold, but nonetheless just as threatening as Wolfram and Hart's soldiers.

The men readied themselves in case of attack, but relaxed some when Drusilla, who had risen to her feet, now in full vamp face swept past them. She looked angrily at the one who kicked her. "You'll pay."

It was almost too fast to see, but Angel had caught a glance of the object strapped to the man's wrist. A fire orb hit the female vampire in the chest and vanished just as quickly.

Drusilla's game face suddenly faded, her human visage returning. "Hot."

The commandos, Darla, and even Angel had a look of utter bewilderment. Evident confusion set in on the face of each occupant in the room.

"Hot, hot." Drusilla's cries continued, her nails raking her skin seeking to remove the scorching pain within her undead body. As everyone in the room watched on, a flame burst from within the mad vampire's chest enveloping her as she screamed.

Within seconds Drusilla had vanished along with the blaze. Nothing remained to suggest she ever was there, not even a trace of her ashes.

The intruder took a step further into the room.

"That takes of the main problem." Drawing his hands behind his shoulders, he pulled out a pair of swords."Scum like this"- he paused, flipping them in his arms, reversing the grip, his eyes never falling off the Wolfram and Hart mercenaries, "- I prefer the old-fashioned approach."

Even with his vampire's senses, what happened was too fast for Angel to follow. Like a whirlwind tornado, and in the very image of one, the attacker spun through the motel room. The movements, quick and agile, done with such precision and swiftness, none of the men had a chance to scream as the blows landed, the blades slicing the air and severing flesh; hitting their intended targets. Within seconds it was all over. Blood splattered the walls and carpet; heads, limbs and torsos lay out on the floor. What had been the Wolfram and Harts muscle group, was now a pile of assorted body parts.

The figure sheathed his swords and turned around, raising his bowed head.

Angel, astonished by the brutality displayed here just now, was holding a comatose Darla, having used the opportunity granted by the man's presence to grab Darla out of the clutches of the vile humans who had been about to turn her back into the thing she had now come to hate; a vampire, and, if not for the timely intervention provided, no doubt would have succeed. He knew this person: Kylar.

In their first encounter, just over two years earlier, the man had come off as smug and annoying. Angel had remembered it quite well. He had just returned from hell, spit out from Acathla's dark dimension, where he endured was the harshest of punishments and the most brutal of tortures, only to discover the presence of the intruder when he came to. The aura that vibrated off of him, though initially arrogant and sarcastic, was nothing compared to Angel was sensing now. Brains weren't his only weapon. This man was dangerous. Dangerous so much, Angel wasn't sure if his relief at the situation was rather misplaced.

Hearing movement within the room, Angel tensed up. Both men turned to the attention of the source. Lindsey McDonald, the remaining survivor of Wolfram and Hart's entourage was pressed into a corner, his eyes wide in fear.

"Lindsey McDonald."

The young lawyer looked shocked. He was certain Angel was about to beat him senseless, both for the taser and the plot, not necessarily equally for both and also not necessarily in that order. Yet it had been the other male who had addressed, one Lindsey didn't know and from what he had seen, was equally dangerous. The hard expression that framed that face, completely unreadable; much like a coiled cobra, only reinforced it. He was not looking forward to losing any more body parts.

Kylar stepped forward. His expression changed; his lips forming into a smile, his eyes brightening. "So you believe immortality to be a blessing in disguise." If possible his eyes turned even more friendly, his smile becoming wider, broader. He approached as he spoke, his footsteps bringing to an arm's length of the lawyer, who had by risen to his feet, albeit shakily, and was resting against the one wall in the room that hadn't been marred by blood.

"Forever young, forever young, I want to be forever young."

Angel knew what was coming. He could sense the depths of that facade, from the sweet sounding words, purposely spoken in that false friendly manner, to the fake smile displayed on Kylar's face.

Lindsey did not.

Being privy to such thoughts proved costly, as Kylar's left arm shot out without warning, grabbing the young lawyer by his face. The mask of a civility had fallen, the eyes once again narrowed and darkened, the smile fading away once more into the grim expression. "Do you truly want to live forever?"

Lindsey fear intensified. Briefly he wondered if it were better he had been on the receiving side of Angel's blows than the suffocating grasp of this stranger, though it unlikely the vampire would be any less merciful. He felt himself become weaker, his eyes closing despite his struggles to keep open.

Releasing his hold on the Texan, Kylar stepped away and let Lindsey drop to the ground. He turned towards Angel, who was now supporting a awaken Darla, helping her stay on her feet. "I should charge you for the dry cleaning" he stated in monotone pointing out his own blood-stained itinerary.

"Why did you help us?" Darla asked, finding her voice.

Kylar's expression didn't change. "I came to teach a lesson. Though it seems your lesson's been learned." His voice was emotionless, almost robotic. Sparing one last glance at the two the man headed for the door. He stopped at the mention of his name, turning to look at the one who had spoken.

"Please, help me save her." Angel could feel the desperation in his own words.

Kylar's expression hadn't changed. He looked the other up and down before meeting his eyes. "You ask the impossible. My art is death, not life. Or didn't I demonstrate that for you?" He looked disapprovingly at Angel. "Perhaps another of your company might be better suited for such matters."

"None of my team can perform miracles and you know it." Angel replied angrily at the fighter's retreating back. He clenched his fists in frustration and anger, refusing to accept that all he had been through, the pain he endured to give Darla a second chance was for nothing.

"Are you a dwarf or a giant?"

Angel's despair increased. The reply, from what he thought had been Darla's savior, had been blunt and emotionless, a reminisce of the attitude shown during their first meeting.

Kylar took one final glance at the vampire before continuing. "Look to the past to make sense of the present. All things are made clearer through time."

No my OC didn't pull a pryo on Drusilla, you simply have to find out later what it was