One hundred years ago the world changed.
For generations there had only been one, it took only one spell to change everything. From two, ten emerged. From ten, one hundred. At its peak there were thousands of slayers across the globe. Banding together they had defended the helpless the world over, defeating and destroying all evil. It had been a time of peace, a time when champions could hang up their swords, a time when champions could love.
But peace is never eternal...
She was the last to fall, defiant to the end she had never given up.
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His head was suddenly rocked by mind splitting pain. He saw a dark, abandoned church. Two girls lay spread eagled on the floor, there feet and arms tied to the ground. He heard voices but couldn't make out exactly what they were saying. Then he saw a knife, no he saw multiple knives, then he saw them plunge again and again. As blood flowed freely the voices began to laugh.
Angel sat upright, cupping his head in his hands as the pain subsided. The Hyperion lay in complete darkness, as it had done for more than a decade... He walked slowly to the cupboard on the other side of the room; brushing past a number of metal objects he gripped his hands around the edges of the now familiar weapon. As the red scythe glistened in what little light entered the room he couldn't shake a feeling of guilt. It had been hers, the weapon of the slayer.
Careful not to let his mind wander he quietly set off across the room, leaping over the balcony he fell to the pavement below. As soon as his feet hit the concrete he was already running his black trench coat billowing behind in the wind. Running was a very different experience for a vampire, without breath, without flowing blood. He could run for miles, hell he could run for days and yet, god did he miss the Plymouth...
It wasn't long before he saw the cross looming in the distance. He slowed as he approached the hulking mass of wood, listening intently; he stalked towards its front entrance. There was no scent of blood in the air, they must still be alive. Muffled voices lingered in his ears. Gripping the scythe in his right hand he glanced through a slit in the one of the windows
The inside of the church was lit by rows of candles, forming an inverted pentagram with the two girls at its center. Their faces were covered, flailing helplessly in binding that tied them to the floor. Robed figures stood on the outskirts of the pentagram, emitting a low murmur in unison.
They were making a sacrifice.
Angel glanced around his surroundings, a small alcove sat above the churches doorway. Slinging the scythe into his back holster, Angel leapt up grabbing at the frame of a window as he pulled himself silently onto the alcove. Again and again he jumped and climbed until he sat, perched on the roof of the church. He crept silently towards its center, using the churches painted glass windows to identify the best method of entry. He needed to put himself between the girls and their captures whilst maintaining an elemental of surprise.
Movement under his feet alerted him to the escalating situation in the church, the robed figures had begun removing their hoods. They began removing long curved knives, their ivory handles glistening as they walked towards the girls. Within seconds his eyes confirmed what his nose had told him earlier. Vampires.
The scythe was back in his hands now, its blade eager. As the bones of his brow changed shape and as fangs slowly protruded from his gums all memories of her were forgotten. He leapt downwards.
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The first scream of alarm was cut short by a great arching swipe that decapitated its target. Fang's flared and daggers flashed as the remaining figures pounced on their new prey. Blocking the first's attacks with the blade of the scythe, he quickly tumbled forward under the feet of the encircling vampires. Quick thrust from the stake end of the scythe removed another vamp from the fray. Launching back into his feet he ran towards a wall, knocking another aside with a crushing left handed blow that sent the vamp sprawling across the room. When he reached the wall he climbed sever feet up its side before pouncing off, flying over the heads of the approaching vamps and landing with an ominous thump behind them. A flash of silver and three more vamps added to the already gathering dust lining the church floor.
Two vamps remained. One faced off with Angel, dagger in hand, the other lay across the room, still recovering from Angel's first blow.
"The great Angelus," the vampire whispered, "A sight few live to speak off."
"In the flesh," Angel replied, before suddenly pouncing forward and kicking into the feet of the vamp. The vampire's feet slid out from under him but he reacted quickly, throwing his arms forward and springing himself up and away from Angel. Before he had time to recover the vamp from across the room was at Angel, swinging down with his knife. Forced to defend the blow with his exposed arm the blade quickly drove into flesh, tearing through the jacket of Angel's cloak. With the blade still embedded in his arm Angel brought the scythe around to the legs of the vamp, employing a fast moving uppercut into the vamp's lower body much like the one she had used to defeat Caleb all those years ago. And there she was again, clogging his mind.
His mind suddenly cleared as a wooden stub raced towards his chest. The talking vamp had picked up a pew leg from not far away and was now rushing at Angel. Diving to the floor Angel narrowly missed a forward thrust directed at his chest, his back to the floor he lashed out with the blade of the scythe at the back of the vamp, connecting with tissue he tore a line through the vamps back.
Screaming the vamp leapt away from Angel in full retreat, fleeing towards the churches doorway. Blood splattered over the floor as Angel ripped the knife from the flesh of his arm and threw it boomerang style towards the fleeing vamp. Not the best shot, the knife slide over the top of the vamp embedding itself in the wood above the doorway. Sighing with frustration Angel turned his attention towards the girls tied to the floor. He approached the girl on the right, slowly untying the cloth that covered much of her face. As the face below began to take shape he ripped away the remaining cloth with renewed intensity before freezing up at the sight that lay before his eyes.
"Buffy?"