So, there we were. The final four. Gunn... my 'home boy', my rock, my left hand man for... what, going on four years now? Charles Gunn, badly wounded in several places, moving towards death's door, yet standing up, that Carthaginian axe in his hand, because we needed every pair of arms that we could get.

Spike, the thorn in my side, the bane of my existence... and my unlikely partner in destiny. He was keeping his hands free for now, the way he always liked to do at the beginning of a big fight, but I knew that he had plenty of gear hidden underneath that coat of his... just waiting to see what was the right weapon to grab and the right time to put it to use.

On the other side of me... Illyria. This strange, bizarre ancient demon who had taken over the body of one of my best friends, and who had tried to kill us all at least twice. But she (it?) had proven herself on the team over the past few weeks, and she grieved Wesley's death more keenly than any of us. She wanted to do some violence, and that was a point in her favor right now. We were gonna need some. She wasn't using any weapons at all - she never had, and didn't need any. She had forged Fred Burkle's body into a living arsenal.

And finally myself, of course, Angel. Liam. Whatever the hell you wanna call me. I hefted the broadsword in my right hand, testing its weight. Was I still a champion? I guess I was, that was what this whole thing had been about. Getting back to the good fight. But I didn't feel much like a champion now. Just a very scared vampire with a soul, getting ready to fight against overwhelming odds.

It took only an instant to consider what I knew about those enemies already arrayed against us. Wasn't sure if the dragon had heard what I said about wanting to kill it, but it didn't seem at all inclined to give me a chance just yet. Wyrms of that length are usually pretty intelligent, and it must have been instructed to fly high and wait... wait to run down and catch fugitives from the battle, or until a situation arose that called for decisive air support. For an instant, I was tempted to make a break for it and try to draw the dragon to me, but I resisted the impulse. There were enough other things to worry about for now.

Starting with the battalion of trolls. Gunn had been exaggerating, of course, when he'd talked about 'the thirty thousand on the left.' You simply couldn't fit that many beings of such size into one location... not when your locations are as limited in size as Los Angeles alleyways. As far as I could hear or see, there were about four hundred Tarralon demons on foot within two blocks of here, but I'll just call them trolls because that's easier. Still not a particularly good start, considering that they outnumbered us a hundred to one and each were about as strong as Spike or myself, and right now even Illyria wasn't too far beyond us. Through the crowds of trolls marching towards us from three directions, I could see some sort of shadowy figures astride huge four-legged creatures - couldn't make out if the riders were more trolls or some other kind of enemy, but I guess I'd find out soon enough if I lived that long. There were also scores of Gnastis demons... spider-ey things, about as large as Saint Bernard dogs, frighteningly quick to attack.

And that was about all I could figure out in time before the first wave of trolls was hitting us. "Let's do this!" I slashed out fiercely with my blade and caught one by surprise, right through the neck arteries. But there were literally dozens more right behind him, and no room for strategy... just instinctive, primordial struggle. Spike took out a few with throwing knives, then appeared to reconsider and go back to bare-knuckles, while Illyria began to throw the trolls into each other as if they were bowling balls and pins. I remember elbowing one in the lower chest, then getting my legs swept out from under me and having to spend several long moments fighting off the arachnids...

#

The rider wasn't paying enough attention to me... he was entirely focused on Gunn, who was almost too weak to stand. This particular rider was, indeed, a troll - an officer among them, perhaps, and his steed was a beast that looked like it was a cross between a tiger and a giant snail... I'm not going to explain that one any further because trust me, the more detail I might tell you, the more disgusting it would sound.

My own reserves were starting to feel low at the moment, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Using my vampire strength and agility to the utmost, I leapt at the troll, knocking him clear off of his mount, grabbed the sidearm at his belt - a straight, pointed steel skewer about eleven inches long, and rammed it up his nose into the tiny brain. Before he even stopped convulsing I was back up and lecturing Gunn. "You don't take a breather, the next troll isn't gonna have to lay a hand on you," I growled above the din of the fight. stomp-ed another Gnastis that had gotten bold and too careless. "You'll drop dead all by yourself."

"This is Ragnarok," Gunn protested. "The last battle: there ain't no time outs." But he suffered me to lead him over to a low trash cabinet that ran along the fence, and he sat down on it.

Suddenly, a ringing blow concussed the side of my head. Spiked mace, I thought, and sprung back up to my feet, only to realize that a razor-sharp longsword was cutting into the side of my neck. I focused on the face of the individual holding the sword... not a troll, but a slender, masculine figure who seemed to be cloaked in the deepest darkness. Wound up to take a strong punch at said face, only to realize that it was too late. Two trolls were grabbing my right arm, and gnastis locked onto my lower legs, weighing them down. I grabbed for the skewer with my left hand, but an arrow suddenly pierced it, pinning it to the wall.

This was clearly a co-ordinated attack on me. I glanced around quickly, but no-one was in a position to help out. Gunn was trying to fight off the trolls and arachnids as best he could. Illyria, too, was busy with trolls, nearly a dozen of them, and she seemed to be tiring a little; there was no way she could fight free in time even if she realized what was happening to me. And Spike was battling with two other warriors of the deepest darkness, each of them mounted upon a midnight black horse.

Meanwhile, the blade was starting to slice deeper into my neck, and there was nothing I could do about it. Once it sliced apart the Jevson's conduit, that mystical channel in vampire physiology that connected the brain to the heart, I knew that I would feel no more pain. My body would instantly turn to dust There was no-one else left to rescue me, not Lorne or Connor, who had hopefully gotten back out safely... not Wesley, who was dead, or Lindsay, whose death I had ordered. How many inches were left? Three... two... one...

I felt it happen more than saw it... the pain was so intense that tears were streaming out of my eyes at that point, I have to admit. A rush of heat and wind, a force that brushed the dark swordsman, and his blade, away as casually as if they been autumn leaves. A loud bang. I blinked furiously, trying to regain sight,

Ten feet away from me, bits and pieces of the dark warrior lay scattered about the flaming bodies of at least four troll warriors and two arachnids. In that instant, I suddenly threw the restraining trolls over top of me and flung one of the arachnids away from my leg... and suffered through a siege of dizziness as my head, still almost half severed, wobbled to and fro a bit. I closed my eyes for a moment, which seemed to help.

"What the hell would you do without me?" There was an instant of pain in my left hand as the arrow was pulled from it, and the feel of hands pulling the other gnasti demons away from my legs and feet. I opened my eyes and saw Eve standing there, a small open bottle still carried in the crook of her elbow. It must have been a fireball vial, I realized, and it was the only thing that had saved my life. It... and the mysterious young woman who had loosed it.

"Don't ask me why the hell I did it," she groused, and headed over to help defend Gunn. She had taken the skewer, either from me or from the ground if it had fallen, and was using it with a good deal of chutzpah if no astounding skill. "I'd take better care of that noggin if I were you," she called back to me, stabbing out at a troll who evaded the attack easily.

"Do you have any other little tricks like that fireball up your sleeve, Eve?" I yelled back, picking up a fallen sword and looking for a good target.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Things were getting dire and desperate indeed, I could tell that much at first sight. The enemy were starting to take our measure, to hone attacks to the weak point of each member of my team, and there was still no lack of their numbers. In fact, a few new types of combatant seemed to be showing up, several of them apparently just waiting to make their move. A fifteen foot tall ogre. A small squad of walking skeletons, perhaps nineteen of them. Two creatures with the head, arms, and torso of a humanoid and the body of a fifty-foot-long snake... (now where had I seen something like that before?) An entire cadre of seven blind assassins, each moving with complete and deadly precision.

Gunn really didn't seem to have much fight left in him, and if he didn't get medical help soon, the wounds he'd already suffered would probably kill him. Spike was almost as knocked up as I was... I think one of the shadow warriors had used a mystical atack on him that worked much the same way as gunshots... which couldn't kill him, but he was fighting through system shock and nearly overwhelming pain. Illyria seemed battered and torn around the edges too... her blue armor showing visible cracks and dents in places, and a cut on her face streaming purplish blood. She was also favoring one leg.

I checked to make sure that my neck was starting to seal itself together again, then dived back into the fray once more, dispatching a few careless trolls, and attempting a frontal assault on the blind people, which turned out to be quite a mistake, since they drove me back against the wall, bleeding in a dozen places. I was starting to seriously wonder if they'd just slash my head off or pull out a sharp wooden spear and dispatch me that way when...

All of a sudden, a huge sheet of the fence behind me was torn away, almost casually, and a familiar figure stepped through, A tall, mostly human figure, muscular and handsome... "Groo!" I panted out. "What are you doing here?"

"We have come to help!" Groo replied in that overly earnest, B-movie dialog that I always remembered him using. Suiting action to word, he swung his weapon, a long one-sided blade with a rounded heavy head, and suddenly one of the assasins was missing his weapon, and her arm halfway up to the elbow. That gave the rest of them pause, and while the cadre was focused on the new guy I got a good shot of my own in, opening up a wide gash to a blind man's collarbone.

"We?" I asked, parrying off a furious counterattack, no, make that two counterattacks. A third tagged me, and I winced - Groo helpfully bashed the third attacker on the head with the blunt side of his weapon, creating a satisfying sound if no truly crippling damage. Blade of my sword was a cure for that.

When I got a chance to look back, a few other people were climbing through the makeshift passageway that Groo had opened. "Aaron Seymour, who hears the words of the Powers," Groo mentioned when he wasn't busy hacking and bashing... the assasins had apparently withdrawn to tend to their wounds, but the snake demons, ogres, (when had more than one of them shown up?) and skeletons were eagerly taking their place.

There was a young man, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, obviously freaked out but still proud and determined. He stayed away from the fighting as best he could, though a thick short staff or club of some sort was hanging from his belt, and rushed over to check on Gunn - probably for the best, on both counts. A woman in her later thirties, attractive and self-possessed, with light brown hair, pulled out a plain rapier to guard Groo's flank, and then did a double-take when she realized that a skeleton warrior was stepping up to challenge her. There was obviously no way to hurt the thing by stabbing it or whacking it with the light, edgeless blade.

I tossed the heavy, curved sword I had been using over to the woman, and picked up an abandoned pole arm, the better to fend off orges and snakemen. "And Natasha Devon, watcher's council," Groo continued after pounding three skeletons into splinters.

That got my attention. "New council?"

"Old council, on detached duty for the new," Natasha said, wheezing slightly with the effort of wielding the heavy weapon, but acquitting herself pretty well. "You must leave this place, all of you, or you will perish!"

I had to admit that she had a point, but... "If we run, they'll chase us down - if the legion isn't on the other side of this fence, they're on their way." I grunted myself, trying to thrust the point of this weapon through an ogre's head lance-style, but it just bounced off a thick layer of bone. "Then there's the dragon, and..." Suddenly I started objecting and began to plan. "Huddle up!" I called to the gang, and quickly they gathered round, Spike, Illyria, Groo and I facing outwards to drive off the enemies that tried to interrupt war council.

"Gunn, Eve, you go with Groo and his friends. Get them to safety."

"Our only safe refuge..." Aaron interrupted. "W- we can access it but once. Everyone has to come together, at the same time."

I groaned in frustration. "Okay. Protect them, nearby. Where do we have to be?" Natasha whispered cross-streets. "Spike, Illyria: keep up the fight here. Did you need that little surprise at the fell brethren headquarters?"

Spike realized that I was talking to him and stopped still in surprise. Groo had to block a troll punch from connecting with his head. "Uhh... no, I didn't."

"Good. Set it up here, then. Draw as many of W-R-H's people into the area as you can..." Now when did we start calling WolfRam & Hart that? "...and then both of you splitsky and Spike sets it off. Meet up with Groo and Natasha as soon as you can."

"What about you?" Eve asked.

"He's gonna draw Smokey-wing's fire," Spike guessed, pointing at the dragon, who was glaring balefully down at us from a building ledge.

#

I jumped up onto an old Chevy someone had abandoned in this alley, crossed it from back to front in two steps, and somersaulted off of it, aiming for a spot thirty-five feet away that seemed to be temporarily free of troll. Behind me, I knew, Spike and Illyria were strutting their combative stuff with new hope, and the rest were getting ready to run as soon as the dragon started to chase after me. I figured that I had to get to the far end of the alley before that would happen.

Groo and his friends had supplied me with some new weapons quickly - a brand new mace that looked to be good for troll whacking, and a truesilver cutlass that I was saving for the wyrm itself. Speaking of which... whack. smack! whaaaack! Troll squiths.

And then two of the blind assassins stepped out of the shadows to either side, right in front of me, eager for a quick rematch. Dammit, I did not have time for this! And suddenly... Thwickk! Thwickk! Each of them were staggered, with a crossbow bolt in mid-thigh.

I turned around long enough to see Gunn standing just on the other side of the chevy, holding a triple-action crossbow with one bolt still cocked. I spared half a wave for him and took off. The dragon let out a huge roar and flew down towards me. The remaing trolls and arachnids anywhere near me, and even the wounded assassins, moved in the opposite direction. Nobody else wanted to get in the way of this hell-lizard once it got started huh?

I didn't know that much about fighting dragons, but I thought I knew this much: never give them a chance to use their momentum against you, and don't give them time to plan their strike if you can help it. I rolled to the side as it flew in for a landing, set the mace aside, drew the sword, (glowing with a brilliant blue light now,) and slashed out at a wing. The flying beast honked in pain and shock, and slashed at me with a claw. The fight was joined.

As I struggled with the dragon, amazingly enough, part of my mind started going over what I'd accomplished so far. Definitely people had been hurt, and fine people had lost their lives, and I'd have to answer for that. But there's been a lot of good done. I honestly don't believe that Wolfram and Hart had as many good operatives in the rest of the world as they had right here in Los Angeles, within the Circle of the Black Thorn. This city had been a fortification for them, safe ground within which they could take sanctuary and from which they launched missions elsewhere on planet Earth. They'll try to regroup and rebuild, but that isn't the sort of thing that can be done quickly, and they'll have to divert resources from other places and other worlds, which is good news for those otherworlds. And they're diverting even more resources, and pretty hastily, to summon this army here to beat the crap of us, which is hopefully even better, (despite the fact that more innocents might be killed by the horde, especially if we manage to escape them.)

Besides... even if it doesn't matter, if the resources of the Senior Partners are effectively infinite, at some point it's the only thing left to do to call them out and take the wrath. It's better than sitting in a hole, terrified to do any good for the sake of calling hell down upon yourself. I've called the Senior Partners' hand now. Only time will tell whether it's a bluff or not, or somewhere in between.

The fight between myself and the dragon had wandered down the city block by now, and I had to face the fact that I wasn't gonna kill him here and now. Though my neck had healed a bit, my hand was still hurting like hell, fresh blood dripping from a new gash near my shoulder, about a dozen other flesh wounds, and I was up against an enemy that outnumbered and outweaponed me ten to one. Still, as much as I'd have liked to, killing him right then was not the real plan.

Have to choose the moment carefully, I thought to myself, and slashed at the beast's snout, scoring a hit substantial enough to drive it back for a few seconds... I stood in front of it, grabbed a small amulet in my pocket, and muttered 'invoke.'

Then I turned around and ran like hell.

The amulet? It had been another little glamour charm I stole from the Wolfram and Hart office... at the same time as I took the other, more sophisticated one, that I used to convey the plan to the guys, right there in my office, without anyone noticing. The second one was a simpler model, but for a minute or two the dragon would see and smell me, standing right there in front of it, surrounded by an aura of power. I hoped the wyrm would take pretty much that long or longer to realize that I hadn't been rendered unattackable; I just wasn't there.

As I rushed past the alley, giving it a wide berth, there was a huge explosion. Good, Spike carried off his part in the plan. I was confident that he and Illyria had gotten out of the blast zone okay.

#

By the time I got to the area that Natasha had mentioned and found them, Spike and Illyria had beaten me there. However many minions of hell had been taken care of in the explosion, there were still plenty of them about at the moment, but no alarm had been sounded to the hiding place that Groo had selected. (Which presumably meant that anyone who discovered it had been taken care of.) I had to avoid and fight my way through quite a few troll parties on the way, though... they were obviously on a search pattern for us. That took some more energy and left me with a few more superficial cuts and scrapes... getting to a safe haven would be not a moment too soon.

"How are we doing?" I asked breathlessly, and saw Gunn, who was lying very still, his head in Eve's lap. "Is he..."

"He's still alive, and stable, but he's lost a lot of blood," Eve reported simply. "Hopefully once we get to the haven they'll be able to help him."

"All right." I turned to Groo and Natasha. "Where's the safe house?"

"A long way across town, physically," Natasha started, "but we're not going in the front door because then the enemy would probably track us. There is a medium-range transportation portal..." she pointed, "right over there." I could make out the black wooden shape, a small doorway, on the outer wall of the building across the street. "I have the key word that will activate the doorway for twenty seconds, and then disable it completely. No-one will be able to reconnect it with the safe haven unless they know precisely which magical formula to inscribe upon it."

"And how do we know that Wolfram and Hart's bright boys won't be able to figure out the formula?" Spike asked.

"They'd need to know the precise location of the safe haven first," Aaron put in. "Along with the runes that are inscribed upon the master gateway within." I'd forgotten about Aaron, but he'd been helping Gunn and Eve as they fled the alley, for which I was grateful.

"All right," I decided. "Better sooner than later." I looked around - the street seemed reasonably free of trolls. "Twenty seconds - that's more than two seconds for each of us, but still not a hell of a lot of time. If a troll or two manage to follow us in, we can take care of that there."

"Wait a second," Spike piped up. "Why exactly does liason-girl get a free pass into the secret club hideout? Maybe this is the plan, for her to betray us to the big boys, maybe earn back her immortality contract!"

"Hey!" Eve put in. "I saved Angel's life back there, and this is the payback I get, outrageous accusations?"

"Yes," I told her softly. "Okay, Spike, your objection is fair... and I say we put it to a quick vote, original targets only. Gunn can't vote at the moment, so that's you, me, and Illyria. Best two out of three win." I wasn't sure how this would go, but I went ahead with it. "My vote is to trust her... I really believe that she wants to change. To redeem herself."

"You would," Spike mumbled under his breath.

"I 'vote' that she can rot out here," Illyria declared. "She stinks of the wolf, the ram, and the hart. They are her blood, her essence. We can not trust her!"

Eve turned imploringly to Spike. "Please... I won't betray you to the Senior Partners in any way. If they find me out here they'll know that I helped you..."

Spike's face twisted in indecision. "I want to trust you, doll. But the stakes are too high..."

"Wait a second," Aaron interrupted. "How about, as a compromise, we take her with us and don't let her out or communicate outside? That way, she'll be safe and she won't have an opportunity to betray you."

Spike, Illyria, and I exchanged a glance. "Why didn't we think of that?" Spike muttered. "All in favor?"

Illyria carried Gunn's unconscious form as we rushed across the street, Spike kept a close eye on Eve, and I watched young Aaron to make sure that he'd be okay. Just as we were getting close to the doorway, though, a darkness warrior riding on a horse appeared out of nowhere, literally. One instant there was nothing there, and then he standing right in front of me. Spike and I shared a long look. Certainly letting this joker slip into the safe haven would be a serious problem, if not disaster.

I pushed Aaron ahead of me towards Groo. "I'll take care of him," I called to Spike and Illyria. "You get our friends inside safely."

"I should be the one to stay," Illyria announced. "I am stronger and have a much more precise evaluation of time. You are quite capable of taking Charles Gunn and carrying him through the door."

Youch. As... well, as emasculating as that was, I really couldn't argue with her. The wounds that I'd seen Illyria take earlier, she seemed to have shaken off already. Her blue armor was smooth and unbroken, her movements lithe and agile. (And I thought I was a quick healer!) Gunn was quickly transferred between us - Natasha had already spelled the portal open and people were starting to file in. I looked back - the shadow rider was trying to charge past Illyria, but she stood into his way and knocked the horse down with a single punch. And then I dived through the portal.

"Eleven, twelve, thirteen..." Spike was counting out. "...seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twent..." Illyria's body slipped through the white gateway just before it blinked back to dull gray - there was no time for anyone to follow her through. Actually, something tried - there was bit of a horse hoof sitting near the bottom of a gateway.

"I'll dispose of this ritually..." Natasha said, picking the chunk of nail up. "Otherwise it might be able to mutate into a demonic form capable or leaving the haven and reporting on its location."

Somewhat belatedly I started to look around. The place was some kind of an underground bunker. "By the way... who's in charge here?" I asked. There were a few other people (and demon species that I recognized as generally harmless) waiting around and looking at the new arrivals.

"Angel?" A beautiful woman with curly red hair pushed through the crowd and hurried up to me. "Where's Wesley?"

Not a question I wanted to answer right now... and where did I know this woman from? Where did she know Wesley from?

"Virginia?" Gunn asked weakly... I guess he had woken up at some point. "Virginia Bryce... are you in charge of the haven?"

"Yes," she said shortly. "I was told that Wesley would be expected with you, is he..." she put a mouth to her hand, shocked. "Did he... did something happen to him?"

I still hated this, but maybe it was better to say it out loud. "I'm sorry. He didn't make it out alive, Miss Bryce."

She gasped loudly, unable to form words for a moment.