CHAPTER ONE

Wesley could hear his heart rate slowing down. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, making each beat seem a mile apart, it couldn't have been more than a minute since Illyria had left him and he had lost the strength to even keep his eyes open but it seemed like an hour at least.

Wesley had visited that place between life and death far more frequently than the average human being. He had been blown up, shot, stabbed and most memorably had his throat slit and each time he had wondered at that dark space he inhabited where he saw all the moments of his life at once, feeling every emotion he had ever encountered, seeing a million ways his life could have changed so as not to lead him here. With every moment passing he felt more detached from the world as if he were floating away like a giant hot air balloon. Up into the blue, blue Californian summer sky…

Wesley.

He gasped in pain as electric sparks soared through every muscle and tendon and nerve ending in his body. He could literally feel the cells in his stomach, knitting together, closing the wound. Every muscle jerked as his heart suddenly sped up; pumping blood around his oxygen starved body as if he had just been running the New York Marathon. Finally he felt a thread of magical electricity snake into his brain, latching on and literally pulling his subconscious back into his repaired body. He almost imagined he felt a thump as if his mind had hit the back of his skull.

Wesley slowly opened his eyes, almost tentatively only to look into the face of his rescuer. He had no idea who she was, which was a surprise. He didn't know what he had been expecting or if he had even had time to think about it, but she was definitely not it. Long, straight dark hair framing a round, heart shaped face; average sized brown eyes, lips that almost pouted a figure somewhere between slender and curvaceous. Aged in her twenties dressed in a calf-length, brown leather jacket, jeans, boots, and plain red sweater. Nothing remarkable about her at all, apart from the fact that a broadsword hung from her belt and that she was doubled up in pain.

Wesley sat up, cautiously but when he felt no pain he edged closer towards her. 'Are you alright?'

She looked up and nodded, half smiling. 'Yeah. It just takes it out of you, you know?'

'No,' Wesley answered, parting the material of his torn sweater and run his hand over the now smooth skin of his abdomen. The wound had completely healed over with no sign of a scar. 'But I think I can imagine what a massive healing like that would do to you.'

She sat up on her knees. 'Give me a minute and I'll be fine. Then we can get on with it.'

'Get on with what?' Wesley frowned. 'And do you mind if I ask you who you are and whose side you're on?'

She took a deep breath and smiled briefly. 'Sorry, I'm kinda new to this whole cosmic power thing. I'm Rebecca and don't worry I work for the Powers that Be. I'm here to sort this all out.'

'Where are my friends?'

'Oh, yeah. We're just going to go find them,' she said as she began to get to her feet unsteadily. 'Angel really messed up this time. You all followed him like little lemmings.'

Wesley caught her elbow to help her up. 'Not that I'm not offend by that last lemmings reference but should you really be moving around after…?'

'No, no. I'm fine. Cosmic being,' Rebecca waved him off. 'Now, do you mind holding my hand?'

'What?'

'Oh, grow up.'

And she grabbed his hand everything around him started to dissolve.

Wesley wasn't really aware of what happened in those next few seconds. He had a vague feeling of nausea not unsimilar to the feeling you get when a roller coaster tips you upside down but it quickly passed and in the brief moment when he closed his eyes, everything had changed.

The first thing he was conscious of was the rain. It pounded against the windows like it was summer monsoon season. He felt Rebecca's warm hand pull a way from his and he looked around. He saw marble floors; the tarnished wood counter, the rounded sofa.

'I know where we are.'

It was the Hyperion Hotel, looking, remarkably like nothing had changed since Angel Investigations had left it a year since. Someone had obviously been dusting, run a vacuum around the place; if anything it was cleaner then when he had last stood here.

'Well, I should hope so.' Rebecca wondered towards the counter and ran her fingers over the wooden surface. The colour seemed to have all drained from her face and she was a little unsteady on her feet but other than that she looked fine. Well, as fine as you can expect after performing two major magical operations in quick succession. 'That spell wasn't meant to do anything to your memory.'

'I thought you were going to take me to my friends?' Wesley demanded anger creeping into his tone.

Rebecca sighed. 'They're in the alley outside the Hotel. Charles has ten minutes left to live and Angel's more concerned with slaying a dragon. If we play our cards right we can beat him to it.'

'Did you just say dragon?' Wes asked incredulously.

'Big, scaly reptile thing with a wingspan of about twenty metres. Yeah, I'd say that qualifies as a dragon.'

'How can…?'

Rebecca sighed; frustrated with his inability to grasp the situation at hand, something Wesley thought was perfectly acceptable for someone recently pulled from the brink of death by a stranger. She started making for the door and the appalling weather outside. Wesley followed blindly. 'Did you not listen to what I just said at all? They're outside in the alley behind the Hotel. And by Hotel I meant this one.'

Wesley dashed out after her and was instantly soaked by the torrential rain. At least the weather suited the occasion for once. Apocalyptic weather for the Armageddon. Rebecca grabbed his hand again and led him around the back of the Hotel; Wesley didn't wonder how she knew the way.

The sight that struck him as he rounded the corner was enough to throw all other sight out of his mind. Rebecca hadn't been lying when she said a dragon. The massive creature swooped overhead, each beat of its leathery wings sending waves of rain-soaked wind over them. More terrifying, if possible were the tens of thousands of bloody thirsty, armour plated demons appearing from the fog. Wesley suddenly became very conscious that he didn't have a weapon, well nothing more than a switch blade, and what good would that do?

He turned to Rebecca who had since drawn her broadsword, holding it with a deadly professionalism. 'What can I do?'

She smiled slightly at him. 'That spell you were doing on Cyrus Vail worked well.'

'What? But….'

But Rebecca had already run into the fray, her sword drawn up over her shoulder ready to fall down and decapitate any demon that dared touch her.

Wesley sighed. 'Oh, well…' and silently summoned a dazzling ball of orange fire into his palm. He gasped. It felt different, more powerful; he could feel the magic pouring inside him towards his palm like motorway traffic. She had done something to him. She had changed him.

There was no time to worry about his strange new magical ability not when there was a giant, flying lizard screeching above him. He drew back his palm and took aim.

'I want to slay the dragon.'

No sooner than the words had tumbled out of his mouth then said dragon burst into unnatural orange flame.

'Not tonight Prince Charming,' Spike chuckled. 'Someone beat you to it.'

Angel chose to ignore Spike's jibe. 'What the Hell was that?'

Illyria approached, a frown marring her features. 'A being if great power.'

'Do I even want to know what that means for us?' Gunn gasped, trying to stop his guts from falling out right there on the pavement.

There was another massive explosion, which shook the earth beneath them, taking down another troop of demons. The pavement began cracking beneath their feet and the air was filled with the screams of the dying demons.

Angel turned towards the others. 'I think it means I don't care.' He drew his sword once again and said. 'Come on.' Before running into the fray.

It was like world war three had just erupted around them as the four of them staggered down the alley, dodging pools of orange flame that seemed to emanate from the opposite end. As soon as they entered the tight space, the remaining demons of which there were hundreds, fell upon them, teeth bared, baying for blood.

Angel was aware of very little as instinct took over and his muscles began moving as if of their own accord. He was aware of Gunn falling quite early on and Illyria stopping to guard the fallen man. He could feel Spike next to him, every so often, hearing the sound of his leather duster whistle through the air over the sound of battle. It did occur to him how strange it was that Spike was to be the person he would die with. He always imagined that he would die alone, rather than his former protégé, enemy and now, in a way, friend.

Maybe he should have been paying more attention to what was going on around him because while he was lost in his thoughts one demon managed to tear a chunk out of his shoulder and Angel collapsed in pain, almost immediately. He lay on the cold, wet pavement, conscious for barely a few seconds before drifting away.

I'm dead. I'm in Hell. Special vampire Hell, reserved for those who destroy the world and people who spit their chewing gum on the pavement.

It was strange though, Hell wasn't at all like Angel remembered. This one was comfortable and warm and dry, almost like a duvet. And the mattress was great, not too soft, just the way he liked it. Maybe they were just letting him rest awhile before starting the soul-destroying torture. Yeah, that must be it, luring him into a false sense of security.

It occurred to Angel that maybe he should open his eyes but the lids were so heavy. He couldn't remember being so tired and come to think of it this was his first chance to properly relax since the apocalypse…

Angel shot out of bed so quickly that all his second-hand pigs' blood rushed to his head making him feel uncomfortably dizzy. The feeling of turmoil was the discovery that he wasn't in Hell at all, not unless Hell looked a lot like his room at the Hyperion Hotel.

He stared down at his clothes, the same as the one's he's been wearing in the alley apart from the shirt which was blue but he recognised it as his own, they were still slightly damp and someone had removed his socks and shoes and hung his leather jacket over the arm-chair in the corner. Well, now was the time to find out who that someone was.

He decided to take the lift down to the lobby, not so much for the change more because he felt that his legs my give out on the way down.

He found the lobby empty but just as he remembered it. However, he heard hushed voices coming from the office so made his way there. The speakers were a man, whose whisper was nothing more than a deep rumble and an unfamiliar female voice.

Angel opened the door to see a sight he would never have expected, in this world or the next. A pretty, young girl dressed in an over-sized grey jumper, which he realised was his perched on a desk talking in furtive tones, to a miraculously alive, Wesley.

'Wesley?'

Their talk stopped as they both looked up at him. Wesley grinned broadly and stepped forward to greet his friend. Angel met him in a meaningful hug. There had been no time to deal with his feelings when Illyria had announced his oldest friend's death and now he was grateful he would never have to now.

'How? Illyria said you were dead,' Angel spluttered as the two men broke away.

Wesley continued grinning. 'Illyria greatly exaggerated.' He gestured to the woman behind him, who responded with a shy wave. 'This is Rebecca. She saved my life. Don't worry, she works for the Powers.'

Angel approached the girl. 'That's my shirt.'

'Um…yeah,' she replied. 'My stuff got wet. I didn't think you'd mind after me and Wes just saved you like that.'

Angel shrugged. 'Whatever. So, now the Powers decided to step in? You took you're time.'

'Hey, don't blame me,' Rebecca raised her hands defensively. 'It's got nothing to do with me. And besides you didn't exactly give us an abundance of warning, Mister Spur-of-the-Moment.'

'So, the orange fire that was you?'

Rebecca shook her head. 'Uh uh. That was Wes; I just needed to fill up his magical capacity a bit. You know give him a bit extra and…'

Wes shrugged. 'It wears off after a while.'

'So where's everyone else? Gunn… I saw him fall…'

'Everyone's fine. Well, Spike's still sleeping and Illyria's upstairs doing whatever it is Illyria does. We took Gunn to the hospital earlier. They wouldn't tell us anything, not being family but you know Charles. As clichéd as it sounds, he's a fighter.'

Angel nodded silently. 'Okay, me and Wes are going to the hospital. We'll see where a bit of persuasion can get us.'

'Persuasion?' Wesley raised a sardonic eyebrow.

'Alright, threats. Failing that flirting,' Angel smiled. 'Rebecca stay here and keep an eye on Illyria and Spike. Especially Spike. He's… Never mind. Oh, and if a young guy named Connor comes by tell him… tell him I'm okay.'

He stood up, feeling the familiar mantle of leader draping itself over his shoulders before looking down at his bare feet. 'Oh, and can someone tell me where my shoes are?'

'No, his name is Angel. Yes, that is his real name.'

The receptionist rolled her eyes and began twisting a strand of peroxide blonde hair around her finger. 'Okay, you got a surname to go with that?'

'No, no surname just Angel,' Connor explained exasperatedly.

The girl frowned. 'You sure that's his real name, 'cause you know just Angel it's a bit weird unless he's famous like Madonna then it's okay… It's not like European or anything or one of those funny Chinese names…' Connor thumped the desk hard with his fist in answer. 'Sheesh, cool it cutie.'

Connor shifted from foot to foot impatiently as he watched the girls manicured fingernails darted over the keyboard.

'Nope, sorry honey. No Angel's here.'

Connor growled in frustration, running his fingers through his hair as he turned around to kick the vending machine.

'It was no trouble!' The ditzy blonde called after him with not a small note of sarcasm lacing her tone.

Connor ignored the girl, though he couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for being so rude. The logical part of his brain kept insisting that she dealt with hundreds of other people everyday and that she had done everything she could to help but that rational part was quickly being overwhelmed by the anger that always came as a substitute for fear.

He didn't like the vulnerability of being in a situation that he didn't have control over. It made it want to hit something. Like the vending machine. But where was he? Connor couldn't believe he had left him like that ready to face God knows what. So what if Connor couldn't bring himself to love Angel like a father, he was still a friend and he had never been know to just leave friends in trouble.

At least Connor, the one with the fake memories and the fake family, was loyal to his friends. Ever since he had met Angel and the truth had come out his head had been more mixed up than a bowl of fruit salad. He had begun to divide his mind into two sections, the Proto-Connor and him, as he knew he should be. So far it seemed like it was working. He could tap into his old memories and feelings and experience them just like his regular ones and know that they weren't real and that he wasn't him doing those terrible things. Like a cutting off ears. Gross. However, it wasn't always so clear cut, sometimes in times of stress such as this he felt the other Connor leaking into his psyche like toxic waste, slowly drowning everything he once was.

Connor took several deep breaths and counted to ten, something his mother encouraged with startling regularity. Maybe if he just…

'Connor!'

Connor turned around to see Angel running towards him across the busy waiting room. Trailing behind him was Wesley. Both of them looked out of place in the ordinary setting. Not just their clothes which were sombre and dark (Connor didn't know why they all insisted on dressing like they were in mourning) but the way they moved. Even Wesley moved with a deadly athleticism that set him apart from the crowds and from a distance it seemed as if the crowd unconsciously parted for the Vampire and the Watcher.

'D…Angel!' Connor leaped forward. 'Are you okay? What happened? Is the world saved?'

Angel smiled at his son's frantic energy. He by far preferred the new model son though every time he saw him he found himself regretting that he could never have provided Connor with this life himself. 'Yes, fine. I'll tell you later. Yes, just about.' He returned his son's grin. 'Gunn got hurt pretty bad. We've come to check up on him.'

'I don't think they'll let you see him, they're really busy after the 'earthquake'.'

Angel glanced round the waiting room; it was more packed than usual. Most of the people there were walking wounded and he could see doctors and nurses dashing backwards and forwards, flipping through their clipboards at double speed. 'So that's what they're saying it was.'

He glanced at Wesley who shrugged. 'It's better than teenage gangs drugged up on PCP.'

'Oh, there was one of those too,' Connor added. 'An earthquake and a drug-fuelled riot.'

'I suppose it's good to retain some tradition,' Wesley replied dryly. 'And obviously they're all buying it.'

Connor nodded. 'People are so stupid. Can't they see what's going on right in front of their eyes?'

'Sometimes they don't want to,' Angel said placing a hand on his Connor's shoulder. 'And besides what choice do they have when vampires and demons and evil law firms don't exist. Okay, scratch the last one. Wes?'

Wesley had since wandered away down the corridor drawing back a floral curtain to reveal Gunn lying in the bed, dressed in an unflattering green hospital robe, hooked up to numerous bleeping machines but thankful conscious and propped up in the bed.

'Gunn,' Angel said approaching his old friend. 'You're alright!'

Charles Gunn smiled weakly. 'Well done, man. You know it'll take more than a bloodthirsty demon hoard to bring Charles Gunn down. Hey I thought you was dead?' He directed this last comment at Wesley

Wesley grinned. 'As I said the rumours of my death were greatly exaggerated. Sorry to disappoint.'

'So, is anyone gonna explain what happened?'

Angel sunk himself into the brown plastic covered chair beside the bed, both Connor and Gunn turned to look at him, expectantly. 'I don't really know,' their leader admitted tiredly. 'I passed out. By the way how long have I been out?'

'Nearly 36 hours,' Wesley answered.

Gunn frowned. 'So, what did happen in that alley? What was that scary-ass orange fire stuff?'

Wesley looked down to study his shoes. 'That was me. I'm sorry if it scared you.'

Gunn nearly choked on his tongue in shock 'I knew you was good at that magic shit,' He said. 'But damn that was some major mojo.'

'I'm not!' Wesley protested. 'I mean… Cyrus Vail destroyed me. My magic next to his looked like… Well, I might as well have pulled a rabbit out of a hat for all the good it did. I would have died,' he smiled sardonically as he reminisced over the previous day's events. 'I think I did for a moment. But Rebecca, she did something to me and then my magic; it was more power than I'd ever felt before.'

There was silence as Connor and Gunn absorbed this new information until Connor opened his mouth hesitantly and said. 'So, who's Rebecca again?'

'We have no idea,' Angel said. 'She told Wes that she worked for the Powers and we have no reason to think otherwise but…'

'But she's given us no reason to think thatwise either,' Gunn filled in. 'I got it.'

Angel shook his head tiredly. 'We just have too…'

But he didn't have the chance to finish his sentence as the floral curtain parted to reveal an irate middle aged doctor, dressed in the obligatory white coat and wearing wired rimmed glasses and a lurid tie. He frowned as he saw his patient's visitors.

'What's going on here then?' The man asked accusingly.

'Um… we were just leaving,' Connor said quickly as the others began to move.

'It's cool with me that they stay,' Gunn added.

'But it's not cool with me,' the doctor spat back. 'I'm guessing you're not family.'

'Hey, that's just an assumption,' Gunn said in his best 'You've just insulted me harshly' tone. 'These guys just happen to be my brothers.'

The doctor raised and eyebrow, disbelievingly. 'Oh, really?'

'Yeah, we've just got different mothers.'

The doctor drew the curtain forceful and gesture at the visitors to go threw it. 'Stop wasting my time!'

Angel turned back to Gunn as he left. 'I'll come see you later. Oh, and glad to see you alive.'

'You too.'

Spike was dreaming. That he was fully aware of. Nothing could be this perfect in reality. Good things like this just didn't happen to him.

'What you thinking about?'

He rolled over to gaze into Buffy's brilliant green eyes. She lay there in the bed beside him, curled up like a golden cat, her head resting in his bare shoulder.

'You, Kitten,' he smiled, placing a kiss on the top of her golden head. 'How beautiful you are and how lucky I am.'

'You're not lucky, Spike,' Buffy whispered. 'You and me we were always meant to be together. I see that now.' She leant over him; her golden skin pressed against his sun-starved alabaster and brushed a kiss over his waiting lips. 'I love you.'

'You know I love you too.'

Tears were threatening to spill in Spike's eyes, partly because this was all too perfect and partly because it wasn't and couldn't be real. The girl of his dreams rolling on top him, their bodies pressed together as close as two bodies could be, her tongue tasting his…

Rebecca watched the sleeping vampire thrashing in bed, moaning, whispering that name over and over again. She hoped that when all this was over Spike would be allowed to be with that girl in his dreams. It didn't seem likely; this was far from over.

'He desires the love of the vampire Slayer.'

Rebecca whirled around to see the source of the hauntingly empty voice.

'Illyria. Hi.'

The blue woman, wearing the shell of Winifred Burkle, approached the door to Spike's room, her heavy boots making little noise on the carpeted floor. 'Who are you?'

'What do you mean metaphysically?' Rebecca smiled grimly. 'Go on tell me. Who am I, Illyria?

'You are not human,' the Goddess answered letting Rebecca's disrespectful tone slide. 'You don't smell human. There's the scent of death on you. You reek of it.'

'Oh, and I just showered this morning.'

'In my day no creature would dare talk to me in the tone you do,' Illyria snapped, angered by her flippancy. 'I know you are a being of great power. Not a vampire or a demon…'

Rebecca turned to stare Illyria straight in the eye. 'Okay, you've just told me everything I'm not.'

'Buffy!'

Rebecca glanced back to see Spike sitting up straight in bed, panting, gasping for unneeded breath. When she turned back round Illyria was gone.

She approached the vampire. 'Hi, Spike. I'm Rebecca.'

'Am I dead?' He asked instantly.

'That's today's most popular question,' she smiled. 'No. And before you asked everyone's fine. Angel and Wesley just went out but they'll be back soon. I left you're shirt over there,' she gestured to the armchair in the corner expecting him to get up and put it on instead he just sat there.

'Um…' He said awkwardly, glancing downwards. 'Just give me a minute. Cramp, you know.'

'Oh! Right. I'll just be downstairs. Come down when you've sorted that cramp out.'

Angel and Wesley had returned with Connor by the time Spike had immerged. Illyria had taken to sitting very still on the central round sofa in the lobby and had been all the time it had taken Rebecca to make a cup of coffee using Nescafe from a full cupboard. The fridge also had been recently restocked with a variety of things ranging from grapefruit juice to O-Positive.

Angel came to the Hotel determined to confront Rebecca about her work for the Powers and after introducing her to Connor, who she seemed to have already heard of he rounded on her.

'Who exactly are you?' He demanded arms folded across his chest in what he knew to be an intimidating manner. 'And don't give me that crap about working for the Powers that Be 'cause we've heard that before from people who turned out not to like us too much.'

'What do you want me to do? Prove it?' She asked flippantly. 'They don't exactly hand out ID cards.'

'Well, what are you here for?' Wesley interrupted. 'I understand that you came to help Angel but why save me?'

Rebecca turned to him with a frown. 'Would you prefer I hadn't?'

'That's not what I meant. But what did you as a representative of the Powers go out of your way to save me from death?'

'Because you're on my list,' she answered simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

'List?' Spike said incredulously. 'What bloody list?'

'Spike…' Angel growled before turning back to Rebecca. 'What list?'

For an answer she dived into the pocket of her jeans and drew out a crumpled piece of paper that looked like it had been a paper bag in a previous life. 'It's kinda like a to-do list. The apocalypse in coming and I mean the real one, the one Wolfram and Hart were getting so irate about…'

'Hey, I thought that was the major apocalypse,' Angel blurted out, shocked. 'The one I would play a major part in?'

'Excuse me, I was just going to explain,' Rebecca said, indignantly. 'And for your information that was nothing. A few weeks researching the Circle of the Black Thorn and you think that's an apocalypse. Wolfram and Hart are only a small part if what's coming. The Powers aren't even sure but there are a few prophecies…'

'I hate prophecies,' Connor muttered and he should, his whole life was dictated by prophecies written thousands of years ago.

Rebecca continued. 'There are certain people who are needed, like imperatively needed, to save the world and those are the people are on my list.'

There was a dead silence as each of them absorbed the information that not only was their yet another apocalypse around the corner but also the fact that Wolfram and Hart were 'Nothing compared to what's coming'.

'So,' Spike said finally. 'Everyone here we're all on your little shopping list?'

'Not just you,' Rebecca said evenly, very aware that everyone was looking at her disbelievingly. 'Your Slayer, Buffy or Betty or Wilma, whatever her name is. She's on it. That other one Faith. Willow Rosenberg, Xander Harris. The list is long and it's gonna take me a while so I need your help.'

'How can we help you?' Angel asked.

'Well, I thought I'd start in the States as I was here and I was wondering if you knew where I could find the guy who's at the top of my list.'

'Who's that?' asked Wesley.

'His name's Lindsey Macdonald.'