I'll Be Home for Christmas: Part Three - Disclaimers in Part One

Cordelia wrapped her arms around herself. The fire had stopped trailing in bright streams from the sky, but the smoldering smell of Los Angeles was a constant reminder of the carnage, even though it was days past by now. She could still hear alarms and sirens wailing in the distance and only hoped that there would be a city -- a world -- left once this was done and over with.

She also hoped that Angel was right, that his soul was keeping him from seeing the solution to the problem. She couldn't stand to bear the consequences if he hadn't been right. She hated to think that they were getting ready to unleash Angelus on Los Angeles if he'd misjudged the situation, even slightly.

The rest of them -- Wesley, Gunn, Lorne, and Fred -- were preparing Angelus for his big night out. She hated him for his arrogance -- well, she hated him for a lot of reasons, but most recently his arrogance. Angelus was certain that they would be bringing back the head of the Beast tonight.

She also hated the fact that the others seemed to believe him.

Nothing about the plan had left her with a warm, fuzzy feeling, save for the fact that if things began to look like they were going to go wrong, it was Cordelia's job to break the sphere and release Angel's soul for reinstatement. Though the plan was far from fool-proof, Cordelia was to sit on the roof of the Hyperion with a walkie-talkie and wait for Wesley or Gunn to give her the signal. It was her responsibility to keep herself and the sphere safe.

The walkie-talkie crackled to life. "Cordelia? Cordelia, do you read?"

She picked it up, pressing down on the side button. "I'm here, Wesley."

"We're just about ready to go -- we should have fairly long range using these, but I will check in on occasion to make sure we're still connected."

"Gotcha."

"Wesley out."

Shaking her head, Cordelia held the cloth-covered ball in her lap, cradling it gently. Handling it gave her a sense of ease, as though Angel were with her. Well, she thought with a wry smile, in a very abstract way, he kinda is. "I don't know if you can hear me," she muttered to the sphere, "but I've got to know -- how does it feel to be the glowy one for once?"

There was, of course, no answer.

She sighed. "You know, I know you have a whole bunch of faith in this plan, Angel. And I know that you believe down deep in your gut that this is going to work. But if it doesn't... Angel, if this doesn't work, you've got to know..." she trailed off. "Whoa. Not very easy for me. Listen, if this doesn't go as planned, and we all die in the big fiery horrible, I just want you to know..." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Hello, talking to a glowing ball now."

Then she remembered what Wesley had told her -- it was almost sentient. It was every part of Angel that mattered.

Gnawing on her lower lip, Cordelia pulled away a corner of the cloth. Her face was reflected in the comforting glow as slivers of color danced before her. There was no other word for it -- it was beautiful. It was almost too beautiful. She cleared her throat of tears and inhaled deeply. She needed to tell him this. "I love you, Angel. And I'm sorry."

The only response was the silvery glow that seemed to caress every angle of her face.

The silence was shattered by the rusty hinges on the rooftop door. Connor's head peeked out from around the heavy door. "Cordy? I thought I heard something up here..."

She covered the globe and forced a smile, though her face had been plunged back into darkness. "Hey, what brings you up here?" The peace she had been experiencing was replaced with a kind of sticky awkwardness. A surge of annoyance welled up in her chest and she pushed it back with determination.

"I was just noticing the calendar in the hotel lobby," he said, his voice low and smooth, and just a little too musical. That always bothered her, the way he spoke. He sounded too much like Darla that way, she supposed. It wasn't the kid's fault, but it was still there.

"What about it?" Her hand absently rubbed against the chamois.

"It says that tomorrow is Christmas."

Cordelia opened her mouth to object, that it couldn't have been Christmas already, because...

Because, what? Because she would have noticed something in her paranoid amnesiac delusional-spy state? Because when she was transported back to her teen-aged self, the first thing on her mind would have been peace on earth and goodwill toward men? Because *after* she got her memory back, she would have been completely consumed with the search for the perfect present? Those shopping trips would most certainly have been scheduled around her nervous breakdowns and Connor's deflowering.

She blinked, feeling suddenly disoriented. "It is?" She exhaled, and the sound that came out was almost like a giggle, only tinted with hysteria. "Christmas. Well, I guess time flies when the world as you know it is falling apart."

He came closer and drew himself down on his haunches. Cordelia could see what was left of the city's lights reflected in his eyes. Again she stiffened. Darla's eyes. "My father told me about Christmas. He told me that it was a time for being thankful for the blessings we have been granted."

Cordelia was about to point out that, in actuality, it was Thanksgiving that was intended for blessing-reflection, but then remembered that Holtz, being old-school English, probably didn't see fit to educate Connor on that particular holiday.

Connor rested on his knees so he was eye to eye with Cordelia. "I wanted to tell you how thankful I am that you are around. I am glad that you are... with me."

Cordelia's eyebrows quirked slightly and she smiled unsurely. "Well Connor... that's very," she paused, looking for the right word, "nice."

His eyes mirrored her uncertainty while his hand made a bold move for her thigh. Cordelia grabbed his hand and moved it away. "Connor, this *really* isn't the right time. Actually... I'm not sure there *is* a right time for this."

His face fell, and for a moment he looked like the child he was. "But, Cordelia... you said..."

"I said that I wanted you to have something real. I said that you never had a childhood, or a family or friends or anything that's real, and if this is the end, I want you to have something that is. That's what I said, Connor." She grabbed his hand and held it tightly. "But the thing is... the thing is, I was wrong, Connor. I wanted so badly to give you something that was real, but I don't think I did."

Tears had pooled in his eyes. "But you did. It was real -- I felt it."

Cordelia choked out a short bark of laughter and rubbed at her burning eyes. "Connor, the things that were real were sorrow, pity, despair..." she trailed off, her dark eyes holding his lighter ones. "But none of what should have been real -- passion, attraction, romantic love -- none of that was there."

"Then why did you?"

"Because, you needed something that I could give." And because I needed something that you couldn't ever give me, not in a hundred-thousand years. Cordelia swallowed. "I..." I shouldn't have. It wasn't right. I was wrong. Oh boy was I wrong.

"No, I don't believe you. You're just saying this... You're saying this because -- because *he* made you say it! You're saying this for him! He doesn't want us to be together, Cordelia. He wants to keep you from me -- don't you see it? Can't you tell? He--"

The presence of her hand, warm and reassuring on the side of his face stopped him.

"Connor, your father has nothing to do with this."

The boy stood. "Yes he does," he hissed. "He's the only reason you ever do anything! He's the reason you came back here. He's the reason you *left* me! He is *always* the reason for *everything* you do!"

Cordelia felt the words like physical blows. "Connor..." She set the globe down and stood. "Connor, this is not the time to--"

"No! No more words!"

She wasn't sure which shocked her more -- the fact that he had hit her, or the fact that she hadn't seen it coming. Her entire face ached and her eyes were stinging and watering. She looked up -- her vision was blurry -- and saw him staring down at her. Cordelia felt cold suddenly, because he wasn't looking at her with remorse or even the faintest hint of surprise. He was looking at her with hate. He was looking at her the same way he had so often looked at Angel. Cordelia got to her feet -- she had landed on her hands and knees -- and held the icy glare.

"I loved you, Cordelia. I tried to let you know. I tried to tell you so many different times -- I loved you so much. I loved you more than he ever could -- don't you see that? He can't love you -- he's just a monster, he *can't* love you. Why don't you see that? Why can't you understand? How can I make you understand?" He moved toward her, his hands coming up to touch her face.

Her lips curled slightly, almost reassuringly, a sharp contrast to the fear now evident in her eyes. "Connor, I *do* understand. I do."

"No, you don't." His tears were streaming now as his fingers moved into her hair. "You can't understand me, because you're in love with him. You can't understand how much I love you, Cordy."

Cordelia tried to step away, but Connor held on to her face and head too tightly. His mouth was suddenly pressed against hers in a clumsy kiss.

When he broke the kiss, Cordelia looked searchingly into his eyes. She tried to see what was there, and tried to call on whatever ability The Powers had bestowed on her. It was there, deep inside, and she needed to get it out again. Like a tumor, the anger and hatred inside Connor had metastasized.

"Connor," she said slowly, "we can make this better. We can. I know it. I never intended to hurt you."

"I know you didn't, Cordelia. You're in love with him, and he's in love with you. I thought you could love me in the same way -- I thought I was enough like him for you to..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

"You are. You *are* like him, Connor. Don't you see it?"

A brief smile lit his features. "I am?"

"Yes," she said, crying freely now. "You are."

Sadness touched his eyes again. "There's only one difference, Cordy."

She sniffled. "What's that?"

"I'm not a Champion."

With a violent twist, he snapped her neck, letting the body fall in a heap next to the covered sphere.

Connor pulled back suddenly, almost surprised at what he'd done. "He was right. I'm not. I never will be."

Suddenly, he heard movement outside of the hotel. He crouched down and crept to the edge, peering downward.

They were leaving. Wesley, Gunn, and his father were leaving the building. Connor frowned. It would have been far more practical for the vampire to take to the rooftops. Why hadn't he?

Connor looked around quickly before gathering Cordelia's limp form in his arms and grabbing the bundle she had been holding when he found her. Silently, he went through the rooftop access door and slipped into the shadows of the hotel.

*

Several hours later, a lone figure jumped from the top of a fire escape. It fell to the ground gracefully and almost silently before straightening bent knees and looking around. Angelus smiled to himself; there were few things he liked better than a good chase. His contentment was soured only slightly with the knowledge that Wesley and Gunn were somewhere, lurking, following him, just to make sure he didn't "step out of line." He smirked. They obviously didn't know him well at all. Their ignorance would serve him well.

Angelus sighed in contentment. He'd long known how to beat the Beast. He'd known it even before that filthy soul had been spirited away into hiding. It was that damned soul that had made this task so difficult. Angelus was nearly tempted to forego the entire plan and go with his instinct -- feed.

But then, he'd have far more time to feed if he was able to *prevent* the world from ending. He didn't have to like it, but that was logic for you. Though he would have been happy to pick up a snack somewhere -- this was a disaster, the world was ending, and it was looking like all four horsemen were saddling up for a hell of an apocalypse. But for some reason, the streets were deserted. It was nothing like disasters back in the day. Back then, the air was rife with the sweet smell of fear and people were ripe for the picking.

"Ah, the times they are a-changing," he muttered, picking his way through the empty streets toward the Sky Temple Club.

From above, Wesley and Gunn were watching.

Gunn's eyebrows lifted. "What's the deal with returning to the scene of the phenomenal ass-whooping?"

"Well, this is the center of the destruction. It does make sense to return here," Wesley said, sotto voce. "He's going back to beard the lion in his den. Perhaps he thinks he's got something to prove." Wesley was quiet for a second. "We should go down there."

Gunn was incredulous. "Just in case that thing needs any help getting us killed?"

"No, wait," Wesley murmured, his eyes on the abandoned building. "He's scouting. I can see him."

Without warning the earth shook violently. A deep roar sounded from the demolished club and the two onlookers quickly made their way to the Sky Temple Club.

Angelus had cornered the lion in its den, much to their surprise.

*

At the Hyperion, Fred and Lorne were still busy handling the overflow of calls. Vermin as well as assorted reptiles were appearing in plumbing, birds were flying into windows, and blood was working its way through faucets and water fountains.

"Locusts?" Lorne was saying. "Try and hold them off with a little 'Raid' until we get there, sweetie. Ciao." He hung up. He looked at Fred, who was looking more than a little overwhelmed.

"It's been like this for days. There's no way we'd ever be able to handle this many calls," she said, shaking her head.

"Well muffin-top, let's hope that the crew can handle the big baddie." He paused, red eyes gazing upwards for a moment. "Cordy still on the roof?"

Fred nodded. "She seemed to think that it was the best spot to wait, just in case she had to..." she trailed off. "She thought there was a better signal up there."

Lorne nodded, his lips pursing.

Noticing his silence, Fred frowned. "What?"

"It's probably nothing, sugarpie." He was already heading toward the stairs.

"Do you mean that in the 'I hope it's nothing' way, or in the 'it's really nothing' way?"

Lorne's only response was to take the stairs more quickly. The access door was somewhat difficult to push, but they managed.

The rooftop was deserted, aside from the abandoned walkie-talkie. Fred picked it up as Lorne looked around.

Fred's voice was soft. "She's not here."

Lorne chewed on his lower lip. "Let's check rooms before raising the alarm."

It wasn't long before they found her in Angel's bed. She was curled on her side, eyes closed, cradling the sphere in her arms. The covering was long gone and the room was bathed in light so bright, it made Cordelia's hair seem silver.

Fred sighed in relief as a shadow settled on Lorne's brow. She rushed to the bed and grabbed Cordelia's shoulder, shaking her. "Of all the times to take a nap," she muttered.

Cordelia's head lolled unnaturally to the left. Fred froze.

"She's not there," Lorne murmured.

"But..." Fred was shaking her head as she dropped to her knees. "But... no, it's not..." She shook Cordelia harder. "Cordy, get up. It's not funny, Cordy. Angel's gonna be mad that you're foolin' around. Get up. Just... Cordelia, get UP!"

A soft green hand landed on Fred's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "C'mon Fred, we've got to--"

"NO! No, Lorne. Angel's gonna come back, and he's going to find her, and she's been goofing off, and then he's gonna be mad, and then she's gonna leave again, and I don't *want* Cordelia to have to leave again! It was so hard the first time, and she can't leave again. She can't leave Angel... she can't leave us. She did once already, and she only just came back, and she... she CAN'T leave again, Lorne. She can't."

Lorne gently brought Fred to her feet. "She already has, sweetie. She already has." He reached down and brushed a stray lock of hair away from Cordelia's tear-streaked face. "And I'm willing to bet it was through no choice or fault of her own." He scooped up the globe in steady hands and steered Fred out of the suite.

*

The air was heavy and hot, smelling of sulfur and decay. Wesley swallowed as she led the way up to what was left of the Sky Temple Club. They kept their weapons close to their sides, though Wesley was beginning to experience very sudden and very severe doubt. The earth had stopped shaking, and the ear-splitting roars had stopped. The knowledge only left him with a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.

They reached the large room, still littered with well-dressed corpses. The stench was stronger here due to the blending of fire, smoke, and bodily decay. Wesley swallowed reflexively.

The room was empty, save for the bodies. Both the Beast and Angelus were nowhere to be had.

"This is bad," Gunn murmured.

"Very bad," Wesley agreed.

Gunn's eyes scanned the carnage. "It ain't dead."

"How can you be sure?" Wesley asked.

Gunn looked over his shoulder at Wesley, grinning. "Come on, Wes, I've seen all the movies. There'd be a bigger finish. There always is."

"If you're subscribing to the James Cameron philosophy of apocalypses, may I please ask what kind of karmic gotcha comes next?" Wesley asked.

"Either it killed Angelus and went off in search of more innocents to slaughter, or it's hiding, waiting for us." Gunn was quiet for a second. "And the gotcha comes when we realize that Angelus led us in here before taking off."

They stood there for a few seconds, waiting. Nothing happened.

"Not feeling any karmic gotchas," Gunn muttered. They both turned and headed quickly for the exit.

Once they were out on the street, Wesley looked at the sky, his frown deepening. "We need to regroup."

Gunn was shaking his head. "What we need to do is find Angelus before he starts feeling snacky."

"What if the Beast teleported itself out of the club?" Wesley was looking up and down the abandoned streets, searching for any movement, any sign of anything. "Wouldn't Angelus have followed?"

Gunn shook his head and began to run, taking the route back to the Hyperion. "But how would he have known where to follow it to?"

"Because he knows it," Wesley answered simply. "And, unfortunately, now we know where neither the Beast nor Angelus is."

Gunn looked down at the battle-axe he held. "I'm thinking I'm gonna want a bigger one of these regardless."

*

Several floors below Cordelia's body, Lorne and Fred were in the lobby of the Hyperion. He'd been calling into the walkie-talkie for nearly a half- hour before Wesley's voice came through the small speaker.

"Ah, Wesley... Wes, there's a problem."

There was a beat of silence. "We're on our way back."

Lorne's eyebrows rose. "You mean it worked? Ding-dong the Beast is dead?"

"No."

Lorne was suddenly cold. It didn't take empathic powers to hear it in Wesley's voice. "You lost him, didn't you?"

"He lost us. He's out there, Lorne, and there's no way to guess where he's gone to."

The tiled floor began to shake and a deep rumble erupted from below.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I hope it's the same place where you all are heading." They jumped to their feet and raced out the hotel's door. "It's here, Wes. It's *here*."

*

Angelus crept through the museum. He could hear the heartbeat, and was almost surprised that the kid came back *here* of all places. Prey weren't supposed to lead predators back to their homes. It was bad strategy.

Unless, of course, the kid thought he was going to be able to gain home field advantage by bringing him here. Angelus crouched, blending in with the shadows while he listened, the broadsword he held on his back offering a satisfying weight. There were so many noises that had the potential to expose Connor's hiding place: a breath, a heartbeat, even the scent of his perspiration could give him away. Vampires gave away no such hints -- there was no heartbeat, no breath, nothing that gave away his vantage point.

He simply waited. Connor would come to him. It was the same mistake he would have made had he been younger; impatience had always been and would always be the downfall of the young.

Then, a breath. It was a soft exhale, as though steadying himself for battle.

The smile darkened. He waited in silence and stillness. He waited until he couldn't stand it anymore, until the urge for battle nearly made him snarl in anticipation. And yet he waited.

*

It wasn't long before Wesley and Gunn came running up to the Hyperion.

"It's still in there," Fred said. "It's... waiting for us." She looked up at Wesley, her face tight with anger and determination. "Wesley, Cordy's in there. She's--"

"What? We have to get in there." Wesley headed for the front door while Gunn looked up at the building, his mouth set into a hard line.

"It's not... quite that simple," Lorne said sadly. "Cordelia's dead."

There was a tense silence. "She's dead?" Wesley asked, his voice soft. "Did it... how?"

"Her neck's broken. She was in Angel's bed with her neck broken."

Wesley was quiet for several moments. He swallowed, almost hesitantly. "What about the sphere?"

Lorne held up something wrapped in a pillowcase. "Here."

Wesley took it gingerly. "We need to go in. The weapons cabinet is in there..."

"Because we all know how well weapons worked the first time," Gunn said. He looked up at the Hyperion. "But it ain't looking like we've got much choice here."

"Gunn, you and I will go around back to the garden entrance -- it's nearest the cabinet. Lorne and Fred, divert it."

"Um, as bait, may I add something here?" Lorne asked. Three pairs of eyes invited him to continue. "Why have we not broken the sphere yet? Because if Angelus is AWOL, then aren't we pretty much guaranteeing that we've got double the carnage going on?"

*

Angelus had heard the footsteps, light and quick though they were, he still heard them and had time enough to react before Connor's body flew at him. Angelus pivoted and landed a well-placed roundhouse kick in the center of Connor's chest, the force of which, coupled with Connor's own speed, sent him flying back.

"Home for the holidays, Junior. Aren't ya glad to see your dear ol' Dad?"

Connor recovered quickly, but Angelus had gained the upper-hand for the time being. He hefted Connor up by the shirt and dropped him. The boy landed solidly and glared up at the vampire.

"You have your mother's eyes, boy. I don't think I ever told you that. Then again, what with the Captain Nemo adventure I probably had more important things on my mind." He morphed out of his human face. "Like how many ways I was going to kill you. Then maybe I'll rip your eyes out and frame them -- a little something to remember you by."

Connor arched an eyebrow and smirked. "You talk too much."

"And you should be thanking me for delaying the inevitable." He advanced, pulling the sword out of the scabbard.

*

The four in the Hyperion were armed, though scarcely ready to fight. However, Lorne couldn't help but think, casting an eye around the lobby, sometimes life didn't ask you if you were ready for anything. He was poised by the circular settee, Wesley and Gunn were by the weapons cabinet, and Fred was armed with a crossbow on the second story landing where she guarded the sphere.

Wesley and Gunn charged first while Fred took careful aim with the crossbow. A few of her shots hit, but were -- as they would have guessed -- were ineffectual. The thing in the lobby looked up where Fred had situated herself and pulled the misfired bolts out of itself.

"Fred! Move!" Gunn yelled, charging the Beast again, swinging the axe for all he was worth. The blade embedded itself in the flesh, but otherwise there was no effect. With a flick of the wrist, Gunn was sent flying through the doors to the garden.

Fred had scrambled up the stairs, searching for something -- anything she could enhance the crossbow with. "Wesley!"

Wesley ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"Give me your sword."

Without a word, he handed it over. Fred began working to modify the crossbow to accommodate the sword's blade. "We need Angel, Wesley. We *need* him."

From below Wesley could hear the horrible sound of weapons being turned on their users and bodies landing heavily against walls and floors.

"I agree," he said, his voice grim. He hadn't wanted it to come to this -- Angel had already fought the Beast once, with horrible consequences. Once the vampire had come to him with the idea of releasing Angelus, Wesley had been dubious, until he saw how confident Angel was.

But Angelus was nowhere to be seen.

Wesley grabbed the globe from the pillowcase and hefted it toward the wall. Instead of the welcome smash of tinkling glass, the sphere landed in the Beast's outstretched hand. Something akin to panic clutched at him and Wesley swore under his breath. Whatever it was, this Beast knew about the sphere.

It knew. How in the name of all that was holy could it *know*?

Suddenly, Wesley felt the illumination of dawning comprehension. Of course it knew. Without a word, Wesley grabbed the sword Fred had been trying to modify and launched himself at the Beast. All he had to do was get the Beast to drop the sphere, even if it was as it was batting Wesley away. He had to do something -- anything -- that would make the Beast *drop* that ball. He ran down the stairs before leaping at the Beast, the blade heading straight for its throat. Then, there was a horrible, sickening crack and they all watched in disbelief as Wesley was flung back at the stairwell.

Wesley felt the side of his face hit the floor hard, and he knew instinctively that the things that were broken in him were irreparable. He looked up and saw the Beast looking down at him, satisfaction and then confusion crossing its rock-like face. In spite of the pain rocketing through his body, Wesley smiled. His hand was curled around the sphere and he found some satisfaction in the knowledge that his last act on earth would be the reinstatement of Angel's soul. He lifted his hand and brought it down hard, the glass splintering in his hand, each sliver slicing into his palm.

Ribbons of blinding light swirled around the room, illuminating every corner and shadow. The streams were gone as suddenly as they had appeared and the Hyperion was once again plunged into darkness.

*

Angelus smiled. The kid was tiring out. Given the stench of junk food that emanated from the place, that wasn't much of a surprise. He blocked a kick that was sloppy and caught Connor by the calf. He yanked hard and watched the boy land flat on his back. Bringing the broadsword to the boy's chin, Angelus cocked his head thoughtfully.

"And I think that means I win. Get up." When Connor didn't move, Angelus reached down and grabbed his shirt, effectively pulling him to his feet. "The old man mustn't have taught you well -- honor thy father, Connor." Angelus leaned in close, his face mere inches from Connor's beaten and bloody one. "You don't get it, and you never did. You had the potential either to take after the demon in me, or the soul. And while I'm positively *thrilled* that you're opting for the darker path, there's only room for one of me in this world. You're crowding me out, Junior."

"*You* aren't my father."

The demonic visage disappeared, revealing the human face once more. "Oh, but I am. Every aspect of me is present in you, even my demon. And you can't take it, can you? You fight the potential for evil that resides in you, and you're too weak to embrace anything else, so you end up... here, on the bad end of the sword. Oh, and me." He pressed the edge of the sword against Connor's neck and smiled when he saw the boy's façade fall away, revealing naked fear.

Suddenly Connor did something unexpected. He smiled.

Angelus looked at him quizzically. "Something to add, have you?"

"Even after all this is done, after you've killed me... you're still going to be beaten. The Beast --"

"Is you," Angelus supplied simply. "And there you have my second reason for looking forward to this. Killing you only ensures my existence. Survival of the fittest, Junior. Can't argue Darwin, right?" Dark eyebrows lifted in mock surprise. "Oh, you didn't know? See, I figured it out pretty early on. I wanted to kill you right away, and it was pretty tempting, but that damned filthy soul just kept... getting in the way. Turns out I wasn't wrong -- my child was going to turn out to be the scourge of mankind. Why fight the unfightable when you can catch it at its most vulnerable?"

"I'm still going to win." His smile turned from smug to triumphant. "I killed Cordelia."

"You did *what*?" he growled, his eyes glaring yellow at Connor.

The smile grew. "I killed her."

"You know, beating me to the punch isn't the way to get on my good side, Junior. You have *no* idea how long I was looking forward to that." He laughed mirthlessly. "But then again, now I get to kill you. I call that an up-side." Angelus pushed the blade hard and watched in rapt fascination as Connor's head fell to the ground as his body crumpled, twitching.

The museum was immediately illuminated as bolts of multicolored light shot through broken windows, striking the vampire's body with such force it sent him careening into a glass museum case of ancient Native American pottery. The body was still.