FIC: After All Our Nightmares (13/?)

"How's your face Auntie Faith?"

Faith forced a smile despite the pain shooting through her battered features as she glanced down at the child snuggled into her side. "Slayer healing is totally five by five, hon."

"I hate him for hurting you!" Rex snapped.

Faith's smile became a little more genuine at the boy's outburst. "You gonna protect me?" Rex nodded. Faith leaned down and brushed her bruised lips against his forehead. "Thanks lil guy, but I can protect myself. You just concentrate on stayin' safe and all cuddly, you hear?" Faith ignored the pain in her ribs to give the nodding boy a hug. "Thanks sweetheart."

"If your ribs are distressing you I could hold the boy for you."

Faith raised an eyebrow at Illyria's offer. "Gettin' maternal are you?"

"Hardly," the goddess looked affronted at the very suggestion, "you are our second most effective warrior and should that child's wriggling increase your recovery time, and impair our effectiveness as a fighting force. Hand him over."

"No," Faith shook her head, "my lil buddy's alright where he is."

"I can't decide which one of you is least likely to get clucky."

Faith shot Angel a glare. "Do you wanna try gettin' a sun-tan?"

"What's clucky Auntie Faith?" Rex asked.

"Don't you worry honey, Uncle Angel is just bein' a smart-as-, smarty-pants."

Angel snorted. "Oh, good save."

"You know, you could always break up with her."

Xander cast Connor a baleful glare. They were driving through early-afternoon Tallahassee, the sun bathing the dirty city, Xander leaning against the van's tinted window as Connor drove. "Excuse me?"

"If you're not willing to commit to Faith, maybe-."

"Back off demon-spawn," Xander snapped. "First off, I'm not about to take advice from someone with the relationship experience of a monk."

"Not a monk-."

"Second off, don't think I've not noticed you eying my girl. Not that I blame you for it, you're only part-human after all and it can't be helped, but you're not exactly unbiased in this. Third, who the hell says I'm not willing to commit to Faith?"

"You do," the hybrid seemed unmoved by his anger. "By the way you act, push her away. If you're stringing her along, maybe you should just be honest with her."

"Back off buddy," Xander growled. "You don't have a clue what's going on, so stop trying to Dr. Ruth me." He'd lost everyone he'd ever cared for Jesse, Willow, Anya, Cordelia, Giles, Dawn, Buffy, he couldn't lose anyone else. He couldn't open his-.

"What the-." Connor let out an angry roar as the van's rear seemed to swing away from him, the vehicle letting out a protesting screech as it careered wildly down the road, side-swiping a lamp-post en-route to tilting and then crashing down on its side with bone-jarring impact.

Colonel Rogers peered through his binoculars as he laid on the roof, the bitter taste in his mouth marring his cold professionalism. As head of Axe-Wrath, he was normally hunting demons, bandits, or human sympathisers. Today's target, the target they were hunting were heroes that for some reason had angered Arc Control.

And had to die for it.

Rogers forced away his disdain to speak into his ear-piece. "The Chicken-House is over, Team Beta move in and make sure all the chickens are dead."

"The child cries for you Slayer."

"Ahhh, shit," Faith groaned as she awoke to find herself sprawled on the side of the van, blood filling her mouth, her head's dull ache now promoted to a raging agony. "What the hell?"

"It appears the van has been flung on its side," Illyria shoved Rex into her arms, a look of distaste on the blue-haired demon's face. "The boy fell from your arms when you were stunned, I caught him."

"Thanks," Faith nodded, then winced she hadn't as pain blazed through her head. "Is everyone okay?" She smiled when mutters greeted her query. "Anyone checked Xan and Conn out?"

"Now that you have the child I will endeavour to leave the van and see what caused our accident." Illyria seemed in her element taking control of the situation as she peered around the darkened van. "Vampire you will not be able to leave here. Slayer, you have the child. Groo and Kate, you are both uninjured?" The pair grunted affirmation at her query. "Then gather your weapons and follow me."

Illyria wrenched the door open, under the supervision of Xander the others had reinforced the van's windows and chassis, so the crash would probably have caused little damage to the van. Nevertheless, it would be an effort to right the van and check its mechanics for damage.

Illyria's eyes narrowed as she stepped out of the van ahead of her companions to see a trio of sub-machine gun wielding men sneaking up on their left, threading through the cars and refuse there in a vain attempt at stealth. Her gaze shifted to the right, noting another trio moving in from there. The odds were not good for her companions, the vampire normally would have no problem with bullets, but he couldn't leave the van to evade them, and the Slayer was similarly handicapped both by the child and her own injuries. "Kate, you have your rifle?"

"Yes," the cop whispered.

"Return to the van and use it on the three men to the right, I will deal with those to our left."

"What about-."

"Slayer, I cannot concern myself with your lover at the moment, one problem at a time." With that she raced towards the left trio. One of the men reached over the car he was crouched behind and lobbed a grenade into her path, but she was past it before it exploded, leaping over the car to kick his head off his shoulders, blood spraying the wall behind.

Illyria grabbed at the man's decapitated corpse as it fell to the ground, swung it around and flung at the other two men as their guns came up. The bullets tore through their companion's corpse as Illyria raced around its side, the two men far too slow in turning to face her, grabbed one by the throat and flung into the other, the two camouflage-wearing men crashing to the ground, easy prey for a pair of skull-crushing stomps. Illyria smirked as she glanced down at the discarded machine-guns. This time had amazing weapons, but more often than not lacked the warriors to-.

Pain exploded at the back of her head, knocking her to her knees.

"The Old One is down, confirm the Old One is down."

Rogers grimaced as he received the message, the report like ashes in his mouth, but he was a soldier, and it was his duty to obey, however distasteful or onerous the orders. "Delta Team, move in on the Old One to confirm, teams Alpha and Beta, keep the van pinned down."

"Understood, out."

Rogers peered through his binoculars grimacing as he saw dust fly out from the sniper positioned around the van. Once they'd dealt with them, they'd be able to fire a missile through the van, then move in to make sure the Slayer, vampire, and hybrid were all dead.

What a job.

Master-Sergeant Turner's heart thundered as he approached the prone body of the goddess, blood still leaking from the hole in the back of her head. "Target is down, repeat down," he muttered through his mike, his eye fixed peering through his FN 2000's scope, every step taking him closer, not even the presence of the two troopers flanking and three steps behind him comforting much. "I think she's dead."

"Then," his heart skipped a beat as the tiny blue-haired woman rose, "you are in error." His mouth opened as she covered the twenty feet separating them in a blur, but never managed to utter a syllable before her fist crashed in and through his throat, blood jetting out of his mouth.

The man hadn't even begun to fall before Illyria was tearing his gun from his hands and flinging it at the man to her right, the gun smashing through skull, brains flying everywhere as Illyria lunged at the man to her left, slapping aside his gun as the soldier back-pedalled while attempting to aim. Her hand thrust up and into the man's jaw, knocking his head back with enough force to snap his neck.

Illyria stopped and looked around as the third man joined his companions on the ground, a scowl creasing her face as she reached up to rub at her head where the bullet had gone in. Normal bullets never bothered her, she could only assume it was armour-piercing like some of the rounds the Slayer's lover carried.

However they'd managed it, their enemy had managed to bring her down, however briefly. "This cannot stand," Illyria muttered. It was time for their attackers to know the power of an enraged god unleashed.

"Eagle-Eyes, Pick-Up has gone dead, repeat, Pick-Up has gone dead, have you a visual on the Old One?" Cookson blinked as the Colonel's tension-filled voice crackled through his earpiece, but then adjusted his sniper scope from searching for those huddled and returning fire by the van to checking out the dropped goddess. His heart dipped and belly hollowed when rather than the expected corpse of the Old One, he was confronted by the unmoving bodies of his team-mates. "Eagle-Eyes, report damn it!"

Cookson started at his Colonel's snap, the senior officer's growl drawing him out of his shock. His mouth opened to answer the question.

And then an arm grabbed his jaw from behind, a knee suddenly jammed between his shoulder-blades. Before he could even think to react the arm was pulling back, the sinews in his neck ripping before his attacker's might.

Rogers' chest pounded as he raced down the building's shadowy stairwell, his throat dry in part from all the futile shouting he'd been doing into his mike, but mostly from the fear filling him. What had happened to his well-trained squad? How could one creature take them all out-.

"Huh!" Suddenly she was on the stairwell landing in front of him, head cocked to one side as she glared at him. Rogers brought up his shotgun only for the goddess to grab it by the barrel and tear it from her, flinging it down the stairs behind her. Rogers' fist came up and crashed into the woman's deceptively delicate features.

His blood iced when the goddess smiled at him. "I think not." A tenth of a second later and he was airborne, crashing into the dirty wall behind him, dust billowing as his head impacted with sturdy stone, lights briefly flaring before his eyes. Disbelieving eyes fixed on the advancing demoness, he reached a trembling hand into his belt and drew his K-Bar.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

The demon slammed a foot down on his forearm, bone shattering like kindling beneath her attack. Then her hand was around his throat, the half his size girl effortlessly lifting him off the grimy floor and shaking him until his teeth jumped. Then he was airborne again. "Ohhhh!" He groaned as his head cracked against the wall again, the pain unimportant next to the pain that exploded in his right shoulder.

He hit the floor face first, nose cracking and blood bursting forth from his mouth as the goddess watched, eyes impersonal like a scientist watching a lab rat. Then she leaned over, grabbed a hold of his collar and yanked him to his feet. "Come, it is time for you to meet those you would kill."

"Ask him your questions." Illyria flung the battered man to the entrance of the van.

"Hey, I'm gonna take Rex somewhere, clean him up 'fore things get rough, 'kay?"

Angel looked towards the Slayer and nodded. "Xander, go with her, and take your weapons."

Faith sniffed. "Like we'd forget after this shit. Come on lil guy," Faith kissed Rex on his forehead. "Let's find a bathroom or somewhere to clean those cuts, hey?"

Angel turned back to Illyria the moment Faith, Harris, and Rex had disappeared. "It's still light out," he complained, "you'll have to throw him in here."

Illyria grunted. "My patience has limits vampire-."

"Don't we know it," Connor snorted.

Illyria shot his son a hard glare as she reached down, grabbed the barely conscious man and flung him into the back of the over-turned van. Angel's eyes widened as the man hit the ground inside the van, belatedly recognising his clothing as khaki. "A soldier." His hand grabbed the man around his throat, lifted, and slammed the man into the side of the van, his fangs flying out in his rage. "Are you a member of The Crusade?"

"No," the man gurgled, face bluing as Angel's fingers crushed his throat. "No."

"And why should I-."

"No arm-band dad," Connor suddenly commented. "Don't all those Crusade nutjobs wear an armband?"

"Yeah," Angel nodded. They'd had a couple of run-ins with The Crusade, a private army set up after the fall by a fanatical General. The arm-bands weren't a firm rule, but the man's gurgled utterances smelt like the truth. "Who sent you?" The man stared at him, his eyes resigned. Angel kept his gaze on the man as he continued to talk. "When it comes to torture," he grabbed the man's good arm at the wrist, "I'm kind of an expert."

"AHHHH!" The man arched when Angel yanked, brutally dislocating his good arm. Angel looked on the man then shook his head at his defiant glare. He had to respect the man's resolve, but he had just tried to kill them all, and this was long past the time they could play nice about such things. "GODDDD!" The man screamed when Angel squeezed his wrist until it shattered like it was in a vice. "The Arc, the Arc sent us."

Angel exchanged a shocked look with Connor. "Isn't that a kick in the pants?" his son commented.

Angel returned his gaze to the soldier. "Why?"

"Don't know," the greying man replied.

"Where is the arc?" Angel demanded.

"I've no idea," the man groaned, his breath coming in pants. "I've never been there, I just get orders via radio."

"He lies," Groo said.

"No," Angel's eyes met the soldier's, "I'd be able to smell and hear -."

"Enemies approach," Illyria imperiously interrupted.