A/N: Growing ever closer to the end of this fic. And yes, there is another part. I guess Part III will be the end. I mean, unless I can somehow incorporate everyone into the 5th RE game. Well, that's all the way in '09... Or so I've heard. Well, onto the story. Oh... I couldn't help but post it. I couldn't let the document sit there!

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and my people… who are dead: Monette and Marisol…WAAAAHHH!

Escaping was going to be too easy. There was no way it could be happening. As Leon, Barry, Sherry, and Birkin boarded the elevator, a gut feeling told them that something had to go wrong. A deadly occurrence was about to take place one way or another. Eagerly, Barry pressed the Ground Floor button, but they didn't go up.

All of them could feel the elevator descending to a lower level, a level that there wasn't even a button for.

"Oh God," Barry groaned, wishing that they had taken the stairway. Of course, anyone would tell them differently. Narrow space and a long drop often meant that it was the perfect dining area for the monsters on the loose. Unable to even imagine handling more of Spencer's terrors, Sherry held her long, blonde hair back in distress. How could she possibly remain sane.

After all of these scenarios with Umbrella, how had none of them put a razor blade to their wrists yet? The thought of living a life knowing what goes bump in the night, knowing that the man in black is after you, was enough to make someone want to throw themselves off a cliff. As the elevator stopped, she released a breath that she didn't even know she was holding in. For the first time in her short life, her father was actually being her father, but now he was probably going to be snatched away from her once again. Dying was what it took the first time for him to realize what she should have meant to him, but now they didn't know if any of them would make it.

According to Spencer, Sherry would live, only to be experimented on and killed so that she would become the next Alexia. Pushing aside the fact that her father made her into what she was, still, it would be Spencer's doing to change her. Would she forget everyone if they failed in saving her, would she murder her friends? Suddenly, she remembered what happened to the woman that she believed was her mother for thirteen years. As the doors opened, they stepped out into what appeared to be a large storage room.

Were they safe from the B.O.W.S. here? On the other side of the room another elevator came down, its passengers included Jill and Wesker, both looking equally confused. Happy to see that Wesker was alright -as she knew he would be- Sherry ran in his direction, but stopped in the middle of the room. Echoed sobs had reached their ears, and everyone turned to see Chris behind a few crates, bleeding, and sobbing over the limp body of Claire. Wesker tensed at the sight, but did not move towards them.

Everyone rushed to the remaining Redfield sibling and tried to comfort him. Nothing could keep Sherry from falling to her knees, could keep her from sobbing just as Chris was. Jill leaned down beside him, and held his head to her chest as he held onto his sister as though he could somehow keep her soul from leaving her body. Leon could only stand there, his eyes dried up from crying over Marisol. He could not be any more broken that he was now.

Covering his mouth, Barry turned away, breathing deep. Seeing his friend in such a fragile state was something that he never thought he would have to handle. At least not this early in his life.

"Boo-hoo!" shouted an unsympathetic voice. Everyone turned, seeing Spencer standing behind them with a disgusted look on his face.

"You asshole!" Jill shouted, pulling out her gun, only making him chuckle. Intimidated by his laughter, she let her arms fall, knowing that nothing she did would bring Claire back into Chris' life. Surely, he wished he were dead now, and she tightly gripped his wrist in fear that he might try to attack Spencer with his bare hands.

"So, Wesker, why are we here?" asked the oldest man in the room. Even though he didn't look it, Wesker still saw him as the old, lonely man that spent years pining over his wife. It sickened him to even look at the sad excuse of a being standing there. Wesker had a reason for killing people, but Spencer just wanted to see lives wasted before him. It made him feel like he was God, like someone actually cared about him.

"Because of your wife, I believe," he continued his monologue by lecturing his former student. "All she had to do was finish you off, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. You know that she was actually planning on killing herself in that secluded, little cabin?" Nothing Spencer said hurt Wesker, because he knew everything there was to know about his wife. Never ashamed of her actions, Monette always came clean in the end about things, even her pact with the devil that stood before them. "She was just weak. She couldn't even end her miserable life. Of course, you motivated her to go through it, but you've always had such wonderful timing!" he spat.

"Are you done?" Wesker's arms were folded as he stood there, unaffected by the harsh words coming out of Spencer's mouth. In his youth, he never shed a tear over any of Spencer's condescending rants, and he would not give him the satisfaction now. Disgracing the memory of his wife was an impossible feat, because right now, he could almost hear her laughing and saying, "So what? I don't like you either; ergo, you don't matter." If there was one thing that Wesker learned from that woman, it was that when someone claims not to care about you, that they are dead to you, and dead people can't hurt you.

"I killed Marisol, Wesker," the older man boasted, his smile fading as he resorted to such a low blow. "If I disposed of her so easily, who's to say that you'll last half as long as she did in a fight? I've already killed two women that I loved, why should a useless, idiot like you matter when you're nothing but the child of immigrant trash?" Still not losing his cool, Wesker smirked and recalled those days when words like those actually infuriated him, when Spencer could drive him mad.

At first, no one saw what Wesker found so funny as he let out one of his maniacal laughs. That laugh meant that this wasn't the end, it was the laugh that meant he was only getting started. Seeing that his verbal attack was doing no good, Spencer decided to attack Wesker, not even landing a single punch. Realizing that Wesker was stronger than him, Spencer threw an enraged glare at Birkin.

"I always did believe that Wesker was my best work," yelled the blond man, standing to his feet, and bringing his daughter up with him to witness the result of his talent and effort. Distracting Spencer was too easy, caught up in anger over what Birkin said, he looked away and earned himself a knee to his abdomen. Breathless, he fell to the ground, more embarrassed than anything. He tried to denounce human behavior as an evolutional flaw that only the weak received, and here he was feeling everything that only the weakest humans went through. He felt envy, lust, wrath, gluttony, greed, and pride.

Those were six out of seven of the deadliest sins that were committed by none other than man. And the worst human emotion that he displayed was self-pity. Every time there was a finger that could be pointed, he pointed. Whenever there was game to be played, he played for his own needs to be able to put others down using all of his tricks and methods of unfairness. And Wesker would be damned if he let such a hypocritical and self-loathing creature get the best of him in a mind game.

Because when it came to using their brains, who were the ones who made Spencer's name feared and revered amongst the corporate world? Albert Wesker, William Birkin, and the two men he claimed were his friends that he had murdered: Dr. Marcus and Edward Ashford. This man was such a coward that he even hid behind a poor creature like Marisol, and for her realization of the definition of the word "man," she was murdered. Stepping out from the shade of ignorance did not mean that she had to step through Death's door. Wesker believed in respect, and even though he despised Chris with a heated passion, he still held him high as one of the most respectable men in the world.

He may have talked down about his character because he ruined his life-plan, but he put his foot and life down for what he believed in. He did not waver under pressure of desperation to retain his time on earth, nor did he do and say differently from what he believed. These things are what made Wesker fight Spencer without doubt of his own strength, the things that made him want to fight to continue his own life. If anyone was going to erect a new Umbrella, it would be him. From the view of Chris and the others, it seemed like Wesker had become a whole different person.

They watched him block blows from Spencer and deliver kicks and punches that would send him flying. Only out of pride and the will to not appear weak in front of humans did Spencer rise after he was knocked down. It was only matter of time before he gave in, and with interest, everyone watched, all silently rooting for Wesker. Right now, the battle lines had been erased and Wesker was not evil. He was a savior right now, and Chris thought that for a second, he understood what Claire stayed around him for.

He had once stuck around for this too, his Captain. In a flash, Wesker's fist came up, connecting with Spencer's chin. Chris had been there before, and he knew that even though Spencer wasn't human, that it had to hurt like hell. Then Wesker braced himself for the jump, the very jump that Chris had barely missed once before himself. Just before the fighting blond could get his feet off of the ground, Spencer pulled out a gun, the very same gun that he had used to kill Claire.

It was a coward's move, and a coward's desperate attempt to prolong his miserable life. Spencer could not die with dignity, because he did not have any. His finger gripped the trigger tightly, ready to pull.

"The self destruct system has been activated; all personnel, evacuate immediately." Whoever had been pulling the strings earlier had perfect timing.

"Never thought I'd be happy to hear that damned thing!" shouted Jill.

"Ten minutes until detonation."

"That part's not so good," she added. Spencer and Wesker still stood there, like gods locked in an eternal battle.

"No guns," announced Spencer, standing up and setting the weapon down.

"Go," said Wesker, not looking back at the others. Chris wanted to protest, but he only nodded to the others and they tried to help him pick up Claire. They could not just leave her there like that. A noise coming from one of the elevator shafts stopped them, and they looked to their right to see the doors open and dust poured out. All were staring at the seemingly empty shaft and something moved under the rubble.

At first, it appeared as though it was something small and harmless, but one of Spencer's creatures exploded from underneath the destroyed elevator. "Let's go!" yelled Barry, prying Chris away from his sister's corpse Protests were made by him, but his friends only dragged him to the other elevator. Before the doors closed, Chris strained to hear Wesker say something.

"I'll take care of Claire," is what it looked like, and many small creatures crawled down the opposite elevator, seeming to be cackling at them. All they could do was wait until they got to the Ground level, and then run as far away into the mountains as they could. As soon as Spencer saw the B.O.W.S. he lost all interest in fighting Wesker. This gave Wesker the opportunity to retrieve Claire's body before the B.O.W.S. got a hold of her. In the corner of his eye, the younger man saw Spencer snap the neck of a Hunter.

"Don't you dare run away!" he yelled at the blond. Wesker had nowhere to go right now; there was no telling what was in the other elevator, and the others were using the only one he knew to be operational. Deciding to take a chance, he ran for the elevator at the far end, and for the first time ever seemed impatient as he waited for it to reach the level. Spencer gave a grunt as something scratched him across the arm. After about two minutes, the elevator was there and Wesker rushed into it, hearing Spencer fire off many shots from his gun.

Carefully, he adjusted Claire in his arms, holding her bridal style. How fitting, he thought as he silently told her to wake up. Spencer had done the hard work for him; he had killed Claire, and that was all that he needed. Chris would leave them alone now, because he would not even know that she still existed. He felt her shift a bit in his arms, at that was the signal that said he had succeeded.

Claire was back.

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Hearts beating rapidly, their legs tired before they even started running, the group tried to stick together. Sherry held her father's hand as they raced through the forest, aware that the ground gradually sloped up into a hill. Jill pulled Chris with her, using all of her strength to help him along. Seeing his sister die was taking its toll on him, but she refused to let him give up on himself. Leon and Barry seemed to be tiring more easily, but that did not stop them from giving it their all.

In their heads they all asked the same thing, "Is Wesker okay?" Birkin had not even been able to have a conversation with his old colleague, nor had he had the chance to thank him for watching his daughter and keeping her safe for as long as he managed to. Death had changed him as a person, and now he understood what they were really doing at Umbrella. All he wanted were answers and recognition. His ambitions differed from those of the other scientists there.

Until they could look down and see the facility, they would continue running.

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Cut and injured, Spencer ran from the elevator, hoping that three and a half minutes would get him somewhere. He had the speed for it. "WHO IS DOING THIS?!" he yelled into the empty parking lot.

"Me." Trying to find where the voice came from, he looked to the left, seeing a face he thought long gone from this world and along with it, a pack of rotting dogs, ready for any kill that they could get.

"Oh fu-" Before the words could leave his mouth, fangs clamped it shut, and snarling and barking drowned out his cries of pain. There were too many of them to fight off. Flashes of scaly armor appeared, and he knew that Hunters had joined in on the attack. All he could do was throw blows, but that did not stop the dogs from sinking their fangs into him. Nothing, however, could drown out the computer's final countdown.

"10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1"

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From above, the sight did not look anywhere near spectacular. Explosions were so common to them that it was like the Fourth of July. Some parts of the facility only collapsed while others expelled fire and debris. They all looked down in silence, grateful that they had once again escaped such a fate, but sad that lives had been lost. Claire, Marisol, and Wesker. Remembering the days of being police, Jill, Barry, Chris, and Leon gave a salute in honor of those who fought to the end.

"Claire," breathed Chris.

"I don't believe Wesker didn't make it," said Birkin thoughtfully. From memory and the stories told to him, it sounded like Wesker was very stubborn when it came to death. Well, he first found this out when he came to him demanding that he bottle immortality. "No. He's around." Chris didn't even hear the apologies from those around him as he though of his sister.

"I just can't believe that Marisol's actually dead," said Leon who had stopped crying, but he frowned when the Birkins gave him a smirk.

"Now, if Marisol was dead, then who the hell triggered the self destruct system and saved y'alls' asses?" That voice was familiar, but no one believed their ears at first. Behind them, there stood a small woman who looked a lot like Marisol. Wait! It was Marisol!

Blood was caked on her neck, and a fading scar was visible in the center of it all. In disbelief, Leon walked towards her, his lips ready to release the name, "Spencer," but she stopped him with her lips. The others witnessing the kiss smiled at them. When he finally pulled away, Leon had so many questions. "So the elevator dropping-?"

"We knew if we told you that there was no way we would live," said Sherry, an apologetic smile on her face. "Spencer didn't realize that the monitors were frozen when they came back on."

"I released the B.O.W.S, I started the self-destruct system, and I even fed Spencer to my little perritos for dinner." Pain was on Chris' face, but he managed a smile. "Claire, I don't think she would have wanted to live after all of this Chris. Now she can rest without looking over her shoulder all the time." Knowing exactly what she meant, Chris gave a nod and tried to keep smiling. She was right, his sister did not deserve to continue paying for caring for him.

"Chris?" Jill looked up to him, looking relieved for the first time in months, "Let's the hell outta here. Rebecca needs baby names."

Giving her a smile in return, he replied with, "And we all know what I need." They walked to Barry, signaling that it was time to go home.

"Dad, can Canada wait?" Sherry faked a yawn, but her father let out a real one.

"Okay, Chateau de Redfield is open for business," said Chris, knowing where they wanted to stay. Instead of leaving, they stared at the reunited couple before them, at once thought to be over just as soon as they started.

"So," started Leon, looking quite confused, "what are you up for?" Never had relationships gone his way in the past.

"Well, according to American pop culture," started Marisol, a devilish grin on her face, "now we go to your place and… you know." Grinning from ear to ear they all watched as Leon blushed like a schoolboy in the girls' locker room. "I think we should buy a house. Ooh, let's get a dog since mine were blown to bits," she said as they walked off, and everyone gave each other stares of interest. This would be interesting. Just as they began walking off, Sherry stared into the trees behind her and waved, causing her father to give a nod in that direction.

Sherry and Birkin knew that everything would work out fine as they said goodbye to Claire and Wesker. Without words, they promised to never tell. Up ahead, Marisol whispered to Leon, "You know Claire's not dead right?"

"Duh," he answered, "who do we know that ever stays dead?" The sun had risen high in the sky by now, and even though it happened moments ago, Spencer seemed like nothing but a bad memory, and the line between things that appeared to be complete opposites had been completely erased. There was no good, no bad, they were all just simply… human.

A/N: That was long for me! God, it's 1 AM. Review and stay tuned for the epilogue!