Part Three

Angel flung himself at the Aztec demon, grabbing him around the waist and rugby tackling him to the floor. They rolled over on the ground - a whirl of fists and fangs. Doyle, gasping for breath, pushed himself up off the hood of the car - he saw the fight down on the sidewalk and, taking a deep breath, morphed into his spikes and joined in the fray.

He grabbed hold of Tezcatcatl under the arms and hauled him off Angel, holding him in place whilst Angel scrambled back to his feet and began to pummel the Aztec demon. But Tezcatcatl braced itself against Doyle's grip and kicked both of its feet out, striking Angel directly in the chest and sending him flying through the air.

Doyle stumbled under the sudden weight of the demon, and the Aztec warrior took that moment to rip itself free from Doyle's hold and run off into the night. The Irishman doubled over, his hands resting on his knees, panting heavily. Now the danger was past, he allowed the spikes to melt from his face. After a moment, he stuck his hand out and helped Angel back to his feet. 'That the thing you're huntin'?' he asked, still gasping for air.

'That's him.'

'Well…' he chuckled nervously. 'I'd rather you than me, bud.'

'You OK?' Angel asked.

'Fine. You?'

'Fine.'

'Uh, bud…' he was still struggling to get his breath back, 'um … what did that thing want with me?'

Angel had been met at the elevator by Wesley and Gunn. They explained their discovery to him as he limped across the lobby, going slowly after his latest run in with Tezcatcatl. 'So, you think the demon is eating the hearts of heroes, huh?' he asked, after he'd listened to what they had to say. 'Well - it's an interesting theory and I can see why your research might support that, but … your theory kinda fell apart in the field.'

'Angel - I know you were taken by surprise…' Wesley started to say, but Angel interrupted him, as he limped into his office. 'The reason why I know the Aztec demon isn't eating the hearts of heroes is…' he said loudly, before shifting uncomfortably and lowering his voice, '... because he didn't take mine,' he muttered the last part. 'He flung me to one side and went straight for … Doyle. Now - are you honestly telling me that this thing tracked me from earlier, took out his sword ready to chop me in two and then thought "oh no wait - his heart's not heroic enough - I'll take his sidekick's heart instead"...' he cleared his throat. 'Former sidekick,' he corrected himself. 'I don't think so.'

Wesley and Gunn glanced at each other. 'I know you're feeling … rejected,' Wesley said to him, kindly. 'But this Aztec warrior, it wants the hearts for sustenance. It wants the meat not the metaphor.'

'What the hell does that mean?'

'It means that - as meat goes, it bypassed the dried up gnarly ass hunk of beef jerky that is your heart and went for the juicy rare prime steak that is Irish's ticker. Can you honestly say you blame him?' Gunn said.

Angel looked irritated for a moment, but then his expression fell into one of glum thoughtfulness. 'Maybe it's because Doyle is still out there - fighting the fight. And I'm in here … signing the contracts.' He sighed. 'Maybe I really am no champion anymore - like Number Five.' That reminded him of something. 'Hey, Wes? Did you know the devil built a robot?'

'El Diablo Robotico,' Wesley nodded. 'Why?'

'Nobody ever tells me anything.' He leaned on his desk and sighed again. Gunn glanced between his two friends - if all that was going to go on in here was a whole lot of maudlin, then he had other leads he could follow. 'I'm gonna go check with my guys in contracts,' he told them. 'If this Aztec demon got to come back after fifty years, then it might have made some kind of supernatural deal with something. And if there's a deal, might be a contract.' He headed out of the door.

Wesley turned back to Angel, who was still looking despondent - brooding, but much more so than usual. 'Angel,' he said, gently, 'what Gunn said about your heart, the dried up bit, I don't think that's the problem.'

'But you do see a problem?'

'It's the work,' Wesley nodded.

'Right,' Angel gave a sarcastic laugh. 'The eighteen hour days, the constant slaying of evil, getting my ribs bashed in by an ancient Aztec warrior…'

'I didn't say you weren't working. But it's like you just said - the way you view what we do here. Doyle and Cordelia are still out helping the hopeless - running your mission. And you … sign contracts. You're heart isn't in the work. It's lost all meaning for you.'

Angel wandered across the room and stared out of the window. 'Well - I have been feeling a bit - uh -'

'Disconnected, yes I heard. You blame your melancholy on your new position, but I don't think it's the type of work you do that's the problem.'

''OK - sure, it's not the work itself. It's why we do it - who we do it for,' Angel admitted. 'I'm here because my life belongs to The Senior Partner's now, and every step I take, every move - I have to second guess. Even if I save a life, or slay a beastie - I have to wonder - did they want me to do that? Have I just helped their great apocalyptic plan somehow? It's exhausting. And I'm trapped. There's no way out. Not until Connor …' he trailed off, not wanting to finish this sentence.

'I think things seem very bleak for you right now, your heart isn't in the game,' Wesley said. '- You've lost all hope … Spike tells me that you've stopped believing in the Shanshu prophecy.'

'Well of course I've stopped believing in it,' he scoffed, 'not only am I now fighting on the wrong side of the apocalypse…'

'The prophecy was never clear what side the vampire with a soul would fight on - it's why Wolfram and Hart wanted you in the first place.'

But Angel just waved that away, 'whatever Wolfram and Hart thinks,' he said, 'we both know - after everything that we've seen - that prophecies are nonsense. You know that, They all are.'

Wesley looked at him quizzically. Angel tutted in impatience. 'Oh come on,' he said, 'after everything last year with Doyle - being the promised one that never died, leading to Jasmine… because the prophecy around him screwed up - events changed. Or what about the one the year before that, huh? "The father will kill the son"?'

Wesley inhaled sharply. 'That prophecy was specifically altered,' he tried to stop his voice from getting heated, but he could feel the sudden warmth as blood rushed to his face. 'The underlying prophecy - that says Connor will grow to manhood and kill Sahjahn - is sound.'

'Right - the prophecy was altered. And a higher power intervened and saved Doyle's life and changed the entire course of our lives… prophecies are nonsense. Just because something is written, doesn't mean anything.'

'I'm sure you don't really believe that,' Wesley said.

'What does it matter what I believe?' Angel replied. 'I still go out and save the people. I do the work. As long as I keep on doing what I'm doing, what does it matter if I believe in the Shanshu or not?'

'I'm sorry, Angel, but I believe that nothing matters more,' Wesley told him - his tone was deeply serious, urgent even. 'Hope, it's the only thing that will sustain you - the only thing that will stop you ending up like Number Five.'

A silence fell between the two men - and they stared at each other, but the moment was broken by the shrill ringing of the telephone. Angel grabbed the receiver, 'yeah?' he barked down the line. He listened for a moment and then hung up. 'It's Fred,' he said, 'she's found something.'

Cordelia frowned, wrinkling her brow. It was harder than she thought - having a meaningful conversation with an invisible and silent person. She wasn't sure if Dennis was understanding, following … whether he was still even there. Usually their interactions … well to tell the truth, they tended to focus on her. She would complain, pour her heart out, sulk - whatever was on her mind - and Dennis would make her tea and pass her the tissues. He'd run her a bath and then use the loofah to scrub her back. He was there for her in a million different ways - and she was forever talking at him. But talking to him - this was hard.

'The thing is Dennis,' she sighed, 'I love you - you know I do. And I love living with you. You really are my best friend, you mean so much to me…' she paused, in a normal conversation the other person would say something here. But in this conversation - she had to do all the talking. 'But we have to face facts, even if we don't wanna. You're dead. And I'm not. You're trapped in this apartment, forever - and I'm ...not.' Her voice wobbled treacherously. She wasn't going to cry, she'd sworn it to herself. That wasn't fair on Dennis. She had to see this through sensibly and rationally - not make it about her.

She sighed once more, screwed up all her determination and launched in again. 'The truth is - since we lost most of the team, and it's just me and Doyle, now… we're not making that much money,' she explained. 'And Doyle's place comes with the office - we get it whether we need it or not. And you know we're getting married, right? Doyle and me? I did tell you. So it just seems - and please don't take this the wrong way. This isn't because I wanna leave or because Doyle wants to get rid of you, you know we both think of you as family … but really, me and Doyle should be living together full time now. And - it makes financial sense for us to live at his place not here.'

She stopped talking and took a deep breath - there was silence. Everything around her remained still. 'Are you still there?' she asked doubtfully. Her mug lifted itself off the coffee table - showing her that Dennis was in fact still present. 'Right,' she nodded. She tried to keep her voice bright and her words logical, but she couldn't hide the brittle quality to her tone that belied her real feelings - her real hurt. She knew that Dennis, of all people, would be able to hear it. She tried to make her voice stronger. 'OK - so … we need to think about the future. I don't suppose you can leave this place and come and live at Doyle's can you? 'Cause you know that would be my number one option…' This time she couldn't keep the hope out of her voice.

But the cup tilted back in forth in the air - like it was shaking its head.

'Right - of course you can't,' Cordy nodded, 'you haunt this place. That makes sense, I guess. So - we need to work out what happens to us now.'

The team had all gathered in the lab - Fred had her results up on the screen and had talked through them in terms the men would understand. Tezcatcatl ate the hearts of heroes and it was their blood that kept him alive, a bit like a vampire, except that it acted on the Aztec demon like a kind of supercharged rocket fuel, leaving him nigh on invulnerable.

'Oh I could kill it,' Spike announced. Everyone turned to look at him in disbelief - and he modified his statement: 'I mean, ghostliness to the contrary. Come on lads, everything's got its Achilles heel.'

'And you just happen to know this creatures Achilles heel?' Angel asked, scornfully. On top of everything else - everything he was feeling - he could really do without Blondie Bear's showboating. All mouth and no trousers - talking like a big man, safe in the knowledge that it wasn't him that was going to have to go out and defeat this thing. He tutted in irritation. Spike gave him a dark look.

'Well I wager it's the heart.'

Fred looked at her screen, trying to work it out in all the lines and data markings on her graph. 'You see that in the science?'

'No love - in the poetry,' his voice was a lot softer when he spoke to Fred. 'we're dealing with a mythic creature here - a kill or be killed kind of creature. If I was trying to kill something that was trying to take my heart, I'd bloody well try and take it's heart first.'

'And you'd be doing the right thing,' Gunn announced as he walked into the lab, a file in his hands. 'That'd stop it for the time being.' But only for the time being. Tezcatcatl had arranged a get of jail free card for himself. It was all in his contract, so to speak - any kind of shady deal, hex or supernatural curse and Wolfram and Hart kept a record of it, which is what Gunn had just managed to dig up.

'Tezcatcatl was one of the Aztecs' most powerful warriors,' he told the others. 'He forged a mystical talisman that would harness the power of their sun god. Make him supernova powerful. But he got found out - and was sentenced to die on the Aztec version of the Day of the Dead.'

'So he made a mystical deal,' Wesley said slowly. Gunn nodded. 'Yeah, it was pretty clever really. He had their shaman put a curse on him to return from the dead every fifty years. Been doing it for centuries. Usually that'd be a bad thing, but in his case it brings him back so he can keep searching for the talisman.'

'Any idea what happened to the talisman?' Fred asked. But facts there were hazy - it was given to a great hero in charge of protecting it.

'Which gets passed down through the generations,' Angel realised, 'so each time that demon returns it's searching for that talisman.'

'And if it finds it, that demon becomes sungod powerful and you sods become a series of hearty snacks,' Spike punned cheerfully. The others chose to ignore him - and Wesley asked if there was a drawing of the talisman.

There wasn't, but Gunn had a basic description - it was gold, about the size of a quarter and had the sun and some other spooky mumbo-jumbo carved into it.

Angel closed his eyes and saw a flash of gold behind them - remembered the shrine at Number Five's house - and the gold medallion that had been sitting amongst the candles and the photos of his brothers. He opened his eyes and - without saying a word to anyone - ran out of the lab. The others turned to watch him go, surprised. 'Oh see,' Spike said, pointing after him, 'drama queen.'

Angel arrived at Number Five's apartment and banged on the door. There was no answer, so he broke the lock and charged inside. The place was empty - the shrine had been dismantled: the flowers, the photos, the candles - and the talisman - were all gone, along with the old luchadore himself.

Angel turned and ran back out of the apartment. He jumped into his car and switched on the engine, as he pulled out into the road, he fumbled for his cell. He pressed number one on his speed dial and listened to it ring. 'Come on come on,' he muttered impatiently.

Down in his apartment, Doyle frowned as he heard his cell start to ring. It was late for callers. He picked it up, glancing at the caller ID. 'Angel, man - what's up?' he asked, as he answered.

'I need you to look something up for me on the net,' Angel barked down the phone.

'O- kay,' Doyle headed for the stairs and went back into his office. 'What's this about?' he asked as he sat behind his desk and fired up his computer.

'I'm tracking that demon - well, the thing it's looking for. Should lead me straight to it. The guys who killed it last time…'

'Last time?' Doyle interrupted, but Angel ignored him. 'Their brother - the only survivor - said they were buried behind San Gregore. I need you to tell me where San Gregore is.'

'Sure thing man - easy,' he typed his words into the search bar. 'OK - the Saint Gregory Catholic Church is out past Korea Town - towards Central L.A. South Bronson Avenue.'

'Thanks,' Angel made to hang up.

'Hey, Angel,' Doyle caught him just before he did, 'how come you rang me - and not the guys back at Wolfram and Hart?'

'I guess - I dunno … you were always the net guy. It just seemed …' he wasn't sure what to say, he didn't have an answer. He just knew - in that moment of needing answers fast - it hadn't crossed his mind to ring anyone but Doyle. He didn't know why that was.

'OK man - good luck with that thing,' Doyle said, smiling to himself down the phone, as he realised Angel was stuck for words. 'Take care.'

'Yeah, thanks.' He hung up his cell, threw it into the passenger seat and twisted the steering wheel, screeching the car around and heading west towards central L.A.

'Doyle says - and I actually think he might be right on this but don't tell him I said that - he says you have two options,' Cordelia told Dennis. She took a deep breath. 'I mean first is kind of obvious… you just stay here. I have to go - but someone else will be along in a bit, this is a great apartment, it'll get snapped up like that,' she clicked her fingers to demonstrate how quickly her place would be taken off the market again. 'So you'll have someone else to keep you company, someone else to look after... of course there are some downsides,' she admitted. 'The next person who moves in might not - you know - know about ghosts and stuff, they might not be OK with the idea. You'd have to try and hide - try to make them aware of you in subtle ways, build up to the big reveal - and hope they don't exorcise you.'

She frowned, remembering how close she had come to exorcising Dennis the year before, when she didn't remember who he was. 'But eventually you'd build up a relationship. It wouldn't be what we have - but it could be just as good …' She frowned even deeper. 'Until they inevitably moved on and you had to start all over again. I mean that's pretty much it for choice one - stay here forever, whilst everyone living, who you care about, grows up and moves on again and again and again.'

There was a moment of quiet whilst they both considered this - or at least she assumed this was what Dennis was considering. It was not like he could tell her. 'Or then there's the other option,' she said after a while. 'Now - this one might seem a bit scary at first, but hear me out. We could - maybe - help you cross over. To the other side. Now I know that sounds hokey - don't yell - but I absolutely know for a fact that there is another side. An afterlife. My friend, Buffy, she's the mopey one with bad dress sense who accidentally turned me into a slayer, she died one time. Twice actually. But one time, she went to heaven - and she came back … so we know heaven is a place. And you could go there - and be with all the other dead people. It's a big change - but don't you think that might not be better for you - in the long run?'

Angel arrived in the cemetery behind San Gregore. Number Five was already there, he had rebuilt the shrine on top of a large flat tombstone, near the burial site of his beloved brothers. He lit the candles, performing a ritual. 'Tezcatcatl … ven. Yo te espero. Come I wait for you.'

'It won't work you know,' Angel called out to him as he approached. 'You want the Aztec warrior to come, to kill you so you can be with your brothers. But he won't.'

'He will be here,' Number Five said, calmly, 'I summoned him.'

'Maybe - but he won't kill you - or me.' He tapped his chest, 'missing the secret ingredient. Now - give me the talisman and I'll leave you to your misery.'

'I don't have it,' the old man reached for the cup from his thermos and took a sip of coffee, watching as Angel began to search through the shrine. Photos and candles fell to the floor as he hunted through them for the talisman. 'Where is it?'

'You are one strange man, Senor Angel.'

'I'm not the one in a mask standing in the middle of a cemetery in the middle of the night.'

'No - but you will be.' He raised his coffee cup in a gesture of toasting Angel. The vampire abandoned the shrine and marched over to the old man, patting him down like a security guard at the airport. But there was still no sign of it - it seemed the luchadore was not lying. 'You want this thing to punch your ticket, fine,' Angel said to him, 'but I'm not letting him get the talisman.'

'Say you stop it, then what?' Number Five asked. 'In fifty years it's back and nothing has changed.'

Angel grabbed the old man by the lapels, 'give it to me,' he demanded, bringing his face real close to the mask. But Number Five was not intimidated. And it was already too late - the demon had appeared in the graveyard, summoned by the old man's spell. It strode towards them both, unsheathing its sword.

'You were right about Tezcatcatl not wanting to kill me,' Number Five told Angel, 'that I am not a hero. So I had to find a way to fool him, to make myself worthy. I swallowed the talisman. If he wants it, he will have to cut it out of me.' He pulled himself loose from Angel's grip and threw him against a headstone, before turning away and heading towards the encroaching demon. 'You want your talisman?' he called to Tezcatcatl. 'Come and get it. It's in my belly.'

He was face to face with the demon now - and peered through his mask into the eyes of the monster that had stolen everything from him. 'Don't you remember? I'm the hombre who destroyed you last time. Come on - it's in here,' he pointed to his belly, 'come and get it.'

The demon punched him and he fell to the ground. But he got back up again - planting his feet firmly, he spread his arms wide and yelled: 'That's it. Again!'

Cordelia swept all the magazines and coffee cups and other debris off the coffee table until the surface was clear. Then she got to her feet. 'This is your choice Dennis - completely your choice - and I wanna make sure I do the right thing by you so…' She crossed to the bookshelf and picked up a cactus, a tealight and a box of matches. 'This cactus is the housewarming present that Doyle and Angel bought for me when I first moved in here,' she told the ghost, holding it up so he could see it and then putting it on the now clear table. 'It represents this apartment - home… and this candle,' she put the tealight down next to the cactus and then laid the matches beside it. 'This represents going into the light - crossing to the other side. So - here's your choice, and I want you to think about it really carefully because I will do whatever you think is best…'

Her voice wobbled a bit, but she bit her lip and blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall. This was important and she needed to do it properly, for Dennis - she couldn't be a big, blubbery wreck - he needed to make his own decision, without feeling that she was manipulating him one way or the other. This was a choice he had to make for himself - not for her.

'If you want to stay here in the apartment, after I've moved out - and live with the next people - if you wanna stay home - then pick up the cactus and put it back on the shelf. But - if you would rather move on, take the next step in your afterlife experience - I want you to light the candle. Do you understand?'

She waited anxiously to see which Dennis would choose.

Angel got back to his feet, he ripped an iron rod from the gate of the cemetery and rushed headlong towards the demon. Tezcatcatl was gaining on Number Five, who stood his ground and refused to move. The Aztec demon pointed his sword at the old man's belly, but - before he could strike his blow, Angel was there. He knocked Number Five out of the way. 'Not gonna make this easy for you,' he yelled - then he turned to the demon and parried the sword blow with his iron bar. 'We already did this little dance remember?'

The Aztec Warrior threw him to one side, he flew through the air and landed heavily on the ground. Number Five drew a sword of his own - and lunged at the demon, engaging it in a battle that led them both away from Angel. 'If you're looking for heroes you're wasting your time,' he spat at the demon, between blows. He raised his sword to parry the next blow - but it was a feint - and Tezcatcatl got his blade through the space and plunged his sword into the old man's belly. Number Five fell to the ground, clutching his stomach.

'No!' Angel was back on his feet. He pushed the demon away from the old man and began to hit at it with his iron bar.

Number Five stumbled away, ignoring the fighting demons in the background. He found his way to his brother's grave, still clutching his stomach wound. He collapsed on the ground, under which his brothers were buried - the blood on his hand smeared down their tombstone, leaving a ruby red trail.

He was vaguely aware of Angel still fighting the demon - they seemed very far away now. He was more aware of his life's blood, flowing from his wound and into the soil - seeping into the ground.

The demon swiped another backhander at Angel - and once more he flew through the air. He landed heavily beside Number Five.

Doyle was just fixing himself a night cap when he heard his phone ring again. He picked it up - this time caller ID told him it was Cordelia calling. 'Yello? Princess?' he said into the phone, 'is everythin' alright, darlin'?'

'I need you to come over,' she said to him - her voice sounded quiet and strangely calm, like she was repressing something, refusing to feel something. 'It's time,' she told him - and then she hung up.

Angel rolled, trying to force his way back up - but, before he could, hands suddenly shot out from beneath the soil. They were either side of his head - and rising up from the grave.