Part Two

Spike felt the pain of Harmony's teeth sinking into his neck, tearing into his flesh. He pulled back - ripping her away from him - and scrambled back to his feet. 'what the bloody hell has gotten into…' he started to say, fumbling with his fly - then he looked up, once he was zipped up, and saw the blood streaming from her eye sockets. '...your eyes,' he finished up, in horror.

Harmony was on her feet now, as well - standing facing him - her body was taut, like she was ready to fight. 'I'm not!' she yelled at him, her face still vamped out. 'Not yours!'

He held his hands up in surrender, 'right - not mine,' he agreed quickly.

'Using me. Making me think - feel like I'm yours. You don't want me. You want your slayer whore!' she rushed at him. 'I'll kill you!'

He swung his fist at her - and she flew back through the air, smashing into the necro tempered glass of the window and then falling to the floor. Spike just stared at her unconscious body, wondering what the bloody hell was going on.

The demon elder - Raelif - paid the crew of La Sirena De Manta and thanked them for the supplies they had brought. The men nodded, looking slightly unnerved by the demon's strange face, glancing around the island - anxious to get off. Once they had sailed away, Raelif put his fingers in his mouth and whistled, long and loud. More Lister demons appeared - melting out from the shadows, creeping out from behind rocks - leaving their hiding places now the humans had gone away and they felt safe once more. The demons picked up the crates and parcels the crew had left behind, and carried them away - heading back inland.

'It's this way,' Raelif said to the young couple, 'I live not far from here - please…' he gestured at them to follow him and - with a swift glance at each other - Cordy and Doyle followed the demon back to his home.

Home turned out to be a small hut made of driftwood - surrounded by other similar dwellings, creating a small village. There was a hole in the roof of the house - and smoke billowed out from it. 'I'm afraid our homes are very simple,' Raelif, apologised to them, 'this far from the world of humans … we have to make do with what we can build ourselves.'

He led them inside, ducking down to get through the doorway. It was dark inside - and smoky. There was a fire pit in the middle of the room - directly underneath the hole in the roof - and that was sending the smoke up through the primitive chimney, though some still escaped into the little house. There was a table and chairs, inside the room - and Raelif told them to sit down. 'I'll make you some tea,' he said to them. He placed a pan of water on a tripod over the fire. 'It takes a while to heat up,' he explained.

There was the sound of chatter - as two young people entered from the next door room - a young man and a teenage girl. They stopped and stared when they saw Doyle and Cordy. Raelif got to his feet. 'Rief, Rayna,' he said to them, 'we have some guests. The friends of The Promised One.' He turned back to his visitors, 'my children,' he said to them, 'they've grown since last you saw them.'

Doyle nodded - remembering the angry teenaged boy and the scared little girl he had met at the squat - all those years ago. 'I remember,' he said, 'it's good to see you both - doin' so well.'

'What are they doing here?' Rief asked his father.

'When the people who saved your life - your children's lives - turn up at your home, you invite them in - make them welcome - before you ask what it is they want,' Raelif said to him.

'So you don't know?' Rief snorted. Doyle couldn't help but notice that - even safe on this island, safe with his family - Rief didn't seem a whole lot less angry than he had been, all those years before.

'They will tell me, when they are ready,' the young man's father said, evenly. The water in the pan began to boil - and Raelif tipped its contents into five mugs. He used two teabags and swapped them between the cups, stirring them until the boiling water turned black - and then added long life milk. 'Island life means we have to be careful of what we use - and lack of electricity means we can't keep food fresh,' he said by way of apology. 'Still - it's better here than it was, back in America. Privation is better than danger - and you get used to UHT milk.'

Rief snorted again - but the sound of it he hadn't adapted to the straightened living conditions of the island at all.

'It's fine,' Cordelia said, quickly, 'really - we don't mind - we're just glad you're willing to talk to us.'

'You saved our lives. Protected us from The Scourge - at great risks to yourselves. Both of you will always be welcome here - and your friend, The Promised One.' He came to the table and handed the cups of tea around, sitting down with them.

Doyle cleared his throat and squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. 'Actually,' he said, 'um - events over the past few years have - um - well, they've made us reassess what actually happened that night. That's sort o' why we're here. You see… turns out, Angel never was The Promised One. I know he looks the part - and he fits the hero spec - but … it was never Angel that was prophecied to save y' that night.' He looked even more uncomfortable, feeling the haunted eyes of the three Lister demons on him the whole time, wondering what it was he was trying to say. 'Turns out,' Doyle continued, 'and no one was more surprised to learn this than I was - but it turns out that The Promised One was … well … me.'

The medical staff pulled a blanket over the dead lawyer's head and wheeled his body away on a trolley, whilst more of them worked at strapping Jerry down. 'Self centred jerks!' he called out, laughing maniacally, thrashing around underneath his bonds. 'A little thing called being considerate!' One of the medical staff injected him with a tranquiliser. 'Replace …' he passed out.

Angel stood with Lilah, his hands on his hips - surveying the scene and glowering. Lorne was sat in the corner, a towel pressed against his head. On the wall, the word 'Toner' was daubed in human blood - Angel tried to blot out the smell of it and concentrate on what his friend was telling him.

'Well then I see Mr. Considerate, here, covered in blood,' Lorne was saying, he gestured to Jerry. 'Making mashed potatoes out of the other fella. And before I could get to "what's wrong with this picture?" he clocks me right in the coconut!' his voice went up with indignation at the end.

A security guard approached Angel, 'sir we have two more attacks - one fatality.'

Angel sighed. 'OK, seal off the building,' he ordered. 'Nobody gets in or out until we know what we got here: spell, virus, mass hysteria...'

The guard nodded and walked off speaking into his walkie talkie, 'affirmative, we have a code black, we are closing Pandora's box...'

Lorne got back to his feet, still clutching the towel to his bleeding head. If it was all the same to Angel, he was going to ride this one out barricaded in his office, with a SeaBreeze and an ice pack. Angel nodded - that was fine, he didn't suppose there was much Lorne could do to help anyway. Nobody knew what was going on. But he asked the green demon to stop by the lab, first, and tell Fred to get back to him the moment she knew what was causing this. Lorne nodded and walked off. Lilah gave Angel a hard stare.

'What?' he asked, irritably.

'Oh come on, Angel - strap on those cape and tights and face up to this. You know what is causing this.'

'Enlighten me,' he said - they began to walk away down the hall - away from the grisly murder scene.

'Wise up, champ! The whole fabric of reality is beginning to unravel - and it comes down to you and …'

An office door opened and Spike came stumbling out. 'Spike,' Angel finished up, sounding even more irritable. The other vampire looked at them both and shook his head. 'I don't know what you're putting in the water coolers around here, but your secretary just started crying blood and tried to rip me a few new ones,' he complained.

'Harmony?'

'Had to put her porch lights out - for the best, I'm sure you understand.'

'Oh yeah,' Angel said, his voice blank but ironic, 'you're a real hero.'

'Budum tish!' Lilah smirked. 'And that there, my two fearless champions, is exactly why we find ourselves in this world of madness. There's only supposed to be one candidate for the Shanshu prophecy. One vampire hero with a soul ready to be made a real boy once again. But now there's two of you. And the whole world and the wheel of destiny are spinning off their axis.'

Spike furrowed his brow, 'hang on a minute - are you blaming us?'

'No - she's blaming you,' Angel replied through gritted teeth.

Lilah held her hands up, 'I'm not playing the blame game - it's gets us nowhere. But - whilst we're on the subject - this town might not be big enough for the both of you.'

But that suited Spike right down to the ground. Screw this town. Screw this whole devil's fun house - and actually, whilst he was on it - screw Angel too for good measure. If that was the way it was gonna be, he'd take his new flesh and bones back across the pond … he grinned wickedly … 'to Europe.' He turned and began to storm off down the corridor.

'Cool your heels, Blondie Bear,' Lilah called after him. He stopped and turned back to look at her. 'Are you always this literal?' she asked him, 'how on earth have you survived for so long being so dense?'

'That's what I'd like to know,' Angel murmured.

'By town - I mean this entire planet. Bigger even - this entire plane of existence. You can't solve this disequilibrium just by leaving. If anything - you might make it worse.'

The elevator doors opened and Gunn stumbled out, loosening his tie. He collapsed on the floor, leaning against the wall and stared up at them. 'Let's not make this worse,' he said. 'We don't want worse. I just went up to the whiteroom to see what the big cat had to say …'

'And?' Angel asked.

'Cat's gone. The whiteroom too. The elevator just opened up into a howling abyss. You ever heard a howling abyss?' he shook his head, 'horrible sound.'

'So we've lost the conduit,' Lilah said, 'another one. That means we've got no contact with The Senior Partners. We're all alone in this.'

'Could you at least try and look like you're not enjoying this quite so much?' Angel asked her.

'You think I'm enjoying being alone with you guys and a gaping hole in the universe?' she quirked an eyebrow. 'You think if we're about to be sucked into oblivion, you guys are my top pick to be on my team? Please.'

'I don't wanna be sucked into oblivion,' Gunn shook his head and groaned. Angel sighed. 'Spike - stay,' he said, though it sounded like it physically pained him to say it. 'Europe will still be there after we've worked this out.'

'Maybe,' Gunn said, doubtfully.

'Probably,' Angel frowned.

'And how exactly are we gonna work this out, boss man?' Spike asked him. 'You're telling me we got a tear in the galaxy or whatnot? What? You think we're just gonna sew that back up?'

'I left my cosmic needle and thread in my other purse,' Lilah said, 'damn - we're gonna need to find another way to figure this out, boys. Now the problem is the Shanshu prophecy - and not knowing who is the pivotal figure. So we need to find a way to work out which one of you is the real Pinocchio. We need to go back to the scrolls of Aberjian.'

Angel gave a bark of disbelieving laughter. 'Look - I just read the Shanshu prophecy. There's nothing in there.'

Spike was now looking very interested in the conversation, his eyebrows had hit his hairline. 'Hold on! You read the prophecy?' he asked, 'the one you don't believe in? Load of old rubbish, you said? Well … isn't that interesting?'

Angel tutted and folded his arms. Gunn glanced between the two of them. 'We need to speak to an expert,' he said, 'someone who knows about prophecy.'

'Fine - but Wesley's not here.'

'His department was here long before Wesley took charge of it,' Lilah pointed out. 'I'm sure we'll be able to find someone who can give us more details.'

'About what?' Angel protested, not understanding why they refused to listen to what he was telling them. 'There's nothing in there - I just read the prophecy.'

Doyle stared across the table, at the three sets of eyes staring back at him. He squirmed under their gaze. 'You?' Raelif said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. 'You believe you are The Promised One.'

'Um - well - actually - I know it.'

Rief snorted in disbelief. 'Hey!' Cordy yelled at him, her eyes blazing with indignation, 'what? You think a guy's gotta be six feet tall with an overhanging forehead to be some prophecied messiah? That's not how the world works, sunshine. Doyle was chosen by The Powers That Be to bear the visions - he's the king of his own demon dimension and the father of an evil god. So I think he's special enough to qualify as a pivotal figure in your people's myths and legends as well. Big things can come in small packages, you know.' She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms, still looking furious at the perceived slight against her boyfriend. Doyle gave her a small smile, but she refused to be mollified.

'You'll have to forgive my son,' Raelif said, leaning forward across the table, 'both of you. It's just - in the years since we came to Briole, that night - escaping The Scourge - it has become a legend. We celebrate its anniversary - every year. And your friend …' he shrugged. 'We have got used to thinking of your friend as the one who saved us - not that we don't remember all three of you - aren't grateful for the danger you all put yourselves in, just to save us. But he was the leader. He has taken his place as The Promised One in our stories - and now you tell us that our stories are wrong. It takes some getting used to.'

'He was the leader,' Doyle agreed, 'he just wasn't the one that was sent to you. I was.'

'Doyle was the one who had the vision of you all in trouble. Hello! That should have been a tip off that he was the chosen guy,' Cordelia said. It seemed she had taken the insinuation that Doyle couldn't be a hero - or was less likely to be a hero than Angel - quite personally.

'Do you remember, that night, you said that you felt like the prophecies had been wrong, that you had been sent the promised three?' Doyle asked Raelif. The demon elder nodded. 'Well - that was because that night didn't go down the way it was supposed to,' the Irishman continued, explaining. 'Destiny was altered - a higher power ...interceded, I guess … on my behalf.' He took a deep breath. 'See, The Scourge had this beacon - a weapon that killed anythin' with human blood and - I dunno - I guess we weren't meant to get to the ship as quickly as we did, or what was meant to happen - but we were all meant to get trapped in the hold with that beacon. But we didn't. You sailed off safely before The Scourge even got there. This higher being changed … somethin' - I dunno, this little, subtle moment that was meant to happen and didn't - and the whole world was changed because of it.'

Rief had suddenly gone very still. He remembered packing his things - how angry he had been, and underneath the anger - the fear. He had stormed towards the door, his little sister pleading with him to stop the whole way. And that was when he had felt it - a shining light take hold of him, take away the anger and fear - and convinced him to stay. He was supposed to have run away. That would have slowed down their leaving - if they went to look for him. If he'd run away - The Scourge would have caught up with them. That shining light must have been the higher power these two visitors spoke of. It was him - his actions - that had altered destiny. He narrowed his eyes and sat a little straighter - listening more carefully.

'We knew right away - the very next day - that things hadn't happened the way they were supposed to - that some kind of power had changed things for us, but at the time we didn't know how or what that meant,' Doyle was explaining to Raelif. 'But then a few months later I got told - from a completely unreliable source, but it turned out to be true, that I was supposed to die that night - that I was meant to burn up destroying the beacon.' He shuffled uncomfortably. 'I've - uh - actually since seen a rerun of what was meant to happen that night. To me. It - it wasn't pretty.'

'The Scourge disappeared after that night,' Cordelia took up the story, as Doyle went quiet contemplating the vision of his own face melting off. 'We spent … months - trying to hunt them down, to find their beacon. And then Doyle discovered it - by accident - in the vault at Wolfram and Hart.'

Doyle nodded. 'And that's part of how we know for sure that I'm the Promised One. I could feel it callin' to me, leadin' me right to where it was bein' kept. Angel was with me - he tried to smash it. He couldn't. It wouldn't break for him - 'cause he wasn't the one destined to destroy it. So I tried - it broke first time - glass flyin' everywhere… then we had to escape pretty fast.'

Raelif nodded slowly, though his mouth was twisted and his brow furrowed - as if something did not quite make sense. 'This is a lot you've had to come to terms with,' he said, 'but - forgive me - I do not understand why that brings you here. Now.'

Doyle and Cordy glanced at each other. She gave him a small nod, telling him to go ahead, and he took a deep breath before he answered. 'The Scourge are back,' he told the family of Lister demons. 'They're killin' people like us all over L.A. The Powers are sendin' me visions about it - they expect me to sort it out. It's my destiny - I guess. But …' he trailed off, not sure what to say.

'But we don't really know where to start - or what this even means,' Cordy said, 'what it means for Doyle. And well - I guess - we were hoping maybe you could tell him some more of what it means that he's The Promised One.'

'You didn't read the prophecy!'

'I didn't?' Angel asked in confusion. He and Lilah, Gunn and Spike had gone down to Wesley's department in the hope of finding someone who could explain the Shanshu text to them in more detail. What they found was Sirk, the former watcher, who had called forth the prophecy from one of the templates but was treating the whole lot of them with disdain and scorn. 'You read a translation of the prophecy,' he scoffed, his lip curling. 'It's like comparing the King James bible with the original Aramaic. Much of the flavour, the subtlety of usage, the historical context has been stripped away.' He made a derisive sound in the back of his throat. 'Read the prophecy,' he repeated Angel's words with contempt. 'You might as well have read a twelve year old's book report on the subject.'

'I miss Wesley,' Gunn whispered, leaning across to Angel. The vampire didn't reply - though he agreed. Instead he asked Sirk if, now he'd made his point, there was anything in the scrolls of Aberjian that could help them in their current situation.

'Yeah,' Spike said, 'what's it say about me?'

Sirk opened the template and scanned through the text which appeared there. There was a recently translated group of verses that had come to light, which may prove relevant. He ran the tips of his fingers across the page until he found what he was looking for. 'The root of the tree will split in two. And each will seek nourishment from the buried river. The balance will falter until the vampire with a soul drinks from the cup of perpetual torment.'

'So there's a cup?' Lilah clarified. Sirk nodded and carried on reading. 'He will have the weight of worlds upon him, binding his limbs, grinding his bones to meal - until he saves creation … or destroys it.'

'Uh … right. So what's in it for me?' Spike asked, sounding less than impressed with the promised suffering and torment.

'The vampire will have his past washed clean…' Sirk read.

'...and live again in mortal form,' Angel finished up, 'yeah, that part I know.'

'Yeah, I bet you do,' Spike snarked at him.

Gunn was thinking about how they could sort all this - so, if Angel drank from this cup then the computers should go back online, the phones should stop ringing and people would hopefully stop turning into homicidal maniacs? Not to mention that the howling abyss outside the elevator would hopefully go far far away.

'Hang on,' Spike looked annoyed, 'who says it's Angel supposed to take the swig? Who says it's about him at all?'

'Oh come on Spike!' It was Angel's turn to snark. 'You really think this about you?'

'Oh why the bloody hell not?' he snapped back, 'just 'cause you...'

'Gentlemen, please,' Lilah held her hand up to interrupt them. 'I know you both want to believe you're the super specialist vampire that ever didn't live - but all the rest of us care about is not having that tear in the universe made any bigger. We're not gonna sew that up by you two getting into fisticuffs here in the office - you wanna duke it out - do it on your own time. But for now - let's focus.' She turned to Sirk, 'is there anything in that prophecy at all that can tell us which one is meant to drink from the cup? We don't want to get this wrong.'

'There is no wrong,' the former watcher assured her. 'The drinking of the cup is predestined. That can't be changed. Whoever drinks from it was meant to. When one of them is confirmed as the central figure of the prophecy, the universe should realign itself.'

'So - where is this cup?' Gunn asked. Sirk returned to his book, poring over it once more and muttering as he read. Housed in the hidden city of Petra… lost during the crusades… surfaces again at the Vatican … but vanished once more during the third year of the inquisition. He read on, tracing with the words with his fingertips - until he found what he was looking for. 'It's in Nevada,' he announced. 'Death valley to be accurate. "The earth will thrash and mark the appearance of the cup at the columns",' he read. '"And the desert will swallow the cup whole and"…' he looked up at them, 'this last bit can only be loosely translated,' he warned. '"And the fat lady shall sing no more".'

'Opera,' Angel realised - he saw the others glancing at him, not understanding. 'The Columns was an opera house in Death Valley,' he explained. 'It was buried in an earthquake in '38. Made headlines in Los Angeles. That's only a few hours away. I can get there and back before…'

But Gunn was not sure now was the time to go on a quest for the holy grail of perpetual torment. They had a seriously major crisis going on there at the office. They couldn't afford for Angel to go mystical cup hunting.

But Angel didn't see that he had a choice. 'If it's there, I'm just gonna have to accept that the prophecy's real and hope that it stops this madness. In the meantime, you're in charge.' He got to his feet and started to pull on his coat. 'Keep this place quarantined until I'm …' he looked around the room. Someone was missing. 'Where's Spike?' He asked.

Spike pressed his foot down and zoomed down the deserted highway, singing along to the radio. It felt good to be on a mission. And corporeal. And getting one over on Angel breath. He smirked as the car phone began to ring. 'Yello,' he said, answering it.

'You took my viper,' Angel's voice came down the line, sounding incredibly pissed off.

'My viper now, mate. Possession's 9/10ths. Oughtta know that, running a law firm and such.'

'You think this is a game?' Angel demanded - he too was speeding down the same highway. 'People are dying!'

'And one of us is going to stop it. Hey! What do you know? I vote for me.'

'There is no voting,' Angel snapped. 'It's a prophecy. And the Shanshu isn't about you, Spike.'

But that just made Spike smirk harder. 'Still can't accept it, can you?' he asked. 'Sad, really. All these years thinking you're the signified monkey, only to find out you're a big hunk of nobody cares.'

'I really wished you'd stayed a ghost.'

'But I didn't, did I? Burned up saving the world and now I'm back. Wonder why - oh yeah - 'cause I'm the one you git!'

'Spike I don't have time to -'

But Spike cut him off, making the sound of static crackling with his mouth. 'What's that? I'm losing you - you're…' he made the static sound again, 'what do they call it?' more static. 'Oh right. Breaking up - you're breaking up.' And with one more static crackle, he hung up the phone. 'Ponce,' he muttered.

In his own car, Angel slammed his own phone down. 'Idiot!' he hissed, through gritted teeth.

Raelif got to his feet, crossed the little room and took down a heavy book from the bookshelf. He came back and laid the tome down on the table, blowing the dust from its leather bindings. 'These are the ancient prophecies of the Lister demons,' he told the young couple. 'Many of our prophecies are cryptic - but on one thing they are all clear. That in the final days of the last century, a Promised One would come forth and save us from The Scourge.' He turned the yellowing leaves of the book until he found the page he was looking for. Then he turned the book so Doyle and Cordy could see and pushed it towards them.

They leaned over the page and pored over its contents. The writing was curling, like fancy calligraphy, though the ink had faded in places - making it hard to read. Doyle traced the words with his fingers - touching the spot where he was mentioned in ancient scripture. It felt strange, seeing it written down in black and white - his destiny part of holy writ - and he felt his stomach lurch as he read the words. He had known he was The Promised One for a long time, now - though it had never meant much before. And Cordelia was right, he was the King of Pylea - the messiah with the pure sight, and the father of a former higher being - the only one with the power to stop her - and thus save the world - as well. He knew all that, on an intellectual level, knew Cordelia was right that he was special. But it still felt strange seeing it written down. It made it seem more real, somehow - and that made it more frightening.

He became aware of Cordelia watching him rather than looking at the page, and he looked back at her - wondering why she was looking at him. Wondering if he looked different now the prophecy was in front of them. But she was only looking worried. 'You OK?' she asked him, quietly. He nodded. Then he cleared his throat and looked up at Raelif. 'Um- there's not a whole lot of detail, here,' he said. It was pretty much exactly what the demon elder had already told them.

'No - the precise way we would be saved was never made clear. Just the promise - that someone would save us. Clearly the prophecy did not foresee the divine intervention that came to pass. Which puts you in a unique position.'

Cordelia nodded. 'Jasmine said - your destiny was over but you were still here. That there had never been someone like you in the world before,' she said to Doyle.

He squirmed, made uncomfortable by the import of her words. 'I can't be the first bloke who's outlived his usefulness,' he said, 'not in the whole history of all humanity.'

'No usefulness - destiny,' she corrected him, 'and you're not human.'

'Right - OK - but what does all this mean?' he looked around at everyone in the room, hoping that one of them would have the answers.

'If stopping The Scourge was truly your destiny,' Raelif said slowly, 'and now they are back ... then that means that your destiny isn't over, after all. It means your true purpose has returned - and you must fulfil it.'

Cordelia gasped. 'Are you saying Doyle's going to die?' she asked. She gripped his hand, tightly, as if afraid he was suddenly going to be snatched away from her right now. 'I won't allow it. If I have to rewrite his destiny myself this time, I'll do it. I won't let him die.'

Raelif gave her a sad smile. 'The Promised One was meant to die many years ago - and yet he lives. What it means now - now his destiny has changed and he must face it once more - I cannot tell you. All bets are off.'

Angel pulled his car up in the desert and got out. There didn't seem to be anyone else around - no sign of Spike. Or of what he was looking for. The opera house had been buried by the quake of '38 - that had been a bad year for earthquakes. The one in Sunnydale had buried The Master beneath the ground for decades. And just like the church which had been the Master's prison for so long, the Columns was also lost - swallowed up by the earth. But there had to be a way in - this was his destiny.

He walked away from his car. He had been here before - before the quake. He'd seen the Marriage of Figaro. He knew it must be around here somewhere. He took another step - and felt the dry earth give way beneath his foot. He stepped back, hastily, and saw that the ground had crumbled away where he had stood - this must be …

The ground gave way beneath him and he fell straight down into the black. He hit the floor and when he looked up, he found himself in the middle of the grand entrance of the opera house. The sweeping staircase, leading to the auditorium, was still standing - it's green carpet still laid down - though a little worse for wear after over 50 years beneath the soil.

Careful, in case the stairs gave way just as the ground had, he followed the staircase upstairs and pushed the doors open at the top. He was in the stalls now - though not many chairs remained - and there, up on the stage - was a pedestal with a golden cup standing on it. He began to walk towards it. It wasn't calling to him, which troubled him. He remembered how Doyle had spoken about the way the beacon had called out to him - even when he wasn't that close. And he remembered how the scrolls of Aberjian - the Shanshu prophecy - had drawn him in. He was getting nothing from the cup - but he wasn't going to let that stop him. If the prophecy itself had called to him, then this cup must be meant for him.

'Here we are then.' He came to a stop. That was Spike's voice - coming from above him. He turned and - sure enough - there was his rival, his blood brother, his soulmate - stood up on the balcony, looking down at him. 'Two vampire heroes,' Spike said, 'competing to wet our whistle with a drink of light, refreshing torment.'

'Is that what you think you are, Spike?' he asked, 'a hero?'

'Saved the world, didn't I?'

'Once. Talk to me after you've done it a couple more times.'

'Done talking mate, got a prophecy needs fulfilling.' He walked away from the edge of the balcony and disappeared from Angel's view. 'Dammit! Spike!' But there was no answer.

...

It was getting close to sunrise when William returned to the hotel. He hadn't found Drusilla - though he wasn't worried., It was she who had brought him into this world. She knew the rules and she knew to be careful. She would probably be waiting for him once he got inside.

He pushed the door to their rooms open - and was greeted by the sight of Angelus, wearing nothing but his shirt and thrusting away at a woman on the bed. Though he couldn't see much of her he could see she was in white. The bride. A smirk lit up William's face. 'Well… looks like you haven't had your fill of her after all…'

Angelus pulled away from the woman, turning to look when he heard William speak - and William got a better look on the woman on the bed. It was Drusilla. His Dru. On the bed. With Angelus on top of her. Using her. He froze.

Drusilla smiled up at him, 'the little children didn't come out to play,' she said to him in her singsong voice. She sat up. 'Did you miss me, pretty William?'

He couldn't answer. He just stared. Angelus answered for him, his voice and his smile was mocking. 'I'm sure he did, Dru. After all - you are his destiny.'

'Oh that's so sweet.'

William felt sick. Angelus began to laugh - and then Drusilla joined in. He heard them both - their laughter ringing in his ears - and then he felt a rage, like nothing he'd ever known before, build inside of him and explode out. He saw red, and with a snarl of hatred, lunged towards Angelus.

...

Angel reached the front of the seats - only a few feet away now. His destiny. He jumped the orchestra pit and landed on the stage, making his way towards the cup. But just as he got close to it, there was a sound from above him - and Spike jumped down from the rafters, landing on the stage beside him. They both stared at the cup. 'Thought it'd be a little less goldeny,' Spike remarked, 'what with the torment and all.'

'So… what do we do now?'

Spike sighed. And then his arm snapped out and his fist smacked into Angel's face, knocking him off his feet. He sniggered. 'What do you think?'