Part Four

'There's one thing I don't understand,' Cordelia said, wrinkling her nose up and frowning, as she thought about everything Raelif had told them. 'You say - both of you,' she glanced between Doyle and the demon elder, 'that their beacons kill anything with even just a drop of human blood, right?' Both men nodded. 'But see, I thought all demons were really part human,' she said. 'Pure demons - they're ...bigger. I was at an ascension one time - the mayor of my hometown ascended into being a pure demon. He was a really big snake. The Scourge - what I remember - they were people sized. How come their beacons don't kill them, as well?'

Raelif nodded at her words. 'The demons that exist in this world are all hybrids between human and demon, it's true - but that was not the way it always was. This earth is far older than most humans realise and, contrary to popular opinion, it did not begin as a paradise. For untold aeons, demons walked the earth - pure demons - known as the old ones. They made this world their own private hell, and it was into this world that the race The Scourge came from were born. Back in those times they … they would not have stood a chance, the old ones were beings of great and terrible power and The Scourge would be their foot soldiers - their minions at best.'

'And at worst?' Doyle asked.

Raelif took a deep breath. 'The old ones warred incessantly,' he explained, 'fighting to them was as breathing is to us. Constant. Unceasing. Betrayal was as nothing and death was a sign of weakness. Throughout these wars, many of the old ones died - and many were thrown from this world, to other dimensions. It was the first of the slayers who threw out the last of the old ones from this dimension - though not before the disease of vampirism had spread through the world. The Scourge - being relatively powerless in comparison to other old ones - had long since been banished to a different dimension, the one they now rule.'

'The one where time moves super quickly?' Cordelia clarified. Raelif nodded. 'They are immortal - as all old ones are, so time means nothing to them. But, hailing from a time before mortal creatures - before man - they are pure demon and so their beacons cannot hurt them. Since finding a way back to this earth, they have discovered the mixing of human and demon blood that has taken place in their absence. They are … horrified by it, disgusted by it. To their eyes - all demons are halfbreeds … though they find those such as Doyle particularly offensive.'

'And that's why we had to come here?' Rief asked, 'that's why they want to kill us - because they don't like the way demonkind has evolved in the billion years since they left the planet?'

Raelif nodded again, 'they want to purge the earth of its hybrids, and then of humanity - and then leave their dimension and take the earth back for themselves. They wish for it to be ruled by the old ones once again - only this time, with themselves at the top.'

Fred carried a glass of water across to Lilah and handed it over to her. 'Here you go,' she said, 'take small sips - It'll hurt for a while. But you're gonna be OK.'

Lilah raised an eyebrow, 'am I?' she asked drily, taking the glass from Fred and taking a sip. Fred looked bemused. 'Well - uh - I mean - no real harm was done, right?' Lilah only raised her eyebrow higher. 'And you're immortal so… I mean you were never in any real danger…'

'I might be immortal - but that doesn't mean I can't die, twinkie. Same as Angel - speaking of whom, he's off seeking the holy grail, whilst we're trapped in here whilst something turns mild mannered attorneys into homicidal maniacs, no clue as to what's causing it, how to stop it or even what the common denominator of infection is. So I ask again - am I gonna be OK? Are you? Is Gunn? Do you really think Angel can put a stop to this?'

But Fred nodded confidently. 'Angel will find that cup, drink from it, resolve the prophecy and everything will be fine.'

'And what if it's Spike that drinks from the cup?'

A troubled cloud crossed Fred's face. 'Angel will drink from the cup,' she said again. 'Spike - he doesn't care about … The Shanshu is about Angel,' she said, firmly. 'It's always been about Angel.'

But Lilah only raised her eyebrow one more time, 'has it?' she asked, and took another sip of water.

The two vampires flew at each other, in full vamp face, hitting and kicking and gouging - a hundred plus years of pent up jealousy and rage and just goddamn irritation being worked out in one massive blow out. Each had hold of a splinter of broken wooden prop, was holding it in reserve to use if it proved necessary. Angel raked Spike across the chest with his makeshift stake, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. 'How's it feel?' he asked.

Spike did the same to him, right back at him, 'you tell me.' He snapped his leg out, again and again and again, kicking Angel repeatedly in the gut. The other vampire staggered backwards and lost his footing. His splinter of wood flew from his hand and up into the air in a graceful arc. Spike kicked Angel's feet out from under him, knocking him to the ground, and then snatched the stake out of mid air. He hauled his arm back - and they both stared at each other for a silent moment that seemed to last just an instant and a hundred years at the same time. And then Spike's face twisted with rage and he drove the stake downwards, right through Angel's body and down to the stage beneath, making the other vampire scream out in pain.

When he stood back up, Angel was still lying there - not just a pile of dust and an unhappy memory - but a full bodied vampire, albeit one blinking and gasping in pain. Spike had avoided the heart - had instead impaled Angel through the shoulder, pinning him to the ground. The vampire features melted from Angel's face.

'I probably should have dusted you,' Spike said to him, changing his own face back, 'but honestly … I don't want to hear her bitch about it.' He turned away and started to walk towards the pedestal and the golden, glowing cup.

Angel grimaced and wrenched the stake out of his shoulder. 'Spike wait,' he called. In front of him, Spike reached out and picked up the cup. 'Wait, that's not a prize you're holding.' Spike rolled his eyes and turned his head to look back scornfully at Angel. Angel continued to plead with him. 'It's not a trophy, it's a burden. It's a cross.' He struggled back to his feet, wincing at the pain shooting through his shoulder as he did. 'One you're gonna have to bear until it burns you to ashes, believe me - I know.'

Spike put the cup back down on the pedestal - and Angel took this as a sign of encouragement to keep talking. 'So ask yourself: is this really the destiny that was meant for you? Do you even really want it? Or is it just that you want to take something away from me?'

Spike glanced back at the cup, then back at Angel and shrugged. 'Bit of both,' he lifted the golden goblet and - before Angel could move, before he could get to him to stop him - began to drink from it.

'Wait! Spike,' Angel launched forward - but he knew it was already too late. His destiny was gone. It had never been his. It had always been a lie - everything he had worked for - it had never been for him. Of course not - how could there be a reward for him after all he had done. He should have known…

Spike had stopped drinking, he had lowered the cup and let it fall from his hands, where it clanged against the floor and rolled away, spilling out the liquid inside. He stared at Angel - his face bewildered. 'It's … Mountain Dew.'

A heavy silence had settled on the people inside the little hut, as they each considered The Scourge, the army's history - and their own place in the story, the role they were each destined to play. Cordelia glanced across at Doyle, his head was bowed - as if he were deep in thought, and thinking none too pleasant things. She felt her stomach squirm with worry, for him - for what this would mean for him, for them and for their future. There must be a way she could help; ease his burden somehow.

Sure, he was supposed to be The Promised One - but that was a prophecy from four years ago now. The whole world was different now. She was different. Four years ago, she was barely out of high school and only working for Angel to make ends meet. Now she was a slayer. A slayer for god's sake. One of the chosen. That had to mean something. Sure - four years ago, Doyle would have had to stand alone against all the forces of The Scourge - because she would have not been able to help him. But now? There must be something more she could do for him now.

'OK, so,' she said, breaking the silence - everyone's heads came up slowly to look at her, 'we know these guys are old - we know what their deal is … do you know how we kill them?'

But Raelif shook his head. 'Any member of The Scourge,' he said, 'one on one - they are formidable, an ancient machine with only one goal, trained to do this one thing and filled with hatred. But - they are killable, as any physical being on this plane of existence is. But as an army - as an idea…' he shook his head again, 'it will take more than swords to finish them.'

He looked at Doyle, then. 'And if you truly are The Promised One, then they are only back because you did not stop them before - and it is only you who can stop them now, before they take over this world and plunge us all into their eternal darkness.'

The silence descended once more and then Doyle - without saying a word - pushed his chair back and walked out of the little house, walking away to find some place to be alone with the enormity of his own destiny.

Fred stood by the stretchers bearing Gunn and Harmony, checking on them - they were still out cold, which was just as well as she was no closer to figuring this out. She looked up as she heard Angel walk into the lab, and her mouth dropped open when she saw how bloodied and bruised and beaten he was. 'Angel -' she scurried over to him, 'what happened?'

'I fell down … some stairs,' he winced as he felt the ache in every limb, how stiff and sore he was. 'Big stairs,' he glanced across at where Gunn was strapped down, 'Gunn?'

'We've tried everything,' Fred told him, 'medical, mystical - nothing's stopping it?'

'It's still going on?'

'And getting worse! What about the cup?'

Angel winced again - and admitted it had been a fake. They had been set up. The whole thing had been a set up from start to finish - he wasn't sure who had orchestrated it. But Sirk was the one who had sent them on the wild goose chase, maybe he was …

'Gone,' Spike announced, coming into the lab. 'Cleared out his office and pulled a puff of smoke.'

Fred glanced between the two vampires - noting that Spike was in exactly the same worse for wear state as Angel. 'Stairs, huh?' she asked, wryly.

Angel chose to ignore her. 'OK, Sirk's gone, the cup was a fake, but the madness is real - so what are we gonna do about it?'

'I say we start by untying the brother,' a groggy voice said from over by the stretchers. They all turned to look to see that Gunn was now awake and seemingly himself once more. Beside him, Harmony also came to - she glanced down seeing the restraints that bound her and then looked up at everyone else. 'Am I in trouble?' she asked.

Fred hurried over and began to untie the pair of them. Gunn sat up, groaning and rubbing his face - and then caught sight of the two beaten up vampires. 'What the hell happened?' he asked.

'The Senior Partners stepped in,' Lilah said. Angel, Gunn and Spike were gathered in Angel's office and she was briefing them on how the madness had suddenly just seemed to stop. 'Apparently they were working on the problem from the moment it started - they don't like being cut off from this plane any more than we like losing them.' She allowed herself a smirk, 'well, they probably like it considerably less - they've put in a whole eternity of effort into keeping things spinning in this little dimension and they don't like to be out of the loop - especially when it means they can't control the whitehats in their own glass house. As soon as they realised the cat was gone - they were busy cooking up a way to get back. It took a lot of time - sewing up a rent in the fabric of the universe isn't a quick job even if you're a higher power - but they now managed to temporarily stabilise the universal equilibrium.' She smiled her shark's smile and clapped her hands, 'go team!'

But Angel was not celebrating, his overhanging brow was furrowed with consternation. 'Temporary?' he asked. 'How long will it last? And what about Sirk and the fantasy he fed us about the cup?'

But Lilah only shrugged, 'Partners don't know anything about it. They're as angry as you are.'

'Really doubt that.'

'Oh come on now, champ sandwich - don't look so down about it,' she grinned again, 'Sirk can only run so fast and so far. We'll hunt him down, bring him in and find out who put him up to it - he looked like a screamer. He'll talk. Now - if you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to go home and ice my neck.' She turned and walked to the door.

Gunn, looking uncomfortable, got to his feet and followed her. 'Hey, listen,' he said to her, catching her up at the door. 'About earlier - I'm really …'

'If you say sorry to me I'll put out your eyeballs with my fingernails,' Lilah interrupted him. He looked taken aback, and she smiled. 'We both know you believe those things you yelled at me when you tried to kill me. Don't demean us both by pretending to be sorry. I know strangling women doesn't fit with the whole hero bio but - hey - you work for the man who cut off my hand. You work for Wolfram and Hart, let them get inside your head and make you different - you don't fit the hero bio anymore either. That violence is a part of you and there are some times when 'sorry' doesn't cut it. So just don't bother. Stick around with the two bloodied bozos over there and get cracking on sorting this Shanshu prophecy. Because the sticking plaster the Senior Partners have used to keep this dimension in check won't hold forever.' She flashed him her shark's grin one last time, and then left the office. He shook his head and returned to the two beaten and bruised vampires.

'Ah - man,' he said, 'do you think she's right - that the cosmic Bandaid won't hold? That we'll have to live through another day like today 'cause...I'm tellin' ya,' he shook his head, 'I don't wanna live through another day like today. Another day like today - and there won't be another day.' He sank down onto the sofa, his head was throbbing where Fred had bashed him with the fire extinguisher. She had checked him over and said he wasn't concussed but … he had to admit he felt more than a little concussed. At least he couldn't possibly feel as bad as the other two men looked, whatever had gone down at that Opera House beneath the desert - it must have been heavy. They must have really got stuck into it.

'Yeah … well… meantime,' Spike got to his feet, 'this souled ex ghost vampire has got some corporeal drinking to catch up on. What do you say Charlie boy? Feel like gettin' pissed?'

But Gunn shook his head - and immediately regretted the action. 'No. No. my head feels like it's gonna split open and toss my toys and candy all over the floor.'

'Fair enough,' Spike nodded, 'sounds like your way ahead of me already,' and he walked out of the room.

Angel looked over at Gunn in concern, frowning, 'are you sure you're OK?' he asked, 'maybe you should get Fred to look you over again?' But Gunn disagreed - she'd only want to strap him down again. He sighed deeply and looked over at his boss, 'you OK?' it was his turn to ask. And he didn't just mean because of the cuts and bruises - Angel might look like he'd been through a blender, but he also had super healing abilities. It was his frown, his furrowed brow - more furrowed even than usual - that suggested something deeper than physical pain was worrying Angel.

Angel shook his head, thinking about the honest answer to Gunn's question. 'I don't know.' He thought about everything that had happened that evening at the opera house - about the exact moment Spike had impaled him with the stake, and he had realised he had lost - of the moment Spike had raised the cup to his lips and taken everything from him - his hope, his future, his redemption. 'He beat me, Gunn,' he admitted quietly.

'Who Spike? Looks to me like he got as good as he gave.'

'No,' Angel corrected him, 'he beat me to the cup.'

'You mean the fake cup? The make believe fairy tale cup? So what?'

'No you don't…' he sighed, and wished Doyle were there for him to talk to. He'd get it. They wouldn't even need to talk about it - if Angel didn't want to, Doyle would just know, would just understand. Charles had never done anything so terrible that he could never be redeemed, done something that he himself could never forgive, never mind the universe - his soul was so untarnished he couldn't begin to understand what it was like to stand there and see any chance of forgiveness, any hope of redemption taken from you. And taken from you by a monster of your own creation at that. Doyle would get it. So would Wes. Gunn couldn't - and Angel hoped for his sake that he never would, though maybe coming here made such a mistake inevitable in the end.

'He won the fight, Gunn,' he explained. 'For the first time. Doesn't matter if the cup was real or not … in the end he … Spike was stronger. He wanted it more.'

'Angel, it doesn't mean anything.'

'What if it does? What if it means that … I'm not the one?'

Cordelia found Doyle out near the beach, sitting on a large, flat topped rock and gazing out at the ocean. 'Hey,' she sat down, slightly behind him, on the rock and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. 'You doing OK?'

He nodded, but he didn't say anything.

'You frightened?' she asked him. He didn't move at all this time - just stayed staring out, unseeingly, into the blue. 'You know it's OK if you are frightened,' she said to him. 'This is big … bigger than big and it's not fair that it's all on your shoulders. You don't have to be brave in front of me, you know? And you don't have to pretend to hold it all together just so you don't upset me. If this is too much for you - you can fall apart - and I'll still love you.' She squeezed him tighter.

He rested his arm on hers', still wrapped about his waist, and squeezed back. 'I can't fall apart though, can I?' he said, ''cause this is all on me. This is the thing I have to do. If I fall apart … there's no one else to get it done. You can't … you can't complete my own destiny for me, Cordy. That I gotta do for myself.' He sighed, deeply. 'Maybe it would have been better if I'd just done it right first time - all those years ago.'

'Don't say that!'

'But maybe it's true,' he suggested. 'I mean, what great thing have I done with my life since I outlived my usefulness anyway? Helped Wes steal a baby, nearly brought about the end of the world by fathering Jasmine - put Kali in a coma and killed countless others bringing her into this world, and now all these demons are dyin' at the hand of The Scourge and maybe they would all be alive and happy if I had died like I was supposed to. Maybe they're dead 'cause I'm alive. Maybe the whole world - the past four years - would have been better if I hadn't been here.'

'My life wouldn't have been better,' Cordelia said softly.

'You don't know that.'

'I do,' she nuzzled closer into his neck, 'whatever was supposed to happen to me - in the version of events where you died - I know I was never as happy as I have been with you, all these years. I don't have to see what happened to know it wasn't as good as what I've had this time around. And I wouldn't give up a single moment - wouldn't change a single moment we've had - not for the world.'

'I dunno - I've put you through the wringer a fair bit, over the years - screwed up.'

'Oh you've screwed up monumentally,' she agreed, 'really epic screw ups that no one person should be able to manage all by themselves and yet somehow you always do.' Her voice became softer again. 'But every single screw up has led us to where we are today, getting married - no secrets, no regrets … and I wouldn't change any of it. '

'But what if this is it?' he asked, 'the end of the line - my destiny coming back to meet me?'

She took a deep breath. 'I don't know who saved you last time around, which higher power gave you to me - let us have this life we're living together. But I know - beyond a doubt - that we have been looked after, had someone up there on our side. And this time around, I have more superpowers than I know what to do with. If any prophecy, or higher power, or legion of doom thinks your time is up, then they're gonna have to get to you through me, first.' She gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. 'I know you feel alone in this, Doyle,' she said, 'I really do - but you were there for me when I became a slayer, and felt all alone - and I'm here for you now. The whole point of marriage is that we'll never be alone again. In anything. Any prophecy written about you, well, from now on it's gonna have to include me too - and vice versa. We're a team - and we can defeat this together.'

'You really think so?'

'I'm Cordelia Chase, dumbass - I know so.' She gave him another soft kiss. 'And this time we're so much better prepared than we were last time.'

He twisted to look at her, 'we are?'

She nodded. 'I've been thinking - now you're The Promised One again - or at least, now it means something again - maybe everything that has happened to you in the intervening years has happened to get you ready for this, give you everything you need to meet it head on.'

'What do you mean?'

She fished inside her bag and brought out the large, dusty book Raelif had been reading from. 'Raelif let me have this,' she said, 'the Lister demon prophecy books are split up by century, this is the 20th century one - so they don't really need it anymore.'

'How is that gonna help us? The Lister demons' prophecies are cryptic - even they don't understand 'em.'

She gave him her biggest, brightest thousand kilo watt smile. 'No they don't,' she said, 'but fortunately - I know someone who is, like, a genius at cryptic crossword puzzles and word jumbles and even understanding the rhythmic structure of archaic writings in ancient languages. He should be able to decode the clues in here in, like, a second. And he just happens,' she broke off to kiss his prominent nose, 'to go by the name,' she kissed him again, 'of The Promised One.'

'Me?' he sounded surprised, 'you think I can understand the ancient prophecies of the Lister demons?'

'I think if anyone can - it's you. I think you absorbed those powers from the Nadrah for a reason, and I think this is it. If there's anything in here that can help us understand The Scourge better, or find a way to fight them, then you - and only you - will be able to understand it. It's what you were born to do. You really are a unique and amazing person, Doyle - with unique and amazing powers and a unique and amazing purpose. There's never been anyone in the history of the world quite like you.'

He chuckled ruefully, trying to downplay her words. 'I think it's fair to say there's never been anyone in the history of the world quite like you, either, Princess.'

'Well, duh! I'm Cordelia Chase,' she repeated. They both laughed and, with their arms wrapped around each other, looked back out to sea. 'The boat will be coming back for us soon,' she said, after the lull in their conversation had lasted a few moments. 'We need to be ready - we need to get home and start dealing with this.'

Doyle nodded, 'we should say goodbye to Raelif and the others - and thank 'em…'

'We never did get to say goodbye to them last time around,' Cordy said, as they got to their feet and head back to the small settlement, hand in hand. 'The Scourge arrived in their trucks and we just had to bolt. We should do it properly this time.'

Angel sat up in his penthouse, all alone, in the dark. He had a glass of blood in his hand and an icepack on his nose. He sat by the large, plate glass window and watched the tiny lights of the city sparkle beneath him, like a carpet of fallen stars. The sight was not bringing him much peace tonight; the memory of Spike lifting that golden cup and stealing his destiny, the sudden gut wrenching realisation that it had never been his destiny to begin with, would not leave him. It did not matter that the whole thing had been a lie, a fool's errand, he still had to live with the knowledge that - when it really mattered - Spike had been able to beat him.

And maybe Spike had deserved it more, it wasn't a lie when the other vampire said that Angel's soul was a curse, whereas he had fought for his. A soulless demon - a monster - had made the choice to be a better man, had fought against his own nature, for love. Was that not what a real champion was? Angel was a champion by accident, Spike had become one through choice. And it wasn't a lie when Spike said that Angel had created him. That all the evil William the Bloody had ever done could be laid at Angelus' door. Perhaps it was only right, only just, that Spike get to take something away from Angel - to make up for everything Angelus had taken from William.

But nevertheless - and no matter how true all this may be - Angel had not realised just how much he wanted that prophecy to be true, until he saw Spike drink from the cup. It was only as he thought he had lost it forever, that he realised just how much he had been leaning on this prophecy - how much he had centred his whole mission around it. And without the prophecy - and without Doyle's visions - there was no mission. Just Angel - the CEO of Wolfram and Hart, signing the contracts, brokering the demon deals and swivelling in his big chair and pretending to himself that he was looking at the bigger picture. The sudden weight of that realisation, descending in his chest, crushing him, would have knocked the breath from him, if he had any. He wanted that Prophecy, wanted it to be true and wanted it for himself. He realised that now - but he didn't know what to do about it. He was still trapped here, at Wolfram and Hart. He was no champion - and had no hope of regaining his cape and tights any time soon. And with all that swimming through his thoughts, it was no wonder he was unable to find his usual peace in the quiet and the dark.

The elevator bell dinged - and the door slid open. Wesley stepped out, holding Connor in one arm and his little bag in the others. Angel got to his feet and took the child out of his friend's arms. 'Hey, big guy,' he said - at last feeling a slight modicum of peace as he was reunited with his child. 'I've missed you,' he kissed the little boy and then took the bag off the watcher, as well.

Wesley frowned when he saw the bruises and cuts on Angel's face. 'What happened to you?' he asked.

The vampire sighed. 'Long story,' he said. 'Bad day - and I'd really rather not talk about it. Though I gotta tell you, you lost a member of your staff today - that British guy, Sirk? He no longer works for the firm. Sorry.'

Wesley raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything - instead giving Angel the lowdown on what he and Connor had got up to during their time away from the office. 'Yeah?' Angel smiled down at his son, 'did you have a good time?' Connor just yawned massively in reply, and both men smiled. 'I guess I'd better get him to bed - thanks for taking him out. It means a lot, that he can play in the sunshine, even if I can't be with him.'

'Not at all, we had a wonderful time.' He took Connor back for a moment and gave him a goodnight kiss, before handing him back to his father, 'well, I'll leave you to it.' He turned to leave.

'Hey, Wes,' Angel called to him, he stopped in his tracks and looked back. 'I was just wondering … about the Shanshu prophecy - about what it really says.'

'What do you mean?'

'Sirk - before he bolted - said reading the translation wasn't really reading the prophecy. Said I might as well have read a 12 year old's book report on the subject - I really didn't like him. But I was wondering - what does it say? In the original Proto-Bantu, what am I missing when I read the translation?'

Wesley nodded slowly. 'Well - I haven't studied it in a long time,' he said, 'not really since we first found it. I can look into it if you want, study it in more detail.'

'Not if you're too busy,' Angel said hastily, 'not if you have more important things to be doing.'

Wesley inhaled, sharply. 'I've told you before, Angel - I don't think there is anything more important than you having hope for the future.'

Angel nodded - and looked down at Connor, falling asleep in his arms. 'But what if it's not my future?' he asked, quietly.

Sat at home, Lilah took a swig of her whisky sour on the rocks, and held an icecube to her throat. Then she flipped open her cell phone and hit speed dial. She heard her contact pick up. 'Everything went off without a hitch,' she said, 'The Senior Partners are none the wiser, and Sirk pulled off his vanishing act, he won't be found - and if he is found, he won't dare talk. They fell for the whole thing - just like you said - our two vampire heroes chasing off into the desert to hunt down a mystical cup of perpetual torment.' She snorted. 'I'm sad to say they didn't manage to kill each other - Captains Forehead and Peroxide will ride again - but they did beat each other into bloody pulps.'

Down the other end of the line, Lindsey listened to her words and smiled. 'Well, it's a start,' he said.

A/N - The next episode is 'Harm's Way' ... but it isn't actually written yet. Which is awkward. It's not beyond the realms of possibility that it might be ready by Friday but - uh - maybe don't hold your breath for it.