CHAPTER FOUR: THE PRODIGAL


The living room was blanketed in darkness, save for a single candle flickering intensely on the floor. Furniture had been moved to the side to make room for a ritual circle, everyone holding hands to link their energies except for Angel, who was in the kitchen with Riley. A blueprint of the factory had been obtained by him, and was spread out across the table. Due to the ceremony taking place, his only source of illumination was a penlight. As he inspected the plans for strategic areas to place his explosives, Angel was placing a call to Los Angeles to put Wesley and the rest on alert: if something went wrong, it was urgent that they be ready to come to Sunnydale at a moment's notice.

As Angel finished his call, he closed his cell phone and put it in his duster's inside pocket. Glancing over at Riley, he attempted to ease the already thick tension between them. "How's it coming?"

"Just fine." Riley said, not looking up at Angel. "So, you're human now. Must catch you at a disadvantage, what with the lessened strength."

"I don't know about that." Angel said, turning and walking towards the living room. "After all, isn't your jaw still broken?"

Riley smirked a bit, lifting a hand to rub his still aching chin. "Just a hairline fracture."

Angel smiled, not turning to respond. "But a fracture nonetheless."

As Angel entered the living room, he saw everyone circled around Willow, who stared down into the candle before her, the glinting flame casting an eerie sparkling into her eyes, which only added to the sinister atmosphere as her eyes were now solid black as she gazed into the fire. She held in her hand an effigy of the witch Tabitha, most likely enchanted to give the dark powers she was summoning a more accurate representation. She began tying a thin white ribbon around the small doll's head, chanting as the ribbon was spun around the figurine, gradually enclosing it's entire form.

"I bind you, Tabitha," Willow said, her gaze mindless as her instincts took over the completion of the ritual, "I bind you from doing harm against others and harm against yourself. I bind you from causing injury and mischief to those you love and hate alike."

Her words became lost in a mixture of ancient Gaelic and Latin, speaking tongues long since lost in the folds of time. Each time she chanted, the flame of the candle would leap higher and higher, her voice becoming more thunderous with each repetition. Lightning struck outside with deafening force, causing even Tara to be jolted. Still, she kept her eyes closed, intent on fueling Willow's attempt with her aura. Thunder resounded in their ears, so distracting they didn't notice Angel's entrance. He sat on the stairs, content on watching from the shadows as the rite was performed. Willow's voice broke through the resonant claps of thunder with a final cry of appeal. The candle's flame went out, all was dark within the house.

As Willow slowly opened her eyes, they returned to their normal state. Dawn got to her feet, moving to turn the lights on. Once the house was properly illuminated, the rest opened their eyes.

"I think it worked." Willow said, cracking a faint smile at the prospect of success.

Suddenly, a blast from outside shattered the windows, minute shards of glass raining down upon them. The door was forced from it's hinges, soaring through the air, only to collide with the far wall. The walls, however, strangely remained intact. Buffy and the Scoobies were thrown from their sitting positions against the wall as well, each of them hitting violently. Angel was cast backwards, wincing in pain as the edge of a step was driven into his back. His grimace, however, turned into a relaxed expression as his head also stuck a step, rendering him unconscious. Even Riley had been hit with the wave of unseen energy, his body crashing into the refrigerator, the result of which was a rather large dent in the refrigerator doors and Riley knocked to the floor, out cold. Footsteps were heard on the walk outside, gradually increasing in volume as their possessor came into view through what used to be the doorway of the Summers' home.

Tabitha.

"You shouldn't have done that, girl." Tabitha said, stepping into the house. Glass cracked beneath her feet, crushed by the petite sorceress in hopes of intimidation. She hadn't changed out of her ceremonial garment from Angel's previous visit, which showed Buffy she still had hopes of succeeding in her dark quest. Buffy looked over at the others, who hadn't recovered as quickly as she had, but one person stood out above the rest: Angel. She had to get to him, make sure he was all right. She looked around frantically for him, finally spotting him in a cataleptic state. She feared the worst, until his eyes slowly opened, lulled with pain and sleep.

Angel caught a glimpse of Buffy though the injury-induced haze over his eyes. He tried to sit up, but his back had not yet recuperated from the earlier impact. In his stupor, he didn't notice Tabitha advancing for him. The only thing on his mind was Buffy. He tried to focus his eyes on her, tried to see if she had sustained any injuries.

"Buffy...?" Angel said, trying to make her out in the darkness. Little did he know, the darkness he was experiencing was not from nightfall, but the shadow cast over him by Tabitha. Buffy heard her name called from him, relieved he was okay. Her reassurance was short-lived as she shifted her view to Tabitha, who was sketching symbols in the air with her finger. As abruptly as she had come, Tabitha was gone, faded off into oblivion.

The same thing was happening to Angel.

As his form began to grow fainter and die away, Buffy scrambled to her feet frenziedly. After some difficulty, she finally leapt at her transparent lover, but to no avail. Her hand passed through his, his figure diminishing into clarity. Buffy hung from the staircase, her arm through the bars that supported the banister. She was frozen. Tabitha had Angel, and was no doubt infuriated at his having a soul. But worst of all, he was human. He could be hurt. He could be killed. The woman had been shrewd in her plan. She needed a pregnant girl, and Buffy was just that. And she would use Angel to get to her. Buffy saw right through her scheme, but somehow, she couldn't seem to care.

As her friends sluggishly began to regroup, they found Willow lying lifelessly in the heap of wood that had formerly been the front door. Her nose was bleeding, as was a gash on her forehead. No one had even thought of checking on Riley. Buffy fought to keep back tears, but a few managed to escape, rolling softly down her cheeks. Ironically, her heart was wounded at Angel's capturing and needed mending, but the only one who could heal her wounds and kiss away her tears wasn't there. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, fear and grief replaced by anger and hatred. Buffy stared defiantly at the spot where her dearest Angel had previously been.

"Nobody messes with my boyfriend."
-----

It had been hours since Tabitha had kidnapped him right in front of Buffy's eyes, but to Angel, it had only been minutes. This was due to the fact that he continuously passed out as a result of uninterrupted torture from Tabitha's skilled hands. Hell, he had taught her the finer points of tormenting a captive. When the flesh-searing agony became too much for him, he'd black out. Tabitha, knowing all too well how boring it is to torture an unconscious hostage, waited for him to stir in the slightest to commence what she thought to be well deserved suffering.

Now, her game found his wrists shackled to chains that were mounted to the ceiling, wrought so tightly he had no choice but to stay standing. Having no room to collapse, Tabitha went the next step. She cranked the chains back until his feet left the ground only an inch, leaving him to crucify feebly as his legs dangled beneath him, also chained and shackled to the floor. But Angel would not reward her methods with a scream. He knew how intoxicating that sound was, and a delay in the desired response would prolong his life, and possibly distract her from Buffy's assault.

Yes, he still held hope that she'd come for him, even though he knew it would be for the best if he stayed. He'd rather die than have his love and his child perish for him. He hung from his steel confines limply, beaten and bruised, his chest laden with multiple lacerations from whips, glass, and various other toys Tabitha had around. She had even gone so far as to take a wooden plank from a crate, careful to keep the nails embedded in the wood without bending them, and beating it into his back. He whimpered, he cringed, but he would not scream. Each failed attempt to make him do so saw Tabitha placing the bloody tool on a nearby table, pacing around him as she thought up new ways to make him cower.

He'd been stripped of his duster, shirt, and boots, all articles of clothing but his pants. That area was reserved for "affectionate misery," and had been neglected since he and Darla went their separate ways when his soul was first restored. But that didn't mean Tabitha wouldn't go there anytime soon. His head drooped weakly, his chin alighting upon his chest. He was roused from his foggy state of mind by Tabitha's voice, at which he merely lifted his head enough to see her, for he hadn't the strength to do more. His eyes, almost fully closed from the long duration of pain, strained to concentrate on her in an unsuccessful effort to see what was next in store for him.

Perhaps it was a good thing he couldn't see. For Tabitha was heating up an iron rod in a fire, the tip that was submerged in the flame beginning to glow with sweltering heat. She cracked a smile, offering a glance at the subdued body restrained in iron bonds. Even with all his saintly qualities, she had to admit he still looked as scrumptious as he ever had, especially in bondage. Maybe she wouldn't kill him. Maybe she'd find some way of banishing that horrid soul of his. She was nearly tingling at the aspect of having her Angelus back.

"Just like old times, isn't it Angelus?" Tabitha said, her smile giving away her thoughts towards the bound hero. She took the rod out of the inferno, the end smoking as it pulsated white-hot heat. She moved it near Angel's chest, close to a large wound in the center, letting the lesion soak up the warmth. The boiling heat penetrated into Angel like a dagger, yet all he did was moan and scowl, refusing to cry out.

"Only then, you weren't human." Tabitha continued, pressing the blazing tip into the tip. Finally, she extorted an earsplitting scream from him as the seething pain tore at his mortal flesh, tissue sizzling with stomach-churning pops. "And you weren't soft," she went on, delighted at her new victory, "so I wonder, how much can this body take?" She took the rod away, offering little relief as Angel gasped for air, his breathing hindered by not only the now-charred wound on his chest, but also his binds. He had to lift himself up to breathe efficiently, and this wreaked havoc on his body as the chains held the shackles firm, nearly tugging his legs out of socket. The smell of burnt skin reached Angel's nose, but that was the least of his worries. Tabitha planned on experimenting on the extent of pain his body could withstand. That meant a lot more than hot pokers.

"You have a soul." Tabitha said, persistent in carrying on a conversation with someone who wasn't remotely interested, and was more likely dying of boredom from her constant explaining of things Angel already knew. "You're mortal. And best of all, you're a child. So how much agony can you withstand?"

Angel groaned in anguish as she brought the rod to the seared flesh again, pain coming without making contact. "Haeret lateri lethalis arundo," she whispered in a recognizable tongue, knowing Angel would make out the meaning to be "the iron entered into our soul." She just knew that had Angelus been there, he'd have appreciated that pun. Angel, however, wasn't all that concerned with one-liners coming from his captor in ancient languages.

"Your Slayer will come for you." Tabitha said, giving him a short break by placing the rod on the table with all the other bloodied instruments of her trade. "And when she does, I'll have my immortality. And your baby...your baby will die." She moved closer to him, the pain racking his body only serving as an aphrodisiac, flaming her lust for her Angelus. "And as the world is being sucked into oblivion, you and I will be roommates. I'm going to have him eat your soul." Tabitha moved closer, their lips almost touching. "And then, I'll have my Angelus back."

Angel labored a broken chuckle through his aggrieved condition, causing Tabitha to pull away to face him, her brow furrowing. "What's so funny?"

"I never gave a damn about you, Tabitha." Angel said, endeavoring to smile at the prospect of their being together. He accomplished it, smirking faintly. "With or without a soul, you're nothing to me. As a matter of fact, if I lose my soul, I'll probably kill you without the slightest thought. It'll be better if you're immortal at the time. That'll be more fun for me. I'm going to chain you up, I'm going to torture you until you pray for the sweet release of death." His smirk grew into an almost sadistic grin, and he laughed dimly into her face as he went on. "But it's not going to come. And that, that's going to be something I'll enjoy."

"Oh yeah," Tabitha said nonchalantly, trying to hide both her fright and infuriation, "torture was your thing, wasn't it, Angelus? Let's see how much you like it now." Tabitha turned to her table, her hand reaching for a serrated blade.
-----

Buffy leaned against the wall next to Dawn's room in wait, her head lowered in worry. Tara emerged from the room, in which they placed a still unconscious Willow. They'd cleaned and bandaged her wounds, and now all they could do was wait. Buffy raised her gaze up to the blonde witch, whose face was contorted with worry, her eyes lined in red from tears.

"How is she?" Buffy asked, her voice sympathetic. They both had a good friend debilitated, but the strain had to be much more on Tara. She loved Willow so much, Buffy wondered if their love equaled the love she and Angel shared. A steadfast love that endured anything the test of time could muster. When she saw how distraught Willow had been when Tara had her mind drained by the hell goddess Glory, and now this troubled girl before her, all doubts were cast aside. Buffy had lost a loved one more times than someone should have to, so she knew the feelings that were racing in Tara's mind.

"She's all right," Tara said, barely looking up at Buffy. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms as she spoke, "She comes in and out. Her head got hit pretty hard." Tara looked down, fighting back tears. Her voice's pitch increased so that it cracked a bit when she talked. "What are we going to do?"

Buffy looked down herself, contemplating their next move. "The binding spell didn't work. She's got Angel. She's going to be expecting me to show up."

At that, Tara raised her head, concerned. "Are you going to go?"

"Of course." Buffy said, laughing in contrast to the tears that stained her cheeks. "I know it's a trap. But I'm still going."

Tara took a deep breath, trying not to cry. She was faced with the possibility of losing two people she cared about, if not the entire world. "Me and Dawn can work on the other spells."

Buffy nodded in affirmation. "Bringing Spike back is kind of a low priority at this point. We should just concentrate on reversing this little youth spell, but we need to stop her tonight. You can do the spell during."

Tara realized she meant doing the enchantment as she was fighting. "But if me and Dawn stay, all you'll have is Xander and Anya to fight."

"Actually, no," Buffy said, averting her gaze from Tara. "With Willow out, you'll need all the help you can get. Xander and Anya are staying here."

Tara looked at her with apprehensive fear apparent on her face. She turned Buffy so their eyes met. "You can't go in there alone. She'll kill you."

Buffy centered her eyes on her, determination clear in her tone. "I'm not going alone."
-----

Wesley Wyndham-Price quickly moved from the weapons cabinet to a duffel bag on the counter, supplying the empty space inside with dagger, axes, and various other utensils, Gunn packing weapons in his own shoulder bag.

"So we're going to Sunnydale." Gunn said, zipping his bag up and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Yes." Wesley said, keeping it simply put as he knew that time was of the essence and bantering wouldn't get the world saved any faster.

"And Angel got captured?"

"It appears so."

"And the world's going to end in a little over a day?"

"A little under two, depending on how you look at it. And yes." Annoyance filled his tone, and Wesley found himself reminded of his early years as a Watcher-in-training when he learned that orders would be followed immediately. No such luck when he became Buffy Summers' third Watcher. Apparently, his luck hadn't changed.

"Anything I need to know before we get there?"

"Not really. Just your basic, run-of-the-mill Apocalypse."

"Okay," Gunn said, feeling fully prepared mentally and physically. His confidence showed as he called up the stairs. "Cordy, you all set?"

Cordelia made her way down the stairs, her brown hair tied neatly in a ponytail behind her head. She actually found it a comfort to have longer hair again. She wore her usual clothes when she trained with Angel, consisting of perfectly coordinated sweats and tennis shoes, a sword she used when instructed by Angel her only weapon. But she knew this was no exercise. This was real combat.

"As set as one can be." Cordelia said, making her way across the lobby and out the front door to the car.

"I do hope Angel's okay," Wesley said, regarding his former employer with respect as he remembered their newly rebuilt friendship. "If anything should happen-"

He was interrupted in his verbal considerations by a meek brunette peeking downstairs from behind the banister. Wesley chided himself mentally, knowing how fond she was of Angel. He, after all, saved her from the demon dimension Pylea, which had been her hell for five years.

"Fred," Wesley said, sorrow in his voice. "I'm sorry. He's going to be all right. We'll get there."

"I know." Fred replied in a murmur, obviously worried about Angel. He had saved too many lives, suffered so much agony, never overcame his guilt for his actions as a soulless monster yet still strived for atonement so hard. He didn't deserve to die. Not like this.

"Okay," Gunn said, coming in from placing his bag in the car. "We got weapons." He glanced over at the glass display where the weapons were kept. It was bare, save for a few lingering blades. "Damn, English. You took the whole cabinet."

"I thought it best we be prepared." Wesley said, his expression stern. "Tabitha has limited resources at this point. She may enlist the help of some demons or vampires of a young age. And while vampires that are childlike aren't as powerful as adults, there are some demons that happen to be at their peak at youth, so I planned extensively."

"So this is a pretty dire situation we're diving into." Gunn stated, adjusting his jacket, the denim seeming a bit constricting and uncomfortably hot at this point. "Doesn't the Slayer have help already there? We might need it."

"Well, as she told it to me," Wesley said, fiddling with his glasses, "she's going alone."

"You know what?" Gunn said, turning and strolling towards the door. "I think you were right."

"About what?" Wesley asked, puzzled as he followed Gunn out.

"We're doomed."
-----

"I can't just wait on them, Tara," Buffy said, sitting next to her on the couch. She was on the brink of sobbing, but she knew she had to stay strong. Wesley and the rest would be there soon, and then they could end this once and for all. But it was getting too hard to bear. Dreadful thoughts raced through her mind about what was happening to Angel. "He's human. They can hurt him so badly."

"The smart thing to do is to wait for them to get here." Tara said, laying a comforting hand on Buffy's knee. "I mean, if we can do this world restoration thing early...that's our first priority, just stopping it, if anything."

"Need anything from me?" Buffy asked quietly, trying to distract herself from the horrid visions of Angel being impaled or worse that flooded her mind.

"No," Tara said, "Me and the guys got it done on this end. We're going to do a spell to stop the age reduction as soon as possible." Tara looked down for a moment, as if she was about to give more bad news. Buffy caught sight of it. "Buffy, the fault line...the San Andreas fault...it's going to be trouble in about two hours."

"How long will it take you to do the spell?" Buffy asked, trying to conceal her worry, but her voice cracked anyway. All she could think of was getting to Angel. If she could save him from Tabitha, she could save the rest of the world too. But if she lost Angel, she's lost all hope as well.

"An hour and a half if all goes smoothly." Tara said, striving to stay calm for Buffy's sake. "We should be fine until we can find a way to actually turn the time back to what it should be. But how often do things go smoothly?"

Buffy sighed, looking at the clock mounted on the wall. "I wish they'd hurry up."

"Well," Tara said, standing and moving towards the kitchen, "we're going to start now."

Five minutes later, the Scoobies had re-gathered their circle, sans Buffy. Tara sprinkled some crushed herbs onto a small fire she had built on a saucer. The flames leapt up, turning bluish-white. Tara began her mantra. "Father Time, hear Mother Earth's plea. She cries out to you for your help. She needs you. Her wounds bleed the essence of being. Life is dwindling, flickering away as this flame. It does so without your command. I invoke thee. I request your assistance in righting what is wrong, and punishing those who have trespassed on your sacred rites."

Tara exhaled slowly, breaking the circle by letting go of Dawn's and Anya's hands. "Okay, now we do the ritualistic stuff. Which means older languages...Willow knew this so much better than me." She looked around at the group. "We need pictures of the way things used to be, how their supposed to be, so he can get an idea of just how much this lady screwed up."

They all tossed pictures of themselves into the fire that they had previously cut out, the flames bursting into the air, flickering a dark blue color.

"Okay, was that supposed to happen?" Xander asked, staring up at the ceiling as the flames kissed it.

"I don't know." Tara said, gazing into the heart of the fire.
-----

Angel hung limply from his bonds, making faint sounds of pain as he slightly swung on his chains. His chest was covered in streams of blood from countless stab wounds and slashes. Although they weren't deep, there was enough of them to feed the rivers of crimson so that quite a pool of blood had collected beneath him. His pants were darker for it, drenched in the scarlet tide.

"Come on now, Angelus." Tabitha said mockingly, playing the tip of the blade over his chest in a seductive manner, "You're not going to fade on me now, are you? I have so many fun things in store for you. How are you feeling?"

Angel managed to lift his head to see the arrogant smirk on his subjugator's face. The mere fact that he still carried on his brave front astonished her, but not as much as the fact that he was still alive. Still, she was unrelenting. Angel recalled a comment made to him in a similar situation, and decided to respond accordingly, even though it could result in pain even more excruciating.

"Never better." Angel said, smiling faintly.

Tabitha's smirk grew wider. "So, I meant nothing to you? It's just as well. Makes it all that much easier for me to kill you." Tabitha looked down at her watch, and her smile faded. "Okay, where in the hell is that girlfriend of yours?" she asked impatiently, slamming the knife down on the table. "She should be here by now."

Angel gave a motion that, had he been unbound, would have been considered as a shrug. "Maybe she knows it's a trap."

"Oh come on!" Tabitha said, looking at Angel in contempt. "Of course it's a trap! But she loves you. It wouldn't make a difference. No, something's wrong." Angel feared that Tabitha was incorrect in her presumption. What else could go wrong tonight?

Tabitha smiled fiendishly, walking back over to the table and picking up a longer, double-edged blade with jagged ridges. "I think I'll pay her another visit." She leered at Angel. "That's the ultimate torture for you, isn't it? You watching me torture her, her writhing in agony and pain, you screaming for me to spare her, until she finally dies. But I'm going to take it one step further. You get to watch her die after your baby is transformed into the demon that will damn you all! God, I'm good!"

Suddenly, Tabitha fell back onto the floor. The cause: an arrow had just been shot into her right shoulder. She shrieked in pain, pulling the shaft out of her and tossing it to the ground, getting to her feet and dusting herself off. She was definitely irritated. "Okay, who's the little archer out here, hmm? I have had a very, very bad day, and the last thing I need is for an arrow to be thrust into my chest." Tabitha looked around the warehouse, paranoia setting in. "Is it you, Blondie?" Her voice became tauntingly sing-songy. "Where are you, Slayer? I'm waiting..."

A fist was driven into Tabitha's face, knocking her back to the floor. Standing above her, daring her to get back up, was a brunette clad in purple leather pants and jacket, black boots and a white baby tee topping the ensemble off. Defiance was in her smile as she noted the crossbow in her hand. "Wrong Slayer, lady."

"Who the hell are you?" Tabitha demanded feebly.

The girl didn't answer. She simply pushed a nearby crate onto Tabitha, then turned her attention to Angel, smiling a bit more warmly with recognition. "Hey Soul Boy."

Angel squinted his eyes to focus, but he didn't need to. Though she was younger, her choice in clothing and her attitude, her coy smile and the bold, rebellious air about her told Angel what he already knew.

"Faith?"

Faith smirked at him, walking over and running a fingertip across a small, unharmed portion of skin on his chest. "The one and only."

"What are you doing here?" Angel asked weakly, surprised at her presence.

"What?" Faith said, smiling playfully, "No 'Hi, how are you?' or gratitude for saving your ass?"

Angel beamed faintly. "Hi, how are you?"

"You know me," Faith said, working at picking the locks on the shackle that held his right hand with practiced ease. "Five by five."

She loosed his hand, then set on unlocking the second with the small, thin utensils she brought along just for this. Once his arms were free, he expected to fall, but Faith held him firmly, setting his feet carefully on the ground. Seeing he was weak, she supported him by putting his arm around her neck and steadying his back with her arm.

"Thanks." Angel said, not having the strength to say much more.

"Don't mention it." Faith replied, smiling widely as she began moving towards the exit.

"Okay," Angel said, trying to ease her burden a bit by trying to walk on his own. He was shaky, but he succeeded. "What are you doing here?"

"It's like this," Faith began, "the Department of Corrections and the prison system don't run all that smoothly when all the big shots have been reduced to little kids. Pretty easy to get out. I was hoping to stop by Angel Investigations. You know, pay you a little visit. Only, you weren't there. So I eavesdropped on your little buddies, got the 411 that you were in trouble, and voila! Instant rescue."

"You came to help me." Angel said, feeling a bit better at the idea that not only was everyone involved, but Faith actually cared. She came to his aid, and he couldn't think of a better way for her to start her own quest for redemption.

"What are friends for?" Faith said, stabilizing him as he began to falter.

"Where did they go?" Angel asked, steadying his legs as he nodded to Faith that he'd give walking on his own another try.

"They went to your girlfriend's house." Faith said, walking along side him. "Guess they plan on assaulting this place." Without warning, a flaming green ball of energy whizzed past Faith's head, hitting the nearby wall and exploding, leaving a car-sized hole gaping where wood and steel used to be.

"Looks like you didn't knock her out like you thought you did." Angel said, looking back at an infuriated witch before breaking off into as fast of a run as he could, trailing behind Faith as she yelled back at him to keep moving and to run faster. They dashed into the network of crates, hiding from Tabitha's view. Once they were safe for a moment, Faith picked then to continue their conversation.

"So, Buffy's pregnant?" Faith said, grinning slightly.

Angel looked at her incredulously. "Does everybody know that?"

Faith's grin augmented. "You didn't waste any time, did you?" A blast hit a crate close by, sending splinters of wood and unknown contents strewn across the floor. "Don't worry, I know a back way out of here."

Angel shadowed Faith's movements as she maneuvered through the wooden labyrinth. Just as it seemed they had reached salvation, a man stepped from the shadows in front of them. His voice was low and guttural as his eyes fell upon Angel. "You."

"Oh great." Angel said, nearly crumpling to the floor. Faith looked between the two, puzzled and exasperated at the same time. She noticed the bald guy had a bow in his hand.

"Who is this guy?" Faith asked intolerantly.

"That's Darien," Angel said, sighing that his day just couldn't get any worse. "He's her little puppy."

"Silence, fool." Darien said, wielding the bow upwards, yet away from Faith and Angel.

"Just put the bow down." Angel said, trying to reason with someone who obviously, when intent on doing something, couldn't be reasoned with.

"These are enchanted arrows," Darien said, grinning, "they'll penetrate anyone's chest. And when they do, they have enough power to send them at least twenty five feet backwards."

"Are you going to talk or are you going to shoot us?" Faith asked, growing very impatient.

"I'm not going to shoot you," Darien said, cocking the bow, "you're not the one who took my beloved away from me. Come on."

Shocked at the turnabout, but deciding not to ask questions, Angel and Faith followed Darien through the towers of boxes to a back door. Once outside, Darien stayed at the door to ensure they weren't followed. Then Angel saw something he never thought he'd see again.

Something he was, after tonight, absolutely never going to take for granted.

Buffy's smile.
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