Author's Note: Man, I didn't think it would take this long to finish the chapter. Well... Now that I'm on Spring Break, I can finally get some work done around here. Oh yeah... Reviews, reviews, reviews!!!! Did I mention I'd like some reviews? I think I did.

*******
Spirits at Angel Investigations were teetering on the brink of insanity. Some had their noses buried in ancient books to find any more details about the Sacred Demise. Others were cleaning and preparing the weapons for some serious battle time.

Lorne took the role of supervisor, which mainly consisted of sitting around, sipping at a Seabreeze and telling other people what to do. Cordelia was not happy with his share of work, or lack thereof.

"Get off your scaly green ass and do something for a change!" she yelled as she took out a broadsword and handed it to Angel, who then put into a large black bag.

"You misunderstand, sweet cheeks," he said as he gulped down the last of his drink. "I am doing something."

"Sitting on the couch barking orders at people who are actually trying to do something about this Apocalypse is not considered doing something!"

"How come he gets to be supervisor?" Angel demanded. "I want to sit on my ass and yell at people."

"You already do that. Lorne's just giving you a break," Gunn interjected, putting a large axe into Angel's large black bag. The vampire pouted and zipped up the now-full bag.

"Here's something interesting," Fred called out, reading from a book she had been researching from. "It says here that in order for the ceremony to take place, three events must occur. The first: A massive earthquake."

"Well, that we can't exactly prevent," Faith added. She rubbed the edge of a sword blade with a rag.

"True," Fred replied, then continued with the passage. "The second. . . The Sacred Eye will engulf itself in white-hot flames."

"Can't prevent that either," Faith once again added, then placed the now-shiny sword into the second bag o' weapons. "Whatever it is."

"The final event. . . well that's a bit odd. The final event. . . rivers of blood must spew from the bowels of the angel." Fred shut the cover of the tome.

Cordelia made a face of disgust. "Can we say morbid?"

"Amen to that," Gunn replied. He made a face similar to Cordelia's.

"You said the events take place a week before the whole thing goes down?" Angel inquired, ignoring his colleagues' comments of revolt.

"Mm-hmm."

"When's it supposed to come about?"

Wesley cut in. "According to the calculations of Aedius the Insane, it's to take place. . ." He looked down at the notes he'd been taking throughout his research. ". . . Fourteen days into the month of Julius, one year after the second millennium." Wesley looked up from the paper. "In other words, July 14th, 2002."

"Today's the 11th," Lorne threw in.

"And have any gigantic earthquakes happened in the past week?"

Wesley gave Angel a look. "Not that I know of."

"Then there's still a chance that this Aedius guy was wrong. I mean, any guy named Aedius the Insane can't be all that trustworthy."

"For once, he's making sense," Cordelia added.

Wesley pursed his lips, closed his eyes and rested his chin on his chest. "Even if that's true and his calculations are off, we can't ignore the other Apocalyptic signs that have been showing themselves in recent days. And the coin Faith found-" Wesley raised the coin from the table and put it down in a fluid-like motion- "doesn't help your theory any."

"So on the 14th, we kick whose ass?" Gunn pondered out of the blue. He then proceeded to perform some karate moves against an invisible opponent.

"Sorry to break it to you, Gunn, be we kick no one's. . . um. . . ass." Wesley turned a faint shade of red after stumbling. "At least not right away."

Gunn stopped his Bruce Lee impressions. He appeared disappointed. "Why not?"

Fred broke in. "Because the hero's the only one who can break the protective barrier once the ritual begins. Once he, or she, does that. . . Then we can fight to our heart's content."

Faith hopped up onto the research counter. "Which prompts the question, Who's the hero?"

"XANDER!!"

All eyes focused Cordelia's way as she collapsed like a rag doll onto the floor. Her hands were grasping her head and she was moaning in pain. Signs of another vision.

"What's that, like, the second one today?" Faith stayed in her spot atop the counter as the rest rushed to the stricken woman's aid.

"Xander. . . He fell off a ladder. . . Looks like he's got a head injury of some kind. . ."

"Why am I not surprised?" Angel joked. When he could see that no one was laughing at his jest, he helped Wesley, Gunn and Lorne lift her onto the couch and put her down in a comfortable laying position. Cordelia closed her eyes, as if it would soothe the torment she was now in.

"When I talked to Buffy, she did tell me that Xander had an accident involving Spike, slime and a ladder." Wesley shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't bother asking."

"Isn't it kind of strange that Cordelia would get a vision *after* Xander hurt himself?" Angel prompted.

"Maybe it's not the Powers that Be giving her the visions," Lorne suggested. "Maybe it's another outside force. That would explain the pain."

Wesley paused a moment to ponder Lorne's comment. "It's not exactly unheard of."

"But why are they screwing with me?!" Cordelia demanded. "I'm not the only one who has clairvoyance around here."

"And maybe it's not just you getting these visions," Wesley incited.

"But why me?" Cordelia asked again.

"Maybe it's someone who knows you have the capability of harboring visions," Fred added.

A loud roaring noise pierced the gang's ears. The roaring was then followed by an obnoxious screeching sound that disappeared as soon as it had began. After several moments of silence, voices could be heard coming from the front steps. One of the voices seemed male and British. "'Cause I sure as hell am not," the male said. The man's comment was immediately followed an irritated female one. "Wussy. . ." the girl mumbled.

The doors of the Hyperion Hotel swung open to reveal Buffy and her band of faithful followers. The Slayer had her arms still open when a look of horror came across her face.

"Oh my God," she muttered.

"Buffy, what is it?" Angel fearfully asked.

She shook her head. "Don't you feel that?"

Angel looked down, then around him. "No. . ." But before he could say anything more, the ground beneath him and the rest of the hotel denizens began to shake violently.

People in the hotel and in the doorway screamed and ducked for cover. Faith leapt off the counter she was on and dodged into the little crevice. Fred, Wesley and Gunn huddled quite compactly under the wooden table near the couch that Cordelia was on. Cordelia, not much for action right now, just placed a pillow over her head in hopes that nothing would hit her. Angel, in a blind panic, grabbed Connor from his bassinet and cradled him into his billowy coat. Lorne just stood where he was, knowing he couldn't really be hurt by any of the falling debris.

Those in the entryway stood where they were, praying that the awning above them would hold fast. Dawn, being the most jittery of the group, shrieked and bounced into Spike's arms for protection.

"Well. . . this is a fine how-do-ya-do," Spike commented as the earthquake raged around them all.

******

"I forgot how much fun coloring books were," Xander remarked as he moved the yellow ("goldenrod" it said) crayon across the page. About twenty minutes ago, the kindly nurse had brought him a stack of coloring books and a box of 96 Crayola Crayons from the children's ward. Right now he was working on a picture of a little girl and her doll having a tea party.

"That's nice, sweetie," Anya said with half-interest. She was too absorbed in the "People" magazine she was reading to give her full attention.

"You really do under appreciate this kind of thing when you're young." Xander looked up suddenly. "Shouldn't you be at the Magic Box?" No answer. "Anya?" She was still reading. "I mean, Chad isn't exactly qualified to run the store all by himself. You never know. . . he could probably lose all the money or what not."

This got her attention. Anya dropped the magazine from her hands and ran out the door without so much as a "Good-bye."

For some reason, Xander thought this was hilarious. He didn't know what had possessed him to do such a thing. It was probably the same person who had gotten all the doctors in the hospital think he was a nut job. But for the life in him, he couldn't pinpoint the person that was making him to hear voices and to see things that weren't there (like that doll with curly blonde hair wearing a rose-red dress). Not to mention that vivid nightmare he had about clowns attacking him in his hospital bed.

Whoever or whatever it was that was in his head, it caused him to be on the extreme edge. Xander wondered if the doctors had given him the coloring books because they thought he had reverted back to a childlike state or just to calm his nerves. Whatever the reason, it was working. The gold crayon went back onto the page and gave life to the doll's hair.

He continued filling in the solid black lines on the page until it was finished. Once he was satisfied with his work, he held the picture up in front of him and took a good, long look. He'd given the girl raven-colored hair and she was wearing a black dress trimmed with red lace. The girl's skin he had made a color less than peach but just slightly more than white.

The doll sitting across from her looked awfully familiar. The more he looked at the 2D replica. . .

**It's beginning**

Xander's eyes widened at the sudden voice in his head. It was her again.

**All signs are beginning to appear**

"What signs?" Xander asked, hoping that the voice would reply.

**The beginning of the end**

**Only you can stop it, Slayer's Knight**

That voice. Definitely British. Xander examined the coloring book picture one more time. He placed the voice in his head with the little girl. The voice. . . The child, the dark ebony hair, the pale skin. . .

Xander shut his eyes and concentrated on the voice in his head. **Are you Drusilla? **

Much to Xander's disappointment, she did not respond. He opened his eyes and cursed.

Xander glanced at the clock on the wall. It read 6:12 p.m. About eight hours had passed since his accident. He was sure that Buffy and the rest of them were with Angel by now.

He let out a tired huff and grabbed the remote on his bedside table. The first thing that appeared on the TV was the news which, since there was really nothing else on, Xander decided to watch. The weatherman predicted overcast skies for the next three days and for once Xander believed the guy. While Xander lay there motionless, eyes fixated on the screen, he could've sworn that he felt a jolt but he just set it aside as another factor of his traumatic state of mind.

Five minutes passed by before an emergency newsflash came on the screen. "7.0 magnitude earthquake strikes the city of Los Angeles" came the message across the bottom of the TV.

Xander couldn't believe what he was seeing. The message kept rolling and re-rolling with his pupils settled on the words. His mind drifted to his friends. 'Oh, God. What if they were hurt? What if they were trapped? And I'm not there with them!'

Drusilla's words came back to him. *It's beginning. All signs are beginning to appear.*

'Did she know this was gonna happen?' He shook his head. 'Of course she knew, you lackbrain! She's a Seer!'

An out-of-breath, seemingly frightened reporter came on screen. "Seismologists are completely baffled by the sudden earthquake. There seems to be no evidence of any plates colliding or slipping."

"No. . ." Xander muttered. "No, of course not. They don't need plates when it's the end of the world."

*****

The quake didn't last all that long, but it did its job quite effectively. All the major highways leading in and out of the city were shut down and phones were of no use. In all, this was one city full of brassed-off people.

The Hyperion Hotel was a wreck but, as Gunn pointed out, it could've been worse even though the power was out. Some trinkets had fallen off of Wesley's desk, which he wasn't too happy about. Giles, unfortunately, had taken a hit to the head from a fallen piece of roof tile and was knocked out for several moments.

"Signs you know you're in California," Giles grumbled as Fred handed him an ice pack. "One, there's an earthquake."

"The first event of the impending Armageddon," Fred observed from earlier research.

Giles nodded. "Sign number two. . . You get knocked unconscious. At least in my experience."

Dawn, who had broken from Spike's protective embrace, giggled. "That seems to happen a lot to you, doesn't it Giles?"

"Yes, with hilarious consequences." He placed the pack on the forming wound.

"What's this about 'the first event?'" asked Buffy. "We already know the Armageddon's headed our way."

"I can answer that one," Wesley broke in. In his hands, he held the last remaining pieces of a broken statue that he couldn't piece back together if he tried. "Three events must occur in order for the Sacred Demise to happen. The earthquake's supposed to reveal the burial place of Ch'Nalin, which is where the ceremony is to take place.

"The eye ablaze is like a homing beacon for all of Ch'Nalin's followers."

"Like a Bat Signal for all kinds of nasty demons?" Gunn interrupted.

"Uh. . . well . . Actually. . . Yes." Wesley cleared his throat. "The third event, the rivers pouring from the angel, would act like a moat surrounding the grounds where the ritual is to be. To keep out any intruders who mean to stop the Demise from coming to pass."

"My congratulations to you, Wesley," Giles complimented, impressed with the work the former Watcher had done. "You've really done your homework."

"Fascinating, really. I'm hanging on every word," Spike sarcastically remarked. "Hey, Angelus! Where do ya keep the blood around here? I'm starting to feel a bit on the peckish side." Angel sighed. He pointed his thumb in the kitchen's direction, sending Spike off in a flash.

Buffy noticed an absence in the conversation. "Willow?" she called out, scanning the room for the Redhead. Buffy spotted her in the foyer of the lobby, giving the darker-haired Slayer the evil eye.

"I don't trust her. . ." Willow repeated softly to herself. Tara grabbed Willow by the arm and walked her away from Faith, hoping to avoid any confrontation.

"Glad to see you too, Red," Faith reacted with a grin playing her lips. She thought the whole scene had been quite comical.

Buffy leaned into Angel's ear. "When did she get out?"

"She just got here this morning. Said she was on parole."

"Why's she here?"

Angel tilted his head to one side. "I dunno. I'm guessing she wants some sort of redemption. Fight the good fight and all that jazz. She's probably trying to score some points with the big guy upstairs."

Buffy raised her eyebrow. "Now you promise that she's not going to hurt anyone?"

Angel lifted up his right arm and placed it on his unbeating heart. "Cross my still heart and hope to be dusted."

A smile came across Buffy's face. She patted her hand on the one that was still resting on his chest. "Thank you," she mouthed.

"So," Buffy said as she lightly punched Angel in the arm, "what do y'all do for fun around here?"