Faith and Robert consummated their lust on the floor of the church. The flickering light from the candles illuminated their figures as the images of Christian figures looked down upon them with faceless expressions. Faith's loud gasps for breath reverberated throughout the empty room while La Morte made almost no sound, but pressed against her with the force of each contraction. Finally, the man, who was six or seven inches taller than Faith rolled off her and lay beside her. Faith extended her right arm and reached it around his shoulders in an embrace. Their faces stared at each other. La Morte couldn't help but notice the extensive makeup Faith wore, which darkened her brown eyes and made her lips a perfect shade of crimson red. They glistened in the moonlight like a red pool. Faith stared at La Morte's ragged face. His face contained several scars and was covered in a scraggly black beard. His cold blue eyes reflected a gentleness that she had never seen in him while his face looked ruggedly handsome in spite of its disheveled appearance. They stared at each other in the awkward silence that accompanies most lovers for their first liaison but Faith shattered the silence quickly.

"Robert?" she asked inquisitively as if to begin a difficult, thought provoking question.

He nodded in recognition.

"Why didn't you kill me?" her brown eyes bored deep into him, searching for the answer.

"Well Faith, that's because I saw this glimmer within you. It was this spark that refused to be extinguished, this passion, this strength, this love that I just couldn't bring myself to destroy. I had convinced myself that you were evil, I was briefed fully on your infamous exploits as a drudge of evil, but at that moment, all that past history vanished and I saw a different Faith. I saw vulnerable woman struggling between good and evil, hardly the hardened villain I expected. I guess I saw a little bit of myself in you," he smiled at the end as he noticed Faith's rapt attention to his monologue.

"Wow, never knew I had it in me," Faith shrugged, surprised a little at La Morte's open confession. She was shocked that she felt similar thoughts about him. It was funny how their first meetings were generally involving them trying to kill each other and now they were screwing like rabbits and were just a regular Romeo and Juliet. She didn't really know how to respond to his statement, so she just remained silent for a long while, brooding to herself. While doing so, she remained ignorant to La Morte's sudden change in disposition.

He rose up, dressed himself and donned his suit of armor and cloak. His blue eyes had reverted back to their piercing and cold gaze and his smile changed from one of joy to one of pure malevolence. His violent side had reasserted control of his fragile psyche and persuaded him to honor his orders from Micah Luke. His dark id knew to avoid mentioning Faith as one of his targets, since his human side had taken quite a liking to her. His thoughts turned from lust and passion to bloodshed and combat, after all, the ritual had created him to be the ultimate warrior and he was. Soon, he would unleash his terrible power against Faith's friends, but he kept his agenda secret from his lover. He then crossed the room to where he left his sword and he sheathed it in a scabbard that hung along his back. He walked over to Faith and kissed her on the cheek.

Faith cringed; the kiss felt like ice, it lacked the heat and comfort of their lovemaking only moments before. This one felt like the kind of kiss a vampire would give its victim before its teeth plunged into his or her neck. She shuddered for a moment as it dawned on her that Robert had reverted back to his old self and she tried to force her thoughts into stopping him from carrying out whatever dark deeds he planned on but she couldn't even bring herself to open her lips to order him to stop. It was as if she was dumbfounded by love and she couldn't lift a finger against him, it seemed so strange but she actually cared for him. Besides, her thoughts added, Angel and the others didn't need her help, they could've cared less about her, Buffy could save them if she wanted to. And so Faith allowed the black-armored knight to exit the church, his cloak billowing in the night breeze. The chilly wind snuffed out the candles and La Morte slammed the massive oak doors behind him, leaving Faith in darkness.

Angel and Kennedy watched the ranks of the vagrant army arrive in the center of the park. They clustered around the fountain where he and Buffy had tried to reconcile hours before, their mouths silent and the only sounds he could hear was their footsteps treading softly through the night. There were hundreds of them, men and women dressed in ragged clothes probably donated from the Salvation Army. They clutched all manner of weapons ranging from knives to scythes; many of them had red crosses on their foreheads painted in their own blood. This was the army of the poor, the same people Angel tried to protect every night from all manner of evil, and now they had turned against him. He swore silently to himself that he wished he could've done more for them and stopped them from falling victim to the impassioned violent sermons of a dangerous demagogue, but it really didn't matter. He looked over to his side and saw Kennedy, who was clearly frightened by the vast numbers of humans whose only thoughts hinged on killing her and her friends. He knew he would have to unleash his full ferocity upon them and be as merciless as fighting the most fearsome demons, for these humans would not stop until they destroyed him and his compatriots. Kennedy stared at him as if to plead him to leave with her, but he shook his head and turned back to observe the assembling horde.

Finally, the rearguard arrived. These men were different than the rest, they were dressed in uniforms that resembled the Jesuit order Angel remembered from terrorizing Europe in the past. He remembered that they were his most dangerous opponents and were as crafty and devious as the demons they fought. He noticed that these were better armed than the mob they commanded, many of them carrying rapiers and broadswords of such a superior make that they reflected in the dim moonlight. Their leader, a huge tan-skinned man towered above the others and stood in front of the mob. The huge man wore an saintly white cloak with a red cross emblazoned on it which barely seemed to contain his bulging muscles. The man lifted his huge curved scimitar up into the air as he began ranting about their mission. Angel picked up bits and pieces from his sermon, something about a covenant and a key. His mind suddenly snapped, the part about the key meant that the mob was coming to seize Dawn for some nefarious scheme. He knew he had to run back to the Hyperion as quickly as possible and inform the others. He seized Kennedy's hand and they sprinted as quickly as they could from the park back to the Hyperion. Kennedy checked her watch and whispered to Angel that it was zero hour. They hurried onward, never glancing backward to see if they were being followed.

Meanwhile, Gideon lectured on to the crowd, the masses cheering him on and repeating his cries of vengeance and salvation. He wasn't grinning however, since the master was late and it seemed so unusual for a man as charismatic and tidy as Micah Luke. He continued with his sermon, hoping that the master would show and then he could lead the army to victory. Suddenly, his sermon was interrupted by a tall figure dressed entirely in black who made his way through the crowd. The vagrants parted like the Red Sea before Moses and cautiously eyed the seemingly mysterious stranger who had just entered their midst. Gideon's face turned from startled to exuberant as he recognized the newcomer. He rushed out to meet the dark man with flowing, long black hair and the billowing cloak and prostrated himself before him. He had a few inches on the knight, but he feared the man like no other, for the man was an esteemed warrior for the church and was unstoppable in battle. Gideon feared to ever cross him or upset the black knight in any way.

"It is an honor for you to join us, sir," he lowered his head in respect for the figure standing before him.

Sir Robert La Morte raised his head and a sinister grin crossed his face. He patted the South African on the back as if he were an obedient hound and whirled around to face the crowd. He unsheathed his sword in a swift motion and raised it into the air. The crowd, at first unsure of what to do, realized his intent and they proceeded to raise their weapons in the air and they began chanting his name loudly like a mass of obedient acolytes before their God. La Morte re-sheathed the sword and spoke loudly, his voice booming through the park.

"Micah has told me that he cannot make it tonight. He has been held up by an unexpected inconvenience. But never fear, for I am with you. We shall attain victory tonight and we will start by marching on the Hyperion and destroying the demons within!" His eyes turned from a cold blue to a bright red as his demon side took a hold of him. He raised his fist into the air and pointed to the west in the direction of the hotel. He strutted forward, motioning for the others to follow him. The surging masses of Micah Luke's followers ran after him, brandishing their weapons like vengeful furies descending upon their prey. Gideon rose up and ran after La Morte, catching up with him and raising his blade as he prepared for the inevitable attack upon the hotel. He briefly glanced over at La Morte and laughed, the black-haired man returned the laughed and the two murderous zealots led the followers on the mile long march to their destination.

Angel and Kennedy rushed into the hotel, closing the doors behind them. Kennedy who was breathing rapidly from the mile long dash, ran over to the benches nearby and lifted one with her impressive slayer strength. She propped it up against the door as a barricade and then rushed back to find another object to barricade the door from the incoming invaders. Angel followed her lead and effortlessly lifted a sofa chair and set it against the doors. They then noticed that everyone else was staring at them. Kennedy and Angel glanced at each other and then addressed the fearful crowd.

"It's as bad as we expected," Angel said in a downcast fashion.

"Where's Faith?" piped up Giles, who noticed the raven-haired girl wasn't with them.

"She split a while ago and we haven't heard from her since," Kennedy joined in the conversation.

"How long is it till they'll be here?" inquired Willow, whose eyes were nervous at the thought of the incoming battle. She knew she would have to use dark magic to protect her friends and she feared it would overcome her like it had before. She ran over to Kennedy and hugged her.

Angel walked over to Fred and put his hand on her shoulder as if to assure her that everything would be all right. Fred returned his gesture with an embrace and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Angel blushed, feeling embarrassed in front of everyone. He also noticed the hostile stare his son was giving him. He moved from Fred to his human son and tried to speak to him.

"Connor?" he asked, pleading for his son to open up to his father.

But Connor only remained silent, his eyes boring into Angel's soul like two fiery coals full of hatred. Angel backed off, knowing he wasn't wanted there and he walked among the group, assuring them everything would be okay and they could still win.

Giles gave the souled vampire a feeble attempt at a confident smile, but he pessimistically feared they wouldn't survive, that this would be their last apocalypse. They had fought vampire after vampire, demon after demon, even an exiled hellgod and the First Evil itself, but this army seemed so great and even if they overcame wave after wave of fanatics, Giles knew they would have to face the tremendous power of Robert La Morte. Nothing could stop the black knight, the man's power was so potent that he could slay hellgods, Faith wasn't even a match for him and Buffy probably wouldn't have had very much success against him either. But his thoughts forced out all doubts and concentrated on winning the fight ahead. He talked briefly with Angel and suggested that he take Dawn upstairs and they barricade themselves in a room. Angle nodded in agreement and Giles took the hand of Buffy's sister and led her upstairs, where they blockaded themselves within a secure hotel room.

Oz tried to reminisce about the good old days of Sunnydale with Xander, but the shotgun-wielding former construction worker seemed too morose and depressed to even carry on a decent conversation. Oz's acute sense of smell picked up a scent coming from outside the hotel, in fact right in front of the doors. He growled and pointed towards the door.

Just then, everyone in the lobby all heard a loud pounding on the entrance to the hotel Xander was the first to raise his weapon and leveled his shotgun at the doors. Those of the warriors that had crossbows kneeled or crouched in a firing stance and aimed at the door with their weapons trained on the center. Angel stood by with the first rank, whose weapons were at the ready. After what seemed like an eternity, probably only consuming a few seconds, the doors finally burst open. Xander was about to pull the trigger when he noticed that a familiar petite blonde had just kicked open the door courtesy of her slayer strength. The blonde dusted herself off and stood up, allowing the rest of the group to fully recognize her.

"Hi guys, you miss me?" Buffy grinned and walked right in, slamming the doors behind her.