AUTHOR'S NOTE: Once again, thank you all for the many, many reviews I've received for this story. We are closing in on the end here, people, and I hope you enjoyed the ride. Only a few more chapters to go and I hope to get them done soon. Thank you for your support in all this.

And, of course, please take a look at my first original novel "I, Lucifer", now for sale. See my homepage shadow-dancing.com for details.

Enjoy!

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The Angel's Knight #34 - The Only Way to End It

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110 miles north of Los Angeles, October 16, 2017

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The look of confusion on Whistler's face is a sight to behold. When I first met him all these years ago, when he came to show me Buffy and recruit me for his cause, I was torn between wringing his neck and kissing his feet. He had given my life purpose, shown me the light that would dispel the darkness around me, but he also frustrated me to no end.

Now I know what he is, what he does, and why. Celeste opened my eyes and in this place, where the fires of the Torch burn brightly, I can see through all the lies and catch a glimpse of the truth. Whistler is not a demon, not an agent of some kind of higher power. He is the higher power. One of two players in a cosmic game of chess. Both sides have lined us up like pieces on a board to battle for the fate of this world, to decide which of them gets to shape this world's future.

I look at the blonde woman standing by my side, the one I thought I had lost forever, and I see and understand so much now. I know what we must do to save this world and it tears my heart right out. I once told Doyle that Buffy and I don't belong to ourselves, but to the world, that our own happiness always comes second to our duties. A thousand times I wished that it wasn't so, but it has never been more true than today.

Whistler narrows his eyes and something almost like anger creeps into his eyes.

"It is over," he repeats, disputing Buffy's earlier worlds. "The battle is done. The First Evil's army has been defeated. There is no one left to fight, Angel. Claim the prize! Get it over with!"

"And what happens if we do?" Buffy asks, taking a challenging step forward even as one of her hands slides into mine, fitting together as if they were made to do so. Feeling her warm skin on mine, sense of touch reaffirming that she is really here, I almost start to fear for my soul.

"Evil will be banished forever," Whistler answers Buffy's question. "Never again will this world be threatened by demons or vampires. You will be released from your duties, finally free to live the normal life you always wanted. You will be..."

"I will be dead," Buffy interrupts him. "You know very well what I have become, Whistler. You tore me out of the heaven I created for myself. I might have started out as a Slayer, but I'm something else now. Just like Angel isn't simply a vampire anymore. Just like Darla and Giles were something different."

I can hear her voice quivering with emotion when she says Giles' name. He lies dead on the floor, not ten feet away from us, having given his life to stop the First Evil's army from reaching the Torch. Dead like so many of our friends and family.

"We know what will happen, Whistler," I tell him, keeping all emotion out of my voice. "If we claim the Torch, then you win. All supernatural forces will be banished from the world."

"Yes," he quickly emphasizes. "You knew this was our goal, Angel. To banish the demons, to..."

"Not just the demons, right?" Buffy gives him a humorless grin. "Everything. Witches, werewolves, fairies, neutral creatures, every sorcerer, adept, and creature of myth. What will happen to them when magic is ripped away from this world, Whistler?"

He doesn't say anything, just glares at us.

"They will all die, won't they?" I ask him, already knowing the answer. "Everyone and everything connected to magic and the supernatural will die. Your shiny and perfect world will be paid for with the blood of thousands."

Whistler still doesn't say anything, but suddenly the air by his side shimmers and wavers, almost like a curtain being drawn back. A figure steps forth from the distortion and I can feel my human features slip away as I recognize the newcomer.

"Manners," I growl.

"Hello, Angel," the Wolfram & Hart lawyer says, looking as immaculate as ever. "I was hoping we'd meet one last time before this was all over."

Whistler gives him a dirty look.

"You have no place here. Your army was defeated."

His army? Suddenly I understand. Holland Manners died, killed by Darla many years ago. He returned, though, appearing as a specter of some kind and, through a simple elevator ride and some choice words, almost managed to drive me to suicide. Only it wasn't him. It was someone ... something else. Something that tried to drive me to suicide once before.

"The First," I snarl at it, my rage only increasing.

"I always knew you were smarter than you let on," the First congratulates me. "And I do think I have a place here, 'Whistler'. After all, as the young lady here said, the battle isn't quite over yet."

Whistler shakes his head. "It doesn't matter what they say. Only one side remains standing. Even if they refuse to claim the prize for me, I still win. There is no one left to claim it for you."

The First smiles and looks at me with a grin on its stolen face. "Isn't there?"

I share a look with Buffy and we both understand the rules of this game they are playing. There is no one left to fight for the First, so even if we do not claim the Torch, Whistler wins by the simple fact that his warriors are the last ones standing. There is only one way to end this battle in a way that will not turn this world into Hell or buy its peace with the blood of thousands.

Only one way.

I look at Celeste, my child, the one whom neither Whistler nor the First seem able to perceive. Her mere existence is a miracle. The mere idea that something living could spring forth from that night of death and pain Darla and I shared ... it boggles my imagination. I smile at her and she smiles back. She is not human, I know that. How could she be, with us for parents? I think I finally understand everything, including what she is and why she is here. I only wish there was more time. Isn't that a laugh? An immortal wishing for more time?

Buffy comes up to me and there is no need for words. We never needed words between us, not when it counted. I look into her eyes and I see everything. What she went through, how tired she felt that day when Glory threatened to ascend back to godhood. Why she tried to sacrifice herself and what happened afterwards. I see and I understand.

Both of us lean forward at the same time and our lips meet in what I know is a farewell kiss. My mind can't help but flash back to the last time we kissed like this, the moment when my soul was restored right in the midst of battle. I didn't know that, right behind my back, Akathler was threatening to swallow the world. I didn't know what she would have to do, but I knew it was a goodbye kiss even then.

If only there was more time.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity and yet much too short a time, I break away and walk towards Faith. She has truly come into her own, more than ever before. Seeing her standing there, the fires of the Torch burning behind her and framing her like a halo, I know that she will do what's necessary. Our eyes meet and the understanding between us is almost as deep as the one I shared with Buffy. I love Faith and I know she loves me. Not in a romantic way, but in that of family.

The look in her eyes says she, too, has figured out what must happen now and there are tears running down her cheeks.

"I need you to keep something safe for me," I tell her, the look on her face almost breaking my heart. She swallows hard, then nods.

I close my eyes, preparing myself for what has to happen. If the world as we know it is to survive this battle must continue. Unless someone steps up to fight for the side of the First Evil the war is over and Whistler wins. We are playing a terrible gamble here and I know that the player I'm about to bring into the game won't be interested in following the rules.

I'd pray for our success but I'm no longer sure anyone is there to hear my words.

With a single motion I rip away the bloodstained remains of my shirt and bring my hand to rest where my heart hasn't beat in over 250 years. I keep telling myself that this is the only way even as the rational part of my mind damns me for a fool. How can I even consider doing this? How can I not do it, considering what is at stake?

I can feel Buffy's presence behind me and I know she has slipped into a fighting stance, retrieving weapons from the fallen to use in the upcoming battle. The final battle. One way or another, this is it. Right here, right now, with nothing less than the world as a prize. Whistler and the First Evil both are staring at me and I think they have both figured out what is going to happen. The First grins, even as Whistler looks more than a bit anxious.

Under anything approaching normal circumstances something like this wouldn't be possible. The Gypsies dipped into dark magic, necromancy of the highest order, to place their vengeful curse upon me all these decades ago. It took Willow, a budding witch with a near-limitless potential for power, to do it a second time.

These are not normal circumstances, though. We are standing in the nexus of magic, the very center of all things myth. Supernatural power suffuses the air around us, crackles through the walls and the floor and the ceiling. Everything is possible here if only we believe it can be done.

A strange feeling of serenity overcomes me as I feel my hand sink into my chest and grasp that which can't be grasped.

"Angel," I hear Faith whisper, but her words have become meaningless now.

The pain hits me a moment later, a searing fire that pumps through my veins as if my heart were still beating and driving it on. My hand emerges from my chest and the glare is almost blinding. A light, almost like a small star, is cradled within my fingers and, even as I watch, curls into a nearly perfect sphere and becomes solid. My eyes lock with Faith and I offer it to her, her trembling hand taking it just before my strength runs out.

The last sensation I feel is the floor as it comes up to meet me and then everything grows dark.

Things are about to get very interesting.

TO BE CONTINUED