Where do we go from here: THE PROPHECY

Normally, Angel had a sixth sense about things. He didn't really sense the stakes and chains coming flying towards him. And normally, he could move out of the way in time before they fell but the combination of Spike there with him, taking him by surprise and the idea of stakes falling towards him shocked him for a moment and he forgot what to do. If he carried on it would be too late. So he was even more surprise to suddenly feel himself being propelled to the side, rolling along the dusty floor, landing out of harms way.

The stakes, chains and other weapons landed harmlessly on the floor beside them, sending up dust, but thankfully, not them.

Angel looked to the side of him. Spike was already beginning to get up and groaning, complaining about the state of his jacket. Angel looked on in confusion. "Did you…did you just do that?" he asked, frowning slightly, looking from the stakes to Spike.

Spike shrugged. "Well yeah. What did you think, some bleedin' forces of good would stop you from getting killed." He pulled out a cigarette to light. "Not bloody likely. Don't worry, I don't expect any thanks from you, so you can save yourself the trouble of fakin' it."

Now Angel got to his feet and brushed himself down. He didn't know what to say. He was grateful to Spike for saving his life but now it seemed wrong to thank him for it. He looked around the tunnels. Spike remained where he was, not moving but simply smoking. "Like the décor," he murmured. "Please don't tell me this is where you live, Angelus. Crypts always worked nice for the likes of us."

Angel rolled his eyes. He grabbed Spike by the scruff of the neck and pushed him forward to the entrance of the tunnel. "Hey!" the younger vampire protested.

"Shut up," Angel replied. "First off, I'm not Angelus. He's gone again and he's not going to come back if I can help it. Secondly, I'm you sire and no matter how many decades you've spent rampaging on your own, I still own you and you still obey me. Thirdly, I want to know what you're doing here and I still don't trust you, Spiky, so you're coming with me."

Spike laughed bitterly. "Oh how convenient 'cause I was just coming to see you."

Angel let go of his collar. "What? And why did you save me?"

"I haven't always been selfish, you know!"

Angel raised his eyebrows. "Err…yes you have." He shook his head. "Anyway, you're coming back to the hotel with us and explain what the hell is going on. I doubt this is just a social visit on your part so come on."

"What hotel?"

"Our headquarters."

"Oh, you brought yourself a hotel now. Well, isn't that nice."

"Shut up, Spike."

*  *  *  *  *

Faith tapped her foot impatiently. "I don't see why we can't just go," she shouted out loud to the office where Wesley was. "I mean if we see any renegade vampires that decide to attack the car we'll just…" She stood up and made a show of staking a vampire and him exploding into pieces.

"As much as I am satisfied with your confidence and eagerness to get back to Sunnydale, we don't know it's safe yet. It's only been a night since Angelus has disappeared. Vampires and demons will be disappearing back to where they came from. Not long now, I assure you."

Faith looked over at Willow to the young witch who just shrugged.

"Don't worry your sweet pumpkin pies about it," Lorne informed, sitting on the banquet, sipping. "He has problems to deal with at the moment, like we all do. Angel's adjusting to his soul hopefully. You've just come from behind those big barred walls and me…I'm still recovering from all my headaches." He rubbed his forehead as if to prove that fact.

Faith looked to the side where Wesley was sitting, going through books. He sighed and pushed one out of the way. Faith frowned and pondered again at the changes that had happened—it had only been what, 3 years since she'd last seen him. He's changed for sure. "What's his deal anyway?" Faith asked casually, trying to show that she didn't give too much of a dam.

"Love," Gunn answered, looking at her from where he was cleaning a weapon on the other side of the lobby.

Faith nodded her head in understanding. "Horrible thing, isn't it," she bitterly. "That's why I don't do that sort of thing anymore."

"Hard, though, for those who have."

"Don't think I can't hear you," Wesley replied stonily from within the office. Faith and Gunn turned to look at each other and grimaced. Neither of them could think of what to say but were thankfully, saved by the door of the Hyperion opening and Angel was standing there.

Wesley came out to see what was going on. He saw Spike and immediately and raised his crossbow. "Wes, don't!" Angel said, coming in and holding his hand out, warning Wes to stop. Wes paused but still remained holding the crossbow. Spike stayed at the entrance, unable to come in but watching the scene below.

"Spike com---"

"Err—Angel, is that such a good idea?" Gunn asked tentatively.

Willow nodded and stood up. "Don't worry, Angel, it's fine."

"Come in, Spike." Spike descended down the stairs, looking at the Hyperion. "Wow, I have to admit, Angel, this looks much better than the sewers or any crypt that I've been into."

Angel nodded. "Last I heard, you had a chip."

Spike smiled wickedly. "Chip got removed."

Instantly, the Angel Investigations team were on their feet. Wes already had his crossbow, Gunn picked up an axe, and Faith had her stake and even Lorne helped by picking up an empty bottle of Vodka that was on the table. "No, don't!" Willow cried, jumping in between everyone, only to be grabbed away by Gunn as if to protect her.

"Is that why you came here?" Angel asked. "To hurt us?"

Spike held out his hands. "Whoa. Well, you should know about hurt Angelus. That's all you're ever good at."

"And the same to you," Angel replied. "That's all you ever did."

"Not anymore!" Spike cried, almost insanely like the thought of hurting people was an insult. "I don't hurt anymore. I can't and it's not got anything to do with the blasted chip! I'm saved, cursed, I have…"

"Oh God," Angel said, his eyes widening. His weapon dropped to the floor. "I knew something was wrong. I could smell something different on you. You have a soul, don't you?"

The others turned to look at Angel and Spike in amazement. Wes turned to look at Willow who was looking very nervous and worried now. "You know," he said the witch. He wasn't accusing her. His voice was neutral but everyone else had failed to notice the witch, who of course, would know all the details.

Willow nodded. "Yeah…I knew," she said, and that all she could say.

"Why?" Angel demanded.

Spike rolled his eyes. "It's got nothing to do with beating you, Angelus. If I had it my way…sod it, it was my way. I chose this soul, unlike you who had it forced into you, but I see why you wanted to keep it, mate."

Wes kept looking at Willow who still looked nervous despite the news had been out. She was dreading that something was going to come out and full scale war would explode. Wes decided that that was the last thing they needed at the moment. "Why did you come here, Spike?" Willow shot Wes a grateful look.

"Strange business that," Spike said, coming to sit down on the banquet. Most people had put down their weapons but Gunn was still wary. "I left Sunnydale a few days ago, in search for some…well tranquillity you might say when I came across this demon harbourer. He had some quite interesting papers and quite a few prophecies…I couldn't help looking at the one which was dated three days from today."

"What is it?" Faith demanded.

Spike cleared his throat dramatically as he pulled out the faded piece of paper. "God no idea what it says. It's written in some kind of language but the demon translated it as best as he could for me. It has something to do with a kid, a special kid, cos this kid is the result of two vampires."

"And you linked this to me how?" Angel asked.

Spike laughed. "Well, mate, this is LA. Lots of stuff happens here and when you have never-ending nights, evil vampires and strange things going on, word gets around. And word really got round when the first child born of two vampires came about. I could only guess it was you. After all, you're a champion! You're special," Spike practically spat out.

"Calm your head, firecracker, what does the prophecy say?" Lorne asked.

Spike shrugged. "Dunno. It's in some ancient language, proto something or other. Not even the demon could translate all of it."

"Wes?" Angel asked.

Wes walked into the office with Angel and Spike followed. As he passed Faith he looked at her. The energetic girl looked at him and Spike smiled. "Slayer," he said, as though he was happy.

Faith simply smiled back. "Vampire," she replied in the same way.

Spike went into the office and Faith looked around at the others. Willow had sat back down and was looking at the floor, trying to appear innocent. Gunn was plain confused but he had put his weapon down and Lorne was simply sitting back against his chair, still sipping his Tia Maria.

Conner came down the stairs and looked at them. "What's going on?" he asked broodily and sat down on the bottom stair. "I smell someone new here."

"Don't worry just an old relation of your dad's, spitfire," Faith murmured and looked into the office.

*  *  *  *  *

An hour later, Wes was still in the office, even more books piled out on the desk than before. He'd identified the scroll as an ancient language indeed. Proto-Argencuine, a civilization within South America that had long since been wiped out. Angel, realizing Spike was going to stay a while, was showing him a room up in the Hyperion. Their friendship had been frostily at best but now it seemed like forced pleasantries were the only way to get by.

He heard a knock at the door and looked up, seeing the red headed witch standing there. "Hey there," Willow said. "I thought you might want some help. Don't know how much I could be."

Wesley smiled slightly and shrugged. "Proto-Argencuine?"

Willow raised her eyebrows. "Maybe not. Okay…well, I'll just be the other kind of help. You know, taking books of shelves, making coffee…that sort of thing."

Wesley leaned back and rubbed his eyes. "What's bothering you, Willow? I know it has something to do with Spike being here and my guess it's that Spike and Angel are in close contact with one another. Are you afraid of something?"

Willow sat down in the chair opposite Wesley. "I wanted to thank you. I'm not sure how long it'll last but it stopped a fight for today. Things have been happening in Sunnydale since Angel went. You know…boyfriends, that sort of thing. Only…only lately, the boyfriend hasn't really been one of the breathing kind…again."

"Oh. Are you suggesting what I think?"

"Buffy and Spike…they…they." Willow paused and sighed. "They sort of had a thing."

"A thing?"

"Surely you're Americanised enough to know what a thing is."

Wesley looked down and smiled. "Yes, I think I understand that. Buffy and Spike were…engaged at some point?"

Willow nodded. "This is before he got the soul. And the whole relationship was about as complicated as hers and Angel's. A lot of…moral stuff, you know. They broke up and loved too many times to count. The reason Spike got his soul was for Buffy."

"And you're worried that if Angel found out Buffy and Spike had a…thing…then it would anger Angel, possibly prevent him from concentrating at the matters at hand."

"There's evil coming, Wesley, both of us know that. There's an evil in Sunnydale which has got Buffy all twisted and there's an evil here and from what Angel said the demon said, there's another evil. Things are…complicated. They don't need to be even more complicated."

Wesley sighed and sat back. "Things have been complicated for a long time. I almost regret knowing this information now."

"Why?"

"The only one with the secret in the group is usually the one that gets hurt."

Willow looked at Wesley and then outside. "Something happened, didn't it," she said. "Has it got something to do with the darkness that you had? I found my darkness when…when someone close to me died. I turned evil, tried to destroy the world and all that."

Wesley smiled slightly and looked at the prophecy on the table. "I hate prophecies as well. All that is the reason Conner is the way he is. Most of it is my fault." Willow looked at him questioningly and he knew he couldn't keep it from her. "Last year, there was this prophecy, whilst Conner was still a baby, saying that Angel would kill him. The Father will Kill the Son. And I stupidly told no one, took matters into my own hands, almost got myself killed and Conner turned out the way he is now."

Willow looked at Wesley. "So that's where the scar comes from."

Wesley instinctually put his hand up to his neck and nodded. "Yes."

There was a sigh from the doorway and they turned round. "You can be such an idiot sometimes, Wes, you know that?" Faith said.

"Thank you, Faith, I always enjoy your honest opinion," he answered, knowing that she knew as well now. "Well, I suppose we'd better get back to this. I'm sure Angel is desperate to know."

*  *  *  *  *

One Year Ago…

Lindsey sat in the back of the Olde Bookshop, in Chicago. It was one of the few occultist shops around. Chicago wasn't very big on the paranormal thing. Whereas LA was full of magic shops, demonology libraries and spell casting, Chicago was in fact the opposite. It took Lindsey a long time to find a shop that would help him but eventually he found one, a specialist one ran by a demon masquerading as a human in his public life.

"Here we are," he replied, dumping a book on the table as he sat opposite Lindsey. "I thought I recognised your condition from somewhere. It's very rare, though, and I didn't think I'd live long enough to see it."

"What is it?" Lindsey asked, his eyes narrowing.

"An ancient form of magic, originating from Africa. Rumour has it, it was the magic used by the First Watchers when they made the first Slayer but that's all pure superstition. All we know for sure it's that it's a very powerful magic called the Calatine. The one who possesses it has great power."

"That I got from the guy that gave them to me."

The man/demon nodded. "Well, the man that gave it to you, transferred it to you. Literally linking you and passing the energy to you. But this power, the Calatine, is now literally your lifeline. Your bodily functions no longer rely on just your heartbeat and blood around your body, this power is now a part of you, like an organ. If it goes, your body dies, which is what happened to the other man. You can save lives by passing it on."

Lindsey sighed. "So I can save lives with this by transferring it to somebody else, but I got to die."

The man shook his head. "No, no, not necessarily. You don't have to transfer all your energy. You could just transfer a little bit of it and it would still keep you alive."

"Wouldn't I be weaker?"

Again, the man shook his head. "No, you're a younger healthy boy. You have energy that you could rebuild up your energy to its original quantity, the same to the person that you give it to. There could be two of you, but I don't advise it. Two people running around with the same sort of power would be dangerous. Not only that, you'd be bound."

"Bound? As in joined together?"

"Not literally. But you shall be connected because of your power. It would pain you to go too far from your partner and so fourth."

"So this Calatine can heal, what else?"

"Almost anything, really. It can heal, it can destroy. You could do something as simply moving objects with your hand to—as you did, set a building on fire. You could wipe out a whole city of electrical power and then restore it. You could protect yourself and other people—like one those sci-fi movies force field things."

Lindsey looked at his hand for a moment and frowned at it. "Could I destroy other evil powers with it?"

The man looked within the book. "Well, yes, yes, you can. It says it is capable of destroying—eradicating other evils that exist in this dimension or any other. Of course, that would take up a lot of power and energy. You would be rendered weak for a length of time, that is, if you can build up enough energy. You'd know who much you need and what you'd need to do."

"That's what the guy said as well."

"It's an extra sense, this power. You can do so much greatness with it. The possibilities are endless. You could be a one man evil fighting machine! Vampires would be so easy to kill, snake like demons, forces of darkness gathering!"

Lindsey sat back and looked at his hand again with a new expression on his face. It was one of awe and realization. Suddenly, Lindsey saw the potential that he had, the ability and the good that he could do. Maybe this was his way of redemption. With this power not even Wolfram and Hart would be able to stop him. He could return to LA with no fear and do what he knew was right.

"I see you have just found your purpose," the man answered.

*  *  *  *  *

Wesley walked out of the office with Willow after working on the prophecy after a full on three hour work on it. It was four o'clock in the morning. He was tired just like everyone else. No one was asleep, though. Their newcomer, Spike, was sitting on the banquet, talking to Gunn. Amazingly enough, the street fighter was becoming well acquainted with the vampire. Although he didn't trust Spike any more than Angel or anyone else, they could talk about killing techniques and exchange stories. Spike was happy enough to kill vampires himself just like Angel was.

Angel looked up as Wesley walked out of the office. "What is it then?" he asked. He looked at his son who was still sitting on the stairs, looking like a stubborn teenager who was told me couldn't have a TV in his room.

Wes looked at Angel. "I hate prophecies with Conner," he muttered under his breath but of course, Willow could hear her because she was close, as he could Angel and Spike because of their hearing.

"What is then, watcher?" Spike asked.

Wesley frowned at being referred to as a watcher. It was the last thing he wanted to be connected to. "There's no easy way of breaking this Angel. We know there is evil coming…there are forces gathering, an apocalypse is approaching and we seem to be matched."

"We know all that, Wes. What is it?"

Wesley sighed, knowing he could not longer hold back the inevitable. "Angel, a week today, Conner's going to die."