A/N: See chapter one for disclaimer, rating, and notes.
Title: Filter song. Don't own 'Welcome to the Fold', although it is a good song.
*****
Buffy sat down next to Spike on the low stone wall that surrounded the cemetery the group had been patrolling. They watched Michael face the demon with a critical eye, appraising their newest ally. They were impressed, to say the least, of his actions and skill that he had shown over the last week. Now, they were able to more fully gauge his talent and training.
The demon was pretty impressive, at least in the 'scare' factor. It stood almost two feet taller than Michael, as far as they could tell with all the ducking, weaving, and swinging. It's skin resembled spiked armor, blood red veins standing out against onyx skin. After Michael's first punch, they concluded that it was as hard a steel as well.
The head was dominated first by two down curving horns from the temples, secondly by eyes that seemed to be flaming. They couldn't discern a mouth or nose on the creature, but they had heard it grunt in pain and spit curses at the man it faced. The large, gray-green blade it wielded seemed lighter than it actually was, for it moved in a serpent-like fashion to counter Michael's blade, a steel long sword.
"He's good with that," Buffy said admirably to Spike, who chuckled and put an arm around the Slayer. "Maybe he could teach me some moves."
"I think you've got all the moves you need, pet," Spike said, a smirk firmly in place. He was amazed at how relaxed she was around him over the last few days. Finally starting to look good, Spike thought to himself.
Faith watched Michael from a closer vantage than they held. She winced both times the demon almost skewered Michael, and frowned when his own blade failed to penetrate the demon's flesh. She was about to join in and help him when the demon kicked suddenly, sending Michael flying into a tree.
"Michael!" she screamed and ran to his side. Her heart resumed it's beating when he stood, shaking himself off and meeting the demon's rush.
"Katana," duck, "under," parry, "seat," thrust, dodge, "quickly!"
Faith ran to the Mustang parked behind Buffy and Spike, and quickly found the blade. Not bothering to shut the door, she ran back to the fight, leaping the wall gracefully.
Michael forced the demon's blade high, then spun behind the powerful downward slash. Avoiding the wicked backhand by rolling forward, he was a mere three feet from Faith. Without a word, he reached back and drew the blade, dropping his long sword to the ground.
No one had really been prepared for what happened next. The katana shimmered with a faint golden radiance, which seemed to unsettle the demon as well as Spike. Michael didn't hesitate, launching a flurry of attacks that drove the demon back. Suddenly, he saw the first true opening the demon made, and thrust forward. This time, his blade sank deeply into the demon's flesh, which sizzled from the contact. Twisting savagely, Michael yanked the blade free, and in one smooth move removed head from shoulders before the demon could begin to scream in pain.
Faith walked to him, long sword in one hand and the sheath for the katana in the other. He smoothly sheathed both blades, and walked arm in arm with Faith over to Buffy and Spike. The vampire looked at him with a bit of confusion and fear in his eyes, but held his peace, waiting for Buffy to speak.
"Nice work," she said after a moment, her newfound respect for the strange man before her evident in her voice. "Where did you learn to fight like that, and what was with the katana?"
"My father taught me," Michael replied slowly. Lifting the sheathed katana before him, he paused for a moment before continuing. "This was his blade, and it isn't from this world, not completely."
"An alien sword?" Buffy questioned, "Xander's gonna flip about this one."
"Not alien," Michael said immediately. "It's a sword from the higher planes." When both Slayers looked confused, he glanced at Spike for assistance. The platinum haired vampire merely shrugged and motioned for him to continue. "Angels, or celestials as they were once known as, fight demons as well. They cannot survive on this plane, due to the influence the old demonic rule had on the land. Only those who were part human could take the battle to this world. Like my father…"
* * * * *
At Buffy's request, they returned to her house before continuing the discussion. The blonde wanted Willow and Xander there, as well as Dawn. She didn't want to have to have repeat discussions on what appeared to be a difficult discussion for Michael.
They all sat in the living room, their eyes on Michael. For his part, he ignored them, his mind trying to order his thoughts and the necessary explanations. It wasn't really the kind of thing he was used to explaining. And, truth be told, what he was about to tell them about his past, and himself, was a little unsettling.
"Alright," he said suddenly, "I'm going to go through this as simply as possible. Then, I'll answer any questions you might have, to the best of my ability. Try not to interrupt me until I'm finished. I really don't need to get side-tracked here."
Looking around, he saw everyone nod their acceptance. Even the usually flippant Xander nodded solemnly. Michael took a sip of water before setting his glass down and leaning forward. His audience was enthralled, as was to be expected.
"There are two sides to every extreme," Michael began. "It's a simple matter of the balance that the 'beginning' had. Demons and Angels fought for eons before the first mortal life drew breath. Between the worlds that would one day hold mortal life, the eternal enemies fought and died for supremacy over, well, everything."
"Then, one day, mortal life sprung from the bodies of both heaven and hell. Those mortal beings were beneath the notice of both sides in that war, until they discovered that mortals were beginning to influence the outcomes of the battles. That was when the Demons gave the form to man, giving cunning and a penchant for destruction."
Michael paused to let this sink in, noting the faces before him. Spike seemed the least bothered by this, while Willow seemed to be shocked by it. Everyone else ranged the degrees between. Sipping his water again, he gave Faith's hand a small squeeze.
"The Angels gave unto man a moral compass, the ability to chose right and wrong, love and hate, truth and lies. It was a balancing act, really, as the Angels needed the mortals to fight the Demons just as much as the Demons needed man to fight the Angels."
"Vampires are the closest to what the demons wanted, while the Slayers closest to what the Angels wanted, in the beginning at least. Then something strange happened. Some of the Demons bred with humans, giving rise to the strains of demons that would normally be able to pass among humans without notice. I'm sure your Watcher could fill you in on the various kinds."
"Angels, on the other hand, didn't breed with humans until recently. These unions were of love, not a calculated move to bring about power. But the offspring have always taken up the fight in realms where Angels could not go, the same way that half-demons would fight where Demons dare not tread. And so the fight spans across time and space still."
"My father was the child of a mortal woman, full of fire and piety, and an Angel who was known for his love of humanity. He saved her from a hellish imprisonment, and she saved him from the retaliation. They fell in love, and my father James was born."
"He fought against demons as soon as he could wield a blade. His skill and courage are known to the Demons of many realms, as well as the fact that he fought beside his father with a blade of this world, blessed with the essence of the Angelic home world."
"My grandfather died defending his wife, and she died avenging him. Heartbroken, my father returned to this world, to live out his days in peace. He carried the blade his father had given him, in hopes of giving it to another who would continue the fight. He soon learned, however, that the blade could only be held by those of his blood. In a deep depression, he went to Ireland to live in seclusion."
"One day, he heard cries for help and felt, for the first time in years, the taint of demons. He ran, heedless, and found a woman fighting against a dozen vampires. He felt such a rage at those half-breeds, and charged into the fray. As he was not fully of this world, his bare hands wounded the vampires easily, and his killing strikes could not be healed. He saved her, and fell in love."
"Years later, I was born."
Everyone in the room was quiet, staring at him for long minutes. Michael finished his water and sat back, waiting for the first question. It was, surprisingly, Dawn who asked.
"So, that's why I feel safe around you," she said, blushing slightly at Faith's raised eyebrow. "It's just that I feel, I mean… you know what I am, right?"
"Yes," Michael said quietly. "And yes to you're next question, I can't use you for power, and am in fact sworn to protect you. Any person like me would feel a desire to protect you from any harm."
"I'm already here, mate," Spike said with a slight growl. "Niblet already has enough protection."
"I realize that, William," Michael said with a small grin. "I'm just laying out the truth. Besides, I'm still not sure why I don't have a strong urge to kill you… again."
"Not really sure myself, wanker," Spike shot back, but the small grin on his face belied his amusement.
"So, what powers do you have?" Buffy asked. "Healing, speed, strength…?"
"I do heal fast, and don't get hurt as easily as a normal human. Remember, I'm three quarters human. I haven't tried to see what else I can do."
"And the sword," Faith said on the heels of his answer, "What's up with it?" Apparently, this was going to be a long night.
"You saw some of it with the demon," Michael said. "I can swing it faster, and harder, than normal steel. It feels lighter, and cuts through demon flesh easily. It also prevents the wounds from healing naturally."
"Tell me 'bout it," Spike murmured. At Buffy's questioning look, he shrugged. "No scar, luv. Just took a damn long time to heal."
"Then why don't you use it more often?" Buffy asked.
"Because there are spells that can pinpoint the blade when it is drawn, if the caster has been wounded by the blade."
"Not good then," Willow said, frowning. "I've seen the spell. It uses a lot of dark magic."
"True, but the guy I'm worried about already knows I'm in Sunnydale," Michael said quietly. "It's the same guy after Faith and Buffy." Glancing at Dawn, he added, "Maybe you as well."
"You've never said who it was," Faith said. "So, while we're all here, spill."
"The Necromancer is what he's called," Michael said slowly. "Powerful in the workings of, well, necromancy. Death and the dead are what he uses, although he still has a great deal of power with destructive magics and illusions."
"How do we kill him?" Xander asked. "He doesn't seem as bad as the other things we've fought."
"He's a bad deal, mate," Spike said slowly. "I've 'eard of the bloke. He's powerful, alright. He's also already dead…"
The surprise on everyone's face was apparent, and Spike almost held back the rest of his knowledge until this bit sank in. And yet… Michael didn't seem fazed by the revelation, so he might as well go on.
"He's used 'is magic to make 'imself a bloody lich." Spike rubbed his eyes slightly. "Since 'e's already dead, the magic 'e uses is more potent. Doesn't 'ave to worry 'bout the price of his magic."
"Not good," Willow said, "Not good at all."
"It's alright for now," Michael said. "Two Slayers, a Vampire, and my own heritage should be able to stop him in a straight fight. He can't stop everything we can throw at him."
"You forgot a wiccan an the Zeppo," Xander said, sarcastically.
"Hmm… white magic would help, a lot," Michael said thoughtfully. "And come to think about it, a normal human would be unaffected by the majority of the spells the lich would use to stop the rest of us."
"Wow." Xander said, stunned. "Being normal actually works this time?"
"We'd better talk to Giles," Buffy said, reaching for the phone and dialing. "See what he knows about this guy, and if he can help finding a weakness."
They waited patiently Buffy listened to the phone. When she hung up the phone, everyone looked at her, puzzled.
"He's not home."
Michael shrugged and rose, stretching slightly. Faith stood up beside him and took his hand in hers when he lowered his arms. "Going to the apartment," Michael said. "We'll give you a call in the morning."
"Damn," Buffy swore, looking at the clock. "I've gotta work tomorrow."
"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Michael said, winking. "Check your account tomorrow."
The door closed as the two walked out, Buffy's face still wrinkled quizzically over his departing words.
* * * * *
The apartment was only a few blocks from Buffy's house, something that both Faith and Michael were grateful for. They were usually bone tired after they left Buffy's house, and tonight was no exception.
When the door closed, Faith looked around the apartment, as she had every night this week. It consisted of a living room, dining room/kitchen, bathroom and a bedroom. Faith was still surprised at the speed Michael had gotten the place, and furnished it. All the furniture was new and tasteful. Black seemed to be Michael's color of choice for the cushions and bed, while everything was made from wood. The only notable exception was the black steel bed frame.
"Something on your mind?" Michael asked softly as his arms wrapped around her. Faith leaned back into him, once again surprised by how safe he made her feel.
"I think I still don't know what you're capable of," she said quietly. "I thought I found a nice, normal guy. Then you turn out to be part angel."
Michael lead her to the bedroom, still embracing her. "I'm the same man you met that first night," he said softly. "I just have layers."
Faith chuckled softly as her hands found his belt buckle. "I'm hoping some of those layers come off."
"Most," he said, his voice growing heavy with desire. "Some will always remain, but you'll know what they are."
They lost themselves in the sweating, moaning, pleasure of the moment. When they lay spent in a tangle of limbs, Faith felt that she had come home. Michael felt he found something and someone worth fighting, and dying, for.
