A/N: I've gone slightly AU with both BtVS and AtS after the S5 and S3 finales. So if people are doing different things…..well you've been warned.

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Chapter 8: Vengeance and Shiny Golden Balls

#The City of Angels#

The Hyperion Hotel was abuzz with activity. The sun had set moments before, and Angel was studying his weapons cabinet in preparation for a night of 'helping the hopeless'.

"Hmm…which sword to take, Angelcakes? Extra Shiny number 1, Long and Nasty number 3, or Short and Not-So-Sweet?" Angel whipped around at the voice behind him, a broadsword in his hand.

"Lorne," he growled, eyes flashing yellow. "What's our first rule around here?"

The green-skinned demon shrugged. " Treat others as you would like to be treated? Avoid using the industrial sized tub of hair gel in bathroom 5 or face death by beheading….again? You break it, you bought it?" He backed away from the sword which was pressed against his neck. "Must have missed the memo."

Angel sighed in exasperation. "*Never* sneak up on me." Lorne opened his mouth, no doubt to protest.

Another voice interrupted from the couch. " Boys? If you're done spraying down the decks with…… the demon form of testosterone……places to go, people to save?" Both Angel and Lorne turned to see Cordelia shooting them an exasperated look. Her tone brooked no argument.

The *second* rule around the office (though not widely announced) was that a post-vision Cordy was not someone to be messed with. For someone her size, she sure could be cranky. Coupled with her developing fighting skills (an idea that Angel was at this moment regretting), and the usual blistering headache….. it was far easier to just smile and nod. Which is what the two non-humans were doing right now.

"Why do you both look like you've got something nasty under your noses?" All three heads turned toward the desk where Wesley was standing, watching the scene with some amusement. Angel took the opportunity to grab some weapons and stealthily creep out the door into the welcome quiet of the night. Cordy watched him leave thoughtfully, pulling herself into a standing position.

" He's getting better. Not so jumpy."

Lorne rubbed his throat, a thin red line visible. "Easy for you to say, darlin'. He didn't try to behead *you*. Not that I'm worried - been there, done that. Have to say though, it's a change not having to be the Blood-On-Wheels lady any more. I'll miss the apron though…..What?"

Cordelia raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow. " I'm saying nothing. Not even about your freaky clothing fetish. Scary much?"

Wesley grinned, seizing the opportunity. " Thought you were saying nothing."

To his immense relief, Cordelia ignored him. " He's left his room…. He's patrolling again… He still hasn't changed his clothes, but we can work on that later. When Willow told us….. I thought he'd brood forever. The way he just shut down – it was like he wanted to die….again... to be with Buffy."

The name, unspoken in the hotel for many weeks, echoed through the majestic entrance hall, lingering like a shadow of grief in the air. There was silence for a beat, quickly shattered by the harsh sound of the phone ringing. Wesley blinked, reaching for it.

"Angel Investigations…we hope the helpless….erm….help the hopeless!"

Cordelia and Lorne watched as Wes's eyes widened. Carrying the newly installed cordless phone into his office, he closed the door firmly. From their end, they could only hear snippets of conversation, not nearly enough to satisfy their curiosity. After what seemed like an age, they heard the distinct sound of the phone being hung up. Seconds later, Wes's door opened, and he emerged looking flustered.

"That was Mr. Giles….he believes the Council are going to attempt to take Faith's life to activate the next Slayer….he thought Angel should be aware."

Cordy opened her mouth, most likely to make a crack about technology-challenged vampires and their inability to use voicemail, but instead her eyes rolled back in her head, her knees buckling. Lorne only just managed to catch her before she hit the ground.

Between clenched teeth, she managed to choke out. " Lots of trees…really dark and icky feeling..…someone scared…..demons everywhere…." Her voice rose to a wail as she shook helplessly, lost in the vision. Incoherent sounds poured from her mouth.

"Little girl…you think you know…so fragile.…what's to come…..green light… who you are….so much blood….you haven't even….oh god, BUFFY!"

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#Hogwarts#

The Gryffindor common room was strangely subdued after teatime. Most of the students had heard rumors of the sixth-year Potions lesson, and were waiting rather anxiously for Lily to return from her 'meeting' ("She'll be disemboweled, for sure") with Professor Snape. Half the students were sure she would be expelled, while the other half (mainly the younger students and Neville) were in awe that anyone would dare insult the Professor.

Nobody was quite sure how Lily would react to whatever punishment Snape had in mind, and considering her disappearance after the Malfoy incident, none of the Gryffindors wanted to take any chances. Colin and Dennis Creevey had been sent on a rather long and involved errand by a well-meaning seventh-year, much to everyone's relief.

Hermione, Harry and Ron were gathered in a corner, away from their housemates, whispering softly.

"He looked furious…. Suppose they expel her? She'll have nowhere to go!"

" Dumbledore won't let Snape kick her out, surely….Just think of all the rules we've broken, 'Mione. Even more than Fred and George, I'll bet. "

" That reminds me….did they like the toilet seat?"

" Fred's exact words were 'tell Harry this is going on the wall of honor next to the feathers Snape shed after eating one of our Canary Creams.' Wonder if Snape ever found out it was them…"

Ron's musing was interrupted by the sudden hush in the common room as all eyes fixed on the opening portrait door. Lily stepped into the room, grinning furiously. Once the door was firmly closed, the Gryffindors exploded in cheers.

"Brilliant….just brilliant!!"

"I hear his face went a whole new shade of purple!"

"What happened? Did you get expelled?"

Lily grinned even more. "Nope."

" What's he making you do? De-fang vampires? Collect bile? Scrub cauldrons?"

Lily shook her head. " He didn't say. I have to go to the dungeons after dinner for a week. But he didn't say what for."

"Did he take points off?"

Once again, Lily shook her head no. At this, the students fell into a stunned silence. Snape, the nastiest teacher in the school, was well known for his harsh punishments. Including the deduction of numerous points from Gryffindor House. To escape his fury with House points still intact was nothing short of a miracle. Neville gave a hearty sigh, falling off his chair in the process. From the floor, he gazed at Lily with admiration.

"Wow…."

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In the silence of his chambers, Severus Snape stared into the fire as he mulled over his surprising leniency. No doubt Gryffindor house would be in an uproar by now over his unheard-of 'niceness'. He would have to work extra hard to ensure the Gryffindors (as well as the other Houses) did not take it to mean he was going 'soft'.

In fact, he was not showing leniency at all. He had plans for the Summers girl. The least of which was finding out who – or what – she really was. The power he could sense within her was incredible – he doubted even *she* was aware of it. Of what she could do…….what she could become.

He knew of forces who would be more than happy to make use of this information.

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"The Slayer has been secured, sir, as you requested."

"And her condition, Whitbey?"

" Her hearts still beats, sir, though erratically. It is a miracle – surely the potion was enough to kill? The dose was twice the amount we normally give."

" We are not dealing with normal circumstances here, Whitbey. The girl is a Slayer, after all. Had it been the usual concoction, her system would have destroyed the drug by now. However, I anticipated this. Amongst the mixture of toxins, we integrated a strain of the very drug used to disable Slayers for the Cruciamentum. I have every confidence that she will be unable to even speak, let alone escape."

"How long is she to be kept here, sir? Surely the drug will wear off with time? What are we to do then?"

" The Slayer is to be transported this very afternoon. My superiors have taken a particular interest in this situation. Her conditioning is scheduled to begin at midnight. Then we shall see just how useful this little, little Slayer can be."

At this, the older of the two men settled into his chair, a cruel grin twisting his otherwise distinguished face. There was nothing more satisfying that exacting his revenge on the troublesome Slayer who had very nearly cost him his job. And what a triumph it would be – not only would the Slayer line be indefinitely stalled, but his superiors would have one of the most powerful weapons in the Muggle world to use as they so desired. 

Lifting the sleeves of his suit jacket, Quentin Travers examined his Lord's mark, tracing its ever-darkening outline with a single finger. He could practically taste the power that would be his.

It was almost time.

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In a darkened cavern far underneath the luxurious room where Travers was basking in his imagined glory, a deathly still figure lay chained to a heavy stone bench. Clothed in the same blue prison uniform she had been transported in, Faith's weakened body was desperately trying to fight against the dark fire rapidly spreading through her system.

The only movement in the small room was an occasional fluttering of the Slayer's eyelids. Lost in a hazy fog of agony, Faith was unable to draw the strength even to open her eyes, let alone to pull her mind from the dark abyss it had retreated to.

She could not force the images from her mind, nor could she stop the screams from echoing inside her head.

*The sickening sound of a stake sliding into living human flesh. Of seeing the surprise and horror in eyes that slowly dimmed, leaving him staring sightlessly into the distance.*

* The heavy, copper smell of human blood filling the air, staining her palms.*

* Spending hours in her filthy hotel room, staring at her shaking hands. Hands that were raw from the endless scrubbing she had inflicted upon herself, as though cleaning her hands could remove the stain that was slowly spreading within her very soul. Knowing that her hands had helped to save many innocent people did not cancel out the fact that she had used them tonight to end a life.*

* Pacing the room, utterly alone as she always had been, as she began to understand why Angel could not rid himself of his demons, no matter how hard he tried to atone. The difference was, Angel had not been in full control of his actions – he was simply forced to relive the murders committed by a demon.*

* Faith had been Faith before, during, and after she drove the stake home.*

The near-dead Slayer did not hear the heavy door open. She did not stir as three figures entered the room silently, cloaked in heavy black traveling capes.

As the taller of the two men withdrew a wand from his robe, conjuring heavy chains which wrapped themselves around her body, her eyelids continued to flutter.

Her body rose in the manner of a grotesquely twisted marionette, head lolling, and as if attached to an invisible rope, she followed the figures as they strolled lazily down the corridor, confident in the knowledge that their captive could not escape.

Had Faith been conscious, she would have heard the tallest figure speak in smooth and arrogant tones, and the smaller, yet considerably wider shapes beside him grunt their agreement.

" The Dark Lord will be most pleased with our gift. My home is being prepared as we speak, awaiting the Slayer's arrival. Narcissa and myself will ensure the first stages of her re-education begin at once – there is little time to waste, don't you agree?"

Crabbe and Goyle Senior bobbed their heads obediently, as the strange party apparated, disappearing from sight.

The cruel laughter of Lucius Malfoy was all that remained to suggest they had been there, echoing in the empty space.

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#Sunnydale#

"What *is* this 'Puzzle of Dark'?" Willow asked in frustration. " There's nothing in any of these books! Nothing in Daemons Mystica, nothing in the Chronicles…." She waved her hand, indicating the entirety of Giles' collection. Tara patted her arm reassuringly.

From his position on the couch, where he was recuperating after being almost gored by a rather strong demon with 'big, freaky-lookin horns', Xander shrugged.

"So…. Research not helping any?"

He was rewarded with a decidedly un-Willow-like glare. Shifting his gaze, he looked at Giles.

"Any luck with the Christmas thing?"

Giles blinked. " Christmas? I hardly think it is the time to be erecting a tree and covering it with yards of infernal tinsel." All eyes focused on him disbelievingly.

"Y'know, G-Man, for someone who's spent so many years here in good old US of A, you're still so overly….British. You haven't learnt zilch, have you?"

"Quite the opposite, Xander. I never dreamed there could be so many ways to slaughter the English language. However, you continue to surprise me."

Xander grinned. "Well at least we taught you something," His smile faded, leaving behind a look of suspicion. "Hey! Enough with the insults, King of Tweed."

Giles was cut off by Anya, who looked faintly excited by something.

"Will there be erecting? And tinsel? And the wrapping of packages? I like it when Xander - "

Hastily, Willow cut in. " I think Xander meant to ask about 'Isthmus'…..didn't you Xand? No wrapping of *anything* there. At least, I don't think so…."

Anya pouted, hands on hips. " But I like it when Xander winds the tinsel around….."

This time it was Giles who cut her off, slightly fearful of her next words. " I believe Isthmus refers to a constellation – it would certainly make sense, that when it is visible in the sky, this battle will take place. There are many constellations, or even star configurations, that appear and disappear at specific times. It is quite fascinating actually, to think that….Oh. Nobody cares."

"Welcome back from Planet Pocket Protector, G-Man."

"WHY won't you let me talk?? Every time I start to speak, somebody interrupts me! Xander says that interrupting is RUDE! And it makes me cranky!"

The group looked at each other uncertainly, nobody wanting to tell Anya the truth. Spike, who had been sitting outside the front door having a quiet smoke, snorted suddenly.

"Oh sod it. Demon-girl, nobody wants you to talk because they're afraid their G-rated little minds can't cope with the sexual innuendos. Being reminded of the right sorry state of their love lives makes 'em squirm. Myself, I'm all for some ill-timed toilet humour. Go for it."

Spike glared at the assembled Scoobies, daring them to interrupt.

Anya frowned, clearly puzzled. " I was only going to say that I like Christmas. And presents – especially if they cost a lot of money. The custom of buying a tree and covering it in brightly colored and sometimes flashing ornaments is strange, but nice. Xander does this thing with the tinsel where he winds it around the curtain rails. It makes me feel all warm and festive."

There was a stunned silence in the room. Anya grinned suddenly.

"Plus, on Christmas Eve, Xander lets me dribble the leftover egg nog on his penis. It can get quite sticky, but he seems to like it."

Xander turned a shade of red which made his face look like a puffy, slightly bruised tomato. He feared he would never again be able to face the others for Christmas dinner.

From the doorway, there was a loud thud and some assorted cursing as Spike fell over in absolute glee.

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#City of Angels#

Exhausted from the aftermath of her vision, Cordelia had retreated up to one of the many rooms in the hotel, armed with a handful of painkillers and a bottle of water. She had been unusually quiet – it was not often, perhaps never, that she received a 'cry for help' from people who were already dead.

Downstairs, Wesley had shut himself in his office, clutching a piece of paper which held Cordelia's description of her vision. Had anyone dared to enter, they would have found him not consulting his books, but simply staring at the words scrawled on the page.

Despite all his learning, he could not begin to figure out why the Powers That Be had sent them – Angel especially – yet another reminder of one they had lost in their continued battle. A cruel joke? Or was there a reason?

Cordelia had been quick to mention that the Buffy she had seen fighting a yet-to-be-identified assortment of demons, was not the Buffy they had seen lying in a casket, white and still and lacking the sunshine that had always seemed to hover about her. In fact, the girl from the vision was almost identical to the Buffy that the Seer remembered from her Sunnydale High days.

Had they been sent a vision of the past? And if it was indeed the past, was there any need to warn Angel at all? With no apparent danger to fight, it would most likely send the grieving vampire on a further downward spiral. Wesley was reminded of the dark days when Angel had fired them – the Angel he saw now was not that much different.

Perhaps he should further research this new development, then inform Angel if there was any cause for alarm. Yes. Once he had a clearer idea of the reason behind the vision, Angel could be told.

Wes sighed, hoping he was making the right decision.

****

In the foyer, Lorne and Gunn were taking advantage of Angel's absence, examining the assortment of weapons strewn around the hotel. Occasionally, the clanging of swords could be heard as they 'road tested' the intimidating and sometimes unusual weapons.

" Did you see this baby? Somalis Dagger – looks wicked small, but sharp enough to sever your sorry green neck." Gunn waved the delicate looking dagger around haphazardly. His eyes lit up as he spotted yet another strange object, hidden in the very back of the weapons cabinet. "Check this one out!"

Lorne, who was brandishing a self-loading crossbow ( "The latest technology, can hold up to twelve arrows" they had been told by their regular arms dealer, a scaly looking demon with a passion for Mozart), turned toward Gunn, his finger squeezing the trigger accidentally.

Gunn ducked as three arrows brushed the top of his shaved head, burying themselves in one of Angel's valuable paintings. Both men stared at the painting, which was now ripped to shreds.

"Lucky you're such a lousy aim."

The Host stared at him in disbelief. " Remind me how destroying one of Angelcakes' ancient artworks is lucky? I quite like having my head attached, thank you."

Gunn simply shrugged. "Could've hit me instead….."

Lorne simply raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"Look at it this way – which would you rather have lusting for your blood; Angel, or Fred?"

"I'll take a severed head over Fred's wrath any day."

In the confusion, both of them had forgotten about the strange object sitting on a shelf at the back of the weapons cabinet. Encrusted with jewels, it was small and circular, closely resembling a rubber ball.

Had they picked it up, and turned it over, they would have marveled at the strange crest carved into its surface – a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake. Gunn, having cleaned out the cabinet many times before, would have sworn he had never seen it before.

In truth, it had always been there – concealed with a powerful spell, biding its time until certain secrets were ready to be revealed.

The spell had been broken when a deceptively powerful girl had leapt from a rickety tower into a portal. All they needed was right in front of them – if they would only open their eyes.

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#Sunnydale, a few hours later #

A key turned slowly in a lock, and the heavy wooden door swung open. An aging hand reached for the light switch, illuminating the small apartment.

Setting the leather satchel he was carrying onto the table, Rupert Giles gazed around his disheveled home. Books lay everywhere, there were mugs and plates with food scraps scattered around the room – and was that a half-empty blood container on his sofa? He supposed it had been abandoned when Dawn had called, panicked – supposedly a demon was trying to enter the Summers house. Spike, in a show of protectiveness, had been first out the door.

It had been rather amusing to see the once vicious vampire wrestle with the 'demon' – an enormous black dog that had been chasing night-creatures in the backyard. He couldn't say who had been more embarrassed – Dawn; having 'freaked' at the sight of a canine, or Spike; amber eyes flashing as he wiped copious amounts of dog hair and saliva from his face.

After the laughter (and growling from both Spike and the dog) had died down, the Scoobies had decided to call it a night. Tara, Willow, Dawn and the dog, who had taken a definite liking to the younger girl ('Can we keep him? Can we? Pleeease?'), had stayed at the Summers house. The others had headed to their respective homes, after arranging to continue their research tomorrow.

As far as Giles knew, Spike was patrolling. Any demon who happened to get in his way would be as good as dead – the vampire had left in a foul mood. Xander's ill-timed comments about Spike now also *smelling* like a lap-dog had not been well received.

Heading toward his kitchen, Giles began to make tea almost as a reflex. Pouring a generous slug of whisky into a mug, he left the kettle boiling and settled himself onto his couch.

Alone at last, the Watcher allowed himself to relax slightly. Perhaps it was the effects of the whisky burning through his veins, but the looming crisis seemed less important. Tonight was not a night for business – it was a night for relaxation. For emptying his mind of all the world's troubles and just….sitting. And nothing was going to disturb Giles' plans to finish the bottle of rather fine whisky.

Of course, things never seemed to go to plan when one lived on a Hellmouth.

All was quiet for awhile. Then…..three things happened at once.

A strange glow appeared from inside his weapons cabinet, the kettle ( forgotten on the stovetop) suddenly emitted a piercing whistle and a cloud of steam; and every single window in Giles's house exploded inward, spraying the room with shards of broken glass.

Giles, shocked from his half-drunken state, took shelter behind an armchair as the last remaining pieces fell to the floor. Dazed and bleeding, he only dimly registered the lights going out as a shadowed figure moving into the room. The figure seemed drawn toward the golden glow, reaching into the cabinet cautiously.

Giles fought back a gasp as it drew its hand back, clutching a small, bright golden ball that shimmered with multicolored gemstones. He had never seen the object before, he was positive of that. Besides, he had done a weapons inventory just -

It had been months. In fact, he suddenly realized the last time he had opened it had been….. just after Quentin and his Council lackeys had left. He remembered that day – Willow, Xander and Buffy had gathered at his 'bachelor pad' for a celebratory dinner…

"Giles! Hey Watcher-mine! What should I do with these potatoes? They're gettin' extra crispy in there." Buffy, who had volunteered to be in charge of the vegetables, stuck her head into the living room area for the tenth time in five minutes.

"Erm… might I suggest taking them out?"

"Oh…right." It was really quite amazing how, well, *blonde* his Slayer could be at times. And he could once again call her his – hence the celebration..

Still watching silently from his hiding spot, Giles was lost for a moment in the memory of laughter, good food ( though they had agreed they liked their potatoes with less charcoal), and the company of three young adults he had grown to consider his surrogate children. For that one night, he had seen in each of them the innocent teenagers they had once been, and it had comforted him somewhat to know that the darkness they faced could do little to dampen their spirits.

Their appetites sated, the table cleared, the evening had turned to reminiscence of their high school days. He noticed that all three were carefully avoiding the darker memories – Jesse's death, the appearance of Angelus, Faith's betrayal – choosing to remember the funny times instead.

Willow was protesting feebly as Xander spoke. "Now that Skanky Vamp Willow's gayness has come to the front, does this mean you're changing your look?"

Buffy laughed in the background, her head buried in Giles's weapons stockpile. " I've got enough leather to share, Will. If Xander could just provide us with a bondage-style corset….."

The boy tried to look offended, failing miserably. " No such item in my wardrobe. Plenty of wacky shirts though…."

"Oh puh-lease, Xand, with your love for evil honeys…didn't you snag a souvenir?"

" Well, Bug-Lady had a fine selection…. But I got too wigged watching her head go round."

"That could have it's uses, y'know, for when she…." At the other's looks, Willow blushed. "Oh! Not so innocent anymore!"

"And here we thought Anya was the sex bible."

At the time, he had thought that the world would surely be safe as long as the three friends drew strength from each other – as long as they did not give up. He had been sure that none of them would.

In the end, faced with the choice between her life and her sister's, Buffy had given up, in a sense. Looking back, he could recognize the signs, and still blamed himself for not paying more attention. The growing weariness that at times had surrounded his Slayer. Returning from a routine patrol increasingly more bruised and beaten. Her retreat into a trance in the final days.

His musing was broken by a sudden scream of pain. Blinking, he focused on the scene at hand, eyes widening as the ball emitted a white light. The hand holding it had begun to smoke. Dropping it on the ground, where it smashed, the moaning figure pulled out a piece of wood with an oddly familiar shape….muttered a few words, then disappeared.

Light returned to the apartment. As Giles rose painfully from his crouching position, all thoughts of cleaning his wounds and then his apartment vanished from his mind.

Clear as day, in the centre of the room, there hung a ghostly symbol – one the Watcher had not seen for countless years. Even after all this time, it still turned his heart to ice.

The Dark Mark.

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A/N: Seems like the last couple of chapters have been all about casting lots of loose plot threads around – keep reading and I promise that soon most of them will be tied together – or at least make more sense. I do have my evil plan, remember.

In the next chapter: The worlds of Sunnydale and LA collide, Giles writes a letter to an old mentor, someone at Hogwarts learns something about our amnesiac Slayer….. and Faith as we know her will be changed forever.