DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fanfiction produced for entertainment purposes only. Angel, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are the creations of Joss Whedon and copyright of 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. Nemesis is an original character from my Watchtower Gargoyles series. Briarley and Prophecy are original characters from my Witchhaven County series.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter contains major spoilers from the final episode of Angel. There is also some violence.

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A Promise of Tomorrow
Chapter 8: The Tide is Turned

By Shadow's Mirror

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A single heartbeat of time. Such a little thing, seemingly unimportant, yet four lives depended on it.

In the heart of the battle, Spike, Angel, Illyria and Gunn all reached a pivotal moment in their destinies at precisely the same instant. For that moment, their fates hung in the balance, teetering between life and death. But then something happened. That instant in time… froze. It lasted for only as long as it took a human heart to beat, but when time resumed its normal course… Nothing was the same.

- - -

Spike tried to bring up his sword to defend himself against the oncoming demons but his strength was almost gone and his arm refused to obey. He growled, refusing to close his eyes and cringe from the ones who brought him what he had thought he had earned the year before. Death. Their swords plunged towards him and he smirked.

Then everything, the oncoming demons, the constant motion all around him, even the sounds of battle, simply stopped.

Before Spike could even blink, there was a brilliant flash of light somewhere behind him. The air filled with music and Spike was so astonished that he barely noticed when someone caught his arm. Then time began again. In the confusing rush of movement and sound, Spike gasped as he was pulled out of the path of the blades. The force of the tug made him stumble, but as soon as he caught himself his head snapped up to see who had saved him. He blinked in shock at the grinning, and all-too-familiar, red demon in the snazzy blue suit who stood at his side and said the first thing that came to mind.

"If Angel starts to sing, I'm staking myself."

- - -

Angel managed to take out one of the four Knashifesh demons as they charged him, but in focusing on one he'd left himself open to the others' attacks. His face started to morph into vampire mode but he stopped it. The change would have given him extra strength and speed, but there was still no way that he'd be able to avoid all three of the swords coming at him. He was about to die. Angel was determined that he would go out wearing his own face and not that of the demon within him.

Then time froze and the air was filled with a song so powerful that Angel could almost taste it.

Even as Angel noticed the song, there was a brilliant flash of light off to his left and someone grabbed his arm. He was still turning to look when the flow of time returned to normal. Everything happened so quickly then that all Angel could do was gasp as whoever had hold of him pulled him out of the way of the oncoming demons. He collided with his rescuer and blinked down in surprise at the dark haired teenage boy. Deep in his mind, a spark of memory flickered into life, but it wasn't until the boy glanced at him with odd silver eyes that the mental spark became a flame.

"Hey, I know you. Paris, 1793. You threw a net over me and helped my dinner escape."

- - -

Illyria stared down in shock at the sword protruding from her side, then looked up into the eyes of the demon who had dared to wield the ancient weapon against her. He was humanoid, tall and muscular with an appearance that Illyria might not have found displeasing under other circumstances. Since he was holding the twin to the sword he had just stabbed her with though, she currently thought him one of the vilest creatures to walk the miserable world. As she told him so, he merely laughed, revealing his sharp pointed teeth. Then he raised his sword. With the magic of the first sword draining her strength and power, Illyria could do nothing to stop him.

Oddly, Illyria felt nothing but relief at her approaching death. She hated the mortal world and the bag of flesh that she had been forced to wear. She had been stripped of her powers and, even worse in her eyes, she had been made to… feel.

Even as the sword flashed towards her, Illyria's mind insisted on conjuring up a mental image of the mortal whose death she had witnessed earlier that night. Again, the image brought with it pain and grief… along with the urge to hit something. Hard. She struggled against the binding magic of the sword in her side and gasped as she suddenly sensed something that she had not thought she would ever feel again.

Illyria had held time in her hands. She had been both its mistress and its slave, at different points in her long life. Although her control over it was now gone, she still retained her ability to sense when it shifted or stirred. Right now, it was stirring so much that she was faintly surprised that no one else seemed to sense it. When time suddenly froze, Illyria was not unprepared. But what happened in the moment that it was frozen still startled her.

An immense surge of power, in the form of an ancient song, filled the air as a burst of brilliant white light lit up the area as though it were day. Then a pair of hands grasped her upper arms and pulled her back in the same moment that time resumed its normal flow.

The swordsman's attack missed and Illyria took advantage of his momentary surprise to glance at the one holding her. For a moment, she thought the woman was mortal, but then she sensed the power lying beneath the illusion.

"You are a child of the sea. I do not know you. Why do you come to my aid?"

- - -

Gunn had been absolutely right. The green Chihuahua-like creature had been the most dangerous thing facing him. As soon as he'd stepped close, it had shape-shifted into the form of a massive two-headed bulldog the size of a large horse. Not only were its fangs long and pointed, but its breath was enough to overcome the stench of the three ogres standing beside it. One whiff and Gunn almost fell over.

"Whoa! Doggy, you need a breath mint!"

Unfortunately, the creature did not take kindly to the suggestion. Gunn managed to sink his sword into one of the creature's necks, but the other head immediately rounded on him. He literally stared death in the face. His only regret was that he was going to die with that stench being the last thing he ever smelled! Still, he didn't flinch as the massive jaws began to close in on his neck.

Time froze. The creature froze. All of the demons, trolls, ogres and assorted things around him froze. The sounds of battle became a chorus of voices and music more beautiful than any opera Gunn had in his Gilbert and Sullivan-enhanced mind. A brilliant light flashed at Gunn's side and a pair of slender, feminine hands latched onto his arm. Then time resumed its flow again.

The hands pulled Gunn out of the creature's path with surprising strength. As the creature growled in fury at its missed meal, Gunn risked a glance at his rescuer. He blinked and his glance became a stare.

"Not to be rude, but when I get saved by a hooded stranger in the middle of fighting for my life, I usually like to know the reason for it."

- - -

The sudden appearance of the four strangers on the battlefield had not gone unnoticed. Nor had the music that now filled the air. It was fainter than it had been at first but still easily heard, the power within it still easily felt. Confused and wary at their sense that the tide of battle had turned, the demonic hordes immediately retreated into a jostling, muttering circle around Angel, his friends and their unexpected allies. They then fell silent and watchful, as though waiting for some signal to resume the battle.

They had moved so fast that the four questions and comments directed at the newcomers echoed loudly in the sudden stillness. The watching circle listened closely, awaiting the responses just as eagerly as Angel and his friends.

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To be continued…