Hi people! Haven't updated for a while, about two weeks. But I'm back and this chapter is one I enjoyed writing and think you'll like. Once again thanks for all the great people who review! I love reviews! No recap this time. If you've lost the place, just read the end of the last chapter.\

Enjoy! Oh, and Tariq, sorry about the absence of Gunn or Lorne this chapter after yu asked for more of them. There will be more. Everyone will have an important role!

Apocalypse Nowish

Chapter 13- Risen's Fell

Abruptly Cordelia felt herself breath, felt herself feel. It was as sudden as a shot from a gun, a sudden snap to life Yes, smiling she breathed heavily; every exposed inch of her soft skin tingled with the coolness of the air. For what seemed like the first time in her life she breathed in the refreshing air, felt it, and saw it. She felt as though she had been reborn, awoken from an eternal sleep. For a long time she did not think at all, simply marvelled the sky and everything she could feel every sensation. This was the strangest, yet most powerful feeling she had ever had. All of her muscles ached with a strange tiredness and she found she was unable to completely control her arms or legs, as though she'd forgotten how to do so. They felt heavy and disproportioned. Even blinking felt strange to her. Lying on her back, she felt the cold, hard concrete beneath her.

She soon began to stir from her hazy slumber and actually began to consider her surroundings. She was in a wide, open alley, short buildings either side of her. The alley was empty but for her silent body and a calm, affectionate breeze. She felt a certain eeriness about her location, feeling as though she had been there before. She sat up and looked around, scanning the alley with cautious eyes, her mind suspicious, feeling she was being watched. There was nothing there, it was deserted but Cordelia began to find a certain familiarity about it, the short, passive buildings either side of her gave her a distinct memory of the place. Her mind was beginning to race now, memories and thoughts flooding the damn of calmness within her brain. She began to breathe quickly as the memory of ascending gloriously to the stars hit her. Jumping to her feet, her mind spun as did she, scanning every sight around her whilst cogitating wildly. Memories clouded her; the ascension, Angel, all of them hit her at once, yet she frowned with grimly suspicious air of mystery. She remembered how happy she had felt, how fulfilled, how wondrous, as she had flown up into the clouds, her white dress gleaming with a holy radiance, but nothing beyond that. She could remember ascending to the higher plane as her last memory and now she was here, in this uncannily familiar place.

The air around her was damp and she tasted the moisture as she breathed, pacing impatiently under the gloomy shadow of deep black clouds above. She had to keep her head straight, she thought, running her hands through her short, brown hair in frustration. She could not think calmly, instead thoughts left havoc in their wake. Had she been bought back and wasn't supposed to remember? Or was it something different? She remembered Skip was there, her demon guide. The powers that be had chosen her, so, for whatever reason she must have been bought back. Suddenly she paused and gazed up at the city in front her. Beyond the alley was a perfect view of the city, its centre. She was about one kilometre from the sharp bundle of skyscrapers that towered over the city. It comforted her, giving her a welcomed, relaxing feeling of being at home. She smiled as her thoughts dimmed, glad to be back. She couldn't wait to see her friends again, and Angel. Now she knew she'd never be happy anywhere else but here, fighting with the team, the family at Angel Investigations.

Engulfing the city was thick, foreboding clouds, moving powerfully through the air, as though threatening to consume the very sky itself. It had already consumed the comforting blue of the day behind its blackness. The cloud cover was complete all the way into the distant edges of the horizon.

She shivered suddenly, feeling a sense that the clouds were watching her, ready to strike. She shook her head, knowing that that was insane. Still the cloud cover did look unnatural to her, in some way she could not pinpoint.

A slow, distant yet powerful rumble hit her ears and she paused, feeling vibrations in the cool damp air. A sudden crack leapt mightily through the sky, cutting her sight to the city before her. Knives of white cut through the sky and danced in front of the city. The lightning was vicious and seemed to be, in some strange way, evil. She turned back to the alley again and stared at the concrete road. It was wide and baron. She felt safe here. Another growl shook the air and flickers of light flashed across the shadowy road from behind. She thought she'd better get back to the hotel, find the others and give them a run down, she felt that last step important as she felt a secluded fear that something was wrong with the Earth.

As she turned the corner of the alley she noticed one of the doors to her right. She had been here before, often. Suddenly everything came back to her, the place, what it meant to her. This was Lorne's club, and the alley, to which the club backed, was the spot where Connor had been born. Right in that road, perhaps even where she had been lying, she thought, beginning to feel something sinister about the situation. She had been brought back from wherever she was and returned on the very spot Connor was born. She remembered that day, the trauma of it. The rain pouring over the road, Darla lying in pain in pools of cold, dirty water, bringing down the stake to her own heart, tears oblivious by the rain.

Halting her thoughts she began to run from the alley, not in fear but in urgency to return home, to speak to Angel and the gang, tell them what had happened to her. She frowned as she ran, realising she didn't even know how long she'd been gone.

Angel stood mightily at the brim of the set of stairs in front of Connor and the man. He grinned with a confidently at the man, who had just turned around to face him, still gripping the knife imbedded in Connor's arm. Angel's face bore many cuts and bruises, clearly showing he had fought recently. His body heaved with an unwanted tiredness that came from the many battles he had endured to find his son. Thanks to Lilah who had slightly redeemed herself in his eyes by pointing out that Connor had been captured by Gavin and was in the building, he had managed to fight to this high floor after hearing his scream in the hallway. He had a sword lowered cautiously to his side and right now he glanced at the shocking scene in front of him, it was even more shocking than the bloodbath the army of mysterious warriors had caused in the unescapable pit Wolfram and Hart had become. Many more of the men he had fought to find Connor were gathered around his limp, bleeding body, hanging back only slightly like vultures over dying prey. Connor himself was being held harshly against the shattered and crumbled concrete wall by a tall, imposing man, strangely different to the others he had fought. He shivered as he glanced at the man's cold blue eyes, sensing an unusual radiance of power and a blatant display of evil. His eyes were ice cold with a slick hatred that unnerved him, and his smile almost made him back away. That smile, the innate confidence, security and wicked pleasure, even as he pushed the knife deeper into Connor.

Angel saw the shape his son was in and was almost ready to jump at the man, his sword swung fourth with vengeful valiance. His shirt was ripped open, revealing a bare and bruised purple chest and streaks of blood across it. His face had a despairing visage of unbearable pain through the blood and bruises. His hand was bandaged and soaking red and now a knife ran into his shoulder.

"Angel." He was suddenly awoken from thought and glanced back to the grinning man. He frowned at the ominous fact that the man before him had just uttered his name, of course, he was slightly infamous amongst the demon community. He didn't return the formality in his sudden response. "You want to talk? Take that knife out of my son."

"Oh, Connor here? Yeah, sorry about that, it's just so much fun to see tears at the eyes of those who displease you."

"Well I can tell you I'm about to have a whole lot of fun then." Angel quipped.

"Indeed. Why do you feel the need to rescue this boy? Granted, he is your son, but he recently tried to kill you, remember?"

"You're the boss aren't you? The leader of this rag tag bunch of silent assassins? Bowled over about a hundred of them back there, sorry about that, oh, and, take the knife out."

"Ignoring my words? I can honestly tell you that this is all for fun. I mightn't have all the time in the world but I've got power coming out of my ears, and right now I'm just waiting for you to try me."

Angel heard footsteps and looked behind him to see Wesley and Lilah take positions behind him.

Connor felt blood and sickness churn painfully within him and every nerve under his skin struck him with pain and weariness. The knife was in his shoulder still and he was biting into his lip to stop himself screaming out loud. He felt the blood soak into his shirt and he strained to concentrate to gain power of some sought, to fight back. He had almost given up hope, then, just seconds ago Angel had stepped into the picture, smiling coolly and bearing a slender long sword. Now he was just waiting for the moment to make his move, right now, through the unheard mumbling of the two men, he knew Angel was biding his time due to the risky position Connor was in. All he had to do was break the man's hold over him. He breathed deeply, afraid of the pain yet too determined to stop, and swung around his left arm, bringing it down on the man's arm that held the knife in place in a fierce chop. He felt his shoulder scream with pain as the knife tore into him further, yet he saw the man's arm being knocked away by the force and the surprise of the attack. As soon as his hand was away he grabbed the knife in his shoulder, still with his left hand, as he dared not move the other one. He breathed in and ripped it out. He screamed out loudly and deeply with the sudden pain. His sight went slightly haze and he stumbled forward. He shook his head and fought the pain, jumping to his feet and glancing at the knife he had ripped out of himself. The jagged and rough blade had small chunks of flesh and the knife was completely red. He looked up to see the man throw his other knife at Angel.

Angel bent over backwards as the knife skimmed over his head, almost hitting Lilah and Wes. Taking the opportunity to attack he lunged forward off the top step and flew towards the man with his sword poised for the kill. The man saw and spun around to the side, completely avoiding Angel and getting in a swift kick to his side. Angel, taken back by the surprising force, slammed into the already damaged concrete. He landed on his feet though and saw Connor swing at the man with his dark red knife. The man leaned back over the railing to avoid the swing and kicked Connor in the chest, sending him into the wall opposite. Connor fell to the stairs and tumbled down a few steps. Angel grimaced as he saw him struggle to get up, and spit out a dribble of blood onto the steps. Angel stared up at the man in awe, marvelled at his impressive agility and shocked by his unnatural power. He was suddenly caught off guard by one of the identical men from the side steps. He caught a punch in the face and stumbled backwards. Getting his balance, he lashed out with his sword, slicing across the neck and sending a thick streak of blood into the air. The man began to laugh as Angel began to slice and punch at the many men now attacking.

"Angel, never underestimate anyone. Fight as though everything was a brick wall. Oh well, now you know nothing less than a tank can really be used against me. You fool."

Suddenly a comforting click echoed in the noisy stairwell. The man swivelled around, with a look of pleasant surprise on his face, finding himself practically face to face with Wesley, who had a large black gun held tightly in his hands, pointed right up at his face. The man kept his smile and winked at Wesley as the shattering sound of gunshot cracked through the stairwell. Blood splattered against the wall of the stairs across the centre with a surreal suddenness and the man tumbled over backwards, over the railing.

Angel saw the deadly blow and gave a final kick to the chest of the man in front of him with all the power he could muster. The man was knocked back into the others and they fell over collectively with the force. Angel took the second he had to sprint forwards, scooping up Connor effortlessly and slugging him over his back as he passed Wesley, running for the door above. Wesley turned and followed behind, keeping his eye on the horde below. Lilah turned and followed them back into the interrogation level, closing the door behind her. They all head the clattering of hundred of footsteps from the stairs behind it and immediately turned for the prepared escape route.

"So much for a tank." Wesley said, as they rounded a corner to enter a hall with the safety of the open elevator doors at the end. They began to run down it as fast as they could, knowing that the men were hot on their heels. Wesley and Lilah paused near the start of the hall and held guns at the ready. Lilah had out her handgun and Wesley held the automatic shotgun.

Angel saw Dylan standing ready in the elevator. Dylan had been lucky to stumble into Lilah's office when he did; otherwise he would be almost certainly dead by now. So would Lilah, if she hadn't tipped him off about Connor, he had thought of abandoning her, maybe she knew it. Dylan had the escape panel at the roof of the elevator opened at the ready and as Angel entered the lift, helped him raise Connor through on to the roof of the elevator, in the elevator shaft.

The speedily approaching and amplifying footsteps had Lilah breathing hard and sweating with fear. Wesley looked over to her, with a calm complexion. "Are you ready?"

The footsteps were becoming nearer by the second, giving a tensile fear to the air. "As ready as...yes."

"Connor's up, we should start walking backwards slowly now."

"Got it." She said through bated breath. She felt ready to jump and just then, as she considered that fact, a menacing horde of the identical men jumped out from behind the corner. They all bore bloodstained shirts after their battle with Angel and they didn't even pause as they swerved the corner in an aggressive sprint. Lilah and Wesley instantly let lose a volley of bullets upon the men, and they mowed through the fast horde, their bodies were dropping in waves. The sharp splatters of blood against the wall added to the constant clattering of used shells to the ground, creating a deafening melody of battle. Lilah and Wesley began to jog backwards when they saw that Angel and Dylan had already crawled up through the roof. Then, when they saw the endless swarm of opponents still charged fourth, oblivious to the consequences, clearly indifferent to fear, they turned and sprinted. They ran into the elevator, and, as Lilah shot out through the doors, Wesley began to push them to a close. The men were advancing far too fast for Lilah to stave them off, and, just as Wesley slammed shut the thick metal doors the reached the elevator. They thumped hard against the door and both Wesley and Lilah jumped back when moulds of fists began to punch into the door. Lilah gasped as the thick steel in front of her reached forward with a sharp clang.

"Powerful." Wesley muttered to himself, but Lilah had already turned her panicked attention to the open hatch above. Angel's hand protruded through the hatch. "Quickly." Angel said reassuringly. Lilah stepped over the cluttered gun shells and grabbed on to his arm, pushing herself up with her feet against the wall as Angel pulled. Wesley waited with his face to the door and a hard frown. He stared at the rapidly appearing dents in the light silver metal. He heard Lilah get through the hatch and turned to it to be helped up by Angel.

Wesley scrambled up through the hatch to find Dylan attending to Connor with the lowering ropes they had brought with them. Lilah was leaning against the wall opposite him, pulling out her magazine and quickly scanning over her remaining ammo. Although they had, to a certain extent, already planned out the escape the constant pounding below reminded them that their chances were hanging and that they were in a game of survival. Wesley tucked the shotgun under his shoulder and approached Angel, who leaned against the wall next to Dylan and watching Connor with a pained expression. "How is he?" Wesley asked hopefully. Angel looked up at him, as though he had been suddenly woken from a deep dream. "I'm not so sure," he said grimly, "he's been bleeding pretty badly. My shirt's soaked with it. As Dylan continued to fiddle with the ropes Wesley checked out the group and was morbidly surprised at how wounded they all seemed to be. Lilah's face was splattered with tiny drops of blood and her thin white shirt was torn and sprayed red. She had a surprisingly fearless and determined visage, perhaps even angry. Angel gazed at the floor solemnly, oblivious to the cuts and bruises that littered his face and body. His dark shirt was, as he'd said, wet with blood at the shoulder, and it was torn down the centre to about the fourth button down, revealing a lot of his sweaty chest. Dylan was practically fine, which wouldn't be excusable if he hadn't been such help. He had somehow managed to shy away from combat all the way and was, as such, only sweaty and slightly puffed. In fact Wesley was sweating severely as well and he was beginning to feel that the warm air was getting thicker, and lesser.

He looked over to Lilah as her gun gave a click signifying the magazine was back in place. "Ammo?" he inquired sharply. She looked over at him with a grave expression. "6"

He frowned grimly. "2" he replied.

"We're ready." Dylan's refreshingly warm and enthusiastic voice cut the thick air of dread. The banging below was quickly getting louder and echoing more, implying the door was becoming weaker, bending to the force. They all looked at each other briefly before Angel grabbed the long sword he'd propped up beside himself on the wall and took a step towards the cables that held the lift in the shaft. Dylan finished a knot on around a sturdy looking pipe against the concrete, using the rope he'd tied to Connor.

"Everyone grab on." Angel said sternly, before taking the rope in one hand and swinging the sword fiercely and precisely in the other. He hit the steel cables with an impressive vigour, even by his standard. The cables split and the lift suddenly began to shake. Wesley watched at the elevator doors through the hatch and grinned as the identical men felled the door and barged into the elevator. He jumped back as one of their hands struck out through the hatch. But the elevator had begun to fall and built up speed. He felt disoriented as the lift fell beneath him, leaving him unsupported in a deep, dark chasm. He gripped the rope tightly and looked down into the depths of the shaft, watching the final glint of the roof of the falling elevator. Lilah and Angel where below him on the rope, which now swung towards the concrete wall Dylan had tied it to above. Wesley swung his legs around and collided softly with his feet. The others did the same. He turned to the door that the elevator once occupied to see many of the identical men hover at the edge, lingering back in the shadowy door whilst watching their every move. Wesley shivered as he felt the men's lust for their death and looked away with the reassuring knowledge that they were too far from the edge to reach, even with a huge jump.

"Come on." Came a slightly panicked voice from above, Dylan didn't seem so sure about the safety of their distance from the doorway. Wesley felt the rope tug and swing and saw the others quickly descending. He followed suit, speeding up to catch them.

Dylan had connected Conner to the rope with a strong clip and Angel was holding on to him, slowly and carefully letting him down. Lilah had the lead and she was conquering the rope with valour. Wesley had his gun tucked tightly under his shoulder, not wanting to lose the comforting weight of a deadly defence. A loud, crash echoed up through the shaft, shaking the walls with a deep, mighty rumble. The elevator had met its doom; it made Wesley shiver how long it had taken for the noise to reach his ears, reminding him just how much of a fall lay beneath his feet. He kept climbing, holding on with all the strength he could and taking cautious descending grabs.

The shaft was eerily silent but for the occasional grunt and tug of the rope.

"Alright Lilah, you're the woman with a plan, what do we do next?" Angel said, through heavy breaths. Wesley had been about to pose the very same question.

"I thought I'd never see the day you'd actually trust me." She replied, teasingly.

"Neither did I, and if you'll ever trust me, believe that it's only temporary. You've got us this far and I know we have the same intention." He said resolutely.

The ropes rattled as they talked in the darkness, each other only shadowy figures to their eyes. The doorway they had originally left was now lost to the murky distance above, but all of them still felt the tense feeling of urgency.

"Well, the next step would have to be getting the plastic surprise from the toy department and blowing the crap out of the sandbox." Said Lilah, determined and sure of her plan.

"Huh?" Angel said, looking up at her with a furrowed brow.

Wesley smiled to himself, knowing quite well what she meant, and knowing it was going to work. He suddenly pondered at his own resolute hope throughout this whole event. He realised that, not once had he been afraid, not once had he feared for his life or for the lives of the others, because somehow, for whatever reason, he had known they were going to make it. All the death had barely even phased him either, but that was for a different reason, he feared. For a long time now he had been losing his ability to care for anyone he hadn't met, through all the death and pain he had lived he knew what really mattered in the world, not the lives of an individual but the lives of many. Through this philosophy he felt himself slip from the emotional capacity of a normal person, now, it seemed, he only cared for people who mattered, who were important. This gave him a sharp, fearless edge in battle he needed to defeat enemy's of the same skill.

Dylan quickly cut into the conversation before Lilah could translate her strange explanation. "Of course, C4! Charlie bought loads of that into the building yesterday for some big operation."

"So the plan is blow up the front door?" Angel said, unsure.

"Yes. Like?"

"It'll work." Wesley said loudly and knowingly, trying to assure Angel would go with it.

"Alright, explosion is on the agenda. What floor do we enter to get it?"

"14th floor, isn't it?" Dylan asked Lilah.

"That'd be our bet, it's the armoury after all."

"Wolfram and Hart has an armoury?" Angel inquired, mildly surprised.

"Yes," Wesley replied bluntly, "but remember the building is full of those demons. They haven't stopped hunting us, they won't. We'll open the door to a horde of powerful warriors and find we have a couple of bullets and a tired swordsman to fight them."

Everyone fell silent at this, knowing how true his words were. Wit and hope almost left the room altogether but once again Wesley found himself astounded to find Angel and Lilah unfazed by his cruel reminder. Bravery came naturally to Angel, but Lilah, she seemed strangely empowered, maybe she felt the same way he did. Still the tired group pressed on down the shaft, into the depths that may soon be their graves.

They descended until Lilah halted abruptly. The others stopped and looked down at her expectantly. The air between them fell tense as she nodded to the door beside her.

"13th floor." She affirmed.

Wesley shut off his thoughts so as not to incur fear through approaching the door. He felt the shotgun under his arm with his hand, caressing the smooth steel. This was his ticket to getting out. He saw Lilah twist her gun around in front of her face, assessing it for battle. All of them bore deadly stern expressions, and grave frowns. They were all breathing heavily in the stale, hot air, their skin blanketed by sweat.

Dylan was feeling slightly scared, but, although he didn't have any weapon he found himself to be quite brave and calm in the face of danger. He was, in fact pleasantly surprised at his own ability to act in a crisis, although everybody is a surprise when faced by death, except Angel. He had been lucky, as had Lilah that Angel and Wesley, two skilled warriors had been assembled in her office. Unlike the others he had never faced anything like this, and he was still horrified by the death and gore he had seen in the halls here. He felt that as soon as all the fear and adrenalin wore off, he'd just explode a screaming, vomiting mess.

"What about Connor?" He said. He noticed Angel stop and think hard, showing he'd failed to consider it himself.

"He can wait out here, I guess," he paused for a moment, "I guess someone, Dylan, should stay here with him. They don't seem very smart but, I'm not sure."

The others nodded in solemn agreement, but for Dylan, who nodded gleefully, publicly grateful for the offer.

"Alright guys," Angel cut in sharply, "this is it. Let's show them what 6 bullets and a wounded swordsman can do."

Wesley smiled approvingly towards him and received one back when Angel caught it. Dylan had distanced himself from the conversation, plainly thankful this didn't apply to him. Lilah didn't bother even so much as looking at Angel, as she was poised impatiently at the closed doors, waiting for the command. Angel moved towards the door to open it when Wesley spoke loudly, his voice echoing in the shaft. "Before we go in, Lilah, you can't miss with that gun, in the head every bullet. This has become a game of survival, to survive we have to fight to the best of our ability." The room fell silent for a moment, expecting there to be more, then Angel resumed climbing down to the door.

Soon they were all there, but for Dylan, huddled around the door, with Angel, holding his sword in the centre. Angel breathed in deeply and shoved the sword point first into the slit of the doors. The others watched, almost shaking with fear at what might be behind the door. Angels shoved the sword into the handle then pushed it across with all his might, hoping to wedge open the doors. The sword managed to just open up a slit in the metal doors before it began to bend, Angel didn't pause. He ripped out the sword and threw it behind him. Wesley caught it as Angel shoved his vertically pointed hands into the small slit with an abrupt and mighty jab. Angel's face crumpled with determination as he tried to pull open the doors with but the tops of his fingers imbedded in the slit. Either side of Angel, Wesley and Lilah pulled out their guns and pointed them at the metal door, poised ready to fire the moment the door flew open. Angel screamed out suddenly and the doors flew apart. The doors seemed to move in a slow manner, though trying to emphasise the horror that might be behind it. Angel had fallen backward from the force of his pull, and, as he grabbed the sword back from Wesley, gripped the rope tightly to balance himself. The doors hit the edges of the doorway and both Wesley and Lilah shoved their guns forward, the triggers half pressed.

With an uncanny suddenness the tensile air had been completely shattered. The window of mystery that had inspired fear in them all was broken and revealed nothing. They all let out a silent sigh of relief as they looked deeply into the dark, empty hallway. They paused for a moment, regaining their complexion. Angel resumed the journey as he swung into the empty hall from the rope. He began to jog on ahead, stopping at every junction and cautiously peering around to assess for ambush.

"OK, Lilah," he said, stopping at the third junction and waiting for them to catch up, "where do we go?" They both jogged up to him, Lilah was panting a little but Wesley was breathing deeply and calmly. "Uhcan you just follow me?" She begged.

"OK, just don't be too slow, Lilah. Remember Connor is still out there."

Lilah resumed the jog, though slightly slower. They travelled through the deep, dark, and blood stained halls of Wolfram and Hart for a long while. They often had to avoid corpses and pools of cold blood. Finally they arrived an important looking room with a large steel door inside it. Beside the thick steel door was a small keypad against the wooden wall. She put the gun to the keypad.

"What good will that do? Don't waste" Wesley shouted. The loud echoing sound of a gunshot cut off his voice completely. The small electrical keypad blew apart from the centre, sending bits and pieces of plastic and wires everywhere. As the debris fell to the ground around her, Lilah grabbed Angel's sword off him. Both Wesley and Angel were watching curiously. She jabbed the sword into the centre of what remained of the keypad and it crashed through the plastic back. Wesley was surprised to see not the wall behind, but another object behind it, in the wall. Lilah shoved her hand through the hole in the back of the keypad, smiling as she grabbed hold of the comforting steel handle. She pulled it down and took her arm out. A loud click came from the door, though it did not move. "Emergency manual lock. Very few know of it, I'm not supposed to." Wesley nodded at her, impressed. Angel grabbed the handles on the front of the door and groaned as he pulled it open. Wesley noted the amazing thickness of it; it looked to be about thirty centimetres pure steel.

"Say, Lilah," he began as they followed Angel into the large, metal walled room, "on the subject of knowing, you wouldn't happen to know why on Earth Wolfram and Hart was designed the way it was?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, why the hell they thought it necessary to install retractable, reinforced steel plates over every perimeter exit?"

She shook her head grimly, having considered that many times herself since she so cruelly found out. Suddenly her faced brightened into a powerful gleam of hope; she was looking into the room with a glorious smile. Wesley too stopped in his tracks, beside Angel, to admire the view. He shook his head with a grateful delight. Before them, in the dark room sat a huge stack of explosives, lined against all the walls, racks of weaponry with huge stores of ammo above them. Just as they were prepared to load up, Wesley spoke. He suddenly bore a cautious frown, "Don't you think it's a little weird that no one else tried to get here? I mean, surely the security knew where to find this, but none of these rifles have been touched."

Both Lilah and Angel caught on to what he was implying with an urgent speed. "You're saying the identical guys knew this was here?" Lilah asked hastily.

Suddenly a haunting beep hit the room. Through the darkness a glimmer of red appeared in the explosives, numbers. Wesley turned to the door after seeing the first number tick away, only to find it being speedily closed before him. There was but a gap of ten centimetres as he looked around, and the door was closing quickly. Lilah screamed the words at the top of her voice then, but he already knew it, without electricity there was no way they were going to get out of the room.

Father above in the complex of Wolfram and Hart a vast whiteness consumed a room. In the room a deep, blood red spot of colour was present in the blinding whit. A little girl, she sat neatly on a chair in the middle of a sea of white, frowning innocently at, not what she saw, but what she felt below. Death, the thick, consuming sent of it lurched below her. She could here every scream, every wail of despair that had parted lips in the inescapable labyrinth below. Usually she'd welcome it, being a prisoner to the company and all; she wished them death with every minute of the day. But now, she knew why it was happening, it wasn't some half-assed evil planning on ruling the world, no, she'd seen them come and go many a time, this was a prelude, a sign, to the end. The senior partners had contacted her, they often did, this is why Wolfram and Hart kept her up here with such high regard, she, and a few other immortal beings who still walked the Earth, were the only ones who could see them when they came. Last time they had come to her it was to inform Lilah of what was to come, then they told her, in vivid detail, the coming apocalypse. It had been planned since the beginning of this world, and they told her it could not be stopped. They told her that Lilah was the wolf.

She suddenly felt an imposing presence behind her, she sensed power, breathing deeply onto her neck. She turned her head to spy behind her, there, a deep, foreboding black against the white stood a tall man. He wore a long coat that sat at his ankles, and a deep blue shirt. This was he, the one to end it all. Her frown deepened; she knew why he was here, not to stop and chat; her blood would soon meet with the floor.

She stood up and turned to face him, bearing a hateful visage. The chair in front of her suddenly disappeared into nothingness as she walked forward towards him, angered at his persistent, gleeful smile. His deep blue eyes pierced her own, cunningly incurring fear in her heart. She did fear, as an immortal one, she was destined to live forever, unless murdered, that is what she feared, death, just as any human does. They stood before each other for minutes before she finally spoke, hoping to disrupt the dreadful silence.

"You come here to kill me? Why? I am not a sacrifice to be played with!" She ended with a shout.

"Every lamb has blood, and you, are but a lamb, however powerful you are." he said, calmly.

"I will not let myself be taken by you, you know that." She replied, harshly.

"You, yourself know that fighting is futile, this isn't some apocalypse to be averted. It isn't about to happen, it isn't happening; the end of the world is past, you just can't see it yet."

"Then leave me to spend my final days in peace" She screamed at him, as he approached slowly and menacingly.

"Sacrifice is not conditional, you will fight, you will die by the name of the Sinice."

"The senior partners do not want me dead!" She shouted at him, urgently, panic invading her voice as he stepped closer.

"I assure you, they want everyone dead. The last of the Earth's warriors, ones who might fight me, will soon be dead, but then, fight as they might, they could never win."

"They seemed to fair pretty well the first time you traded blows."

"Yet here I am, Not a scratch on my body! I have the power to play with them."

She suddenly realised that, while they had been talking he had walked right up to her, and now looked down, smiling cruelly. She had tears forming at the corners of her eyes, knowing that her death was inevitable, was pure, utter despair. It quickly turned to anger. She would keep her promise, fight for her life, no matter how futile. She had power; there was no doubt about that. She screamed at the top of her lungs and as she did, drew the thick power she had into her fingertips. They went black with the pure, dark, energy that swelled within her, ready to strike. She launched forth her hand, with her fingers pointing forwards, and felt the magic flow through her and into the air around her.

The many sharp jets of black magic that erupted from her fingertips shot out at the man. She smiled as she saw him shocked by the power and it's speed. The magic hit him and he was blown of his feet and far back into the white room, tumbling over himself when he hit the floor.

He smiled as he quickly jumped back to his feet and stared at her. Only he knew that the jets were harmless. He began to run towards her, the hundred metres between them flying beneath his feet. He was fast and covered the distance within a second, with his hand outstretched and a malicious grin.

The girl had had not time to think, no time to even realise she was about to die, no time to smile her last smile, utter her last word; she just died. With a cruel suddenness he was standing in front of her, his outstretched hand protruding through the back of her head. He was holding up the limp body as blood trickled to the floor, a burning red on the brightness. He took his arm out of her head and her body collapsed to the ground, in a puddle of blood.

"Now you see it," he said, smiling a cold smile, "the world is gone."