A/N: Okay, it's been 6 months, but I'm back! I think… I'm going to get this finished within the next week or so. Thanks for being so patient – I'm about to betray your loyalty by completely placing both characters in deadly jeopardy! Don'tcha just love me!

Revised 02/10/05

Battling exhaustion, Kurtis fired off a couple of orange bolts at a Nephilim guard, which were more effective than he'd expected. The things seemed to shatter like glass at the touch of the Angel's magical fire, something he definitely wasn't complaining about. There were thousands of Nephilic citizens, and only one of him.

Not only that, but they were draining him to the last drop of his energy reserves. He wasn't sure how much longer he could last in this state – every movement was like wading through treacle. He had to get to the temple, and fast. Luckily, he was only a few feet from the 'back door', a simple archway into blackness.

Stumbling out of range of another hostile shot, Kurtis made a beeline for the archway, gasping relief when his pursuers fell away as soon as he entered the sanctified space. Weird… but I'm not complaining. Warily, he made his way through the gloom to where a faint green light pulsed in the distance, rebounding off pillars and turning the fire of the sconces set into the walls to emerald. He emerged into a central chamber, and hesitated in surprise.

Rising from the polished floor of the cavernous temple hall was a rough, rocky formation. Crystalline in structure, it was opaque and emanating the uneven green glow he had been following for the past few minutes. This was the Nephilic power source that fed Karel and granted him his invulnerability, his entire Nephilim side.

This was what needed to be destroyed.

There was one problem. Kurtis' very life force was being pulled from him bit by bit, fed into this very shard and through it to Karel. Paradoxically, every moment he lingered in its presence sustained the enemy.

Had he thought there was only one problem? Better make that two, he thought wearily as the Nephilic High Priest stepped in front of him once more, blocking his path to the shard.

Shit. Why was nothing ever simple?

It spoke to him, in a harsh, accented voice Kurtis could not trace. "You cannot defeat us, mortal. We are so confident of this that we have released our hybrid cousin from his endeavours. He should be able to take care of your girlfriend easily. Relinquish the Angel to us, or we will be impelled to use force with you, also."

"Scary," Kurtis responded wearily, although a shock of fear ran through him at the mention of Lara's plight. With all the determination he could muster, he gathered the last of his energy for the battle ahead.

The naked creature snarled, baring short, sharp teeth. Kurtis fired off a bolt of orange fire… and the fight began in earnest.

Despite its similar appearance to its minions, it was clear that this bastard was a completely different breed. For one thing, his long-range firebolts were instantly deflected and sucked into the crystalline shard in the centre of the room. Kurtis would have traded half of what remained of his life for his Chirugai at that moment; he was going to have to get up close and personal.

Luckily, his opponent seemed to be having the same problem – either he possessed no firepower, or he was loath to use it. Warily, the two closed in on one another, circling much like Kurtis and Lara did in their sparring sessions. Kurtis eyed the green glow of the shard in his peripheral vision, longing to turn his violent impulses to it, but knowing that the High Priest would be upon him before he had time to blink. His patience tried by the knowledge that his strength was still seeping from him, he launched the first attack.

They fought viciously, their desperation to protect their ways of life mirrored in one another. The Priest was faster than Kurtis would have thought possible, clawing and biting as well as kicking and punching. He seemed to have no problem connecting with the Angelic form, knocking the breath from him and sending starbursts of pain through his face and limbs. Fleetingly, Kurtis wondered what the fight was doing to his corporeal body, but the thought was driven from his head by another direct hit to his cheekbone.

He was holding his own, but barely. His entire body was on fire, aching with exertion and yet strangely numb in his fingers and toes. He kicked the thing soundly in the stomach, and it staggered back, gasping for breath. Before it could recover, he grabbed its hairless arm and twisted it forcefully, taking an element of sick satisfaction from the crack as the bone splintered. That done, he fell back for a rest, sure that it would take at least a couple of seconds for the Priest to regroup.

Lightning-fast, its sallow face contorted with utter rage, it started forward and shoved Kurtis back against the shard. There was a flaring pain as his back cracked over the hard, jagged surface, and then there was nothing – complete numbness permeated every pore, and with a sweep of terror Kurtis realised his back was broken. He was unable to move anything but the tips of his fingers, and again the thought of his corporeal body occurred to him. Just… don't think about it.

As the High Priest approached, limping but triumphant, the urge to release his hold on the Angelic form was almost strong enough for him to yield to it. Only grim determination caused him to stay where he was. If he was going to lose, he would do it properly.

The Nephilim stood over him, a nasty smile stretching its lifeless cheeks. "This is your last chance to give up the Angel of your own free will. If you do not comply, your pain will be tenfold."

Kurtis forced back a hysterical laugh. "My back is broken, you evil bastard. My nerve endings are completely useless. Good luck to you." He wondered briefly what the point of a paralysed Angel was. Maybe the ritual involved killing it.

"Then feel this pain, mortal." It paused, an unholy gleam in its lustrous eyes. "Your girlfriend is dead."

No. God, no… Kurtis closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down. It's lying. It has to be lying… The worst part was, in the back of his mind he believed it. Lara had hardly survived her last encounter with Karel. This time, with no André around to help her, she had only a very slim chance of survival.

With an effort, he looked the thing right in the eye as it leaned over him. It hissed foul air into his face as he whispered, "Fuck you."

Simultaneously, he fired three bolts of orange fire from his only-just-mobile fingertips, and closed his eyes as they slammed into the ceiling. As the astonished Nephilim howled in defeat, the roof fell in, slamming down thousands of pounds of rock down onto the Priest, the shard… and Kurtis.

The last thing he heard before oblivion took him was the satisfying crash, like breaking glass, of the shard shattering into a million pieces.

Lara sprinted for cover behind a pillar, sweat dripping down her face and breath coming in exhausted pants. This is worse than the last time, she thought ironically as a green blast of energy hit the wall where she'd just been standing. How much time does Kurtis need, for god's sake? She bit her lip as she reloaded her crossbow. She didn't want to think about what was happening far below her feet.

Karel had dismissed her out of hand at first. Kurtis and the Angel had been his only priority. He was invulnerable; she was but a mosquito on his arse. And thinking about Karel's arse really wasn't making her feel any less queasy. She fired off another crossbow shot… and missed. Her exhaustion was catching up with her, affecting her aim.

Surprisingly, Karel turned, fury in his eyes. It seemed that he'd… given up. What the…?

Her bewilderment was banished when the half-Nephilim spoke. "Mr. Trent is no longer my concern." A cold wave of fear swept over Lara, but she held her ground, her crossbow held more steadily than she'd thought she could manage. The words seemed just a little too indirect to mean he was dead. If Lara was right, Kurtis was up against the big guns now – and to exclude Karel from that category meant there was something truly formidable down there.

"I suppose that means I get your full attention, then? I feel so privileged." Despite her flippant tone, Lara was less than enthused. Now that his violent impulses were directed at her again, she was more than positive she didn't want them.

Sorry this is a bit sub-standard - I really suck at fight scenes. Anyway, give me a review – I think I need a reward for not letting this fic die!