With a yell, the farmer in front of the group threw a pitchfork, stabbing Angelus in the thigh, and the fight ensued.
A steady stream of angry townspeople rushed past Angelus and ran to attack Darla and Drucilla. Many of the towns they had terrorized before had been enraged to the point of revenge, but no other place had ever cornered them so efficiently, and William felt true fear for the first time since he was turned. He slunk into a shadowed area near the boarded exit as Darla and Drucilla began their defense.
"Angelus!" Darla screamed and jumped headlong into the fray.
From up ahead, bodies flew in all directions as Angelus pulled the pitchfork from his body and used it to push the mortals off of him. "I'm 'ere, love. And Drucilla?"
Drucilla growled and sunk her teeth into the man standing in front of her. A stake, held close to her heart, fell from his fingertips as life escaped him. As she ripped her fangs from the blood-covered throat, she searched in vain for her mate. "My William—shall I play seek?"
Deadly yet professional grace, marked Darla's coming and going, leaving four broken necks in her wake. Drucilla's method of defense proved to be more dangerous to the vampire family—trying to feed off of every human who stepped her way—and as the humans backed Drucilla against the boarded expanse, Darla moved to help her.
"Mummy? Have you arrived to deliver them?"
Two men stood in front of Drucilla, blocking her flight and using their torches to try to light Drucilla's clothing. With otherworldly speed, Darla ran to join her grandchilde. Darla lashed out, dealing fierce, swift punches that turned the necks of the men at odd angles, leaving them no time to feel the pain. Drucilla giggled with delight.
"Oh, you've saved me from the flames. No gallows for me! I must give you a present!"
As usual, Darla dismissed Drucilla's rantings. She noticed that blood from the sewer floor began to soak into her expensive dress and bent to remove the jacket from—what she assumed—was a lifeless man. Drucilla's fangs had made nasty work of the exposed neck and face, making his features more than a challenge to distinguish. As she laid the coat on the ground, creating a dry island for herself, she glanced toward the shadows at the rear of the passage. The glint of vampiric eyes shimmered in the darkness.
The hypnotic sway of Drucilla's catlike approach gathered none of the remaining fighters' attentions. Angelus had managed to accumulate a pile of bodies and was about to add a final corpse to the heap when Drucilla noticed a young, brave mortal crouching behind her sire. The boy could not have been more than twenty, but like the rest, he had followed the mob to avenge his family. Shaking with fear, the boy could barely steady the stake he held, much less raise it to Angelus's back.
Drucilla admired the courage the boy exposed…admired his heart.
A sick squish drew Angelus's attention to the action behind him. He shoved his, now useless, pitchfork into the chest of the man before him and turned to register the strange sound. The tip of his shoe hitched on the body at his feet and nearly tripped him as he spun around. A gaping cavity looked up at him from the boy's chest; wide-eyed shock still on the young man's face.
Angelus watched as his childe strode up to his sire and presented her hands.
"Mummy! I promised your present and here it is!"
Confused, Darla held her hand out as Drucilla neatly dropped a healthy heart into it. Darla smiled with the understanding that only a mother could know and offered up a reply.
"And would you enjoy a surprise?"
Jumping up and down, Drucilla giggled once more and clapped her hands. "Goody, a gift for me as well! It is a happy day!"
Angel crept up behind Darla, wrapping his arm seductively around her waist. "Do I get one too?" He flashed his smile at her and nuzzled into her neck.
"In time, my love. In time. For now, I think there are more important things. Have you found your pet, little one?" she asked Drucilla.
"I could've sworn I had 'im on a leash, but he's run away and won't be called with treats."
"Well, there he is, lamb—cowering in the shadows, praying for deliverance. Does God answer you?"
Stepping into the dull sewer light, William swept the hair out of his eyes and waited for the punishment he knew would come. Soft steps padded through the puddles of blood, and Drucilla ran her hand down the side of her childe's face. He smiled, thinking he had her forgiveness. Leaning close, she whispered in his ear, her gentle, unneeded breath tickling the smooth flesh there.
"You're my li'l prince and spankings are for fun. I'm not going to hurt you." She giggled, seeing the fear drain from his face as he relaxed. "But he might."
Her sing-song voice turned alluringly sadistic as she turned to face Angelus. He unwrapped his arms from around his lover and allowed his demonic features to come to the forefront. He growled with fury and his golden eyes flashed at William's insolence. Retribution was in order.
Slowly, any remaining pity drained from the watcher's face. It was time to put to use the coldness that the council had long groomed in her heart. Spurring her anger forth, she drew her fury into her fingertips. Blue fire raged as she raised her arm, aiming it at Spike and Connor.
"You're gonna have to do it," Spike reminded her as she hesitated for another moment.
"The two of you are pieces of history," she simply stated. "Your deaths will be a heavy price for our side to pay."
"That is, if you can manage to hit us at all with that blue crap."
"Goodbye, William and Connor."
Suddenly, the other watchers raised their hands, each of them crackling with the magicks of their leader. The duo seemed quite a bit more surrounded than they were just a second before. No exits. No escapes in sight.
"Flame."
Streams of radiant blue shot out at Spike and Connor as their screams filled the air. Spike remembered what it was like to die at the hellmouth, and the luminescence had not changed. He closed his eyes, not bothering to look to Connor's protection. They were equally matched in their mortality. Death waited with his scythe for the release of his victims' souls—a delivery that would never come.
Spike ceased his screaming, hearing no wails from the boy beside him, and opened his eyes. The magicks that once threatened to destroy them had symmetrically surrounded them, unable to break through a white shell that remained their only barrier from death's pull. Looking toward the lobby staircase, three women stood on the landing.
The furies, arms outstretched, easily combated the watchers' power. From in the distance Connor saw Gunn hurriedly dragging Angel by the shoulders into the lobby.
"More demons are trying to come through the sewers. I had to come in here."
Gunn suddenly noticed the tension in the room and the fight that stirred under the surface.
"Maybe I should've stayed out there."
Each of the furies rapidly spoke in turn, refusing to stop for any questions.
"Our laws…"
"…will protect you…"
"…from further harm."
"Angel must be allowed to heal."
"The balance of good and evil will be restored."
"Players in destiny's game shall find their place."
"No violence with intention…"
"…will be set in motion…"
"…in this new place of sanctuary."
The air crackled with energy as the furies' spell reverberated throughout the house, and the space behind them shifted as they opened a portal for travel and turned to leave.
"We owe you cuties one!" Spike yelled after them.
As they faded into the swirling of the purple portal lights, their voices drifted back to them.
"When Angel wakes…"
"…tell him that we will come…"
"…to collect our…pay."
The portal closed with a flash, and the council operatives were left to stare at the prize they would have to leave behind. One last look at Angel's recuperating corpse, and the watchers filed out, led by the woman soldier that Spike intuitively knew they would be seeing again. Maybe they would be seeing them all again.
Not anytime soon, I'd hope, Spike thought with a scowl.
"So what now?" Gunn asked, sure that he wasn't the only one that was lost.
William let his mouthful of blood drain from the corner of his lip and pool onto the sewer floor below.
"My William learns, doesn't he? He knows now the fame of Daddy's anger and does not want it again," Drucilla giggled.
William smiled from his cold spot of the floor.
"He'll come to warrant ano'der lashin' soon," Angelus replied to his naïve childe. "But now he knows the importance of family. It's not just some prattle that the Master spewed. It's what keeps us alive."
William stood, standing face to face with Angelus.
Softly, Darla's voice spoke. "Do we have your allegiance, William?"
He bowed his head, only slightly, in submission.
Angelus, satisfied in his victory, tilted William's head up to meet his eyes. Bruises began to form and fade on Angelus' face even as William continued to watch. "I am not arrogant enough to say dat no rogue warrior will ever stake me, but as long as you're under my care, William, I can say dat dey'll ne'er rid o' you."
Connor and Spike stepped through the lobby debris and bent to pick up Angel, carefully depositing him on the couch.
"We have to clean him up," Connor said, gesturing toward his father. Angel's blood freely flowed from the broken scabs on his fresh arm. The muscle became re-exposed to the open air; the first layer of re-grown skin was all but worn away.
"And after that?" Gunn asked. "What about the demons? I don't wanna run forever."
"And you won't." A hollow voice echoed against the battered walls. Turning to face the entrance that the watchers had just left through, the men were met with the sight of Illyria, battered and bruised but alive.
"You're back," Gunn said with a hint of hope.
"It was a tedious task to punch my way through the hoards building outside, but I am here and with little injury. I will continue to fight on your side of good. The Powers that Be continue to intrigue me. Their purposes with mortals are more complicated than I find pleasure in admitting."
"Where have you been?" Connor asked.
"There is a slayer among this Fred Burkle's memories, and she has given me a place among the other mortal fighters."
Spike scoffed, "Buffy gave you a position at the new council?"
"Not Buffy," Gunn replied. "Faith."
"She has bestowed a research position but remains unaware that this is only a shell. It allows me to continue to learn of Wolfram & Hart's plans."
Connor looked at her in confusion, "They'll only send more demons after us until we're dead. Why do we need to keep up with them now?"
"The Senior Partners have chosen to place my essence in league with the Powers' warriors, if they could be considered so," Illyria added with sarcasm. "Wolfram & Hart rebuilds its empire in Los Angeles."
"They're back," Gunn realized.
"Not that we're not overjoyed in seeing our Big Blue again, but what're ya here for exactly? You got yur comfy spot with the new council. Why come back?" Spike jumped to sit with a plop on the top of a nearby circle couch.
"I will return to reconnaissance soon. It is where I am most useful. Morphing the shape of this shell has the capacity to fool even the most intuitive of magick-wielders, but the lawyers prepare to deliver the final wave of their fight. It is their only remaining weakness on this plane, in this existence. It is the final 'loose end', as you call it, for your struggle."
"So we can wipe them out?" Happiness flitted across Connors eyes. "For good?"
"For now," she replied.
