A/N: Sorry about the delay on this chapter. I've been trying some original fiction and kind of got off the fanfic path for a bit. Promise to finish this one up soon, though.
Ack! Re-uploaded because of formatting issues. Think we got 'em worked out now.
Four months earlier:
Angel came to the conclusion that, on balance, things hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped.
He slumped against the wall, Spike a limp weight in his lap. The younger vampire seemed to have more wounded than un-wounded body parts. It was probably best that he was thoroughly unconscious. He'd been the only one of Angel's group that Angel had been able to find and take with him when he'd gotten out of the fight, and although the elder vampire thought that Illyria had at least a chance of surviving, he held out no hope for Gunn.
Dimly, the sound of gunfire reached Angel's ears, and he snorted with annoyance. If only Riley Finn had any clue as to just who he and his commando buddies had saved . . .
Then there were the Slayers who had joined them. Somehow, they'd known. One part of Angel's soul desperately wanted it to be because Buffy had heard somehow, had saved them, but another part knew she wasn't there. He couldn't explain exactly how he knew, but he did. He hadn't recognized any of the girls - the Slayers - who'd joined the fight. There were images of their faces - a tall, fierce redhead; an Asian girl with bright pink hair; a tiny Latina whom he'd barely kept from being killed - and he wondered if they all came from Los Angeles and the surrounding areas, and if their instincts had called them to the fight.
Maybe he'd find out later. For now, he was too exhausted to move, and Spike was in no condition to help. Angel wondered despairingly just how badly Spike was injured, and how long it would take him to recover. Wolfram & Hart didn't seem likely to let go of them easily.
Cautiously, he sniffed the air, wanting to discern more about where he was. That was when he smelled Gunn's blood. For a moment, wild hope surged through him, but it was quickly dashed. There was a distinct difference between fresh blood from a living creature and blood that had oozed from something already dead. This blood reeked of death. He wondered if Gunn had made it down this far and then died, or if Illyria had pulled him from the fight. It was no use trying to catch her scent, of course; she didn't have one.
Something suddenly moved in the darkness.
"Illyria?" Angel called as loudly as he dared.
"Not even close," said a familiar drawl. Lindsey McDonald emerged from the shadows. "Surprise."
For a moment, Angel thought that Lorne must have failed, and Lindsey was still alive. But there was nothing alive in the sewers, so far as Angel could tell.
Lindsey smiled, seeming to have followed his thoughts. He indicated the dark stains on his chest. "You probably think this is a good look for me, don't you, Angel?"
Angel realized what this was about. "Wolfram & Hart pulled in your contract, didn't they?"
"What, you think quitting has any meaning to them?" Lindsey snorted with disdain. "No, they left me alone because they had bigger fish to fry - and because they knew I wasn't ultimately going to escape them anyway. And actually, I was working on that when your buddy Wes did his tattoo-removal thing."
"Gee, I feel so bad for you. Especially since you were trying to kill me at the time," Angel shot back.
" 'Least I did it face-to-face instead of sending a lackey to gun you down after you'd done me a big favor."
"Don't take it so personally. It was a business decision, kind of like when you tried to kill Cordelia. You'd have happily betrayed me, Lindsey. With your power and ambition, you'd have been as big a threat to what I've been trying to achieve as any demon."
Lindsey shrugged lightly. "Yeah, probably," he acknowledged. "But then, I never claimed to be one of the good guys, did I, Angel? Never claimed to know much about - what's that word you're so fond of? Oh, yeah - redemption." Lindsey spared a quick glance at the unconscious Spike. "Guess that's good enough for you and your boy, and people like Faith, but not me. No, better kill Lindsey off before he goes and does any more bad things." He chuckled bitterly. "Didn't think it was possible, but you actually let me down, Angel. At the very least, I thought you'd do me in yourself."
Angel felt the barbs hit home. "Like you ever cared about redemption," he scoffed uncomfortably.
"And I'm sure it was all you were looking for ever since you were a little baby vampire," Lindsey said, voice dripping sarcasm. "Nah. You picked up a taste for it after you got the soul. Coincidentally, I've got one of those myself, and now it's in Wolfram & Hart's tender care." The former lawyer smirked. "But hey, at least I'm in good company."
The meaning behind those words took a minute to sink in. "Wait - you mean Wesley . . . Gunn . . ."
"Didn't think Wolfram & Hart would be so careless as to lose two such sterling employees, did you?" asked Lindsey, obviously enjoying Angel's fear.
Angel shook his head. "No. You're not telling the truth. We never signed -"
"You think Wolfram & Hart is really that stupid? Angel, Angel, Angel - their clauses have clauses! You and your crew sold yourselves to Wolfram & Hart a piece at a time. And now your buddies are reaping their rewards." Lindsey stooped down so that he was face-to-face with Angel. "Be happy for Fred that Illyria destroyed her soul. That's better than your other friends got."
One of Angel's hands shot out and grabbed Lindsey's throat. "You're lying," growled the vampire.
Lindsey just laughed. "Squeeze away. Doesn't make any difference to me. I'm dead, and you can't do any more damage than that. And for the record, I'm not lying. Just the bearer of bad news."
Angel let go of the corpse in front of him, dizzy with despair. All this, and his friends were trapped in a hell dimension - and Angel knew too much about those.
Lindsey was still watching him, a bitter smile upon his face. He leaned closer to the stricken vampire, so close that if he'd had breath, Angel would have felt it.
"Damn you, Angel," Lindsey whispered, caressing every syllable. "Damn you to hell."
And then he was gone.
Spike shifted in Angel's lap, moaning. Almost automatically, Angel placed a hand on the younger vampire's forehead in a soothing, paternal gesture.
"It's all right, Spike," he said softly. "We're safe. Just rest."
Spike muttered a few nonsense words in a pained tone, but soon relaxed again into an uneasy sleep. Angel envied him. He wanted to be asleep, for this all to have been a terrible dream. He wanted to awaken to his friends still alive, including Cordelia and Fred.
But now they were all dead, and he could trace every one of those deaths back to himself. Cordelia, at least, was in a better place, but Fred was gone completely, and Wesley and Gunn -
He had to find some way to free them. Even if he himself was the ransom, he swore he'd bring them back.
His sensitive ears picked up the sound of something else moving in the sewers. Larger than a rat, but not so large as a typical demon, he decided, and it had a distinct heartbeat, not to mention it smelled of human blood. Soon, he saw a small, slight figure moving through the shadows cautiously.
A flashlight beam suddenly hit his face. "It's you," said a girl's voice.
"Yeah, it's me," said Angel. "Mind shining that somewhere else?"
The beam, which came from what looked like a military-issue flashlight, left his face, and he could see the girl clearly. He recognized her as the little Latina Slayer he'd kept from being killed by a demon.
"Who you?" she asked brusquely.
"My name's Angel. This is Spike," the elder vampire said, indicating his inert progeny.
The girl came closer, and Angel quickly came to the conclusion that she was a child of the streets. Her hair was cut short and ragged around her face, her clothes were a few sizes too big and stained so badly Angel doubted even he would be able to discern their original color, and by the look and smell of her, she hadn't seen the inside of a shower in about as long as it had been since she'd had a decent meal. Still, scrawny and filthy as she was, she had the unique bearing of a Slayer about her. Angel guessed her age at thirteen or fourteen.
"What's your name?" he asked softly.
She tilted her head at him as if considering whether to tell him. Finally, she said, "They call me Mikey." She looked at Spike. "He look dead, man."
"Well, technically, he is," said Angel.
Mikey took another hard look at him. "You be a vampire." Angel nodded. "But you save my life back there." Angel nodded again. Mikey scrunched up her face. "I don' get it."
Angel had to laugh a little at that. "It's complicated." He pointed up. "How is it up there?"
"Oh, shit, is loco, is - is crazy, man!" Mikey plopped down beside him. "One minute, I be with my hombres. Next, I think - I go and fight. I don' know why! But there these demons, an' I'm real good at fighting, so I fight, comprende? An' you save me, I don' know why, but now we got Army guys an' guns an' mierda, so I get out. What 'bout you?"
"I'm afraid this is all my fault," sighed Angel. "I made someone very angry at me."
"Must ha' been el Diablo himself."
"Close. Very close."
Mikey looked Spike over again. "He don' look so good, even for a vampire."
"No, he doesn't," said Angel, reminded of yet another worry. "But I - I think he and I came out better than any of our other friends. Unless you've seen a kind of blue woman in leather?" All he got for that was a funny look. "I guess not."
The little Slayer reached out and tentatively touched Spike's hair, as if to see if it was real. Or, Angel thought, as stiff as it looked.
"What's your real name?" he asked the girl.
She looked shy for the first time. "Micaela Vasquez."
"Do you have parents? Anyone who looks after you?"
"No. I mean, my mama is dead, and I don' got no papa. I got a crew, though, and sometimes, when things get bad, I stay wit' Anne. She nice, for a white girl."
Angel couldn't help but smile at that. "I've met Anne. She is nice." He felt a pang of regret for the way he'd treated her years ago.
Spike moaned again, making a gurgling sound in his throat. He moved a little, and Angel gently restrained him. At least he was moving his legs, which meant he wasn't paralyzed again.
"Can I help?" asked Mikey, flinching at the agonized noises Spike was making.
"Not unless you know someone who can spare a few quarts of blood," said Angel.
"Oh! I know," said Mikey, hopping to her feet. "Sometimes, they throw bodies down here. Lemme see if I can getchoo a fresh one." Before Angel could even protest, she was off and running.
About a half-hour later, she came back with a large young man wearing gang colors slung around her shoulders, looking disconcertingly like a big-game hunter.
"He still warm," she said cheerfully. "Looks like somebody shoot 'im up." She unloaded the unfortunate at a nonplused Angel's feet. "Go ahead. I be around. I don' let anything get you."
Somewhat bewildered by the turn of events and the strange, small creature he'd discovered, Angel watched Mikey vanish into the shadows, leaving him alone with Spike and the corpse. The smell of fresh blood made Angel almost nauseous with hunger. Shame washed over him.
He pushed the shame aside. Distasteful as this was, it was nothing compared to much he'd done in the past year, and both he and Spike needed the blood to recover as fast as they could.
Angel picked up the man's wrist, slashed it open with his fangs, and then placed it across Spike's mouth. Within moments, Spike was instinctively sucking on it like a newborn.
Angel only hoped the younger vampire could forgive him later.
Less than a day later, Angel was able to move Spike further away from the Hyperion. Mikey followed, and followed again the next day, when Spike was strong enough to move with Angel's assistance. After three days, Spike was well enough that they could talk strategy. Angel told him what Lindsey had said.
Spike swore and took a drag on a cigarette that Mikey had provided. "Bloody wanker. Should've removed his gallbladder through his nose the first time I got suspicious of him."
"Not so concerned with killing the messenger - especially since he's dead - as I am about avoiding Wolfram & Hart and finding some way to help Wesley and Gunn," said Angel.
Spike took another drag. "Maybe it's time to call in the experts. Willow"
"No!" said Angel, a bit too sharply. "Bad idea. We don't want to lead Wolfram & Hart straight to the Slayers and the Watchers."
"Fine, then," said Spike, exhaling testily. "Why do you think they didn't just kill us, then? If Lindsey could find us, they could."
Angel shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe they wasted too much power on the apocalypse. Maybe they want to string things out. Maybe Lindsey was sent to lure us into another trap. Maybe -"
"- you don't have a clue what you're talking about. I get it." Spike took another drag. "Suppose the next question is where to go from here. Any genius ideas about that?"
"Get out of L.A., for one. For two, find someone who can either confirm or disprove what Lindsey said. There's an incarnation of the Three up near Seattle; might be a good place to start."
"And how do you propose to get all the way to Washington without being noticed?"
"Hop a train," put in Mikey, scarfing down cookies she'd gotten somewhere Angel didn't want to think about. "I got friends who done it."
"She's right," said Angel. "There are plenty of ways to get to Washington, but the point is, we have to get out of L.A. now. Otherwise, we're screwed."
"Probably screwed any way you look at it." Spike put out his cigarette. "Still, it's better than just sitting here."
"Glad you're here to cheer me up. Let's go look at some train schedules," said Angel. He and Spike started off.
And stopped abruptly as Mikey followed them. Noticing their looks, she said, "I go wit' you, okay?"
"Not okay, Mikey," said Angel. "We're going to be on the run from the same kinds of things we were fighting in the alley. It's best if you stay here, where you're safe."
"Safe?" Mikey laughed at that. "You seen L.A. lately, man? I'm safer wit' you."
"We need to travel light and fast, Puss," said Spike. He'd dubbed her "Puss in Boots" practically the first time he'd seen her. "We can't have the likes of you hanging on."
"I'm fast," protested Mikey. "I fight good. I know lots of stuff. I help you out."
Angel tried to reason with her. "Look, Mikey, I explained about Wolfram & Hart. They're going to be hunting us, and if they ever catch up with us again, we probably won't survive. You're best off if you don't get involved. Go stay with Anne. Have a chance at life."
Mikey looked at him very seriously with her dark, too-wise-for-her-age eyes. "You save my life. Even my hombres woulda ran from those things. I help you back there." She jerked her head as if to indicate where she'd first met them. "I seen a lot of things, but I never seen no one give me a chance. I always have to fight, but you two fight better'n anyone I ever seen. So I wanna stay wit' you. We crew now, comprende?"
Before Angel could formulate a reply, Spike grabbed his coat sleeve. "You can argue all night if you want to, but the signs say you're not getting rid of her that easily," Spike muttered sotto voce. "Let's just go. She's a survivor; if things get too rough, she'll be gone. If not, never hurts to have a Slayer on your side."
Angel looked back at the girl and recognized the inborn stubbornness that had characterized the best women in his life. His resistance finally gave way. "Fine. You can come. But you do as we say, understand? If I say to run and hide, you run and hide. Got it?"
Mikey perked right up at that. "Got it, boss. Vamonos, muchachos!"
She walked ahead of them, and Spike turned back to Angel. "Now if only we can get her to take a bath . . ."
Dawn knelt nervously by Wesley's side, trying not to think about what she was about to do. She looked at his face. The last time she'd seen him, she'd been only fourteen and mourning her sister. To her surprise, she discovered he was very handsome. Even in death, his face had beautiful structure and character.
For a moment, she hesitated. If her death could restore Wesley and Gunn to life, and they truly were in a hell dimension . . .
She shook her head. If she could've done it herself, that was one thing. But to give a demon god huge amounts of power in the process? That was too high a price. There had to be another way to help Wesley and Gunn.
Dawn took a deep breath, set her resolve, and reached out to touch the shield around Wesley's body. To her surprise, her had went through. The field, then, wasn't meant to keep things out, but to preserve him. Her hand tingled as if it had gone to sleep, but she could still move it.
Good, then. If Wesley or Gunn had a weapon, she might be able to protect herself long enough to get past Illyria's deadlineand maybe get rescued. She looked up at the sky, where the moon had taken a slice out of the sun.
Buffy will be on her way, Dawn thought. She won't let anything distract her until she's found me.
". . . you expect me to tell you everything now?" shouted Angel.
"Everything? Try something! Anything at all!" Buffy shouted right back.
Willow sighed wearily. Three minutes worth of introductions and explanations, and Buffy and Angel were screaming at each other. Just like old times, she thought.
"Man, they fight worse'n Angel an' Spike!" said Mikey, impressed.
"You have no idea," said Willow.
"Were they ever . . . you know?" asked Connor, looking at Buffy and Angel askance.
" 'Fraid so."
Connor shook his head. "Whoa. This is getting weird."
". . . Cordy's dead, Wesley's dead, Spike's alive, you had a baby with Darla, and your SON is dating my sister! Excuse me for feeling a little out of the friggin' loop!" Buffy ranted on.
Angel was giving as good as he got. "I wasn't under the impression you wanted to be in the loop! No one would even talk to me from your side, and you sent that trained monkey of yours to grab Dana -"
"You can't seriously be blaming me for wanting to keep Wolfram & Hart away from my Slayers -"
"YOUR Slayers?"
"Yes, mine!" Buffy stopped walking altogether to stare down her former love. "I was the one who came up with the idea to empower them. They're my responsibility. What do you think I've been doing in Italy, shopping for shoes? I've been working hard!"
"Yeah, it looked like you were working real hard with the Immortal!" spat Angel.
It took less than a millisecond for him to realize his mistake.
Buffy's eyes narrowed. "The Immortal? How did you know about that? Have you been spying on me?"
"Real smooth move, Gramps," said Spike.
Buffy wheeled on him. "Don't even start, Spike. I've got plenty of this for you, too, starting with why you never bothered to pick up a phone and call!"
"I was a ghost," Spike protested. Buffy reached over and thumped him hard on the forehead. "I got better," Spike added weakly.
Connor leaned over to Willow again. "Were they ever . . . you know?"
"It's a long and twisted story," said the witch.
Connor shook his head. "Excuse me!" he called over the moaning of the wind and the rising voices of the vampires and Buffy. "Do you think we could put off killing each other long enough to rescue Dawn? Thank you!"
Buffy and Angel shared one last glare, but forged on. "You have any idea what Illyria wants?" Buffy asked after a moment.
"We think she might be trying to raise Wesley and Gunn," Angel answered. "The Three told us Illyria had their bodies and that 'future will become past,' which sounds like she might be trying to reverse time."
"She could alter the flow of time when she had her full power," put in Spike. "But Wes stripped her of most of that 'cause she was gonna blow California off the map. Might've been better if she had."
Willow hurried up to them. Being the only one of the bunch without superhuman endurance, she was having a hard time. "Wait, wait," she panted. "She lost a lot of power, including the ability to alter the flow of time. Anyone seeing a connection with her wanting the Key?"
"What I'm thinking," said Buffy. "Do you know what Illyria's been doing all this time? Why she just now came for Dawn?"
"I wish I knew," said Angel wearily. "We've been trying to track her while dodging Wolfram & Hart, and she's been all over the world. Literally."
"Hasn't been the least bit easy," said Spike.
"Weird thing is that we've survived at all," said Angel. "It's almost like the Senior Partners aren't giving it all they've got."
"What's that mean?" asked Buffy.
"No idea. They're hitting us once in a while, but not with anything like what I know they're capable of," said Angel.
"Maybe it has something to do with you killing off the Circle of the Black Thorn," suggested Willow.
Angel didn't look convinced. "Maybe, but something feels off to me. It's like they're putting on a show."
"Pretty convincing one, if you ask me," said Spike. "My shoulder still hurts from the last attack."
"Maybe we can help you with your mystery," offered Buffy. "After we rescue Dawn, of course. Willow, what do you - you okay?"
Willow's eyes were aimed skyward. "Something's happening."
Through the swirling red dust, Buffy could see the moon cutting even further into the sun. "I think we'd better start running. Will, you think you can keep up?"
"I don't know, but it doesn't matterDawn needs you." Willow looked at her friend. "I can take care of myself."
Tersely, Buffy nodded, and then she took off running toward the whirlwind. Connor followed. Angel hesitated for only a moment.
"Mikey, stay with Willow," he ordered the young Slayer. Then he and Spike followed Buffy's lead, rapidly disappearing into the rising dust storm.
Dawn was sitting against one of the pillars on the sides of the pavilion, arms wrapped tightly around her body, when Illyria returned.
"It is time," said the demon god.
Dawn didn't move. "You know, you're the only one who could tell me what I originally waswhy I was created," she said. "Thank you for that."
Illyria seemed nonplused. "You are . . . welcome."
"But no matter how I started out, what I am now is my choice," continued Dawn. She unfolded her body from its seated position - and raised a gun and pointed it at Illyria. "And I'm not going to be used by you again."
They faced each other across the pavilion. Neither moved or spoke for a long moment.
Illyria broke the silence. "Why do you not shoot?"
"Because, like I said, you're the only one who's been able to tell me where I came from," answered Dawn. "That means something to me. You were their friend, too - Wesley's and Gunn's - and I won't kill you just for wanting to help them."
"Then why do you not let me?" asked Illyria. "Why stay in this mortal, limited form?"
"I want to live," said Dawn simply.
Illyria tilted its head. "Yet you claim the afterlife is desirable for humans. Your soul is human. Do you not want it to go there?"
"I'm not afraid of it," said Dawn. "But . . . I have a lot to live for. I have family and friends, and I even have a boyfriend who's - he's something special. I have a lot to look forward to in my life, and I want to live it, not die at eighteen!"
"The gun," said Illyria, as if truly noticing it for the first time. "Where did you get the gun?"
"Wesley. He had it on him."
The demon god looked confused. "Why did he not use it? He never missed his targets. He could easily have killed Vail with it; why did he not?"
Dawn was equally confused and had no idea what to say. After a moment, Illyria spoke again.
"He could have lived, had he used the gun. He should have known this." Illyria had almost stopped paying attention to Dawn altogether. "The only explanation can be that he could have lived - yet chose not to. I do not understand this. It is the nature of humans to fight to live. Why would he not?"
"Sometimes . . . sometimes people don't want to live," said Dawn, feeling she had to give some kind of answer. "Sometimes they feel like their lives are so bad it'd be better to die."
That brought Illyria's eyes back to Dawn. "He did not believe he had anything to live for. Yet how could he? I saw so much when I looked at him. Surely her death alone could not have caused him to despair of his own life. Or perhaps her death and the regaining of memories best left forgotten . . . he chose to die. I am at fault."
The light from the sun was very nearly gone, but the pavilion had a luminescence of its own. Dawn couldn't see where it came from, but she and Illyria stood in a pool of light as Illyria considered this new thought.
As the sun became no more than a sliver, the demon god looked up, resolute. "I will correct this, also."
Dawn had let her guard down during the conversation with Illyria. In a second, Illyria had lunged forward, batting the gun aside and seizing Dawn hard.
"Dawn!" cried Buffy's voice.
Both Illyria and Dawn turned sharply to see the Slayer charging up the steps to the pavilionto run full-force into the shield surrounding it. Buffy bounced off and nearly fell back down the stairs, but her Slayer reflexes saved her. She had her feet back under her in a moment. Connor suddenly appeared out of the dust, following Buffy's lead.
"Let her go!" Buffy shouted at Illyria.
"I will not," stated the demon god. It raised a hand, pulling Dawn even closer with the other.
"Illyria! No!" shouted another, very familiar, voice. Angel was at the top of the stairs, and he, too, ran into the shield. He nearly fell, but his fall was broken by Spike. Dawn was too stressed and frightened to even register shock at his appearance.
"Don't do this, Illyria," Spike pled, roughly pushing Angel away. "There has to be another way to save them."
Illyria hesitated only briefly. "Perhaps," it said, "but I am unwilling to take that risk."
It placed its hand on Dawn's chest, right where it had pricked her, and green light burst from both of them.
