A/N: This is a bit AU as you'll be able to tell early on. It's just an idea I couldn't shake. It will probably a bit slow and confusing at times, but I'm trying to work through it. It'll shift between events both before and after NFA. The title comes from the Willie Nelson song "Last Stand in Open Country".

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Jake.

Wesley had been waiting for this moment. Waiting a very long time. He knew he didn't possess the power or the ability that the decrepit figure before him wielded. He only wished he had decided to pack his trusty pistols, rather than the meager switchblade. At least that might have left a mark, some trace that he had gone down fighting. As he hovered just off the ground, trying to conjure up one last fireball, he realized that it was indeed about to end. Who was he kidding? He welcomed the end. His only regret was the he would miss the grand finale that he knew was coming. He had hoped he could be there with Angel and Gunn, shoulder to shoulder one last time... like the old days. He saw the blade coming towards him, and when he felt it rip into his stomach he knew it was over.

Vail was enjoying this little spar a great deal. He, like the rest of the Black Thorn, had viewed Wesley as the perfect replacement for Angel. He, more than anyone, could sense the anguish and rage that flowed through the man. He had been stripped of everything he held dear. Wesley Wyndham-Price was a man with nothing to lose, and that made him very appealing to Vail. But, alas, Mr. Pryce had come to be a disappointment. Even the man's meager attempts to harm the sorcerer were disappointing. But Vail was no fool, he knew the broken man hovering before him had come here to die, and Vail was more than willing to indulge him. Vail grinned a little as he saw the blade enter Wesley's abdomen. Just a simple twist was all...

Suddenly, Vail's thoughts were interrupted by a blinding pain in his shoulder. He looked down slowly and was horrified to see two feet of solid steel protruding from chest at the point where his heart was. He gasped for air as he turned around, only to see a glint of light before everything went black.

Wesley was in a tremendous amount of pain. But he welcomed it. It made him feel alive, even though he knew he was about to die. Suddenly, he felt the blade slide out as he crashed onto the ground. Bewildered, he immediately clutched his stomach, slowing the bleeding down just a bit. He looked across the floor to see a decapitated Vail lying before him. His eyes traveled up to the figure that stood over the body and he took a sharp breath. She always had a knack for showing up unexpectedly.

"Geez Wes, what the hell is going on," Faith nearly screamed as she raced over to where her former Watcher lay bleeding.

The first thought that entered her mind was the sight of his blood. She immediately thought back to that chair... and all that blood. She bit her lip to keep her mind focused as she bent down to tend the wound.

"Faith," he coughed out. "What a lovely surprise, but how did you..."

"Not now Wes, this gash is wicked deep. We've got to get you some attention, like now."

That wasn't what Wesley wanted to hear. Not that he wasn't grateful, but this wasn't the way tonight was supposed to end.

"Faith, you have to get to Angel, he..."

He was cutoff as Faith draped his arm over his shoulder and hoisted him upright. The quick movement, coupled with his blood loss caused his vision to blur and his head to spin.

"Angel can handle his own, he always has. We're gettin' you to the hospital," Faith replied as she began to drag Wesley towards the back of the mansion.

She knew she had to hurry. She had what you might call 'first-hand knowledge' of gaping stomach wounds, and she knew he probably wouldn't last more than an hour.

"Faith, you don't unders..." was all Wesley managed to spit out before the darkness enveloped him.

Faith looked over and knew that he had slipped into unconsciousness. She had to hurry now. Manly pride be damned, she picked him up in her arms and started to run.

"Slayer strength don't fail me now," she murmured as she tore out the door she had busted on her entrance and raced to the station wagon she had managed to 'acquire' back in Cleveland.

Illyria could not explain what had prompted her to proceed to the sorcerer's mansion after she had completed her task. Somewhere inside she knew that Wesley was no match for a being of that power. Cyvus Vail was beneath her in every aspect, but Wesley was a mere mortal. A human on top of that. He would not be able to defeat Vail without her assistance. She marched into the parlor of the mansion and came to abrupt halt. The sight before her perplexed her. Across the room was the decapitated body of Cyvus Vail. A few paces in front of the body was a large blade and a small puddle of blood. She strode across the room and picked up the blade. She could tell the blood on the blade, as well as the blood on the floor was human. Wesley had been wounded. But, he had somehow managed to kill the sorcerer in a most pleasing way. Illyria could feel the smile tug at the corner of her lips. She felt a strange sensation... what had Wesley referred to it as... pride. Yes, she was proud that her guide had completed his task. She turned and strode out of the mansion. She would see her guide again, and together they would halt the armies of the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart.

"Any word on Wes," Gunn asked as he stared down at the unhealthy amount of blood that was seeping through his clothes.

"He is not here?" was the bewildered reply of Illyria as she stepped into sight.

Angel looked away in a moment of anguish. He knew that Wes probably wasn't coming back from his mission. Hell, he knew Wes didn't want to come back.

"I went to sorcerer's mansion and found him dead, but Wesley was not to be found. I assumed he would join us here for the final fight," Illyria stated in an anxious voice.

Angel's head snapped up. Wesley had done his part and he wasn't dead. But why wasn't he here?

"Well, that means he either bailed on us or the bloke fell before he could get here," was all Spike could answer with.

Angel flashed Spike a look that could have killed most beings, demon or not.

"Wesley wouldn't abandon us. He must have run out of time trying to get here," Angel replied sadly.

One more soldier down. One more that Angel had sent to the ground. He straightened up and tightened the grip on his broad sword. Tonight it would end. He turned toward the end of the alleyway as he saw the army approach. If this was to be the last stand, he was going to make it one for the ages.

One week earlier

Rome

It was nights like these that Buffy Summers wished that she had brought the new Slayer army with her to Rome. Sure, it would be selfish. They were needed throughout the world. There were still Hellmouths and there were still things that went bump in the night. But fighting a pack of four vampires alone while wearing her brand new skirt and matching shoes was nothing short of annoying. Why the hell did there have to be vampires in Rome, anyway? She knew her latest love interest was a vampire and she was certain he had a few goons. But these four didn't have the fashion taste to be linked with the Immortal. Too bad for them. She spun away from an errant punch from one of the vampires and buried a stake in through its back. The dust hadn't even settled before another one landed a stiff kick to the side of her head and she was sent tumbling to the ground.

"Now I'm really pissed," she bit out as she hopped back to her feet and connected with a roundhouse.

The vampire stumbled back and Buffy plunged the stake directly into his chest. Two down. The other two vampires wasted no time in circling her. They both stalked around her, but neither seemed particularly eager to enter the fray. Finally, the one behind her leapt onto her back while the other rushed forward. Buffy easily kicked the on comer away and managed to wiggle and arm free to land a few well placed elbows in her rear attacker's face. She turned and caught him square in the gut with a knee and drove the stake through from back to front. However, before she could even relish in the dusting, she felt a something solid smash into the back of her skull. For a split second, Buffy saw stars and she tumbled forward trying to regain her bearings. Before she could react the vampire was on her. She could smell its acrid breath and could feel the wait pressing down on her, but she was too dazed to react in any timely fashion. The vampire bared its fangs and made for the Slayer's neck. Suddenly, the weight was gone and the smell was replaced by that of ash and decay. Buffy rolled over and struggled to her feet, still a bit dazed. She saw a movement in the shadows, and she readied herself for yet another fight.

"Whoa whoa! I'm on your side!" barked the shadow as it saw Buffy ready herself.

The figure moved into the moonlight with hands raised high. In his left was some sort of pistol, smoke still curling out of the barrel.

"Really? And just who might you be?" was Buffy's reply.

The figure before her definitely did not belong in Rome. He didn't belong in Italy for that matter. He was fairly tall and slight build. But the worn out felt hat and the busted boots were not on the cutting edge of any fashion trend. And to top it off he was wearing a worn out brown duster. What was it with her and dusters?

"I'm a friend. I saw you were being attacked and I figured I'd lend a helpin' hand."

The reply was rough and laced with a bit of a Southern drawl. The man lowered his pistol and opened his duster, replacing it behind his back. Buffy quickly noticed the large belt buckle and the even larger dagger that was sheathed to his side.

"Didn't anybody tell you the Dwight Yoakum look is out... like seven years out?"

That remarked rendered a soft chuckle from the man. Buffy smirked a bit and then turned to leave.

"Hey! Is that all the thanks I get for helpin' out the lady? I mean, I didn't kinda just save your life back there."

Buffy turned back around, crossing her arms over her chest and again sizing up this imitation cowboy.

"Yeah, well, thanks for the help. But I don't normally throw my arms around complete strangers and shower them with thanks just because they staked a distracted vampire. Besides, I'm far from helpless."

The man stared straight ahead at the Slayer, eyes never leaving hers.

"Oh I know. You're the Slayer. Or, I guess one of 'em nowadays. But you're actually the One y'know, the head honcho."

Now it was Buffy who let out a chuckle. Head honcho? Where did these people come from?

"Well, I'm glad to see you know who I am. But see, I still don't have a clue as to who you are, and I really don't care. And since we're finished here, I'm just gonna..."

"The name is... uhh... Jake. I'm here to find you."

Buffy's brow furrowed at that statement, the man had officially got her full attention.

"You're here to find me? Well, you've found me. Now the next question is for what?"

The stern look Jake had been wearing didn't budge.

"There's somethin' comin' and it's big. Bigger than your battle with the First. Bigger than anything this world has ever seen. It's biblical. And you're one of the big guns we need to stop it."

Buffy's heart sank. She had battled everything this world and any other world had thrown her way. She had taken down the First, destroyed the Sunnydale Hellmouth and just wanted to relax. It seemed the fates were never done sticking their collective noses in her life.

"We need to hurry sweetheart. We ain't got alot of time, and we're gonna need to talk with your friends. They're gonna play a big part in this too. We're gonna need every bit of help we can muster."

Buffy let out a sigh and turned away. She began to walk towards the man.

"Alright. Come with me. But if you're nothing more than a vamp or a two-bit demon, I will dust your ass before you can blink."

Jake nodded her direction began walking out of the cemetery by her side. He noticed she was still clutching her stake a little too tightly. He could see the white of her knuckles. He knew she didn't trust him. The last time they crossed path she had reacted much the same way. He let out a breath as the wheels in his mind began to churn. He didn't know how he was going to tell the story to her or her friends. He knew that they wouldn't believe it. She refused to help last time. Somehow, he had to convince her to fight this time. They needed her and her friends. Otherwise, all would be lost... again. The two turned the corner and continued their walk.

"Oh, and by the way? Don't ever call me sweetheart again."