I appreciate everyone's reviews. We're getting closer to the end now, so I hope you've enjoyed the ride. This chapter is pretty short compared to the others. I had to get this out to get past my writer's block. The coming chapters will probably be a bit longer. Enjoy.

Jake braced himself against the marble wall that composed the outside of the small motel just outside of Los Angeles. It was early morning, sun just beginning to peak above the horizon to the east. He thought back fondly to his childhood days... better days. With a cool breeze like this blowing, Jake would be out on horseback, checking the fenceline along the Burkle Ranch just before his morning chores. God how he loved Chisum, that ol' quarterhorse Roger had given him for his twelfth birthday. Roger always was a John Wayne fan. He was told his father was as well. He assumed that's why they had settled for the name Jacob. It held just enough British stiffness to it, not to mention sharing the name with one of the Duke's masterpieces. It was only fitting that his horse share a title role too. He was aged, long past his racing days. But on a clear morning, Jake would imagine the small pasture that lay out before him was the home stretch. He could still get the ol' boy up to a pretty quick gallop. And nothing beat the south Texas sunrise. God he missed that.

He took another drag off of his newly lit cigarette. It wasn't his first of the morning. Definitely wouldn't be his last. It calmed his nerves, even though it annoyed the hell out of the present company he was keeping. No matter. Everyone seemed to have the jitters. Of course, no one could blame them. They had been shacked up in this hotel for three days. Three days to sit and contemplate the upcoming battle, to reflect over where they had been, and more importantly, to dread where they were going if they failed. Buffy had wanted to jump into the mix as soon as the tires of the 747 hit American pavement. Jake had convinced her otherwise. After all, there was a timing issue. They couldn't let Wolfram and Hart know they were here, it would blow the lid off everything Angel was already planning. Jake himself didn't even know when the right time to confront Angel would be, but they were now out of time. Today was the day. Jake took another puff and then carelessly flicked the cigarette away. He hadn't finished it, but there was always another one in the pack. Turning back to his room, he suddenly spun back to face the horizon. He could see just how beautiful today was going to be. But there was something in the air... a scent. Unmistakable for a country boy. Rain was coming. He just hoped it was the cleansing type.

Buffy stared through the small opening in the curtains at the man smoking outside. She had tried to sleep the night before, but it was no use. Thousands of outcomes in response to thousands of possibilities had raced through her mind like a flood bursting through a dam. She thought of Angel and Spike. What would she say to them? What would they say to her? She thought of Jake, of how he was going to face his father. How was he going to kill Illyria if Wesley truly was trying to protect that... thing? As she watched him flick his cigarette, the thought of Spike took over her thoughts. Andrew had finally let the secret slip shortly after their arrival. She couldn't decide whether to be pissed at Andrew for hiding the fact from her, or at herself for being too wrapped up in the Immortal to open her eyes. She had wanted to find him as soon as they arrived, so that she would have the time to tell him just what he meant to her. What she wasn't ready to tell him that day in Sunnydale... what she had waited too long to realize. Jake had convinced her differently. 'If this thing was going to work,' he had told her, 'we've got to do it at the right time.' She listened. After all, he seemed to have an uncanny knowledge of what was supposed to happen today. So they had waited. Not the easiest thing to do. But, it made sense. And it did allow the fully trained Slayers an extra couple of days to make the trek to Los Angeles. Jake had put in a call to Faith too. Just as planned, there was no answer. She was no doubt already in town. If today was indeed the final showdown, they would need every gun they could spare. She heard a soft knock at the door and she slowly moved the curtains back into place.

Later that afternoon

Angel sat staring out the necro-tempered glass of his plush CEO office. How many times he had simply gazed at the glittering building of the Los Angeles skyline before him, he couldn't recount. It had been nearly five years since he had come to the City of Angels. He had lost so much along the way. And now, he was going to lose so much more. He rubbed the palm of his left hand. The wound where a pen had been stuck hours before had long since healed. Angel rubbed it nonetheless. He imagined it burned, because his soul wished for it to. His Shanshu was now gone. Signed away in the blood of the vampire it had foretold of so long ago. But it was something that had to be done. He couldn't afford for the Circle to wise up to him now. It didn't matter anyway. There wasn't much chance of him surviving to see its fruition anyway. He sighed heavily. Turning his attention back to the doorway, he waited for his fellow conspirators to arrive. It was time for the battle plan. It was suicide, he knew. But it was the only way in his mind. Taking a step for the mug of blood that sat on his desk, he rethought the plan over in his head again. People would die come nightfall, and his hands were going to be stained with the blood of at least one of them. But he couldn't bother with that. Angel was in this for the solution... and that man could never factor into anything other than the problem. Taking a sip, his thoughts were shattered by the sound of Wolfram and Hart's security alarms.

The lobby of the law office was expansive. Everywhere Jake looked, he saw walking suits and ties. Some were human. Others were not. In his mind, they were all evil. He had grown tired of waiting. He knew Angel was going to hand out battle plans soon, they were going to have to change those. Whether or not the Senior Partners caught on was of no concern at this point. After all, Angel was the CEO. Surely he could come up with something. It was time to get the Champions' attention. Straight ahead, he could see a force of about six men making their way through the crowd to his own position. No doubt Wolfram and Hart's finest in security. He smiled a little half-cocked crazed grin when he noticed the Kevlar vests and the batons. No holsters. No guns. He turned back towards the others that stood behind him. Locking eyes with the Slayer, he winked and turned back to the security force. In the blink of an eye, he reached around his back with both hands, pulling the two pistols concealed beneath his duster. Leveling them at the force, he let out a little yip.

"Let's go to work."

Without warning, a flurry of bullets was unleashed within the lobby of Wolfram and Hart. The two security guards at the point took the brunt of them directly in the chest, knocking them from their feet. The alarm sounded and the fight was on. Buffy and Kennedy immediately launched forward, dodging the baton swings of two of the guards. Xander produced a small baton of his own and engaged another. Willow and Giles stood behind the four, shielding Dawn from any attack. Jake had unloaded two more rounds into the left shoulder of the remaining guard. The first had caught Kevlar, the second had nicked the outer arm. The guard let out a howl of pain and hit the floor. Jake had seen worse gunshot wounds before. These guys must not be used to alot of firefights.

Suddenly, a large black figure leapt from the elevator shaft to the middle of the fight. Jake saw the glint of steel heading his way, and instinctively pulled his blade and caught the broadsword just inches from his face. Struggling to push the blade away, he saw a new group racing from a side corridor to the lobby. A muscular African American man was wielding a homemade battle axe. A platinum blonde in a black duster had a raised broadsword. And in the front was a mid-sized man with two pistols pointed right in Jake's direction.

"Well... hell," Jake muttered.

Suddenly, the pressure on his blade was released. Jake eyed the vampire with the broadsword wearily. He held his knife, back of the blade parallel to the back of his wrist, ready for another swipe. But Jake noticed the vampire's eyes were looking at him, but directly behind him.

"Bu-Buffy?" Angel and Spike stammered.

"Angel... Spike..." Buffy replied, just as nervously.

"We've got to talk..."