Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.
Summary: Post AtS and BtVS, Faith and Xander are approached by a secret government agency. Surprises all around.
Rating: PG-13
Chapter 29: Resurrection
The minute the sun was down Angel was out of the warehouse. He found an abandoned car in minutes and smashed the window. Getting in he glanced around, trying to see if anyone had noticed.
Several had, but they didn't move to stop him. They knew better than that. He didn't find any keys, but that wasn't a huge problem. Spike had shown him long ago how to hotwire a car.
He sped out of there, not bothering to buckle up.
As he barreled down the highway he tried to remember the exact moment Spike had become somebody to go save, rather than somebody to save people from. It must have been during the year he worked for Wolfram and Hart, obviously, but he couldn't find the exact moment.
There hadn't been any moment when getting along with Spike had become easier. That would never happen. He still hated the bleached ex-vampire with a passion. But at some point between the moment Spike had burst out of the amulet and the moment Spike had arrived in hell to save him, Angel had begun to genuinely worry about what would happen to Spike, to genuinely try to find a way to save him.
He'd thought he had succeeded. Both when he had transferred the Shanshu to Spike, and when he had saved Spike from Drusilla's minions.
But, as usual, Spike had found a way to get in trouble again.
Angel ground his teeth as he shifted gears. Spike was the bane of his existence, he decided. He should have staked the vampire after Drusilla had Sired him, rather than giving him an education.
Especially since that had been Angelus' education, one that had turned Spike into more of a monster than he had ever been on his own. Even a conscienceless William the Bloody was more a man than Angel had ever been, which bothered him.
Not as much as the idea of Spike dying, oddly enough.
"I'm off to save Spike," said Angel bitterly.
Spike, who had apparently obtained supernatural powers from some source other than the Powers. Angel couldn't believe he'd fallen for Spike's act that he'd kept some of his vampiric powers just as part of his reward. Of course that wasn't part of the deal! The Powers had told Angel that he couldn't Shanshu too soon or else he wouldn't have a part in the Final Apocalypse.
Which Spike had already taken.
Angel wondered what this meant for him. The big one had already passed, and now he was serving the Powers as an errand boy. He wondered if they would dangle some new bait in front of him.
Worse, he wondered if that was a good reason to fight the good fight. Wasn't that selfish? Wouldn't it be better just to fight for no reward?
The way Spike apparently was?
Angel ground his teeth again.
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Dana watched Spike stuff the second arm in the bag alongside the first, brushing dirt off it. "I'm confused about one thing," she admitted finally.
"Just one?" said Connor. "You're way ahead of me." Of course, Connor had been accumulating questions for quite some time, as he had a substantial head start.
She ignored him. "Why are they trying to destroy the world? I mean, sure, evil, and all that. But what do they gain from the total destruction of the earth?"
Connor nodded. The single-minded destruction of other people he could understand, but the idea of trying to destroy the world, which of course meant that those destroying the world would die too…that was a little weird, to him.
Spike sighed. "That's a question I ask so often… it never gets old, truly. The way I figure it, there's too much good in this world. Drives them mad."
Connor laughed. "There's a lot of bad in this world too," he pointed out, disagreeing with Spike. He'd seen a lot of that evil firsthand, even caused a lot of it.
"No comparison," sniffed Spike. "Look at all the work evil does to keep up! Love alone keeps them behind. Look at a bunch of old married's, with wrinkles. You think evil can come up with anything that powerful in a thousand years? All they've got going are destruction and mayhem and such."
Dana's eyes twinkled. "So, you're a big believer in love, huh?"
"Makes the world go round, pet," said Spike smoothly. "Why, you don't believe?"
"Love is a lie that people tell you when they hurt you," she said flatly. "Love is something men talk about to make you lower your defenses, something your parents say before they disappear and the bad things happen."
Spike stared at her. "And you're a bloody poster child for it," he said.
"For what?" said Dana.
Spike shrugged. "For hate," he said. "That's all you have if you don't have love, you know. An empty, burning hate that'll scour you out and tear you apart."
And even if it didn't make a lot of sense to her, Dana still got an angry, mad look on her face. She understood part of that sentence, the part that seemed to her to be an insult, and she didn't like it at all.
"All right," said Connor, stepping it to ward off any hostilities. "Since we have both arms, it's only a matter of time till they track us down using her unique thaumaturgic signature."
"Best be on the move, then," said Spike, and there was a relieved look on his face.
"I was planning to fight them as they came, but we can go with your plan," said Connor.
"Face them as they come? Nuts to that," said Spike, scoffing. Dana noted that his scoff involved a whole-body movement, a derisive shrug of the shoulders and bob of the head that conveyed complete contempt.
Connor sighed. "All right, then, where to?"
"To her, of course," said Spike.
"You know where she is?" asked Dana, surprised. If he knew where the rest of her body was, then why had they bothered to track down her arm?
"I bloody well ought to, eh?"
"What? Why ought you to? Er. Why?"
Spike smirked at Dana, curling his tongue behind his teeth. "Because, pet, we have two arms, now. We've united her power. She's getting more powerful. And the more powerful she gets, the more she sings to me."
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There were many things on many worlds that Illyria thought could destroy her. She feared none of them as she feared her pet.
Too right. It's caring that's dangerous. I started with one girl, one silly human girl, which was dangerous enough. I nearly killed myself for her. Then I opened my bloody heart up and started caring for other things. First for the girl you were, then for the whole bloody lot… even Angel. I think, near the end, I was starting to care about everything.
He had died to save the world, it was true. And, as usual, he was right. She feared him because she felt moved to protect him, because she cared what happened to him. He was a mere vampire, or he had been, and she should never have cared what happened to him.
'S called humanity, pet. Hurts, doesn't it?
The real pain came from what had already happened. Whatever came next she could deal with, could destroy.
You can destroy it all, except for your own feelings. And that's what really counts, isn't it? What drives us. What hurts us. What gets deep inside and buggers us.
She writhed, hating and loving the infestation of humanity into her. And naturally her pet just made it worse. He was in love with humanity; hadn't he just said so? He'd died for the world. Small wonder he was so eager to evangelize her to its wonders.
That's me, shilling for the world.
The ultimate joke was on him, of course. For all that he could convince her to love the world, their enemies could turn her on him at any moment. Her own body betrayed her, and the world. She could feel little waves of unreality passing through her at the thought.
Funny thing is, that was me, not so long ago. My body betraying me. Betraying those I loved. A little thing in my head turning me back into the killing machine I'd always been, courtesy of the First.
Yes, but he didn't actually have the power to destroy this universe in an instant. She did.
I'm not going to let that happen, pet. You and I, we said we'd watch out for each other, didn't we? And I did. Even when watching out for you meant cutting you into little bits and burying you all over the West Coast. Don't think it was easy, either. It hurt.
Sometimes she was certain she was mad. Or else perhaps he had gone mad. Certainly their plan was mad—the crazy melding of two minds horribly unsuited to the task.
But, then again, it had turned out so well, hadn't it? Now their battle was nearly won, if she could believe the crazy half-breed who had rescued her in so many different ways. Now their enemy was at last within reach, in a place where they could strike the enemy.
And it wasn't an easy task, either. Certainly not as hard as the First was.
Still, she couldn't help but be pleased that at long last she was going to see him again. He was her only friend in this strange world—even if she would admit to no one else that the former Queen of the universe now admitted to having a friend.
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Tracking Spike and the others was all too easy, since he had kept Buffy's car. With the monitor Angel had given them it was child's play to stay behind the others as they headed back south, towards LA again, this time taking a circuitous route.
"Why this way?" asked Xander.
"So they wouldn't meet anyone chasing them. Or maybe because they're heading somewhere else. It doesn't matter," replied Faith.
Somehow during the drive she'd managed to put a hand around his shoulders, despite the fact that her arms were shorter than his and she was shorter than him. She gave a gentle squeeze to his shoulders as she said this.
His hand on her knee gave a reciprocating squeeze, and she felt a warm shiver go down her spine.
"They're stopping."
Faith slowed down, and when they found the abandoned car Xander looked around at the desert surrounding them. "Why the desert?" he complained.
"Could be worse," said Faith, getting out the car and shutting it off in one quick move. "Now we have to find them."
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Illyria's armless body lay on an altar, motionless, while the robed priests or acolytes or whatever they were chanted out their spells, waving their arms hypnotically.
Their leader was leaning over her body, whispering to her how she could finally fulfill her destiny and destroy this world, leaving them all in ashes.
Their words were powering up her body, restoring the full powers that would disrupt the universe in an instant. She wondered what they thought would happen to them afterwards. It certainly wouldn't be a cakewalk of any sort. Being dead usually wasn't.
The ground rippled with energy, and she knew that whatever they did next could destroy the world.
Ah, but you know that's not how we planned it, eh, love?
And the psychic link with Spike caused her to smile, a bright, elfin smile that for a moment threw the man leaning over her off his stride, and his words about destiny and fate skittered to a halt.
She would have liked to speak, but she couldn't. So for a moment he was confused, and didn't get to hear the laughing taunts she had prepared for him.
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Spike squatted down behind the ridge-line, shaking his head. "There's a lot of muscle with them," he said, his rough voice catching. "More than I've seen in one place in a while. We'll have to hit them hard and fast. Slayer-girl, they're demons, and they're evil. This is it. I'm giving you permission to tear them to pieces."
"I don't think I need your permission to tear these guys apart," said Dana, peeking up over the ridge. "I think it's my sacred duty."
"Yep," said Connor, nodding, selecting his favorite broadsword out of Spike's bag. "What about you, Spike? Are you up to this?"
Spike sighed. "I think we're in deep enough now that I can go all-out," he said flatly, retrieving Illyria's arms. He grasped them around the shoulders, extending the hands back towards her body. "Remember, if I get her arms back on her, she'll be fully mobile once again."
"Why isn't she mobile now?" asked Dana.
"She's a magical creature, pet, not a physical one. Not having her arms drains her. She probably won't be in complete control, so leave her to me."
"Leave her to you," said Dana blankly. "Right, sure."
Spike sighed, closing his eyes. "I think I'll need the armor," he said, his voice dubious. "If I can get it. I'm not sure she's strong enough yet."
Connor laughed quietly, readying himself to attack again. "Then let's do it, eh?"
The leather sheath flowed off Illyria's arms, covering Spike instantly like a second skin. A longer flap became a duster for him, colored the same odd swirl of browns as the leather covering him. Dana stared at him, speechless.
"Serving a God-Queen has its little advantages," said Spike. "Let's go."
He and Connor beat Dana over the ridge, sprinting. They ran silently, trying to hold on to the element of surprise as long as possible.
The first demon to notice them lost his head before he could yell out an alarm, and the tiny army of powerful demons was almost caught off guard. But at the last moment the tiny, grey demon standing over Illyria, one of the senior partners, noticed them, and screamed.
The battle was joined a moment later.
Spike struck out with Illyria's arms, holding them by the shoulders, and her hands grabbed and tore and wrenched at the demons, a flurry of impossible strength. Spike roared, spinning and striking out with his own strength.
As a vampire, he'd never been this strong. So close to Illyria now, her rage fueled his strength, and he was able to match the strongest Fyarls hit for hit and blow for blow as they attacked him.
Other, more dangerous demons charged him, only to be met by Connor and his flashing, whirling sword. At his most powerful, Connor had been one of the most feared creatures on Quor'toth, a place filled with dangerous and fearsome creatures.
He'd lost a little of that edge, but not too much.
He whirled and attacked, slashing and hitting with all the impossible strength his heritage had given him.
Dana had been barely trained in using her powers, but she was a Slayer. She tore through the demons with her bare hands, killing them as fast as they came at her, howling and shrieking.
The senior partner watching this backed away from Illyria slowly, all too aware that this was not going the way it should have gone. He turned to run, only to find Illyria's feet clamped on both sides of his neck.
She wasn't supposed to be able to move, and in his sudden terror he wet his pants, screaming.
With a quick move she snapped his neck, dropping him, then flipped herself upright, letting out a battle cry. The demons froze, giving Spike the opportunity to throw her arms at her.
They attached themselves to her as if they had never been gone, a flash of blue light letting everyone know that the scene had changed, and not for the better. She lashed out immediately, grabbing a robed priest from beside her and swinging him in a circle, sending the others flying, and then threw him at a large demon, letting out a guttural howl of excitement.
By the time Xander and Faith showed up the night was filled with blood and violence, and the ground was strewn with dead demons.
Spike and Connor were fighting back to back, cutting down any demons that approached them. Dana was fighting alone, battling a Fyarl, while Illyria stood on top of the altar, trying to catch her breath.
Faith cut down a demon, noting that several were trying to escape. "You could have just included us on this one, Spike!" she said.
Spike glanced at her. "The worst is yet to come," he said sorrowfully. "You shouldn't be here."
Then Illyria jumped down from the altar, slashing out with one hand. The blow sent Dana flying through the air, a strangled scream barely making it out of her mouth before she slammed into the ground, crashing across the sand.
Faith immediately jumped forward, slamming a fist into Illyria. Illyria barely felt it, and replied with a backhand that knocked Faith down onto the ground.
"They've trapped her well and good," said Spike sadly, shaking his head. "Trapped her in her own body."
Help me!
He didn't even look around to see if the others had heard it. He jumped forward, attacking Illyria, reaching for her throat with one hand. She batted him aside, snarling wordlessly.
Xander had his crossbow at the ready and fired, but she grabbed the bolt out of the air, trying to stab Spike in the chest with it. He whirled and dodged, trying again to grab at her throat.
She slammed the crossbow bolt through his forearm, causing him to howl in pain, then slammed a fist into his face, knocking him backwards through the air. He came down with a crunch and a loud snarl.
Then Connor danced forward, swinging his sword in lazy circles, forcing her back as he moved slowly, carefully, a dangerous look on his face.
"You don't just go around hitting Spike," he said.
She hissed, trying to hit him. He blocked with the sword, dancing to the side, his feet making loud hissing noises as they blurred over the ground.
Dana crawled over to Faith, helping her sit up. "Are you all right?" she asked.
Faith managed to nod, glancing at Xander, who was cautiously circling Illyria and Connor to join them. "Stay back!" she ordered him forcefully.
"I can't!" he whispered, reloading the crossbow. "If I can just get one good shot, that's it!"
"No!" growled Spike, climbing to his feet and staggering towards Xander. "You stop shooting, right now! You might kill her!"
Xander's jaw dropped. "She just half-killed you and you want to keep her alive!"
"She didn't do that. They did." Spike tried to pull the bolt out of his arm, and collapsed to one knee from the pain, letting out another growl. "The blighters," he added, gasping for breath.
He gave it another tug, and this time managed to get it out. He threw the bloody bolt down on the ground between them both. "We can save her!" he spat. "You lot stay out of this. It's none of your concern."
A car flew over the nearest sand-dune, stopping just feet from Spike. He gave a dramatic sigh, hanging his head. "I shoulda guessed," he muttered.
Angel stepped out of the car, staring at Spike. "What are you dressed in?" he demanded.
Spike glanced down at his armor, a mirror of Illyria's armor. "You don't want to know." Then he turned and leapt back into the fray, trying again to grab Illyria. She kicked him off of her, grabbing Connor's sword by the blade and shattering it.
Angel growled, jumping at her. She moved so fast that even his vampire reflexes weren't fast enough, and punched him in the face, sending him staggering backwards.
Then Connor tried to skewer her with what was left of his sword, a foot-long jagged shard, lunging forward quickly. The sword fragment shattered on her armored skin, and she let out a triumphant wordless shout, twirling around and kicking him so hard he flew backwards, smashing into Angel.
Then Spike was up again, blood covering half his face, and he leapt forward, slamming into Illyria, this time managing to get his hands on her.
There was a concussive blast, and everybody was knocked backwards, tumbling and falling to the ground from the violence of the blast.
