Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, except my OC at the end, whose name I have not decided on yet…lol
"Let's go to work," said Angel. A small, insect-like demon flew at him, he gritted his teeth and slashed at it with his sword. It emitted a loud, high-pitched shriek and fell to the cold, wet ground. Angel quickly glanced over to see how his friends were faring. Spike was struggling with a gargantuan cave troll, and Gunn….where was Gunn?
"Gunn!" he yelled. "Gunn?"
"Here, boss." The voice came weakly from somewhere to the left of Angel. "This is…tight…"
At that moment, Angel would have given anything to go to the rescue of his friend, but he knew that to let down his guard would mean instant death.
"Hell," he thought. "We're already dead. We're just still walking and talking."
As he dodged the slashes of a Groxlar beast, he finally caught a glimpse of Illyria. She was a sapphire whirlwind, her face distorted with grief and fury, her movements quick and deadly. Angel turned his attention from her, back to the insurmountable forces he was facing.
"Can we win this?" he whispered.
"Not bloody likely. But we can die trying," remarked a familiar voice. Angel turned to see Spike grinning at him, his leather coat flying as he whirled and hacked at another faceless demon.
"That's the idea," Angel replied, as he went through the motions of a sword pattern he remembered well, with good reason. His mind flashed back in time, watched as the Angel of the past guided Cordelia through those same movements. "She was the only thing that made life worth living," he thought. "And now she's gone, forever."
An unearthly, beautiful sound pierced the agony and madness of the endless battle. The two vampires, and a good many of their demon foes, turned their heads in the direction from which the music was emanating. There they saw Illyria, both beautiful and terrible. Her mouth was open, as she sang a battle song of anguish and hopelessness
Spike's face sobered as he said, "This is our requiem."
Angel glanced at the younger vampire. "We will die because we are weak, because we have lost all hope. We have nothing left, and no-one is coming to save the day."
As if in reply to his words, a shining being appeared above the alley. Angel looked up, and into the eyes of Cordelia Chase. With a quaver in her voice, she said, "My last gift to you…my love." She held out her hand, and as Angel reached out to take it, something exploded and he knew no more.
Angel woke up to see Spike a few centimetres away from his face. His vampire reflexes kicked in, and he punched…hard.
"Bloody hell! That hurt!" yelled Spike.
"A-are you okay, Angel?" came a very familiar voice.
"It can't be her," thought Angel. He steeled his will and forced himself to sit up. There, standing in front of him, was Fred. Still in Illyria's tight leather costume, but unmistakably Fred. He looked around. He was lying on a bed in medical, at Wolfram and Hart.
"How…what…why?" Angel stammered.
"That's exactly what I said," mumbled Gunn, who was sitting on a bed identical to Angel's, a blood-soaked bandage wrapping his midsection. "Yeah, I'm alive. I really was on fire tonight, hey?"
Angel turned his gaze back to Fred…or at least what he thought was Fred. "You're dead," his voice came softly.
"Well…yeah, I was, until the Powers That Be brought me back."
Gunn cleared his throat. "It turns out the good doctor was lying to us all along. Fred's soul wasn't destroyed in Illyria's resurrection, it was simply displaced. When the PTB stepped in, they blew out Illyria, and gave her body back to it's rightful owner."
"The Powers That Be?" Angel said, a note of disbelief in his voice. "What do they have to with any of this?"
"Everything, apparently," Spike replied. "They've been working against the Senior Partners since you and yours made the move to Wolfram and Hart. And tonight, they finally made their move."
"How do you know all this?" Angel asked the group. "Who told you?"
The doors burst open. A tall, autumn-haired woman strode in to the room. Her features were striking, but there was something unnatural about her, about the set of her mouth and the way the fluorescent light put a gleam on her skin. Her clothing added to this image, she wore a flowing white robe akin to that of a Greek goddess. Her strange blue eyes fixed everyone, and forced them to attend to her words.
"That would be me."
Chapter Two should be up soon, providing I have time to write it. Please review, feedback is good!