Hey! Yeah sorry, I'm back. I know I haven't updated in a little while but I had exams and writer's block and homework and crappy stuff like that so please bear with me. For those of you who are still reading this (if you ever started in the first place) this chapter is longer than the one before and contains fights scenes, evil people, stabbing, swearing, teabags, the usual.

To all my lovely reviewers out there, I love you all! I'm still kinda shocked that people are reviewing but it's a real help to know you guys are out there.

Insane Troll Logic: Thanks for sticking around to read this drivel. She is a little weird isn't she? I'm really enjoying making all of my OCs evil or insane, it's fun! Yeah I'm sad I know. Doyle really isn't going to enjoy this fic and Oz isn't going to have such an easy time either.

ka-mia2286: Yay a new reviewer! Yeah, I love 'em too. In my opinion there are nowhere near enough fics with Oz and Doyle in them. Both of them got chucked before the shows had finished, I mean what the hell was that about?

jewel21: Hello again. I've never been on a hit list myself (that I know of… officially) so I wouldn't know but you're probably right. I enjoyed writing that little bit with Angel and Giles, I could just see the two of them bickering. I know the ending was evil, I'm sorry! Well… no I'm not but don't worry, all shall be revealed! I think…

Angelscribe: Thank you for reviewing! (God I sound like an answer phone message don't I?) Glad you liked Mishka, she will be appearing later on as will a few more… dubious characters.

ManniElf18: Mwahahaha! I am evil! I try my best anyway. I had to put Oz in, the poor wolfie's neglected.

Carol J: Ah, you read my mind. I couldn't resist. I was wondering if my OCs were going to be a little boring so thanks for the reassurance. And don't fret, nasty deaths seem to be my specialty at the moment.

R&R people! The more reviews I get, the faster I update.

EvilAlterEgo: You said you weren't going to use bribery.

I lied.

EAE: I'm proud of you.

Aww, really?

EAE: Just write the damn chapter.

"It's creepy."

Angel rolled his eyes and climbed out of the black convertible, glancing around cautiously. Cordelia's comment, though perhaps a little less refined, hit the mark pretty much dead center in his opinion.

Sacarven's hideout was a mouldering old warehouse with bits of the roof missing and almost all the lower windows smashed in, glass littering the ground. Weeds poked up in between the cracked concrete and the one streetlight that was not broken flickered every now and then. Long shadows lay in every corner and even Angel's heightened night vision had some trouble piercing the gloom. Oz stepped up beside him, his crossbow at his side. Angel narrowed dark eyes as he surveyed the building.

"I can't tell if anything's in there. You?"

Oz took another step forwards, looking up into the empty black windows.

"There's something in there."

Angel moved closer as well.

"What is it?"

The werewolf turned his head this way and that, searching.

"Okay, this could just be the concussion talking, but it smells like our friend from earlier."

Angel shot him a look.

"You mean the guy who smashed your head in, knocked Cordy out and kidnapped Doyle?"

"Sounds 'bout right."

Angel's smile revealed canines that seemed a little longer than was natural.

"Good."

Angel began to pick his way through the debris, burning eyes fixed on the building.

"I've got a few favours to repay."

There was a loud crashing sound and a screech. Angel winced.

"Hey, Cordy, no offence, but maybe you should stay out here."

She hopped over, clutching her ankle.

"Not a chance! If that creepy weirdo who took Doyle is in there I'm going to go in and strangle him myself!"

"Cordy, keep your voice down!" Angel hissed, glancing up at the building.

"Don't worry," came Oz's flat voice, "he knows we're here."

"What?"

"He's laughing at us."

Oz sniffed the air.

"And feeling smug. It's kinda annoying actually."

Cordelia looked up at the building with a little more apprehension than before. Angel sighed again.

"Okay, let's just go shall we? Cordy, stay behind me."

She nodded, fists clenched resolutely. Angel squared his shoulders and strode past Oz who fell in behind him and Cordelia, protecting their backs. The vampire walked cautiously inside.

"At last. I was wondering how long it would take you to actually get in here."

The drawling British voice echoed off the corrugated steel walls, giving the sound a sinister ring. Angel tried not to think of how much that voice reminded him of a certain infuriating blond vampire. His eyes zeroed in on the lone figure standing right in the middle of the wide empty space, arms folded, a smile playing around his dark features. Angel growled low in his throat.

"Who the hell are you? And what did you do to Doyle?"

The man smiled pleasantly at the angry vampire.

"Ah yes, you must be Angel. Noble vampire seeking redemption."

He chuckled, shaking his head, as though genuinely the idea genuinely amused him. Angel's expression darkened.

"Answer my question."

"Do I get a please?"

Angel snarled, eyes turning a vivid yellow.

"I'll take that as a no shall I?"

Oz stepped forward, knowing that Angel was very close to snapping. He had to admire the vampire for keeping calm this long.

"Let's even the score here. You obviously know who we are. Who are you?"

The man seemed to consider the werewolf for a moment.

"I have to admit, I'm surprised that you managed to find this place. I have doubts as to what you would remember. But then, werewolves do have admirable rates of recovery. Still, I had thought that the three of you might have been a little too dense to figure out where to come. It's nice to know I'm not dealing with complete imbeciles."

Angel, with a great amount of effort, managed to keep his temper in check. Cordelia spluttered indignantly but kept her mouth shut, knowing that this man was their only chance of finding Doyle. Oz didn't move but kept staring coolly at the man. After a short silence, the stranger laughed.

"Not in the mood for a scrap then? Interesting. Most of my former acquaintances would have tried to throttle me by now. Nice to know that we can be civil. My name is Kaeden, a pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure's all yours," replied Angel coldly, "where's Doyle?"

Kaeden smiled slowly, an unsettling expression that immediately put Angel on his guard.

"Well… that depends on you. I have a proposition for you, if you're interested of course."

Angel's eyes narrowed.

"Depends on whatever the hell you're talking about."

Kaeden's smile faded a little and his expression became serious.

"If you want to find your friend, I can help you, but in return, you must do something for me."

He glanced around, eyes searching the shadows.

"We don't have much time here. Sacarven will be back soon and he is not the sort who appreciates people encroaching on his territory. Especially werewolves."

He met Angel's burning eyes steadily.

"I just need you to listen. I am descendant of an ancient band of warlocks that roamed the earth along with the demons of old. There aren't many of us left in this world now but a few have joined together to form a reasonably strong group. One member of the original cult has survived the ages and took command.

However," the warlock's tone was far from respectful, "our great leader is far from capable of restoring our "former glory" as he insists is his goal. He is hell bent on revenge and his second in command," he scowled, "Mr. Prarl, is all too happy to help him."

Angel frowned, "But why do you need us?"

"Simple. I need you to free your friend."

Cordelia, who had been remarkably restrained for the duration of the talk, burst in impatiently.

"If you need us to free him then why did you capture him in the first place?! You couldn't have just left us alone?"

Kaeden shot her a withering glare.

"If it were that easy do you not think I would have considered that?"

"You didn't want them to suspect you," said Angel slowly, eyes searching the warlock's face. Kaeden returned the stare evenly, "I couldn't afford them to know it's me who's the traitor."

Cordelia frowned, puzzled.

"Why not? If you're going to betray them, you may as well do it to their faces."

Kaeden shook his head impatiently, glancing around again. "We don't have time to discuss this. Do you want to know where your friend is or not?"

"How do we know this isn't a trap?" asked Angel suspiciously.

"You don't," came the curt reply, "but are you really willing to risk your friend's life to find out?"

"Why should we trust you?" the vampire persisted, "How do we know you haven't killed Doyle already?"

The warlock sighed wearily, "One, if I wanted to kill you I would have done so just after you left your house. Two, if the ritual had already taken place you wouldn't be around to worry if your friend was alive or not."

Angel forehead creased in confusion and Cordelia's eyes grew even wider with anxiety.

"What ritual?"

Doyle gasped as the cold steel pierced the flesh directly over his heart, felt it break through the skin on his back, too numb with shock to cry out. He could feel the metal lodged in his heart, sending pulses of pain through his entire being. Images of his mother, his father, Angel, Mishka, scenes of fights, Cordelia laughing at him all flashed through his mind, bright as one of his visions only clearer, more vibrant.

Slowly, slowly the pain faded as chill fingers began to creep through him, wrapping around his soul. Dark shadows clouded his eyes and his breath sounded unnaturally loud in his own ears as all other sounds merged into a distant murmur, echoing in some far off recess of his memory. He was floating, drifting in a strange, empty mist. No, not empty.

Crowded.

Everywhere he looked there were shades, souls, whatever they were called in this place. He didn't know how he knew, he just knew. Looking through the haze, he fancied he saw faces, young and old, human and those completely bizarre to his mind. They seemed to be moving in one great current, swirling through the space towards some final, far off destination. Except that there was no space.

Shades that seemed within a breath's distance at one moment suddenly became as far as the farthest unseen star. Doyle made to move his arms, trying to make some headway against this endless fog, maybe to touch one of the strange spectres around him, only to feel nothing at all. He could see all around, as though his eyeballs had been taken from their sockets and were hovering free in the air, taking in everything. He saw in a way he had never seen before, all views at once. And he saw nothing.

A thought crossed his consciousness.

So this is my soul.

He was down to the very spark that was his existence, the part of him that knew he lived and breathed, the part of him that held all of his thoughts, dreams, passions… everything that made him what he was. Human.

Or weird part-demon with a rather complex family agenda, whatever.

Suddenly, he felt a disturbance in the air around, him. The spirits seemed frightened and unsettled. He felt a wave of cold dread as he became aware of a dark presence hurtling towards him. Something smothered him, wrapping around him, choking him. He tried to fight it off but had no way to struggle even if he had known what 'it' was. He could feel it moving around him, some kind of malignant being. Then, the thing, just as quickly as it had come, disappeared. Doyle felt something pulling him upward at a great speed, his stomach lurching, senses spinning.

His eyes snapped open and he let out a ragged gasp, the shaking of his limbs rattling the metal links around his wrists. Freezing sweat beaded his face and he was colder than ever, teeth chattering madly. Head hanging, he could see, even with his blurred vision, the hilt of the knife sticking out of his chest, jerking slightly in time with his heartbeat. He felt sick.

Slowly, inexorably the knife began to withdraw, slipping smoothly out of his flesh with a horrible grating fleshy noise like a bread knife cutting through raw chicken fillets. There was no blood on the glittering black blade. As the point left his skin his confused sense found that there was no wound, no indication that about ten inches of God-knows-what had just been stuck into his heart. There was a resounding metallic 'clang' as the knife hit the stone floor, the harsh noise echoing off the walls.

There was silence.

Then there was a slightly longer silence.

"The ritual is begun."

Zariel smiled widely, haunting blank eyes crinkled in satisfaction. The man behind him stepped forward and knelt solemnly to retrieve the knife, handling the blade as though it was made of glass. Standing slowly, he turned to Zariel, bowing reverently and presenting the blade to the old man.

"By your craft my Lord, we have hope anew."

The elderly man smiled and placed a withered hand briefly on the man's shoulder.

"Rise, Prarl, Faithful one. Your many commendable deeds have helped bring this momentous occasion to be. You will be highly honoured once our glory is restored to us and our revenge is complete. Go now, fetch Kaeden. We will need him for the spellcasting.

The muddy eyes darkened in hatred at the warlock's name. Doyle's head had cleared a little and he remembered that Kaeden was the name of Mishka's brother. Judging by the expression on Prarl's face, Doyle thought that this Kaeden bloke couldn't be all bad.

"But sir…"

A quiet voice cut through Prarl's impending protest.

"My Lord."

Both men looked up at a shadow in the corner that was darker than the surrounding gloom. Doyle was starting to shiver less violently now and so was able to hear the conversation with a little more clarity. Not that what he had heard so far was exactly comforting. The shadow took two soundless steps forward and bowed respectfully to Zariel, seemingly ignoring the other man. Taking other step forward, the newcomer's face was visible in the dim light.

One half of the man's face was covered in a pitch black tattoo of what seemed to be a giant, hissing serpent. Its head, mouth wide and fangs bared, rested on the left side of his forehead, its coils extending down the side of his face and wrapping around his neck. There was a flaw in the mark. Three long scars were traced across his face, one starting above his left eye and the others scoring his cheek. They looked oddly like claw marks. A chunk of his nose seemed to be missing.

He wore a heavy black trench coat and his hands were encased in black leather fighting gloves. The knuckles were studded with curved silver spikes. A large silver medallion hung around his neck, shaped like a strangely ornate cross. His hair was short, a dirty blond in colour. He had eyes of an unnaturally pale blue, the pupil standing out starkly in the middle of them. Zariel nodded to him.

"Sacarven."

"The ritual," explained Kaeden impatiently, "is the spell that Zariel is planning to cast to 'restore our former glory'." Angel still stood defensively, he was far from trusting this man but they seemed to have reached some kind of truce.

"What's so dire about it?"

The warlock snorted derisively, "What's dire about it is that it will destroy this dimension! Zariel and his precious Mr. Prarl, for all their gall and cunning, don't have the competence to perform such an awesome spell and be able to control the effects. I have warned them countless times but they ignored me, reprimanding me for defiance. They… " he paused, looking down briefly, "took… steps to ensure that I could not interfere with their plans. There is a counterspell but it must be intoned just before the spell is actually cast to have any effect. The spell caster also has to be present at the ritual itself. If not, the counter will not be potent enough."

"Why do you need us then?" Cordelia asked as though she were a teacher talking to a student who was getting something wrong despite having the answer right in front of his nose, "You seem like a powerful enough guy. Go blow them up."

Kaeden sighed wearily, "I've already explained this. If I could do I would but I can't." Angel folded his arms, curious despite himself, "Why not?"

To one side, Oz could see the muscles in the warlock's jaw twitch. "If it will satisfy your ravening curiosity I will say… they have something very precious of mine, and I cannot guarantee its safety if I make my move too soon and without backup. So," he smiled pleasantly again, "we both have something to gain, nothing to lose and nothing better to do with our time. Do we have an agreement?"

"One more thing first," said Angel, taking a step forward, "what's the counterspell?"

The warlock smirked and reached inside his black coat. Angel stiffened, eyes alert for any tricks on the warlock's part. Kaeden paused, smiling condescendingly at the vampire.

"Angel, if I wanted to attack you I could blow your head off from over here, don't fret." His hand withdrew from the folds of the black material, a grubby piece of paper clasped in pale fingers. "I have it here. Apologies for the handwriting, one doesn't tend to pay much attention to presentation when torturing words out of a Mortakan demon with a box of tooth picks and a cigarette lighter."

"A pity then, that you'll never be able to use it."

All of their heads turned to the entrance. Kaeden's eyes melted into black pits and he shoved the piece of paper back in his pocket. Two men stood there, one Angel noted appeared to be a warlock as well, he stank of black magic. The other had no magic but looked menacing all the same. noticeably pale eyes, medium build, dark blond hair, snake tattoo, black leather, big on the silver jewellery, claw marks on his face.

The vampire's eyes flicked briefly to Oz who was standing in front of Cordy, scrutinising the intruders, eyes narrowed. The one that looked like a descendant of some sort of mudfish stepped forwards, his features twisted in malicious glee.

"Now I have proof to give Zariel. You are nothing but a worthless traitor!"

"Give the man a medal!" responded Kaeden sardonically, matching the slimy warlock's stare, "I was wondering how long it would take your inherently clotted nervous cells to figure it out. Mind you I suppose I have to cut you some slack. Having the all the investigative skills of a teabag is never easy. Not that it actually matters as I fully intend to kill you now." Prarl smirked, eyes blackening as a dark aura began to form around him. "Likewise."

"Well… seems I get something out of this after all." The other man accompanying Prarl spoke at last. His voice was soft and mellow and his bearing quite relaxed but his eyes told another story. The pale, luminescent orbs were fixed intently on Oz who matched the look with his own cool stare.

"Daniel Osbourne isn't it? Sunnydale."

Oz flicked a look at Angel as the vampire shifted restlessly. Angel clenched his teeth but stood still, Cordelia looked around them nervously from her position. Oz fought to keep his own voice indifferent.

"Sacarven right?"

The wolf hunter smiled coldly. "I'm flattered, a celebrity knows my name. Everyone's after you, ever since Cain missed you a few weeks back, being protected by a slayer and all. Not bad for a young one like you, the older ones are generally the annoying ones. They sneak around like the rats they are." Though his voice was flat, his eyes were burning cold fury and hate at the werewolf that had dared to encroach on his territory.

Oz narrowed his eyes. "If we're rats then how'd you manage to get half your face shredded? Murdering ten year olds?" The hunter's jaw clenched, eyes narrowing to slits.

"You have no idea how much I am going to enjoy killing you, whelp."

Prarl interrupted the hunter's next murderous statement. "I'm surprised at you Kaeden, failing in your duties. You should keep in mind, we have Mishakara under our roof. Still a pretty little thing, even if she is insane." He smirked foully at the fuming warlock. Kaeden closed his eyes for a moment.

"You know, for someone who only gives a shit about himself, your lack of self preservation astounds me." Prarl's grin widened.

"Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?"

Kaeden rubbed his forehead wearily, "You Americans and your catchphrases."

Kaeden lashed out, a bolt of dark energy screaming from his fingers, hitting Prarl and sending him back into the wall. The slimy warlock struggled upright and cast a shield around himself, causing Kaeden's next blast to rebound straight back at him, throwing him to the floor. Prarl grinned, leaping forward to finish the job when he was hit from behind. Angel tackled him to the floor, smashing his nose against the concrete with a satisfying crunching sound. Prarl growled and flipped over, heaving the vamp over so Angel was pinned to the floor. Oz aimed the crossbow at the warlock's heart and was about to pull the trigger when something grabbed him around the neck from behind.

"Gotcha."

Sacarven threw the young wolf to the floor, kicking the crossbow out of reach. Oz scrambled up, disoriented from the bruises that were causing his vision to fog. Sacarven smirked and lunged again, Oz barely twisting out of the way in time. Turning with incredible agility, the blond hunter swung his fist round, burying the silver spikes on his knuckles deep into the wolf's shoulder. Oz felt a terrible burning sensation and let out a strangled cry, pulling back before the hunter could get his neck. The blood on the hunter's silver claws was smoking and turning black as Sacarven smiled, bloodlust shining in his eyes.

Cordelia meanwhile snatched up the crossbow and aimed it at Prarl who was standing over a very battered looking Angel. Fumbling with the sight, she managed to load and shoot. The bolt narrowly missed the vampire as it buried itself in Prarl's leg. The warlock shouted in surprised and pain, gaping at the arrow. Kaeden was sitting up, a hand to his head. Seeing the arrow lodged in Prarl's shin, he sniggered dazedly.

"Oh… thatsh just bloody prishless Prarl. Shot… by a girl."

Cordelia's head snapped around.

"Hey! I'm not the one sitting on my ass talking like a drunk with a speech impediment!"

Angel wasted no time but flipped to his feet, landing a devastating blow to the warlock's jaw on the way up. Prarl fell back again wiping blood from his nose and spitting out a broken tooth.

"You'll pay for that vampire!"

"You know if I had a dollar for the number of times people said that I could take Cordelia shopping."

Oz was not having such a good time. Sacarven was fast and agile, cornering the wolf, cutting off his escape. He smiled lazily, pulling a long silver dagger from his belt, holding it upside down, the tip between thumb and forefinger. Straw coloured hair cast a shadow over his face, pale eyes seeming to glow.

"Catch."

Oz ducked, the knife cutting a shallow red line across his upper arm as it flashed past him, burying itself deep into the wall. The hunter wasted no time. As Oz struggled to regain his balance, Sacarven shot forward jabbing him swiftly in the ribs and again in the solar plexus, kicking the wolf's feet out from under him. Oz fell awkwardly, twisting his ankle and landing hard on his side, gasping for breath. Sacarven kicked him savagely in the chest, the wolf curling up in pain, clutching his ribs.

Angel smashed another brutal fist into Prarl's face, aiming a kick at his knee. The warlock was a mess, blood all over his face and running into his eyes. He lifted a hand and choked out a strange word. Angel froze in midswing. His joints felt like they were encased in concrete and no matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't get free. Prarl dragged a grimy sleeve across his face to get the blood out of is eyes, grinning mockingly at the stationary vampire.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

The smirk was abruptly wiped off his face by a bolt of dark energy that sent him sprawling, courtesy of the now recovered Kaeden.

"If the cat had his tongue it means he wouldn't be talking. If you're going to use pathetic clichés at least use the right ones for Pete's sake!" A sweep of his hand lifted Prarl off the ground and slammed him headfirst into a stack of metal scaffolding poles. He made a quick gesture with his hand and Angel fell forwards, catching himself on hands and knees.

"I'd go and help your wolf friend if I were you."

Sacarven kicked Oz onto his back and planted a heavy boot firmly on his chest, smirking cruelly as the wolf gasped, clearly unable to breathe. He stamped down harder and Oz felt something crack, pain lancing through his chest. With no energy left to cry out he watched through half closed eyes as the hunter knelt beside him, drawing a long silver knife from his belt. Oz took a shaky breath and made a faint murmuring sound, coughing fitfully, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. The hunter leaned closer.

"What was that?"

"Head… aches… catching…"

Sacarven frowned in confusion.

"Wha – "

Angel's foot connected with his head with about enough force to shatter bullet proof glass. He flew backwards and slid down the wall, blood running down his temple, eyes closed. Angel looked around, Prarl was still lying amongst the scaffolding, repelling discs of green light that Kaeden was throwing at him. Kaeden himself looked like he was having the time of his life. Cordelia was still holding the crossbow, attempting to load a bolt backwards. He focused his attention on the injured werewolf who was struggling to sit up, coughing painfully.

"You okay?" he asked putting a hand on Oz's uninjured shoulder. Oz, not thinking that talking was a very good idea right now, nodded, spitting blood to one side.

"Okay. Can you stand?"

The wolf nodded again, grimacing as he stood gingerly, Angel supporting him. Cordelia it seemed had finally worked out how to load the crossbow and was aiming it, somewhat shakily, at Prarl who was locked in a staring match with Kaeden, both of them sharing a brief respite.

The slimy warlock spotted the unconscious Sacarven and the fact that he had no allies slowly sank into his brain. He began to back away carefully, a threatening finger pointed at Kaeden.

"Mark my words traitor, Zariel will hear of this!"

An expression of acute concern and intense fear completely failed to cross Kaeden's face.

"I'm being threatened by an invalid and a teabag. I'm petrified."

Prarl flicked his wrist, dragging Sacarven over the dusty floor to him. A web of dark strands lashed up around the pair. Prarl smiled foully at the small group, eyes mocking.

"So this is what we stand against? A band of misbegotten fools attempting to rescue a worthless seer and a little girl."

He smirked at the other warlock again, flat eyes gleaming.

"Your sister will be so upset when she hears you have deserted her… someone will have to comfort her."

The two vanished in a crack of black light leaving a ringing silence in their wake. Kaeden's fists were clenched, his eyes tightly closed. Seconds stretched and the eerie silence took hold. It was not until a minute or so later that the chilling calm was disturbed, by one particular ensouled vampire who spoke two decisive words.

"We're in."

If you want me to write more then R&R. If you want me to go throw myself out of a window somewhere then R&R anyway.