A/N Set during 'The Trial' Season 2 - goes AU from the point when Angel gets staked. All recognisable BTVS & ATS characters beong to the God that is Joss and Mutant Enemy. Any others are products of my overactive and at the moment overtired imagination. Some of the speech may also be recognised - again not my work of genius but as the saying goes if it ain't broke don't fix it - and I can't improve on what went before!

Angel stared at the stakes. For the first time in almost 280 years he was truly vulnerable. The manacles that held both his wrists and feet in place – splaying him out in the shape of St Andrew's cross, ensuring that no part of his body would escape the unforgiving wood – were really beginning to chafe. Not only did Angel feel vulnerable but he also felt afraid, tired and sore and desperate. Desperate for Darla, desperate to escape the pain and desperate for the bloody butler to say or do something – anything! Tired of the games, he grit his teeth and growled out, "What are you waiting for?"

"For you, sir. I can't proceed without your permission. You've earned a choice. Accept your death so she may live or..."

How the hell could he be so fucking calm? Barely able to suppress his rage – which was rapidly overcoming all other feelings - Angel couldn't contain the "Or what!" that left his mouth. It was perhaps fortuitous that "Jeeves" continued on in his haughty, omnipotent bastard voice (that brought back fond memories of killing sprees at society parties in England) before Angel really got the chance to educate him on the truly colourful paintings that could be made with words. Seriously – lesser men had retched, vomited and even fainted at the images that Angelus' depraved mind could conjure, and no matter what anyone chose to believe Angel knew he was just Angelus with a moral compass that had done an impressive 180. He had to respect the guy (with the pre-requisite side helping of pure, unadulterated odium, of course), he was being thrown some really hell-freezing death glares and they had not so much as registered on his radar.

"Leave. Refuse the challenge and walk away. No one will stop you. Our doors are all open to you. You've done that yourself." 'Was he serious!'

"What about Darla?"
"Oh, she dies."

'Fuck that!' "No deal."

Angel was a champion. He saved lives; he saved fucking souls; he did not leave people to die – especially not those he loved. Darla may have made him a monster, she may have killed thousands of people, abandoned him when he really needed her but she had been a huge part of his unlife, a defining factor… as much as Buffy, his father, Cordy, Wes or Gunn could claim to be. She needed him and he wasn't leaving her. She'd died, paid her debt. She was now human and deserved a chance. The Powers could screw with his life, he deserved that, expected it but he drew the line when it came to messing with his family.

"I expected as much. A pity. I'm beginning to like you." 'Doth mine ears deceive me or was that sincerity?'

"Spare me." 'I know you won't, and really I don't think that I want you to. There is a weird kinda justice in the fact that I can give back to Darla the life she gave me. Like coming home, full circle. Although we have come a long way from a dirty alley in Galway.'

"I'd very much like to." 'He steps closer. He's thinking about something. You can tell because he moved, broke the stoic automaton impersonation that he had been so successfully pulling off. God, people think that I have limited expressions!' "Do you mind if I ask you a question?" 'Can I call it?'

"Isn't the world a better place with you in it? You can save so many people. It seems - she can barely save herself."

'It's what I do – "Help the hopeless" – no matter what.' Angel didn't answer. He sensed that Jeeves isn't really asking Angel about his motives but more trying to comprehend what he must view a pointless sacrifice. He may look human but he quite clearly isn't. If he was Angel doubts that he would need an explaination - he would settle on love and wouldn't be far wrong.

"You know better than anyone the world can be a very bad place. Take yourself out, put her in - how long will it be before she stumbles, before she falls?"
"I don't know." 'But it doesn't matter.'
"No - you don't. Are you still ready to give her life when she can promise you - nothing?"

'Of course I am. If the Powers can trust me - the worst vampire to ever walk the Earth - with the responsibilty and honour of being a Champion, then I could trust Darla to give her life a go.'

Angel looked him straight in the eye, he needed that connection. This strange unaffected creature was going to be the last thing he saw. In almost three centuries of passion and no other word could possibly describe his existence, the last thing that he would see would be a totally detached figure. Liam, Angelus, Angel – all creatures that shared one thing (despite their appearance) passion. Loving, killing, fucking, fighting, existing… all done with passion. Even at his lowest moment when the guilt threatened to overwhelm him, he still had passion. Especially when it was aimed at hating himself. He'd never thought about how he was going to die but he always assumed that there would be passion – even if it was only from the thing that killed him. Locking gazes with Jeeves he gives the only answer his heart, mind and soul would allow…

"Yes."

The answer was cold and clinical, just as he'd expected. "As you wish."

'Wishing has very little to do with it. What I wish for I will never get. Bye guys…'

"Do it."

'…Take care…'