Part Eleven

An dreams, and even within the dream there is a part of her which knows that none of this can be real. She is swift to shove it away into a corner and ignore it, because it ahs been so very long since she has seen his face.

"The power never lies within the weapon itself, An. It lies with the one who wields it. No matter how beautiful, the weapon itself can never become more than a thing."

An knows that she is dreaming. Dead men do not speak.

Jonathan sits cross-legged apart from her, watching with fond tolerance as An mimics his stance right down to the peculiar way that has of tilting his chin down. This is a lesson that she learned long ago and they both know it. The recitation, the repetition, is only for the sake of internalizing this lesson until she manages to turn cognition into unfettered instinct. 'When you are in a fight for your life, as you are sure to be at some point, you will not have time to think,' is another one of Jonathan's favorites, repeated almost as often as the mantra about weapons. 'You will not even have time to breathe. It must come to you as naturally as the beating of your own heart.' This last part is usually accompanied by a swift touch of his fingers to the pulse point of whichever student he happens to be talking to at the time.

Jonathan is holding a knife in his hands as he speaks, twirling it idly so that it catches the sun in motes of gold along its blade and throws them back to flash in An's eyes. She pushes her sunglasses more firmly upon her face. The knife is not a sword. Not even close.

The small part of An not wholly caught up in the dream began to fret, though she could not say why. She could not remember having ever used a sword in her life, why was she thinking of one now, why was it bothering her so much?

The blade is scarcely larger than a pocketknife, yet in Jonathan's hands it seems to gain a lazy, careless kind of power. An cannot pull her eyes away from it. "I won't be here forever," Jonathan says softly, his voice low and sad and sounding as if it is coming from a place very far away. An does not think that he is watching the blade with even one-tenth of the attention that An is applying towards it. "And when that day comes, the three of you must be ready. You must be able to stand as both the weapon and wielder, and you must know your lessons true. There will be no time for thinking any longer."

"What if we only know how to be one of those things?" An hears herself whisper. A part of herself begins to scream and thrash. This is not the way that the conversation is supposed to go, she does not like it at all, the whole business can halt right here because she wants to get off the bus. "What if we only know how to be the weapons?"

Jonathan stares at her for a very long while, his eyes dark and grave. "Then God help us all." The blade twists in his hands, coming alive like a dog turning on its master, and dives for his throat. An does not scream, does not move or even blink, as the knife opens up a gruesome second smile in the white flesh of Jonathan's throat. The blood that lands across An's face is hot enough to scald, and even after Jonathan should have long since toppled over into death he remains awake and upright, staring at her.

An's eyes flash open in the apartment's artificial gloom, wide and tracking nothing in her first panic-slicked moments of wakefulness. She wiped her hands across her burning face and sucked air that felt like ice down into her lungs. Her entire body was impossibly hot, as if the dream had been poison that she was now having to turn herself into a furnace to burn off. Still tangled up in her own mind, An did not notice at first the pale eyes that stared at her from a few feet away, and for several seconds after even that she thought that they belonged to Alexei and Fideo. When she finally did notice that the body possessed a lithe and chill beauty rather than the awkward adolescence that she expected from the boys, it was all that An could do not to leap backwards. 'You're turning out to be a great weapon here, girl.' The thought should have appalled her, but An found herself being wrapped instead in an icy sort of calm that soothed away the fever of the dream. She lifted her chin and tried to match Illyria in her aristocratic blankness. The tilting of Illyria's head and the faint smirk that crossed her face said that the effort was not going unnoticed.

"You are different from them," Illyria said at long last, tilting her head back to the other side. "Stranger." An got the impression of a cat sitting on a windowsill and letting her know without moving a muscle that An was no more than a mouse.

An's moth had gone dry when she registered that it had been Illyria who was sitting across from her and watching her sleep. She licked at her lips, looking around fro Alexei and Fideo and finding them nowhere. She felt very small and very alone without the boys to flank her and make her part of Three. "Yeah, about that. I don't know if you realize this, but there are a lot of people in this room who could be poster children for Ripley's Believe It Or Not."

Illyria's smile was faint and indulgent. An did not like the way that it sat on her face. It made her feel like a pet being cosseted and fussed over and, just this once, Illyria was not going to rip her throat out. Illyria leaned forward from the eerie, frog-like crouch in which she had been resting. An refused to lean back until she could feel Illyria's breath ghosting across her cheek. "Were I still in power, creatures such as yourself were left to the mercies of the hordes before your treasons were ever allowed to reach adulthood."

"That's not a very good argument for returning you there, Babe." An had never been so glad in her life to see Spike. "Or to let you run a daycare center, for that matter."

Illyria cocked her hand back to bring Spike back into her line of sight and rose to her feet without a sound, in spite of the fact that human knees would have made cracking sounds like guns going off after being frozen in one position for that long. Spike placed his hand in the small of her back and guided her a few feet away from An, who found it much easier to breathe in her absence. Illyria neither pulled away from the contact nor, as An had been expecting, pulled Spike's arm off and beat him over the head with it. "Didn't hear you coming in. How did you find us?"

"There is a beacon attached to this place. To its occupants," Illyria said, looking from An to Lindsey, who was gathering weaponry on the far side of the room. Lindsey's face was set and grim, wearing a deep line like a pencil slash between his eyes, and An would have given almost anything to be close enough to read what he was thinking.

Angel was gathering weaponry with Lindsey and listening to Illyria with half of his attention. He lifted his head at Illyria's final words, so that he and Spike locked eyes for a moment. "Yeah," Spike sighed, turning back to Illyria. "We were afraid of that."

Illyria's lip curled. "You are worried about hybrids," she snapped. The defensive tone put a faint smile onto Spike's face which An did not think was the wisest move to make. "Do not place me within their class."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Babe," Spike said in a low voice.

Illyria blinked and seemed for a moment to pull back into herself in defense, but beyond that her expression did not change. "They hear only a faint chime." Illyria looked around the room and sniffed. "I hear a cacophony. It will take them hours to find this place."

"Good news for us," Spike said. He looked Illyria up and down. "Call me crazy if you want, love, but my guess is that you didn't track us down because you've grown accustomed to my face."

Illyria paused for so long that An was reminded of a computer with some vital parts of its programming erased before she said, "I liked your world better as it was before. Your kind is cluttered and scuttling and weak, yet you still manage to impose order. Chaos is not nearly so pleasing to me when I am forced to view it from the common mob."

"We didn't decide to lend a hand until just this morning," Angel said, coming up behind Spike's shoulder. Lindsey trailed back by only a few paces, his face no less inscrutable up close than it had been at a distance. He had reclaimed his sword, An noticed, and held it like an extension of his body.

Illyria scarcely bothered to glance in Angel's direction. "It was a foregone conclusion that you would, eventually."

Spike's smile broadened into an outright grin. "Turning into quite the judge of character, aren't you?" He didn't wait for Illyria's scowl to dissipate before he threw his arm out in the direction of the weaponry. "Pick your poison, Babe. We're going all-out tonight, so don't feel like you have to shop stingy on our account."

"I do not require a weapon. I am one." But Illyria drifted a few steps closer to the swords all the same, one beautiful, dangerous object automatically being drawn towards another. An was not sure how much of this was influenced by the hand that Spike still had placed in the small of Illyria's back.

"Royalty likes shiny things, right? Choose one just for the hell of it."

Angel waited until Spike had guided Illyria to the other side of the room before he turned back towards An. "You heard the scary lady. There's a tag on this building. It's dark and these people have nowhere to go, so we need to get this done before they get caught in the crossfire." Angel dipped his head in the direction of the dozen or so bystanders that they had brought with them from Angel's building. Right. An had almost forgotten about them. Even after Angel pointed them out it was a struggle to make them register for more than a few seconds' time. She had managed several hours worth of sleep, but An still felt sludgy and exhausted, her thoughts eager to slide away from her at the first available opportunity.

She nodded and fumbled around for her sunglasses so that she could buy herself a few seconds of time. With the cool weight of plastic resting against her nose, An felt more like the real deal as she lifted her head to meet Angel's gaze and less like the little girl stomping around in Mommy's shoes. Champions. Well, An thought, maybe that was begging a little too hard for fate to slap her in the mouth. She downgraded it swiftly to Championettes. Champions-in-training. She would ask Alexei and Fideo what they thought, once she found out where they were.

An glanced towards Lindsey, standing inches beyond Angel's shoulder and cast in shades of gray and shadow by the swinging of the room's single light. She did not like one bit the scrutinizing look that he was throwing her at intervals. An's eyes moved swiftly towards Phillip and Janice, but the movement was obscured by the beetle-black lenses of her glasses and, anyway, Lindsey could not know. No one who had not known the pair before could know. An had done her work well. She could almost tell herself that she did not mind it. It wasn't as if Lindsey could claim lily-whiteness, anyhow; just let him try to match her sin for sin.

"Of course. You should have woken me sooner." An ran her fingers through her hair to work the tangles out and wished that she had had the foresight to bring an elastic with her. There was nothing worse than hair getting into your eyes and then staying there because your face was covered with blood and sweat. An was under no illusions that tonight was going to be a social party.

Angel's lips twisted into a faint smile. "You needed your sleep. That portal is guarded by a lot more than only demons."

He still resented her. An did her best to shove down the stirrings of teenaged petulance that made her want to poke out her lower lip and worse, the faint ache that still trembled in her temples and said that Angel was right. Let him be resentful of her; he had a right to it. An did not believe that she would have done anything differently if she were in Angel's position of thinking that he had escaped to become the wielder only to discover that he had remained the Powers' sword all along.

An liked that thought. It made her feel older than she was and wiser than she ought to be as she pushed herself up to her feet. "We'll be able to handle it," she said. "Where are Alexei and Fideo?"

The apartment door opened on cue and her boys slid in, each of them carrying a weapon in their hands. They were both panting, and Fideo had a long scratch on his cheek from which blood oozed. An's heart jumped before she was able to force it back into its old rhythm.

"Sun's gone down," Alexei said. Beneath the glasses, An could see that his eyes were gleaming.

Angel nodded and mimicked Spike's earlier gesture by showing An where the weapons were stacked against the far wall. "Take your pick."

"I don't know how to use one of these," An said. She looked towards Lindsey, but he had already moved across the room and was speaking to Alicia in a low voice. Katie hovered a few feet away from them, picking at the hem of her shirt and looking as if she had not managed to sleep at all over the course of the entire day. An's heart twinged for a moment as she turned back to Angel. Creepy or not, this was a hellish situation for a child. "Except for which end is the dangerous one."

Angel's lips curved, or maybe An's glasses were putting too much strain on her eyes in the dim light. "Once you have that down, all the rest is really just embellishment." He turned his head and called for the rest of them. Alexei and Fideo were all but bouncing on the tips of their toes in excitement, though after the last fight they had to know that there was no reset button that could be hit to make everything better again when the battle was done. Illyria trailed along more slowly, almost indolently, and An saw that she still had not taken up a weapon. Lindsey was the last one to arrive, parting from his conversation with Alicia with a great visible reluctance. An tried to catch his eye, but Lindsey was interested in Angel alone, staring at him with an intensity that made An feel as if she was intruding upon something private and ought to look away.

An told herself that it was only pragmatic concern, not paranoia or even guilt, that made her want to sidle close to Lindsey so that she could touch him and see what was going on behind those big blue eyes. She gave into the impulse and ignored the startled, wary look which Lindsey threw over her as she drew close. "I'm sorry."

"For this?" Lindsey shook his head and snorted. "Don't be. Angel would be talking himself into the hero gig even if you hadn't come along to give him a nudge in that direction. It's kind of what he does." Lindsey's tone was a little wistful, a little regretful and-oh. An was not touching him, she did not know why she should be able to read this, unless the strength with which he was broadcasting was so great that even a normal person would have been able to feel something prickling along their skin.

"No, not that," An said, struggling to keep her voice level and avoid looking around at the boys to see if they were also receiving this new cacophony. "What I tried to do back in the apartment, that was out of line. I 'm not usually like that. We were taught to never use our powers in the interest of petty power, and I guess for a moment I forgot that. It won't happen again."

For a moment Lindsey appeared startled, before he parted his lips into a smile. "It's already been forgotten about, kiddo."

He was a good liar, but that was okay. An knew for a fact that she was so much better. She reached for Alexei's and Fideo's hands as they walked out the door to the task that they had been made for. After a moment her smile also spread to their faces.

Eighteen months was a very long time to hold onto a memory. Alicia would not have said that when she still lived in Before, but she knew better now. Memories were not images or sounds or mental videos. Those things were all still working just fine, and Alicia figured that they would continue to keep on doing so until she was either struck a hard blow on the head or tipped right over into mental collapse. Memories were emotions. Those were precious, fleeting, and so terrifyingly fragile. Alicia was amazed by how quickly they could slip away.

Alicia's last date had been three days before the world flipped over. His name had been Terry. He had taught fifth grade and had had blue eyes and a sweet, crooked smile. It was the third date and Alicia had let him kiss her for ages before she had finally pulled away and whispered, "Not yet." Her voice had rasped and they both knew that it would only take a few more dates before it became, "Yes, now."

Alicia remembered all of this in an abstract way, like a person watching a video of herself. After all, this was a brave new world, and she had more immediate things to think about. It was hard to have a date by candlelight when you were busy calculating which demons this phase of the moon was going to bring out and whether those candles might not be better used snuffed and shoved in a drawer for curfew, and when women out at night were in so much more danger than men. There were so many more things to worry about than romance or sex. Alicia rarely thought of it and was swift to chastise herself when she did.

Desire, when it came rushing back, did so with the force of a train.

Alicia's stomach jumped as Lindsey walked away from the conversation going on between Angel and An, back towards her. She placed her hand against it and felt her eyes widen. There was no time to react beyond that because Lindsey was there with his huge blue eyes. The jump turned into a sweet warmth that had begun to spread almost before she had time to realize what it was. Memories were quick to flee away, but they were also so quick to return. Alicia pulled her hand away fro her stomach and dropped it back to her side to pick at the fabric of her skirt, remembering the days when she had not had an ugly pink scar bisecting the lower half of her face.

"Feeling all right?" Lindsey asked, tilting his head down so that he could see her better in the dim light.

"Fine." Alicia brushed her hands against her skirt and tried to smile. "Wound up. Feel like there's something big coming over the horizon and it's ready to pop."

"You wouldn't be wrong." Lindsey looked at the same time tired and jumped-up, and if the way that he was gripping his sword was any indication then Alicia thought that he couldn't put it down if he wanted to. "There's a place for you with us, if you want to fight. Beginner or not, you didn't do half-bad earlier, and any extra blade would be able to pull its weight."

Alicia's stomach clenched and her wounded leg twinged as one motion. It was all that she could do to control her wince. "No. I don't think so. It's…" Alicia shrugged for a moment and finally gave in to the shudder that she had been fighting to hold back for most of the day. "I don't like this world."

Lindsey's smile was faint and teasing in spite of their somber surroundings. It did things to his eyes that should have required him to wear a warning label. "That only proves that you're not a sociopath."

"I don't like it," Alicia repeated, deciding that to go on as if he had not spoken was the best way to neutralize the effects of those eyes, "and I want as little to do with it as I can before it's over. If I start fighting in the street like a vigilante-"

"Then you'll be playing by their rules," Lindsey finished for her, nodding as if he understood. A light had gone on behind his eyes that made Alicia think that maybe he even did. She could not shake a faint suspicion that he was disappointed in her, though, as if he expected her to limp into the fray with sword held high. Alicia could not help but wonder what sort of woman had instilled that expectation in him.

Lindsey leaned forward, carefully angling his sword to the side first so that he would not hurt her. "Funny thing about that promise, Alicia. Sometimes that's exactly what the bad guys want, that refusal to get right down into the middle of it and fight them on their own turf. Sometimes that is how you wind up playing by their rules." Lindsey had a curious look on his face by the time he had finished. Alicia thought that it had been a very long time before he had given a pep talk to anybody, and maybe even longer than that since he had believed it.

This revelation did not prevent Alicia from pressing her lips into a line so hard that it was probably a good thing that lipstick was of the distant past, for hers would have been smudged beyond all repair. "I can't." It came out colder than she had planned, the voice that she had used on days when she was forgetting why she liked children and remembering very much why she liked martinis.

It was not a suspicion that told Lindsey was disappointed in her now; it was a fact. Fluttering feelings or not, Alicia could not halt the defensive flush that rose in her cheeks. "Your choice," Lindsey said, and suddenly looked so distressed and tired again that most of Alicia's anger flowed away from her like water. "We'll leave weapons behind for you, anyway, in case…in case the apartment happens again. You should be ready."

"All right." Alicia's pulse was still sounding in her ears, an unpleasant rhythm that stretched the skin of her temples. She resisted the urge to rub her hands over her eyes and wondered where the nearly Zen state of indifference which had propelled her through the past eighteen months had gone. Normal emotions seemed strange and uncomfortable by comparison.

Lindsey rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and seemed in danger of slipping back into the moody silence that had claimed him for most of the day. The memories that were slamming back against the inside of Alicia's skull in greater and greater numbers said that now would be the right time for her to reach out and take Lindsey's hand in her own. Just as she started to move, Angel called Lindsey's name. Lindsey's head swiveled in that direction, and he traded his distant expression immediately for an intent one. If Alicia had had more than a few hours to shake off the numbness that had allowed her to successfully navigate the new city for the last year and a half, she would have understood immediately. As it was, a vague curling of unease unfurled itself within her belly and began to spread, making her blink.

"I'll see you later," Lindsey said. He reached for her hand, squeezed it briefly, and was gone before Alicia could tell him goodbye.

Alicia ran her hands through her hair and wished that the chill would come back over her, so that her worry would at least be muted. Katie was still sitting on the makeshift pile of bedding where they had slept, tugging restlessly at a piece of her own hair and staring about the room with wide, anxious eyes. Alicia could sympathize with the nervousness to a certain degree. Phillip and Janice were two of the nicest people that Alicia had met in a very long time, but the honest truth of it was that they had allowed nearly a dozen hungry, wounded people into their sanctuary without knowing a single thing about any of them. Even dining sparingly, the group had to have used up supplies that would have lasted more than a week otherwise. It would take a pair of saints to look at that kind of loss without suffering so much as a flicker in their smile. This was not a world which looked kindly on saints any longer, and Alicia's skin prickled every time that she had to go within a few feet of them.

Alicia might have been thinking this, but she had also taken great pains to shield Katie from the worse of the changes that Los Angeles had gone through since her student had become her ward. The girl had never shied away from new people before. Alicia sat down beside Katie and put her arm around Katie's shoulders. Katie twitched faintly before she accepted the contact. "You all right there, sweetie? Not getting another one of your headaches, are you?"

Katie folded her arms over the tops of her knees and closed her eyes. "Good people do bad things sometimes," she said. Alicia's blood chilled. She tightened her grip around Katie's shoulders. "And sometimes bad people do good things. Mostly, though, it's just a lot of in-between people doing in-between things and pretending that they belong to one side or the other because that what makes them feel good." Katie's smile was small and almost proud. "Took me a long time to figure that out."

Alicia was afraid that if she tightened her protective grip on Katie's shoulders any further she was going to carve bruises into the skin. "Katie, what are you saying?" She lowered her voice. "Did somebody say something to you? Did somebody hurt you?"

Katie opened her eyes. In the dim light, their pale, solemn blue almost seemed to glow. Alicia could see Katie's face more clearly than she ought to have been able to, but she swatted the thought away before it could come to fruition. Katie gestured for Alicia to bend her head down so that Katie could whisper into her ear. Alicia did so, her heart beginning to pound in her chest. Katie's breath tickled against the side of Alicia's cheek as she whispered, "I have something that I need to tell you."

In the face of everything else, desire was just as swift in running away as it had been in coming back again.

End Part Eleven