Blue Dawn
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer YAHF
by P.H. Wise

Part 4 – Rebirth, Part 1

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is Joss Whedon's baby, and belongs to Mutant Enemy. I am not Joss Whedon. No copyright infringement is intended; please don't sue me. I'm not making any money off of this. This chapter contains three sentences lifted from the episode of Angel entitled 'Judgement.'

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Angel strode down the night-shrouded sidewalk like a man moving with a purpose, his long coat-tails trailing out behind him in the wind of his passage. He didn't know what was happening to Dawn any more than any of the others did, but he had promised Buffy that he would help, and help he would; to that end, he had come here, to Los Angeles. He'd heard about his destination from Willy, and he hadn't even had to beat it out of him. Willy hadn't been very clear on the details, but apparently, there was a demon in LA who could gain insight into the future. If you sang Karaoke for him. ... Yeah. So maybe he was grasping at straws, but it was all he had at the moment, and he'd be damned before he fail the girl he loved by not investigating every possible lead in this situation. Unbidden, the memories of All Hallows Eve rose to the forefront of his mind.

FLASH

There they stood in the warehouse, with Buffy the Noblewoman cowering behind him, Soldier-Xander and Cordelia at his side, and a very ghostly Willow close at hand. There they stood, surrounded by Spike's gang, newly reinforced by the children-cum-demons. Snarling, hissing, spluttering, the demon-children closed the circle around them even as Spike laughed.

"Sir Knight, save me!" NobleBuffy shrieked dramatically.

Then the vampires charged, with the demon-children close behind. The report of Soldier-Xander's gun filled the warehouse, and a vampire was blasted off his feet by the sheer concussive force of being struck by a dozen bullets. He'd get back up soon enough, but was at least out of the fray for a good ten seconds. Willow couldn't do much, but she could at least distract their enemies, and distract them she did, blocking their line of sight, getting between them and her friends, making the demons and vampires swing wildly instead of striking more precise, more telling blows. A demon-child leaped at Angel, and he caught the tiny body in mid-leap and threw it into four of its fellows before producing a stake from his long coat and driving it through the ribcage and into the heart of a vampire who had made the same animalistic mistake of leaping at a prepared foe. The vamp exploded into a cloud of dust.

Nearby, Cordelia, though completely untrained, was doing her level best to fight off three of the demon-children, and was not doing a bad job of it. Here, confronted with a life-or-death situation, and despite a total lack of combat training, she was fighting for her life, and not as one terrified, but as one determined to win. In that moment, it felt right, fighting at Cordelia's side. Angel could not help but admire her. The moment passed, and he lost sight of her in the melee.

After about thirty seconds of combat, it became apparent that against all odds, they were winning. They were beating back the vampires, and they keeping the demon-children both at bay and for the most part unharmed. And then Angel was face to face with Spike himself. The sight of the other filled each of them with an animalistic rage that overwhelmed their reason, and they each pounced at the other.

In the middle of his pounce, a red-gloved hand seized Angel by the leg and threw him into a nearby crate. The crate shattered on impact, and dozens of large wooden shards pierced his body, thankfully missing his heart. All combat ceased as both sides turned and stared at the new-comer in disbelief.

Illyria had arrived. There she stood, resplendent in her mottled red leather catsuit, with her blue-streaked hair and frozen blue eyes. "How dare you," she said, her eyes narrowing as she glared at Angel.

Angel managed to get back to his feet and glared right back. Whatever Dawn had turned into was incredibly bad news and frighteningly strong.

Spike grinned. "You looking to join the party, Blue?" he asked.

Illyria paid him little notice. "How dare you seek to bring harm to my pet! Spike is mine," she said, moving forward. Spike frowned at that. "Your kingdom is far from here, Angel," she said, "You overstep your authority."

Angel was confused. "What are you talking about?"

She tilted her head to the side, and it reminded him of nothing so much as a lizard or a bird. "But you died. You both died. How can you be alive? No matter. You have attempted to harm my pet, and your orders were directly responsible for the death of my guide. In my time, you would have publicly flayed the flesh from your own body to repay this insult. Now, I shall have to find my satisfaction more directly."

"I don't think so, lady," Soldier-Xander said, raising his rifle.

"Don't!" Willow yelled. "That's Dawn! Don't shoot her!"

Soldier-Xander hesitated, and then charged at Illyria, raising his rifle to strike her with it.

She caught the rifle with one hand and crushed the barrel. Soldier-Xander released the rifle and struck her in the face with all the strength in his body... and she didn't so much as budge.

After a moment, she deigned to look him in the eye, and the Soldier's eyes widened in horror. "Is this all your anger amounts to, human?" she asked, and then punched him in the face.

Xander went down.

NobleBuffy started screaming, and Willow stared at Illyria wide-eyed.

FLASH

Angel grimaced, pushing himself out of the memory. He didn't remember sending anyone named Wesley on a suicide mission. For that matter, he didn't recall having met anyone named Wesley in the past few years. Wolfram and Hart was a name he was only distantly familiar with. As far as he knew, they were some sort lawyers for demons, vampires, and other monsters. Angelus had never been one to make use of their services. All the while as she beat him, Illyria had accused him of things that... he hadn't actually done. Or hadn't done yet. Now there was a disturbing thought. But no, that was impossible. Shaking his head, he banished these concerns from his mind; he had reached his destination. Here was Caritas.

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"Tell me what you've done, Ethan," Giles said calmly, looking down unflinchingly upon what was left of the chaos mage after two hours of torture. It was hard to believe that the bloody mess that lay before him had once been a man, and that he had made this transition because of Giles's own actions, but there it was. A small part of Rupert Giles was horrified by what he had done and was doing, but it was a part that he ruthlessly squashed.

Coughing wetly, Ethan looked up at Giles, smiling as best he could with a face that was for the most part ruined. "I wanted to know how far you would go, mate. I never dared dream it would be this far."

"My patience is wearing thin," Giles said warningly.

"Right. Here's the dark of it: there's nothing you can do. Nothing at all."

Giles's expression darkened. "Start at the beginning."

So Ethan did. He told his old friend about his little jaunt forward in time, of the guidance Janus had given him to even make it possible, of finding the fallen Old One, and of taking her clothing back with him to be a part of his new costume shop. "Right about now, the Old One should be eating her from the inside out," Ethan said, grinning widely, "Hollowing her out to make her fit for habitation. It won't be much longer before she dies, and worse. This sort of thing is final, you know. Eternal, as it were. When the Old One is done preparing the body, that poor stupid girl's soul will be consumed. Forever."

Giles stared down at Ethan disbelievingly. Was it even possible to destroy a soul? Nothing he had ever heard of could do so, but... an Old One. Maybe. If anything could destroy a soul, an Old One could.

Ethan began to laugh. "You can't help her, but you could kill her before she finishes transforming. You won't save the girl, but you might be able to prevent the Old One from walking the Earth again."

Giles felt a cold hatred rising up within his chest, and his lip curled faintly as he raised the bloody shattered light bulb a final time. "Goodbye, Ethan," he said.

Ethan's smile did not fade. "Now there's the Ripper I remember," he whispered.

Giles slit Ethan's throat and left him to die.

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Illyria's final words to him, just before the spell had ended, rang loudly in Angel's ears as he walked down the steps into Caritas. "Just as you failed to save Winifred Burkle, so too will you fail to save this shell." No. He would find a way.

Caritas was a strange place; it was like an upscale version of Willy's place, and with a correspondingly higher quality of clientele. As higher quality as things got with demons, anyways. The bartender – a green-skinned demon named Lorne with tiny horns who wore an unbelievably loud, garish outfit – was serving a humanish-looking demon a drink. The place was pretty well packed, the lighting subdued, and a creature that resembled nothing so much as a cross between a human and an excessively wrinkled puppy was up on stage singing 'Mandy.'

Angel smiled faintly and moved towards the bar.

Lorne looked up as Angel approached. "Love the coat. It's all about the coat. Welcome to Caritas. You know what that means?"

"It's Latin for mercy."

Lorne smiled. "Smart and cute. How about gracing us with a number once Clem is through?"

Angel's smile faded away.

"Aaah," Lorne said, "I see. Well, you just sit there and pluck up your courage. Maybe have a drink or two and see where it gets you."

Angel nodded. "Thanks." He took a seat at the bar and turned to watch the demon.

"Oh Mandy," the demon sang, "Well you came and you gave without taking, but I sent you away, oh Mandy."

Angel found himself humming along, and Lorne stopped what he was doing and looked straight at the ensouled vampire. "Oh, oh no," Lorne said, a horrified expression on his face.

Angel looked to the green-skinned demon. "Something wrong?" he asked.

Lorne sighed. "I'm so sorry. You're Angel, right?"

Angel nodded.

"It won't help. You can't save her."

Angel was silent for a long moment. At last he said, "I have to try."

Lorne nodded. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you. You might be able to get some more information out of the guy who's trying to sneak past you and out the door."

Angel turned, and Whistler froze in his tracks.

"Ah, hey kid!" the balance demon said brightly.

Angel stepped towards him, and Whistler swallowed nervously.

"Why don't we just step outside," Angel said threateningly.

"Oh hell no. You think I'm stupid enough to leave Sanctuary when I've got someone like you angry at me?" Whistler replied.

Angel shrugged, seized Whistler by his coat, and dragged him out of the bar, taking care not to do any violence to his person before they were outside. Once on the street, Angel kicked the Messenger hard, knocking him to the ground.

"Don't go down this path, Angel," Whistler said, clutching at his side where he'd been kicked.

"So you know what's going on, huh? Why doesn't that surprise me."

"This isn't your destiny. You're supposed to be a Champion."

Angel glared at Whistler. "To hell with Champions. I want to talk to your bosses, right now. The little sister of the girl I love is dying. Some monster called Illyria violated her. It crawled down inside her and took her body over, and when it left, it left a part of itself behind, and now it's eating her alive from the inside. What I want to know is: what are you going to do about it?"

Whistler said nothing, but did at least have the decency to look guilty.

"Are you going to make me beat it out of you?" Angel asked. "Because I can get really creative when I need to interrogate someone. You're going to explain to me why the Powers are sitting on their asses when an innocent little girl is dying."

"... You've got the wrong idea about the Powers, Champion," Whistler said, shaking his head. "They aren't gods or angels. They're more interested in stalemate than they are in a victory for good."

Angel's expression darkened. "I see. So if the balance swung the other way...?"

"They'd be helping evil against the angels. Don't get me wrong, you Champions of Good are great guys, and I think we'd all be happier if your side won, but it's in the Powers' best interest for the world to simply continue as it is, and Illyria's rebirth is going to help with that, even if it makes a lot of people suffer."

Enraged, Angel kicked Whistler again and again. Finally, after about twelve kicks, Whistler stopped moving, quite thoroughly unconscious. His fury was spent. Had he really come this far only to fail? Angel sank to his knees, and a single tear flowed down his cheek. "No," he whispered, "It's not going to happen like this. I won't let it happen."

Leaving Whistler unconscious on the street, Angel rose to his feet and walked off into the night, a desperate plan forming in his mind.

END PART 4