Disclaimer - See previous chapters

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR - BARGAINING

"What have you done?"

Slowly, she turned to face Skip.

"You just casually staked the love of your life?" He was incredulous.

"That wasn't Angel," she told him, angrily wiping away the tears from her face. "The real Angel would have known that the only thing he ever made me promise was that I would kill him if I had to."

The demon's face contorted in fury.

"You stupid bitch!" he growled. "You've just made a very big mistake."

With a ferocity and speed she was not expecting, he lunged at her, wrapping one large hand around her throat and pinning her to the wall.

"Believe me when I tell you – you will pay."

Rieff moved just in time to avoid the full force of the blade, but he felt the cold steel bite into his arm. Clenching his teeth again the pain, he brought his own sword up and swung at the demon. Steel clashed on steel as his attack was blocked.

Teeth bared in a grotesque grin, the Scourge demon lifted his boot and kicked Rieff backwards, making him stumble to the ground. As he grasped around for his sword, he saw the demon foot soldier march towards him.

"You were right about one thing, half-breed," the demon sneered. "Today is your day to die."

The blade felt like both fire and ice as it pierced his skin. How odd, he thought, that pain should both burn and freeze.

The blade was drawn out of his flesh again and with it escaped a gasp. A warm gush of blood flowed through his fingers as he struggled to breathe.

The weapon rose high in the air, the fatal blow coming. Except it didn't. Struggling to stay conscious, Rieff opened his eyes and looked up.

Rondell was battling the Scourge warrior, raining heavy blows upon him. Confusion temporarily overshadowed the searing pain that was ripping though his stomach. Why had the human stepped in to help him?

Pressing his left hand tightly against the wound in his gut, trying to staunch the bleeding, he struggled back onto his feet, grunting in agony. If this was his day to die, he would do it bravely, as Doyle had taught him. He wouldn't quietly slip away as others fought this battle for him.

Rondell was an accomplished street fighter, a force to be reckoned with. But the Scourge were a group of highly trained soldiers, utterly single-minded and fanatical. Soon, the demon gained the upper hand. As Rieff struggled to make his way to where they were fighting, Rondell suddenly found himself unarmed.

Dodging back out of the way of the demon's weapon, he unsuccessful tried to retrieve his own. The Scourge was fast, blow coming swiftly after blow, making Rondell have to move quickly, taking him further and further away from his abandoned axe.

One wrong move and the demon's blade connected with his shoulder, sending a wave of pain through him. A flesh wound only, but enough to slow him down slightly. Enough for the next blow to knock him off balance and on to the ground.

Thoughts of his crew, of his long dead family, of his fallen comrade Charles Gunn, flashed through his mind as the demon towered above him, weapon raised.

Acceptance of his imminent death gave way to incredulity as the Scourge stopped, gasping for air, a blade sticking through his chest. As the demon fell, Rieff stood shakily behind his corpse, still clutching his bloodied sword.

"What the hell, man?" Rondell said, clambering to his feet.

"You saved my life," the Lister demon stated simply. "In my culture, that means I owe you a debt."

Triumph in battle gave way to a new wave of pain, which in its turn gave way to blackness.

Rondell caught him as he fell to the ground.

Fred smiled.

"The catch?" she asked, as though she didn't understand the question.

He didn't reply, just raised an eyebrow and waited. And so did she, until they heard the sound of dozens for footsteps, marching through the entrance hall towards the chamber they now stood in.

"The catch is that you accept their terms. In there entirety."

The door swung open and demon troops entered. A trap, Angel thought. Not like I wasn't expecting it.

But then he saw something he wasn't expecting. Faith. Giles. Lorne. Held tightly by the demons; battered and bruised into submission. Faith looked half dead, her head hanging limply to one side, a large gash on her forehead an indication as to the cause of her unconsciousness.

Wide-eyed, he turned back to Fred for an explanation, but she was Fred no longer. A blue-haired demon stood in her place.

"You have failed," she stated in her clipped, emotionless tone. "Your army has been decimated. The slayers and the Pylean traitors have been slaughtered. We have allowed these three to remain alive. For now."

Angel raised his sword. Despite the odds, he wasn't prepared to have his friends held as some kind of bargaining chip. He had barely traveled one step, however, when a strong hand wrapped itself around the back of his neck and raised him into the air.

"Your courage is admirable, if not based on good sense," Illyria remarked before flinging him across the room and headlong into a wall. He crumpled to the ground, winded from the impact.

Shaking it off, he got back to his feet, ready to try again. He charged forward, his sword slicing through the first demon he encountered with ease, so he swiftly moved on to the next.

Three on one, Angel caught one about the head with a flying round-house kick, another with a crushing blow from his fist, before running his sword through the third's throat.

Those opponents had no sooner dropped than the next came forwards. Angel bested them, and still more took their place. On and on in an endless cycle. How long before he could defeat them all? How long before he made one costly mistake?

Illyria watched the scene, caught between passivity and amusement. The vampire had spirit. Tenacity. But it would get him nowhere. Soon her amusement faded away and she was merely bored.

"Enough!" she called out, moving swiftly forward and knocking the demons away before grasping Angel once more about the throat. "This battle will not end well for you, vampire. Accepting our offer is the only way your friends will leave this place alive."

With her god-like strength, she again flung him like a rag-doll against the wall.

"Angel!"

"Spike!" Buffy screamed.

A split second before impact, Spike flipped himself backwards, off of the dragon's back and plummeted to the ground as the rocket detonated. There was a flash of light, a rush of heat, a final screech as his scaly opponent was blown to smithereens.

He hit the ground hard, feeling like he had shattered more than a few bones. If he had breath in him, it would have well and truly been knocked out. He was lying on his back, watching the last of the light show overhead when a blonde practically flung herself at him.

"Ow! Easy, Slayer! Injured vampire here," he admonished her, a grin playing round the edges of his voice.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concerned and relieved all at once. "Can you stand?"

He struggled onto his side and she helped him the rest of the way to his feet.

"I guess I'll live," he remarked. "Or not, as the case may be."

Looking up from his vantage point of the floor, he saw Cordelia had entered the chamber, held tightly by a huge, armored demon that, on closer inspection, looked like Skip.

Behind her was Connor, flanked by two other demons. While Cordy was struggling fiercely with her captor, Connor walked meekly, his demon guards barely needing to hold on to him. He looked broken, defeated. Angel tried to remember the last time his son looked that lost, and the memory of it made his insides turn cold.

"Angel, whatever they ask, don't do it!" Cordy yelled, still trying in vein to escape Skip's grasp.

Illyria was at his side once more. "It's a simple choice, vampire. Your life for theirs."

"No!" Cordelia yelled again, somehow slipping free of Skip and running towards him. She skidded, coming to rest on the ground in his arms. "It's a trap, Angel. Don't do it."

She was wrenched out of his grasp immediately; Skip's clawed hand clutching at her hair, making her cry out in pain. Angel tried to reach for her, but Illyria held him back, while Skip produced a knife and held it to Cordelia's slender neck.

"The choice is simple, vampire," Illyria stated. "You could continue along your present course of action, watch your friends, your son, the woman you love, all die. Then you will die in the knowledge that everyone you left behind in Los Angeles have perished. Or, you can agree to end it. Now. Your life for theirs."

Cordy's eyes were wide as they looked into his. With the little movement she had in the demon's grip she shook her head, mouthing "No".

"I agree, and what's to stop you killing them anyway?" he asked, not taking his eyes from Cordelia's.

"You have the Senior Partners word," Fred answered.

His head snapped around to see the young Texan again standing by his side. Gently, she reached out and touched his face.

"Isn't it time it was over, Angel?" she asked softly. "How many more need to die to atone for your sins? Only you can end it."

Angel's eyes narrowed in mistrust. "You're not the real Fred," he spat.

She shrugged. "Maybe not. But that is a real knife at your girlfriend's throat," she stated, causing him to look back at Cordelia. A thin trickle of blood flowed down her neck from where the blade bit into her skin. He could smell her blood. He could smell her terror.

Despite everything, there was still fight in her eyes. "Don't," she whispered to him.

Fred's voice was suddenly harsh and cold. "Fine. Slit her throat. Then kill the boy!"

"Wait!"

The imposter wearing Fred's face regarded him curiously.

"You promise you won't kill them?"

She smiled. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

TO BE CONTINUED...