Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or settings in this fic. Joss Whedon does.

X X X X X

By the time they got to the street access closest to Red's, it was right around sunset.

Cordelia stuck her head up to find the bar's entrance – Angel, understandably, didn't want to take the risk of exactly where the sun's last rays might be falling – and found it within seconds.

When she came back down the ladder she said to Anya, "This Warren – I'm guessing he knows what you look like? Now, I mean?'"

Anya said, "Yes. He and his group had cameras installed in the Magic Box."

"His group," Angel said. "Are we going to go after any of them?"

"They're already under arrest," Anya said. "They're for a later vengeance."

"Anyway, you might want to take your demon form, then." Anya did so.

"Would he recognize you?" Angel asked. "You were in the same high school –"

"I don't think so," Cordelia said. "He was a year ahead and he was as big a nerd as Wi –" she stopped. "He was a really big nerd."

Satisfied that Angel was not in fact going to flame out and die when he reached street level, the three left the sewers and headed over to the bar's entrance.

The bartender looked them over dubiously when they walked in. "You don't look like a demon," he told Cordelia.

"And you don't look suicidal," was Cordelia's response. "I like this form. Means I can walk the streets without having people come after me with pitchforks and torches."

"She's feisty," the bartender said to Angel. "How do you keep her under control?"

"No one can," Angel said, slipping into the Irish brogue Angelus favored. "That's what I like about her."

"Anyway," the bartender said more jovially, apparently satisfied with their demon street cred, "What can I do for you?"

Angel said, "We're looking for a guy named Warren. Last we heard he was headed here."

The bartender looked them over again. "He didn't say he'd gotten anyone else for that army of his. Just that robot double and the gun."

The three looked at each other for a second before Angel said, "We heard about it on the streets that someone was forming an army. We're always in the mood for some quality mayhem."

"I can see why you wouldn't like the Slayer, vampire, but what's she done to you two lovely ladies?"

"She's foiled a couple of wishes of mine," Anya said.

And Cordelia added, "I just don't like her."

The bartender snorted. "Back room. Want any drinks while you're here? I just got in a fresh supply of human blood, vampire – A negative. My other customers say its bouquet is exquisite. I wouldn't know myself."

"I ate before I got here," Angel said. "But thanks for the offer."

Cordelia and Anya also declined the bartender's offer of a drink, then they went to the bar's back room, where they saw a group of sixteen, maybe seventeen vampires and demons – far too many to take on at this point. Facing the demons, with his back to the trio, was a short human who could only have been Warren.

One of the vampires asked, "What's the robot for?"

"The Slayer's friends are going to be there, too," he said. "While they should be no match for all of us, I want them to waste time going after it, not me."

Angel said, "Not a bad plan. Is this a private invasion or can anyone join?"

Turning around, Warren gave them a once over – lingering over Cordelia, much to her disgust. "The more the merrier," he said. "And you are?"

"I'm Angelus. And I've been wanting revenge against that Slayer for years."

"And you?" Warren said to Cordelia in a voice he must have imagined as suave.

"Doyle," came Cordelia's answer.

"Odd name for a woman."

"I like it," Cordelia said irritably.

"And you?"

Anya rasped, "My name is unimportant. Are we going to get revenge on the Slayer or not?

"We are," Warren said.

Angel, Cordelia and Anya moved around to join the other demons. Angel and Anya looked them over and separately came to the same conclusion: that these guys might have a lot of muscle, but if brainpower were lungpower they wouldn't have enough to blow a bubble.

Still, that didn't mean they couldn't be dangerous. Especially with seventeen of them plus a guy with a gun, vs. only a few of them. Angel decided he'd have to pick a couple off along the way.

"What abilities do you have? Besides the wish?" Angel quietly asked Anya while Warren continued to give a motivational speech that probably had Vince Lombardi turning in his grave.

"I can teleport – but only myself. I'm about as strong as you are and I'm almost impossible to kill. But I'm not much of a fighter."

"Damn. We need more backup."

"If Spike hadn't disappeared –"

"Let's not bring him into this," Angel said. "I realize I'm not the original wisher but do I have vengeance rights here?"

"You mean, will I grant you a wish?" Angel nodded. "Depends on the wish."

"If I wished for additional help to protect Buffy –"

Anya shook her head. "Not vengeance."

"How about additional help to take vengeance on Warren for Willow's death?"

"That I can do."

"I'd like to make a delayed wish, then."

"Delayed?"

"At the first opportunity, I want you to teleport back to the hospital and warn them. Give them a chance to know what's coming and to get ready for it. Then I want to wish for 'Gunn and the Groosalugg' to come here. We need all the help we can get." Fred and Lorne were out, for different reasons.

"Why not Oz?" Cordelia asked quietly.

"Oz's wolf comes out when he gets angry," Anya said. "I think this would get him angry."

Cordelia said, "True." After a second – "Do you think Wes—"

"Don't finish that sentence, 'Doyle,'" Angel said. "I'd sooner bring back Spike."

"And," Warren was saying, "Since it's after dark, I say we go right now."

A chorus of enthusiastic yeahs came from the crowd; the three of them joined in. "Look for your chance and take it," Angel said as the howling mob stormed out of the bar, the Warren robot at its head, the real Warren to the rear. "We'll take out who we can along the way."

Anya nodded and, the first time the band of demons rounded a corner, teleported back to the hospital.

X X X X X

Mr. Giles was done with the paperwork and Xander had rounded up, apparently, every single snack in the vending machine and was threatening to go to the cafeteria. Dawn seemed somewhat better, but that was relative to the circumstances, of course. No one handles things like this without it having some effect on them.

Even me, no matter how it may look from the outside.

Willow, sweetie: Guide me through this. Give me the strength you never knew you had.

The surgery on Buffy was coming to an end. Even with the bullet out, they had to repair the damage it had done. Luckily, since Buffy had briefly flatlined, there hadn't been any more scares. Thank the Goddess.

Anya walked out of the nearby women's restroom and went up to the group, motioning everyone together.

"I have bad news," she said. "Warren. He's gotten a lot of demons together and they're all coming here with the intent of killing Buffy before she can get out of bed. Angel and Cordelia are spying on them right now. I'd say we have maybe a half hour before they get here."

"Bloody hell," Mr. Giles said. "Half an hour isn't nearly enough time for Buffy to recover enough for us to be able to move her, never mind fight."

"So we make a stand," Xander said.

"We may have to," Mr. Giles said. "But maybe –" he looked at Dawn.

"No way, no how," Dawn said. "You'll have to knock me out and carry me away from here kicking and screaming. And I will be screaming."

"But even with my help – and Angel and Cordelia's – we're still overmatched."

"Angel brought in help," she said, and said, "Done."

Instantly two people blinked in: A tall, shaven-headed black man, and a heavily muscled, almost impossibly handsome man who looked like he belonged in Beastmaster. The latter man was carrying an axe. Interesting how no one complained about Cordelia's sword. I'm betting no one notices Conan's axe, either.

"Okay," the black man said, "One of you all want to clue me on what the hell I'm doing here?"