Disclaimer: Only the story is mine – I'm sure Joss doesn't want it anyway - and of course Buffy and the gang belong to Joss and the WB.

Rating: R, I'm guessing, for bad language and adult themes.

Dedication: To the reviewers – once again, it wouldn't be worth it without you!

Author's Note: Chapter 5. All of this is strictly A/U, of course, as Better Angels was A/U to begin with. Also, from here on out the story goes third person. I was going to split it into a sequel, but instead I'm just going to switch POV starting with this chapter – bad writing practice, but that's just the way it is. Lastly, sorry for the massive delay with this chapter – it's been hairy lately. But here it is!

Angel crouched in the alley behind Willy's Place, a stake gripped tightly in his hand and held to his chest. He pictured Buffy one last time in his mind, and prepared to drive it home. His hand trembled, shook, until his grip loosened and the stake fell to the pavement. "Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself. "You can't even die properly."

"Angel?" A voice called from the end of the alley. The voice sounded so familiar – suddenly it clicked. Angel vamped out, sprung to his feet and ran down the alley. He found the source of the voice, grabbed it by the throat and shoved it against the wall.

"Whistler, you bastard. How dare you come to me? How DARE you? I oughta suck you dry and leave your corpse for the rats."

"Ggghhh – " Whistler struggled to talk around the hand on his throat. Angel relaxed his grip just enough to allow him some air. "Whew. Angel, thank god I found ya in time. Will you let go of me for a second? We need to talk."

"We've got nothing to talk about, Whistler. Nothing. You remember the last time you and I had a chat? You pointed me towards her – and we both remember how that went. So no, I think I'll just hold on to you until you convince me otherwise."

"Alright, look. Here's the deal. This isn't the way it was supposed to happen. When the powers that be told me to show you Buffy, they told me she would save the world. More than once, actually. What happened to her wasn't in the plan – there's another force behind this. Something no one saw, not even the ptb."

"Nice try, Whistler. What happened to Buffy wasn't fair, but it wasn't a demon, either. So whatever little quest you want me to go on now, I just can't bring myself to care. "

"Dammit, Angel, listen to me. I know it wasn't a demon that killed her – that's not what I said. What was responsible was something much bigger than that – something that can work behind the scenes, stay out of sight even of the powers."

Angel loosened his grip a little bit more. "Alright, Whistler, say for curiosity's sake I believe this little fairy tale you're telling me is real and not something you're making up because you thought if you mentioned Buffy's name that I'd do anything – what's your point? It's done, there's nothing that can be done about it now – especially if your "powers" don't even know what it was!"

"The point is this, Angel – there's something bad headed this way; hell, it may already be here. I've seen this thing, and I don't know what it is – but more importantly, the powers don't see it, even after I told them where it was. Which would explain how it got to Buffy without their knowledge."

"But-"

"Right now, though, it's got something more urgent on its mind. There's a new slayer in town, and it's after her. You've gotta help her, Angel. This is no time to take the easy way out; you've still got work to do. The powers knew you wouldn't just help me outright, Angel, so they had me bring you a little gift. Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Just do it." Angel shut his eyes tight, and Whistler placed his hands on his temples. In what seemed no more than the blink of an eye, Angel saw years worth of events that had never happened – Buffy's prom, the battle with the Mayor, moving to L.A., Cordelia, Doyle, Buffy dying, Connor, Spike, Wolfram & Hart, a dragon – played out before his eyes. He staggered under the weight of all he saw, and his eyes flew open.

"What the hell was that?"

"That, Angel, was the world the way it should have been. The way it would have been, if this new player hadn't got in the way. Everything you saw was fated to happen – nothing should have been able to change that, absolutely nothing. But this thing has. Now do you understand how bad things are?"

A lone tear dropped from Angel's eye. "My son…I had a son…"

Whistler's face softened a little. "I know, champ. It's a lot to take in all at once, and I wish things had stayed the way they were supposed to be, but that's not the hand we got dealt. Now you need to decide if you want to play it – or fold."

Angel stood silently for a long moment, his head bowed in thought. Finally he looked up at Whistler. "I'm game."

Whistler allowed himself a small smile. "I knew you would be. And here comes just the man to deal you back in." With that, he melted into the shadows and was gone.

"Angel? Angel?"

"I'm here, Giles." The librarian rounded the corner into the alley, and Angel was shocked by the look of him. He was bloody and broken, with his left arm dangling uselessly at his side and his right eye swollen shut. Behind him stood a blonde girl he had never seen before – and she was in no better shape, her nose apparently broken and ugly red gashes torn into her stomach. "Giles, what the hell happened?"

"Angel…" he gasped. "Something…coming…"

"I know, Giles, I know. Is that what did this to you two?"

"No…right…behind us…"

Angel looked over to the girl. "What's right behind you?"

"S-some k-kind of super m-monster. W-we t-tried to f-fight it, b-but…"

"Okay, both of you stay here, and stay out of sight."

Angel dashed around the corner and ran straight into it – a Turok Han. "Alright, " he muttered to himself, "where the hell did this thing come from?" Then, the Turok Han charged. The fight lasted almost twenty minutes, but finally Angel re-entered the alley looking much worse for wear. He looked to the girl. "Okay, do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"I d-don't k-know, M-Mr…Angel?"

"Just Angel'll do fine, thanks." He turned to Giles, who seemed to have recovered enough to talk. "Okay, Giles, I'm going to get you to the hospital, and then you can tell me what's going on."

"No. No hospital. We don't have enough bloody time for that – we need to get to B-" he stopped himself. "To Joyce's house. The new slayer is there, and she brought her sister - we need to protect them both from what's coming."

"Do you know what it is, Giles? My intel's a little on the vague side."

"Yes. I had a visit from-" he grimaced, "an old friend. After some…persuasion, he filled me in on what's happening, or at least as much of it as he knows."

"Do you trust him?"

"Not in the slightest. But I think the git was telling the truth."

"Why?"

Giles' face paled slightly. "Because he was terrified."

"Hello, Ripper."

"Ethan Rayne. Did your death wish finally get the best of you? Did you come down here so I can finally kill you?"

"Don't you wish, Ripper. Actually, I'm here on account of-ARGH!" he broke off as Giles punched him in the face. "Dammit, Ripper, I'm trying to tell you something." He wiped the blood from under his nose. "I'm here on account of the thing the girl was telling you about – and what is it with you and young blondes, anyway?"

"Ethan, I've got places to be – but that does NOT mean I won't spare the time to kick your ass. One more comment like that and I'll just leave your body here – they've vacancies you can fill."

"Alright, Ripper, alright. As I was saying, I'm here on account of this "thing" she's talking about. I've had quite a few of my contacts approach me recently to express their grave concerns over its appearance – apparently in demon lore it portents the end of the world, not just for people but for demons as well."

"And this thing has a name?"

"The demons call it malleus omne."

"The…hammer of all?"

"Basically. I'll spare you a tedious search for records – there aren't any. The way it's been explained to me, this thing walks like a man and talks like a man. He-It's tattooed with symbols that make it invisible to the powers that be, as well as any other higher being. I invoked Janus to search for it, but there was no luck there either. Its touch is deadly – but not in a direct way. Essentially upon touching you it can determine the manner of your death – if it decides to give you a heart attack, you have a heart attack. Same deal with a car accident, or-" he paused. "Or an incurable disease."

Giles reeled. "Ethan, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I don't know, Ripper, I truly don't. None of my contacts know when this thing was raised, and since it doesn't directly kill anyone, it's been pretty much off the radar. Until now."

"What changed?"

"It's raising an army. Any demons that'll follow it are promised they'll be spared when the end comes. It's seeking out the worst of the worst – even raised some Turok Han. And the army is being lead right here – to the hellmouth."

"Why here? If this thing can end the world, what need does it have of the hellmouth?"

"It's not the hellmouth that it wants, Ripper. It's a girl." Off Giles' confused look, Ethan continued. "According to the legend, there's supposed to be a girl – a human girl – with supernatural powers. She's supposedly the only one in all the world immune to the malleus' effects, and the only one who can stop it from ending the world. And this girl is supposedly here in Sunnydale."

"How can this girl stop it?"

"Don't know, Ripper." Giles raised a fist. "I swear, I really don't. You know as well as I do that the old legends are vague and lacking on details. No one and nothing I could find knew how that part went. It's not written down anywhere, and the old stories have been forgotten over the millennia, even by the demon world."

"How will we know it if we see it?"

"You may not. But if you see a man or a woman with any of these-" he passed Giles a sheet of paper filled with arcane symbols, "tattooed on it anywhere, I strongly advise you to go the other direction. Quickly."

"Well, Ethan, if that's all you know I suppose we should get moving. But one last question – how do I know you're not feeding me a line?"

"Because it's my ass on the line too, old friend." He looked over Giles' head at something behind him. "Speaking of my ass, I think it's time I took it elsewhere. So long, Ripper. Good luck."

Giles watched Ethan as he ran from the cemetery, then turned around to see what he was running from. A Turok Han.

"Oh, crap."