Chapter 2

Los Angeles, Early Hours of 20 May 2004

It wasn't the first time I've gone into a fight not really expecting to come out again. Half the fun of fighting is not knowing the outcome - for me, anyway. It was one of the things Angelus could never understand about me. For him, there was no point in going into something unless you'd planned every detail to the nth degree. It never was my way, and nothing he did ever changed me.

There're some memorable times, times when the buzz has been better than anything else you can imagine, and there've been times which didn't work out so well – like the time against Glory. Of course, that ended up with Buffy dying instead of me. Then there was the time against The First when I wore the amulet. Technically, I didn't survive that one, but from my perspective, I burned up just to land up as a ghost in Angel's office in LA. And the less said about that particular bit of anticlimax, the better.

Then, there's this one. There I was with Angel, Illyria, and Gunn, against the hordes of Wolfram and Hart, and Charlie-boy was already more than half dead before we started. Then, without warning, something changed. There was this white light in the sky, and I spotted a familiar face at the centre of it. Willow, all white and glowing, was there, and the hordes looked at her for a second as if not really sure what to do about her. That soon changed when she started zapping them; then they knew they should be attacking her too, except none of them could actually reach her. It would have been all over there and then, but it seemed like somewhere on the other side they found some mojo of their own, and that kept Willow busy for a while.

And that's how I ended up fighting a dragon. I know Angel kind of wanted him, but after Willow's arrival, things got confused, and the next thing I know, the bloody dragon's got me in its claws and it's carrying me away.

I used both my sword and fangs to persuade the stupid thing to let go, and after a while I succeeded, just to fall from the sky like the proverbial lead balloon. I landed in a rubbish skip which broke my fall a bit, but by the time I'd pulled myself out of that, the dragon was back, no doubt reluctant to have its meal get away before it was properly cooked. At least I assume that was it. I've heard tales of dragons being wise, but that didn't seem to be true of this one. Then again, it could just have been determined to destroy me, and then the flames would probably be a logical idea. Anyway, it was more of a fair fight after that, and I worked hard for what seemed to be a long time to stay out of the way of the fire and still get in a few slashes with my sword. 'Course, I got pretty singed a few times, but, at last, I managed a good strike, pushing my sword into its eye. And then the bloody thing fell on top of me, and that's the last I knew.

It takes me a little while to sort through all that when I come round again. I'm not altogether sure how long it took, but at least it's still dark. I pull myself from under the slime that's all that's left of the dragon, and take a look around to work out where I am. I estimate I'm a couple of miles away from where the battle was taking place. Fortunately for the locals, I managed to fall into a dark alley so there probably weren't any witnesses, or at least none anyone would be inclined to believe.

It's painful to do anything - the burns on my sword arm are worse than I'd thought, and what with the slime everywhere, I feel every abrasion as if it's been dipped in acid. Still, as I approach the site, I'm more and more convinced that the battle's over. Everything's too quiet, or at least, normally quiet for LA in the early hours of the morning. I estimate that it's about half an hour to sunrise, so when I get to the place and find no one there, I have to decide where to go to get out of the sun. There aren't any bodies lying around - not human, blue goddess or whatever else it was that came after us. No obvious dust piles either.

Since the Wolfram and Hart building was a pile of rubble last time I saw it, the only place I can think that they'd have gone is into the Hyperion, so I try the back door first, but it's locked. Then I walk around to the front, but the place is in darkness, and when I try the door there, it won't open either. I assume we won the battle, if only because there aren't demon hordes roaming the streets, but I'm too tired to give it any more thought, so I head back towards my apartment.

No one there either, and I look longingly at the bed but sleep is just not going to happen until I'm clean again, so I bypass it. Of course, there's no hot water, so I shower in the cold, realising that hot water on the burns probably wouldn't have been a good idea anyway. Barely stopping to dry myself, I throw myself onto my bed and before I know it, I'm out cold.

I waken later - sooner than I want to be awake - to the sound of someone knocking insistently on my door. I consider ignoring it, but get the feeling that the next step will be to knock it down, so I pull myself up, grabbing a sheet to cover me. I walk towards the door, and I hear her voice just before I get there, Illyria's, that is, so I open it. She comes in and glances at my state critically before deciding that I'm so far below her that my appearance could scarcely be acceptable regardless.

"You are still alive, then."

"Or still dead, if you like," I reply. "You seem fairly lively too. What happened after I got carried away?"

"The battle was barely satisfactory," she states. "Successful, but over too quickly. The witch who came to our aid is very powerful."

"Willow? Tried to end the world a couple of years ago."

Blue's eyebrows go up in a gesture that seems grudgingly approving.

"So, who else made it?" I ask. I don't want to care about Angel, and I'm pretty sure that Gunn can't be alive, but I've got to ask.

"Angel and Gunn are both at the hospital. Gunn's condition is serious, I'm told."

"So is Angel holding his hand?"

"Angel is also injured."

"But why is he in a hospital? He's only going to be pronounced dead if he falls asleep."

"You are in error. Angel is now alive, but injured. The witch is there too, resting while she waits for the Slayer to arrive."

I hear the words, but somehow the sense of them takes longer than usual to sink in.

"Angel's human?" I demand.

"Something about a prophecy, I believe."

"And Buffy's coming?"

"The Slayer? Yes, I believe that's the name."

"Ok." Well, not a lot else I can say, except for the fact that it's not bloody ok at all.

"You are injured," she comments, taking another look at me.

"Yes, well, that's what happens when you kill a dragon."

"You should dress. The others sent me to find you. I will wait and accompany you to the hospital if you wish."

Dressing seems like a good idea. Apart from anything else, it'll give me a few minutes to let the news filter through my exhausted brain and sort out what I'm going to do.

Once back in the bedroom, I pull open one drawer and take out a t-shirt, then find some jeans in another. It takes longer to dress than it normally would. I know I should cover the worst of my injuries first - not that it'll make any difference as regards healing - it'd just be more comfortable, but somehow the discomfort seems oddly comforting. I consider the news. It looks like Angel won in the end. He got his reward, and now he's human. And worse, Buffy's on her way and she's going to run into his arms and get her happy ever after. Not that I don't want that for her. I love her so bloody much that I want to see her happy before anything else. It's just … you know … I sort of hoped that one day it might have been me. I know I said I didn't, but that was me being practical. The soft, poofy poet in me was still hoping. And if it wasn't me, I just sort of figured it'd be anyone other than the great brooder. I know that makes me sound petty and all that, but I just want someone who's worthy of her, and Angel's, well, he's too much like Angelus. There's no spontaneity in him. With him she's headed for a life perpetual tedium interspersed with regular sessions of brooding and soul-searching, and I'm not sure she's going to like that.

And then comes the question of what I'm going to do. Other than get blind drunk, that is.

I pull my fingers through my hair while I think of the decisions I made this past year. Some of them I don't regret at all. That battle? Despite the final result of it, I can't regret doing it because it was the right thing to do. Not calling Buffy? Now, that's harder. At first, not calling her made sense. I mean, what good was I to anyone as a ghost who couldn't get away from Wolfram and Hart? When I had a body, though, then it was different. Then, it was a question of showing her. Showing her I could be my own person. Showing her I could do something just because it was right, without wanting to win someone's approval. I needed to prove it to myself as much as her, but I can't really regret that decision either. And then, the longer it went on, the harder it got to make that call. I didn't really mean it to go on this long, but …

I suppose, if I'm honest, the only thing I regret is not making a point of seeing her while I was in Rome. Not that it would have been easy - between having Angel in tow and knowing she was involved with the Immortal. Funny that the idea that she might still want the Immortal now that Angel's a real boy again just didn't enter my head. Now that I consider the possibility, I still think I'm right. So, what am I going to do?

As I walk back into the living room, Illyria's sitting very straight in the chair.

"You're ready," she notices.

"Yeah," I agree. Then it occurs to me. "You said the others sent you to find me?"

"Angel wished to know if you'd survived."

"But you didn't know that I wasn't a pile of dust somewhere, did you?"

"No, we didn't. But if you weren't, then here seemed a good place to look."

"So the others don't know that I survived."

"You are correct."

Better and better.

"So, Blue, how do you feel about lying? You know, from a moral standpoint."