Chapter Twenty

Tuesday, November 12, 2002 – 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale; night:

Xander remained silent as Andrew woke up, after a glass of water was thrown directly into the nerd's face.

His hands felt itchy, and Harris had to force himself not to clench his fists together. The shotgun was now back inside the trunk of his car; he knew better than anyone Buffy's attitude towards guns, and the last thing he wanted was to have buy a new twelve-gauge after the Slayer twisted the barrel out of shape, just because she was upset about Spike. Still, Xander figured it was all psychosomatic and he could make do without that particular weapon – for now. { Kinda doubt either Jonathan or Andrew will try anything with Slay-gal present, anyway. }

Spluttering and shaking his head, Andrew tried to move – but found himself securely tied to the chair. The geek then froze in place, as he saw Jonathan glaring at him – not to mention everyone else. "Uh... "

"You tried to kill me. Why?" Levinson demanded, as everyone nodded; wanting to know the answer to that one themselves.

"I, um, I didn't want to kill you. But Warren, he-he convinced me to do it," Andrew said whiningly.

"Warren?!" just about everybody exclaimed.

"Yeah, he's around. That whole death thing, that was all part of his master plan," Andrew said rapidly. "Y'know, he, uh, he's kinda like my Obi-Wan now. And, and he's been working on a plan that would make all three of us gods!" he added fervently, looking at his former partner in crime.

"You were going to make me a god... by killing me?!" Jonathan asked, looking utterly flabbergasted.

"OK, I've heard some insane troll logic in my life – some of it literally from a huge-ass troll – but this has gotta take the cake," Xander said, shaking his head.

"Hold it. You were gonna stab Jonathan with this," Cordelia said, bringing out the sacrificial knife from her handbag. "So, what exactly was in it for you?"

"Warren said Jonathan's blood was gonna be a powerful tribute. It's a, a gift to something very big, very important. And afterwards, we get a reward. All three of us," Andrew said desperately, trying to be convincing.

"I get a reward? After you murder me?" Jonathan said in disbelief. "Seriously, Andrew, are you totally tripping or what?"

"A reward? What reward?" Dawn asked, curiously.

"I already told you, we get to live as gods," Andrew replied, ignoring Jonathan's question.

"Oh, jeez, will you knock it off with that whole 'god' stuff? Because I've met an actual god – well, hellgod, but same diff – and no way could you ever qualify as Glory's equal!" Dawn replied scornfully.

"Dawn... " Buffy abruptly glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. "Oh my God – it's practically midnight, and you have school tomorrow. You need to head upstairs to your room right now, and go to sleep!"

"Go to sleep?! After everything that's happened tonight?" the young woman demanded, looking exasperated with her sister. "Buffy, are you totally delusional? Or has all that hair dye finally leached into your brain?"

"Actually, Dawnie, she's got a point," Xander said, instantly making the dark-haired girl look at him with an expression of pure betrayal on her face. "And please don't look at me like that, OK? I've got a big day at work tomorrow, so I need to go home and get some sleep as well. Nobody's trying to get rid of you, because they think you're a kid who shouldn't be part of all this... it's just, well, it's not your job to get to the bottom of what this chowderhead was thinking, when he tried to kill Jonathan here. So please, go upstairs and try to grab some shut-eye? For me?"

Dawn pouted and glared ineffectually at him, but then she sighed and nodded in agreement. "All right, fine." Xander could see that Dawn really was exhausted; the house exploding all around her, being attacked by that invisible demon and the conversation with the First Evil – or whoever -slash- whatever 'Joyce' had really been – had drained the poor kid almost completely. "G'night, everybody."

"Good night," everyone apart from Jonathan and Andrew replied, as Dawn walked over to the stairs and headed up to her room.

"Thank you, Xander," Buffy gave him a heartfelt smile.

"Any time, Buff."

"OK, so what now?" Cordelia asked. She didn't exactly look happy, and Xander knew the scream-fest with Buffy a short while earlier had put his former girlfriend in a truly foul mood.

"We could always put Willow to work on getting the full truth outta both of these clowns," Harris suggested with a slight smirk.

"No! You can't. Please, Darth Rosenberg, don't kill me! Don't torture me, a-and send me to an eternal pain dimension!" Andrew instantly begged the redhead.

"I'm not gonna – " Willow started to say.

"Because Warren killed Tara, I didn't do it. And he was aiming for Buffy, anyway!" Andrew babbled in near-hysteria, interrupting her.

"Not helping your case, mister!" Willow glared at the asshole at once for that, as did Xander, Buffy and Cordelia.

"Andrew? Shut the hell up," Jonathan ordered his former friend in no uncertain terms. The nerd then turned to stare at the Slayer and said, "Look, Buffy, the plan was for us to dig up the seal of Danzalthar, and then take you to see it. To help us destroy it. Or, at least, that's what I thought the plan was," the guy added self-consciously, shooting Andrew a poisonous look of hatred; making the captive nerd quickly look away in shame. "I promise you, for whatever it's worth, that's all I came back here for."

Buffy sent Levinson a look of weary disgust. "And your word should mean anything to me any longer, why?"

"No reason I can think of, I guess," Jonathan replied, briefly scratching the back of his neck. "Except that Cordelia saved my life, after she got that vision from those, uh, higher powers? Been meaning to thank you for that, by the way," the guy added in her direction.

"I don't want your thanks," the Seer told Levinson, looking annoyed. "It's enough that you owe me your life, like forever."

"All right, maybe – just maybe – Jonathan here isn't a card-carrying black hat anymore. But that idjit sure as hell is," Xander said grumpily, gesturing at Andrew. "So, what do you guys think? We keep him here as a prisoner? Or just haul his ass straight to the police?"

"No! You, you can't do that! Please, don't!" Andrew begged pitifully. "I, I don't wanna go to the big house!"

"Maybe you shoulda thought of that before you tried to kill me in cold blood, just because Warren told you to do it," Levinson told him contemptuously.

"Warren? The dead guy who Willow flayed alive last year?" Cordelia looked askance at the witch in question.

"Yeah," the Willster said quietly. "The First briefly looked like him as well as that Cassie Newton girl, earlier tonight, before it vanished."

"Right... wait, hang on. Dawn said that she spoke with her mom... and Willow, you talked with those two people... and I had a chat with Kendra, Ms. Calendar and Devon in that restaurant bathroom earlier tonight... " Cordelia trailed off.

"WHAT?!" Xander yelped.

"You chatted with who?" Andrew asked, but everyone ignored him.

"Yeah, lot of conversations with dead people been taking place this evening, like obviously. But my point is Willow's pretty sure she was talking with that First Evil thing, so – the odds are that that is what's been appearing to everyone tonight, isn't it? Even him," Cordy gestured at Andrew, who was gazing at her in pure shock.

"What? But – no, that can't be right. It just can't be!" Andrew vigorously shook his head in denial.

"Why not? I mean, what's easier to believe – that you're a gullible moron, one who thought Warren let himself get killed as part of his master plan, and so you let yourself be manipulated by the First... or else that stone-cold killer of women somehow managed to escape from Hell, just to get you to stab a nobody like Jonathan here?" Xander asked derisively, ignoring the look on Levinson's face. He then looked around and said loudly, "Hey, Warren – you hangin' around, listening to us talking? Show your ghostly ass, if you are!"

Silence. "Satisfied?" he asked Wells in contempt.

"It's not true! It can't be!" Andrew insisted, desperately.

"Does it really matter, either way? 'Cause in case you didn't notice, you failed to kill me," Jonathan told Andrew, and everyone could see the look of apprehension and concern appear on the other nerd's face. "Think about it, Andrew; what usually happens to the bad guy's minion, after he screws up his evil orders?"

"Same thing that happens to a Star Trek red shirt, he becomes expendable," Xander said, smirking.

"What?" Andrew whispered in horror.

"OK, that's it. I dunno about the rest of you – but it's late, and I can't deal with any more of this tonight," Cordelia suddenly declared, as everyone looked at her. She stared at him and added, "We should go home. Like you said, Doofus, you need your sleep in order to be able to function tomorrow – what with the unexpected promotion 'n all."

"Promotion?" Willow and Buffy echoed at once.

"Yeah, I got a raise and everything at work, earlier today," Xander nodded, checking his watch again.

"Oh, Xander, that's great! Congratulations," Willow smiled at him, looking proud of and happy for him.

"Yeah, you done good, Xan," Buffy said, before quickly shifting her attention back to Jonathan. "So, what do I do with you for the rest of tonight?" She turned back to him, and opened her mouth –

"No," Xander said at once, not giving the Slayer a chance to speak.

"Oh, hell, yeah – Jonathan's not staying with us! We only just got rid of Spike – so you're not gonna put someone else in Xander's apartment, simply 'cause it's convenient for you," Cordelia backed him up at once.

Buffy sent her an annoyed look, which slid off his ex-girlfriend like water off a duck's back. "So what's the alternative?"

"Why don't we just lock him up in the basement? I mean, Spike already set up a cot for himself down there last night," Willow shrugged.

"I'm OK with that," Jonathan nodded, somewhat surprisingly. "I mean, as long as it's not a Sunnydale PD jail cell, I'm happy."

"And him?" Cordelia gestured to Andrew, after Buffy nodded her head in agreement regarding Levinson's sleeping arrangements.

"The current arrangement works for me," the Slayer shrugged.

"Wait – you're, you're not gonna leave me tied up here all night, are you?" Andrew asked in dismay.

"Why not? Because it's either that, or jail. I mean, you don't want to be locked up in the basement along with Jonathan here, do you?" Buffy asked the guy, smirking a little. "Because, hey, I really don't like your odds of survival if you choose Door Number Two."

"Uh, on second thoughts... I'm fine here. As long as you let me get up to pee first, of course, assuming you don't want me making a mess all over the carpet," Andrew said semi-apologetically.

"And on that visual, we are so outta here," Cordelia said in disgust, taking hold of Xander's left upper arm.

"Wait, one last thing. Buffy? What's the what with regard to Spike? If he is killing people again, I mean," Xander asked, looking at the Slayer.

"I – tomorrow. I'll make a decision about that tomorrow, all right? Just – lemme sleep on it," Buffy said tiredly.

"Sure, you sleep on it – while that guy's out there somewhere, probably slaughtering people right now," Cordelia muttered angrily to herself, before pulling Xander towards the door. She ignored Buffy's irate look and Willow's sad one, saying, "Come on, Dweeb. Let's motor."

"See you guys tomorrow," Xander said hastily, before Cordelia yanked him out the front door. "Uh... "

They quickly headed towards Xander's burgundy and silver Taurus, before he stopped dead in his tracks. "Hey, wait a minute. Cordy, stop!"

"What is it?" she asked impatiently.

Xander took a quick look around, and upon deciding that an empty Sunnydale street at night wasn't the best place for them to have this conversation, quickly decided to get into the car after all. As soon as Cordy got into the front passenger seat, he said, "What's wrong?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're upset, and it's not just about how Spike might be killing people again," Xander said firmly. "Seriously, Cor, what's the real problem? Because you've been kinda pissed since... well, practically since the moment we left that French restaurant. If not earlier."

The Chase woman exhaled loudly, slumping into her seat. "I have, haven't I? I mean, I know it's stupid, but I simply can't help it. Honestly, Xander, I know it's not actually your fault... but I can't help feeling like it is. And that annoys the crap out of me."

"Huh?"

"I mean, I knew you were in a committed relationship with that Anya woman, and had been for a long time. You told me how you two met during high school; and I knew that things had gotten bad between us during senior year, after the breakup. Really bad." She sighed. "I just... I guess I wasn't expecting to hear all the ugly details, and all at once, earlier tonight."

Xander made the connection amazingly fast. "The First told you stuff about me? About us? About me and Ahn?"

"Yeah. It used my voice, while it was looking like Kendra. Guess I really did call you the Zeppo of the group, huh?" Cordy asked forlornly, as Xander stiffened for a moment. "And you really did tell Anya that she made you feel like a real man – something that, apparently, I never did."

"That's all true about the Zeppo thing, Cor, but in case you didn't know – Zeppo Marx? Even though he wasn't featured in many of the movies, he was actually considered one of the most valuable members of the group – and he later branched out on his own, eventually becoming a millionaire. So way I see it now, you actually paid me a compliment back then," Xander told her reassuringly, determined to nip this pity party in the bud right now.

"Oh. Huh. And the other part?"

"You mean, me and Anya? Yeah, I said that to her – but Cordy, nowadays that bridge is not only burned, it's also blowed up, nuked, and the radioactive ashes scattered to the four winds. Besides... it's only been forty-eight hours and change, but somehow, you've made me feel like more of a man than I've been for nearly a year," he told her fervently, so much so that it looked like she couldn't help but believe him. "And if you wanna take my advice – don't listen to a word that damn thing told you, earlier tonight. I'm guessing the First was able to lie with the truth, but you're Cordelia Chase – and you don't take crap like that from anybody. Right?"

"Yeah, you're right. I am Cordelia Chase, and I don't take that from anyone. So, no way I'm gonna start now!" She abruptly grabbed him into a big hug, yanking him close before letting go. "Thank you for reminding me of that, Doofus, I knew there was a reason I kept you around. Now, let's go home!"

"Yes, dear," Xander smirked at her, before starting the engine. "Buckle up, though, there's a good girl... "

He easily ducked the automatic dope-slap. { Ah, that's my Cordy. So glad she's back! }


Wednesday, November 13, 2002 – Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles; not long after midnight:

Downstairs in the lobby, the hotel was empty and quiet. But upstairs, that was not the case. As he prowled the corridors, Connor could tell that the inhabitants of the Hyperion were not asleep...

For example, Lorne was busy talking to someone on the new cell phone which the demon had bought earlier today – no, yesterday, technically speaking. He heard the green-skinned creature babbling away through the thin walls, something about rescheduling meetings with his clients until after Angel and Cordelia were found. He dismissed that from his mind; Connor figured his... acquaintance... was more or less useless, anyway. His so-called ability to read people's destinies hadn't helped them find the missing members of the group, no matter who sang for him.

(Privately, Connor thought that he'd heard far more than he ever needed to of Fred's favorite song, The Yellow Rose of Texas. But he kept that thought to himself. He understood the concept of not needing to make a woman so mad she couldn't think straight, unless it was absolutely necessary.)

He passed by Gunn's room, and heard the man talking to himself, wondering how the hell his life had turned completely to shit lately. Again, Connor dismissed that from consideration. He didn't care what sort of emotional state the black man was in, as long as it didn't compromise his ability to help in the search for Cordelia and Angel.

(Again, privately, Connor rather envied Gunn's ability to focus when the excrement hit the rotating blades, to borrow a phrase he'd learned a few months ago. But that, too, was something he kept to himself. To his mind, there was no point or need to give Fred's boyfriend – maybe former boyfriend, now – any sort of ego boost.)

He ignored Wesley's old room, and the noise of a squeaking rat in there. The man had instantly abandoned the group earlier tonight, and thus – to Connor's way of looking at things – he was not worth even a moment's consideration any longer. Kate Lockley, who had gone home for the night, not so much; well, as long as she kept being useful, anyway.

A few moments later, just as he was walking past Fred's room, the petite brunette entered the corridor and almost bumped into him. "Oh! You startled me," she said, taking a step back.

Connor stopped, and stared at her. "Why? You must have heard me coming down the corridor."

"Uh, no, guess I was distracted – hey, wait. Connor, what are you doing up at this time of night?"

He shrugged. "Could ask you the same question."

Fred looked away. "I can't sleep. I'm not only worried about Angel and Cordy, it... it feels weird not having Charles in my bed tonight."

Connor nodded. "You two aren't together now."

"Hey!" she replied, defensively. "I didn't say that – "

"You didn't have to," Connor interrupted. "I'm not blind. And even though it's none of my business, don't think I haven't seen what's been going on between you two lately. The bond you previously shared, it simply isn't there any longer."

Fred glared at him. "Thank you, Sigmund Freud!"

"I don't know what exactly that's supposed to mean, but if it was an insult, it wasn't very effective. You should stick to using that taser; it gets the message across much better," Connor replied emotionlessly.

"Look, Connor... " she trailed off unhappily. "The truth is, I'm not exactly happy you're back here, OK? 'Cause right or wrong, in my view, you betrayed us all doing what you did to Angel. I get that you had your reasons for it – you thought he'd killed Holtz 'n all – but still, that doesn't excuse what you did. And maybe I did overreact somewhat that night Wesley raised your father out of the ocean, but I – "

"It's interesting you should mention Wesley," Connor interrupted, staring at her intensely. "Because the way I heard it, he saved your life when Gunn went to him for help – after you were infected by one of those Sluk demons I chased out of Quor-toth, way back when. And yet there was no forgiveness, no gratitude on your part? What does that say about you, I wonder?"

"Hey, I was grateful!" Fred screeched, looking annoyed.

"Really. And how did you express that gratitude? Don't forget, I was here; I heard you say insulting things about the man last summer, and more than once," Connor said calmly. "So, what you were saying just now – how Holtz and Justine tricking me into thinking Angel murdered him, that didn't excuse my actions afterwards. I'd like to know – how do you excuse your actions, where your former friend is concerned? How does what you did make you better than me? Because nobody tricked you about anything."

"That, that's – not the same thing," Fred replied weakly, looking away from him.

"Hypocrisy. My fa- Holtz taught me about that. So don't assume that I'm ignorant, or that I don't understand how this world works any longer," Connor told her forcefully. "By the way; did you know that Wesley never gave me to Holtz like you people thought he did, back when I was a baby?"

"WHAT?!" The Texan woman looked like she couldn't believe what she'd just heard.

"It's true. Justine actually boasted once how she managed to 'rescue' me from that man, just before Holtz took me to Quor-toth," Connor shrugged. "Not that it really matters any longer, but there was no... what's the appropriate phrase? Collusion with the enemy, I think you once called it?"

Fred looked visibly distraught and confused. "But, but Lorne said he read Wesley that night, he... he'd been meeting secretly with Holtz – "

Immediately, Connor snorted. "Not that I have much faith in that demon's abilities, if any, but even if that's true – did you ever ask Wesley what those meetings were about?"

"Well, no, I-I just assumed... "

"Obviously. You're a fool," Connor told her harshly. "A genius about some things, granted; but nonetheless, someone who's easily tricked, and too eager to judge other people for their mistakes. And once I find Cordelia and restore her memory with that elixir, hopefully, we'll never have to see you again. Or any of the others here – "

"You're the one who's being a fool now," Fred cut him off, mercilessly. "Cordelia is Angel's Seer, his connection to the Powers That Be. He's their Champion and she's their conduit, remember? And no matter how much you hate it, Connor – that bond isn't something you're going to break. Ever. If you think you're gonna take Cordy away from us, somehow... convince her to stay away from Angel for her own good, or whatever? Never gonna happen. The visions of people in trouble which she gets will see to that. And if you're even half as smart as I think you are, you'll know that I'm right."

Connor glared at her, before striding away down the corridor. He was way too pissed to stay in the hotel any longer, and quickly went downstairs and left the building – before realizing he had nowhere else to go right now, the home he'd been sharing with Cordelia in that museum attic no longer existed.

Staring up at the black, star-studded sky, he let loose with a primal roar of rage, angst and teenage frustration.


Many hours later – Poling Springs, Idaho; morning:

Groo walked through the outskirts of town, carefully examining his surroundings and making sure there was no immediate danger to his person. There was almost certainly no such thing, given who and what he was; but Groo knew that it was unwise to take unnecessary risks whenever one entered unfamiliar territory. Relaxing somewhat, he began to look around for the nearest tavern in order to quench his thirst –

"Hey there."

Groo whirled around, unable to believe that someone had actually managed to sneak up on him. Withdrawing the massive sword from the scabbard on his back in almost the blink of an eye, he faced his potential adversary warily. "Who are you, stranger?"

The brown-haired young woman shrugged. "Name's Amy Madison."

Groo nodded, but didn't lower his weapon completely. "I am the Groosalugg. Although my friends call me Groo, for short."

"Yeah, I know. You're the guy that Cordelia fell in love with when she ended up in that Pylea place, way back when," Amy nodded. "And before you ask, the reason I'm here – things are happening, and they're happening a bit quicker than we initially thought they would."

"Who is 'we'?" Groo asked, before slowly returning the sword to its scabbard. He suspected this woman meant him no harm, and even if he was wrong, Groo was now confident his unarmed combat skills were enough to handle the situation.

"You met him a while ago in that demon bar," the female said, coming closer. "His name's Whistler, or at least that's what he calls himself. Apparently, you've got to be a dolphin – or something like that – to be able to pronounce his real name properly. Or so he told me, anyway."

Groo nodded. He was about to ask whether this woman knew anything about the new destiny which the Cahair Binse had promised him, when he suddenly changed his mind and said, "You are Demon Whistler's associate, his partner?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Well, assistant anyway. And he told me how you need to get to the California Hellmouth to help protect Cordelia; but there's one, uh... pit stop you need to make first."

"What is this 'pit stop' you are referring to, Amy Madison?" Groo asked curiously.

"Well, there's a certain Vampire Slayer who's recently been recruited to take part in the fight against the First Evil," Amy said carefully. "Never met her myself, I don't think – or if we were introduced back in high school, it was only briefly and I honestly don't remember it, nowadays. But unfortunately, she's been targeted, and needs a hand out of a certain situation that's coming up soon. And that's where you come in."

"A Vampire Slayer? Yes, I know what they are. My Princess and the Champion Angel spoke of them to me on occasion," Groo frowned. "Very well. Where is this 'situation' taking place?"

Amy sighed. "Northern California. Place called Stockton, or close enough to it. And before you ask, it's taking place today – "

At once, Groo shook his head. "If that is the case, then I fear I cannot help. That kingdom is many days' travel from here, either walking or on horseback."

"I know, that's why I'm here," Amy said, somewhat apologetically. "See, I'm a witch. That's how I can get you where and when you need to be, but you have to grab hold of my hands and brace yourself for something, well... unpleasant."

Frowning, Groo debated with himself for a few moments before doing what Amy Madison asked. And immediately, the world around him changed.

Groo found himself in some sort of limbo, a vacuum of nothingness: no sound, no light, just a dull grey void that formed no boundary and met no horizon. No heat, yet no cold either. Simply... nothingness. But eventually, Groo started to hear a loud shushing noise, and then –

Groo blinked, finding himself on a deserted road, alone – with the sun directly overhead in the sky. { What happened? It was mid-morning, barely moments ago – }

The sound of a vehicle approaching – a bus, from the sounds of it – quickly brought Groo back to the here and now. He started walking towards the motorized conveyance, which was now visible and approaching fast –

When all hell suddenly broke loose.

Hooded, man-like beings appeared out of the bushes, flinging rocks at the front window of the bus – and causing the driver to swerve madly, in an effort to avoid them. Groo had a brief glimpse of mutilated eyes that had been sown shut with runes on the faces of the attackers, before the bus careened over and fell down on its side – and then the hooded ones began to attack the vehicle. To Groo's eye, it was fairly obvious that they were after someone inside the bus, and were willing to kill in order to achieve their objective.

After he arrived on the scene and withdrew his sword, the hooded attackers noticed him. Two of them ran straight towards him, despite being blind, with long curved knives in their hands. Groo easily dodged the silver weapons aimed at him, though, as the mortal combat began.

"You are unworthy adversaries," Groo told them, as two swings of his massive sword decapitated both of his attackers. But that only led to more of the enemy heading towards him, instead of storming the bus.

Groo suddenly found himself in the fight of his life. He was more skilled than his opponents, true – but in battle, numbers can and do make a difference. So, he swung his sword endlessly at the hooded attackers, trying not to let himself be surrounded. Fortunately, the enemy didn't seem able to grasp the concept of attacking en masse; they were just trying to kill him one on one, and eventually, one of them managed to pierce skin on Groo's side.

Groo didn't respond, at least not verbally. Instead, he let his sword do the talking – feinting and then smashing the butt of the weapon into the enemy's hooded face, knocking him down and out.

"HEY!"

{ The woman's voice is a timely distraction, } Groo thought to himself gratefully, as several of the enemy combatants turned to look in her direction. He took advantage of this to shove his sword through their bodies as quickly as he could.

Once all his opponents were dead, Groo took a moment to see what was happening around him. Ignoring the bleeding on the right hand side of his body, he saw a dark-haired woman fighting the hooded enemy with nothing but her bare hands, and winning. She looked like graceful death to Groo's eyes, her punches and kicks deadly to the ones who tried – ineffectually – to stab her.

One moment, the female was surrounded by four of her adversaries, hardly visible under their onslaught – and the next, three of them were dead on the ground, and the fourth was flying through the air, his neck broken before he crashed down onto the asphalt. Sensing his eyes on her, the warrior woman whirled around and took up a defensive battle stance.

"All right, who the hell are you?" she demanded.

"I am the Groosalugg, Groo to my friends," he said calmly, cleaning his blood- and gore-drenched sword on the robes of one of the fallen enemy. "Who are you?"

"Name's Faith," she replied curtly. "You with the Council?"

"What 'council' is this you speak of?" Groo asked curiously.

The woman's eyes widened, briefly. "Seriously, you don't know? The Watcher's Council. Bunch of assholes who think they can give the Slayer orders, and that she'll dance to their tune like some kind of mindless puppet?"

"You are a Vampire Slayer," Groo said, easily able to put two and two together. "You are the one I was sent here to help, then. However, it does not appear as if you truly needed my assistance... "

"Don't sell yourself short, pal. After they killed everyone else on board, apart from Rhodes, those bastards had me up against the ropes; if you hadn't drawn some of them off from inside that bus, I'd be dead right now," the Slayer – Faith – said matter-of-factly. "So, thanks for the assist."

"You are welcome," Groo said formally. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must attend to my wound before I depart."

"You're injured? Shit," Faith cursed. She quickly helped him staunch the bleeding before asking, "Where you going, anyway?"

"A place called Sunnydale," he replied, and Groo noticed the brief look of recognition which appeared on the Slayer's face. "I have business there to attend to, which concerns my former Princess."

"Yeah, well," Faith shrugged. "Funny thing is, thanks to these guys? Bringers, I think they're called? I figure that's where I'm headed next, too... "

TBC…


A/N: It's kinda funny how Joss loved to torment his characters, and put them through all sorts of emotional and physical pain. What's even funnier is after rereading this chapter, we couldn't help realizing how we pretty much did the exact same thing! Angel's Avengers have all sorts of problems right now, and odds are they're only going to get worse. Hmm, what do you think - should they self-destruct? Or get it together and become the lean mean fighting machine we knew and loved on the show? And what about the Scoobies? Hrmm, if we continue to channel our inner Whedon, then someone pretty much has to die - or lose an eye, or whatever. Well, whatever happens, we hope you liked the chapter - and that you continue to read and review the story!