Complement

by Michele D

This is the first fanfiction I wrote. I began it in 2000 & completed it in 2002. I will mark it complete once all chapters are up. I'll be posting a few chapters at a time. Just a heads up, it is long. Starts in the future that only lives in my head (Prologue). Takes place right before & during Judgment (Part I).

26. XXV - Sympathy For The Devil

XXV - Sympathy For The Devil

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He was sitting or rather slouching in the large, deep, plush, midnight black leather couch in his den. His head lay wearily back against it, his piercing eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling. Eyes that changed colors like the sea did with the tide and the weather. From the almost crystal clear blue of the Mediterranean Sea when his mood was light and cheerful, to the almost pitch-blue-black of the Atlantic Ocean as it tossed and howled with rage during a storm when he was angry. Now though they were the bluish-green of the Atlantic Ocean right before a coming storm, as the colors seemed to swirl and change with each motion of the sea. When his eyes were this color, it almost always signaled he was in deep thought. This time was no exception; he was contemplating the sorry state of the world and the human race.

Over the years, the hope he had held in his heart for the human race had slowly but surely faded. Whereas once he had been innocent and optimistic, now he was jaded and cynical. It never seemed to amaze him the amount of harm, damage, humans could inflict on and do to each other. The amount of hate they could feel for each other, hate that they bred from generation to generation.

The more jaded and cynical he became the less and less he believed that humans could ever eradicate the hate. He had begun to believe of late that they would as a race, have to be on the verge of extinction before they learned how to live with tolerance and possibly love for each other. Live with all the differences between them from the color of their skin, to their sexual preference, to different religions, to not believing in the same 'God' or not believing in one at all, as well as all the other nonsense that they used to justify their hatred and their killing of each other.

He was tired of 'man' blaming their evil on a 'Higher' or 'Lower' power as it were. It was time for them to take responsibility for their own actions. Their endless litany of doing it in the 'Name of God' or 'The Devil made me do it' was tiresome to him and just a copout, a way to justify actions that were not justifiable.

When would they learn to appreciate each other's individuality and differences, rather than hate each other for them? Would they ever? Was it even possible anymore? Or had the hate been perpetuated for so many years that they could never rise above and out from under it?

Personally, he was tired of being blamed for all of man's evil. Whether the human race realized it or not his job was to redeem the sinner, not create him.

With a heavy sigh that came from the depths of his world-weary soul, and yes he did have one, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. A few minutes, or perhaps hours later he nearly fell off the couch when Atropos bellowing summoning of him to get to her domain startled him out of his deep, mercifully, dreamless sleep.

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He stared at her with curiosity, not fear, like every other 'Incarnate' would have. But not him. Never him. She gave him the once over while he casually leaned against the loom that held the Tapestry of Life, arrogant as ever. Her eyes traveled over him, starting with the shock of thick blue-black hair, a piece of which lay gently against his forehead. Down to his thick eyebrows that accented his all-seeing eyes, she could tell by their color he had been once again fretting over the world.

Down over the strong bridge of his nose, which was very roman like, to the full lips, the bottom, which always seemed to be in a perpetual pout. His chin was firm and square with a dimple dead center. He stood close to six-two, and muscular, but not bulky.

His hands were almost delicate, the fingers, long, the nails always meticulously manicured. His chest was wide; his hips narrow, his legs long, the black leather pants he wore showed every muscle in his thighs. Right down to his lightly tapping, black motorcycle boot encased foot. Every time she saw him it always amazed her how wrong all the artists were when they depicted him over the centuries, nay, millenniums.

His eyes lazily inspected her while she inspected him. He saw the real her, not the mask that she put up for all the others, the mask that anyone, mortal or immortal could see through if they but looked. He saw and always had seen the eternal beauty that she was and always would be.

His eyes caressed her long flowing black hair with the mahogany highlights. Over to her sculptured thin arched black eyebrows, to her long curly eyelashes that framed her crystal light jade green eyes. To her not quite narrow, not quite wide, aristocratic nose, to her wide, generous, full lips (that caused them to argue so often over who really had the perpetual pout).

Up over her narrow high cheeks, down her jaw line, then over her thin, just the right length neck. She was just the right height for him at five-eight, with the lean long body of a twenty-two year old. High firm breasts, over a narrow waist, to her slightly flared hips, to her well-toned long legs, right down to her perfect little feet. Like her, it amazed him that over the millenniums how wrong all the artist's depictions of not just her but of her sisters were.

Slowly he trailed his eyes back up to hers, his famous lopsided grin faded into a frown when he saw the pain and sorrow in them. Whatever anger she had been feeling when she had called him here was gone in the wake of whatever it was that weighed so heavily upon her heart. He waited for her to speak and saw a flash of anger again before she did.

"Do you know what you've done?"

"No. But I suppose you're going to tell me." He drawled, pretending that he didn't care, but he knew that she knew he did. It must be a male thing, he silently mused to himself, that or all these years of hearing rumors of who or what he was, was finally rubbing off on him.

"You've let one that belongs here in our dimension, within our sphere of control go."

"So. I've done this before, there was never a problem. Who is it? I'll just get them back." He was confused, it was within his scope of power to 'give away' one in his care. So why were they, she, getting involved? He honestly didn't know who she was talking about.

"He is the one you gave to that 'god' Glory," she sneered when she said the Demon Goddess's name. She couldn't though bring herself to utter the other scum of the earth's name.

"Him? He's just filth, there was no redeeming him." The man was a sadist, a pedophile, without remorse, without pity. He hadn't believe he had done anything wrong and after all the years of reading men's heart, Luc knew that the man never would. There was no redemption for him.

"What's the problem? He went to another hell-world in a different dimension. A world that is filled with nothing but pain and torture. Too good for him if you ask me but... There are no children there, Glory wanted him as a new 'Pet'. When she tires of him, she will 'kill' him and send him to her hell, in her dimension. The hell there is infinitely worse than the one here. So... I don't understand, what in the world could you possibly want him back for?"

"She changed him when she brought him home."

He gave her a puzzled look. Glory was outside of the sight of the Tapestry of Life now. She had only been a part of it during her time here because she had shared the body of a human male and effected the course of other Life Threads within the Tapestry. Once she went back to her own dimension, she should have dropped from the Tapestry. Johnny should not be in it any longer since he was dead, or at least not in the present time line. So he was puzzled by how Atropos could know about Glory and Johnny... the only way...

Oh Fuck...!

Atropos saw the look of understanding come over his face. The only way that she and her sisters could know about this was if Glory and Johnny were somehow entwined or touching Life Threads that existed within the Tapestry of Life. Life Threads that were still alive and belonged within this dimension. "Glory dragged the Slayers back to her world. The only reason she took them was because you gave her that... that... lower than a chaos demon man!"

The full force of Atropos angry words hit him with the impact of a nuclear blast. It crashed through his brain exactly who Johnny was, or rather who he was to one of the Chosen Two. "But... How? Fuck!"

She held out her hand to him, he needed to understand it all, because it was going to be up to him to set things to right, "Come I will show you."

Atropos led him over to the Tapestry of Life and he stared down, watching as the life of the Chosen Two unfolded, starting with their births.

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He stretched; it felt like he had been standing staring at the Tapestry for eons. In their reality it had been a little over four weeks, as well as Glory's, but only two weeks in mortal time. The eyes he raised up to Atropos were filled with sadness, pain, and remorse. He had royally fucked up.

His loathing of the kind of man that Johnny was had led him to make a hasty decision. He would have never released a human so quickly to someone outside the sphere of his power if it had been any other 'type' of human. He should have known better. Especially since it was Glory, he had been dealing with.

"Tell me what you want me to do." He doubted that Glory would give Johnny back to him, not after what he had seen. His stomach was churning, what he had seen sickened him, and he had seen a lot in his long life.

"You know I cannot tell you that."

He looked at Atropos incredulously; for once, he wished she would break the fucking rules! He knew she had done it once before and it had almost brought about the annihilation of all of the dimensions they held power over and dwelled in. She swore that she never would again, and she had not broken that vow. He was like all of the other Life Threads within the Tapestry, the choice whether to do something or not was solely within his hands. There was something though he knew that she could do however. "Let me look upon my own Life Thread."

Atropos smiled at him, and he returned her smile. They both knew when he looked upon it that he would see like Faith had, all the possibilities that could happen once he left this place. All of the choices would lie within the Tapestry, and in a sense, the consequences from each choice would too.

Once again, she led him over to the Tapestry of Life. Once again, it began to move to form pictures for him. He stood unblinking, unmoving for two full weeks as his choices and their consequences played out for him. He blinked coming out of his trance-like state, he had seen a path, the road however, would not be easy.

He wondered how he was going to get them to listen to him, get them to believe that he was there to help, without coming right out and saying it. He was bound just like the Fates were not to directly change anything. He could however unlike them, give a gentle push, drop a few hints, help steer someone around the curves so to speak. He could in essence influence them, but he could not come out and directly tell them the what, where, how and why of it.

She stood waiting patiently for him, she also had not moved in that time. She knew now, the reason none of them had foreseen this was because Glory had been hidden from them within the Portal. The portal was outside of time and space, outside of the sight of all dimensions. So her taking of Johnny back home with her had not been there. The only reason that the Fates knew what was happening to the Slayers now, was because unlike Glory, they belonged within the sphere of this dimension, so their Life Threads would continue to unfold within the Tapestry until Atropos was called to cut them.

She wished that they could have done this faster, but the Tapestry of Life showed the events in its own time. She knew that Faith had forgotten, or chosen to forget her time here, and them. Chosen to forget, because she had been upset, though upset was rather mild, Faith had been beyond angry at what the Tapestry had shown her were her choices. They needed her to remember them, remember here and he was the key to that. He had a freedom that the Fates did not.

Atropos shuddered at the thought of what had happened to the Slayers over the last six weeks; she prayed that it wasn't too late. Her prayers were answered when he turned to her and gave her that cocky lopsided grin, that reminded her so much of Faith.

He smiled at her, wrapping himself back into the façade that those who did not know him well expected. The smile did not reach his eyes; they glittered with sadness, remorse, and anger for another 'god' who had used him knowingly to break the rules that existed between the different dimensions for ages.

He straightened out his black leather trench coat, smoothed down the equally black silk shirt, hitched up his pants, and pushed back the stray lock of hair that lay across his forehead. He nodded his head to her, signaling his departure, his understanding and his assurance that he would try his best to set things to right.

"Be careful Luc..." She warned him, knowing that he would be putting himself, the Slayers, the Scoobs and the L.A. crew in mortal and immortal danger alike.

He would be going up against, though indirectly, a Demon-Goddess in her own dimension, where his powers were not her equal, and more than surpassed his. If Glory even suspected his motives, he might never return here to his own dimension. A dimension where his job, despite what the human race thought was about redemption, not about creating, tempting those that eventually needed it. Man whether he wanted to admit it or own up to it, created his own evil, had created the 'First Evil,' not the other way around.

"I will." He flashed her a smile one more time, it was time for him to put his 'game' face on.

Then Luc, as he was known as to his friends, was gone.

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They were huddled in the corner of the locked cage, getting whatever warmth they could in the cold room from each other. Faith was gently stroking Buffy's hair, as she rested against her trembling and crying softly. Her tears mixed with Faith's and the blood that was both of theirs.

They were covered in it, as if they had been bathing in it. It was still flowing freely from the reopened gash under Faith's bottom lip, where she had put her teeth through her flesh repeatedly over the last weeks in an effort to keep from screaming, pleading, begging.

Buffy had almost the exact same gash under her bottom lip. They both knew even with their Slayer healing that it would scar. Another scar that forever marked her as his that Faith would carry with her for the rest of her life. Like the scars on her shoulders, arms, thighs, back, buttocks, calves. But none marked her and her soul the way the first one did, the bite marks on the inside of her right thigh.

He had just left after first beating Faith for hours and then Buffy, careful as always not to break any bones. Their day was far from over. Neither one of them knew how long they had been here; they had stopped measuring time in any real way. It was measured now in pain and by the nightmare routine that had become their life.

They just knew that their days, their pain, started with him pulling one or the other, sometimes both of them out of the bath or off the couch. He called it his morning warm-up routine. There were times when they were already awake waiting for him. Waiting for the chance to catch him by surprise, bring him down, or get past him out of the front door.

Every morning that he came for them, they fought him tooth and nail. Fought until they could no longer rise or were knocked unconscious, refusing simply to give in. They would beg and plead for him to stop hurting the other but almost never for themselves. They took the pain until it overwhelmed them, and inevitably it did, and then sometimes, though not always, they would beg for it to stop. Every time though, he left to the sound of a 'Fuck you...' falling from one or both of their lips, even if they had begged.

Each sought to protect the other, each sought to draw his attention to themselves and away from the other. Though, it was Faith who was more proficient at it. She had nine years of experience at diverting Johnny's wrath away from her mother and onto herself, no matter what the cost.

Buffy cursed that woman every day, the one that had the balls to call herself a mother, even worse, to call herself Faith's mother.

Cursed her for what she had allowed to be done to her own daughter.

Cursed her because she had allowed her daughter to protect her from his fists by using her own daughter's frail body.

Cursed her because she had allowed him to abuse her daughter in every way possible so that he would continue to feed her the drugs; drugs that eventually killed her.

Cursed her because she had given her daughter to strangers to get drugs when he kept them from her as a form of punishment.

Cursed Faith's mother because she had done all this and more, using the knowledge that all her daughter wanted from her was for her to love her, used it to trick her, used it to leave her with the kind of scars the eyes can't see.

Cursed her because she should have loved her daughter unconditionally, freely, simply because she was her daughter.

Cursed her because she should have been protecting her daughter, not the other way around.

In some ways, she blamed and hated the woman more than Johnny. Buffy prayed, hoped with all her heart that Faith's mother was rotting in hell, that there was a special place for that kind of mother in hell and that she would rot there for all eternity.

Their days ended or rather each play session ended with him leaving the room after he unlocked the cage, leaving the one in there who was usually the most recovered free to take care of the other. They would be left alone for a time then, like they had been the first day. They would take care of each other, help each other to clean up, then scrounge around for whatever food he had left for them.

They would crawl onto the couch sometimes, but more often than not, they would take a bath. Sleeping in the water that they had begun to think was magical since it never grew cold. Letting the warmth of it seep into their battered bodies, cleansing them, soothing them in a way that was similar to the feelings that they found now only in each other's arms.

They sought shelter, comfort, reassurance, and love in each other's arms. Where Faith had once thought that the only place that had ever felt like home had been within the circle of Buffy's arms, now in the truest sense this had become a reality. For both Slayers, home literally for them was within the arms of the other.

Glory would show up for one of her friendly little 'girl-talk' chats after every few play sessions, though her visits had become more and more frequent of late. She would tell them all about her days, while she got high off the fear and pain that now radiated almost nonstop from both Slayers, sometimes grabbing up one or the other to lick the fear and pain-tainted sweat from their faces or neck.

It was the times that she showed up and didn't say a word that were the worst, the sole purpose of those visits had nothing to do with talking and everything to do with causing more pain and feeding her addiction to their terror and pain.

Glory terrified them more than Johnny. They had figured out quickly that Johnny wouldn't kill them, just make them wish they were dead. Glory though was a wild card, and like Johnny, she seemed to be fixated on Faith.

Faith was petrified of the crazy god, every time Glory touched her she could feel the vileness of her get under her skin making her feel unclean in a way that even with everything that Johnny had done, was doing to her, couldn't.

Glory was addicted to Faith's terror, but what neither Slayer knew was that Glory was even more addicted to the feelings of guilt, helplessness, and terror that radiated from Buffy when it was Faith that Glory would hold within her iron clad embrace.

Faith waited in agony of the day that Glory took this game of hers with them past the point of just physical and mental abuse. She knew it was coming and she knew that it would be her that it was inflicted upon. The thought of it alone made her insides, every cell in her body clench, shudder and tremble with dread, with revulsion in a way that nothing, and no one ever had. Every time Glory touched her, it took all her will power to keep the contents of her stomach down until she left.

They had tried once and only once, to try to take Glory down. It had been more than enough to stop them from ever trying again. Johnny's evil mind and strength compared to Glory's was like the difference between the amount of light a lamp gave off and the light of the sun. What she had done to them had made Johnny's 'games' seem like child's play.

She had left them broken and bloody on the floor of the main room unconscious; it was two days before one of them woke. Another two days before one of them could rise from the ground to help the other. Even now, weeks later neither of them could bear even to think about it. Afraid if they did Glory would feel the fear coming from them and would remember how drunk she had gotten from feeding off their anguish, their screams and would want to repeat it. Both knew though, it was just a matter of time before the sadistic bitch did it again anyway, just because she could.

When they were alone they never strayed from the other's side, some part of them was always touching. Touching to be sure the other was still with them; touching, to be sure they were still alive. Touching, to feel a hand, a caress, that was not there to cause more pain. They spoke of getting away from here, from him, from her. Spoke of their dreams, for themselves, for each other, of things they would do when they were free of here. They told each other things that they had never told anyone else before. All of their secret wishes, desires, fears, dreams, hopes, wants.

They became intimate with each other in a way that would normally take years of loving and being loved by someone. Not intimate in a sexual sense, but in the way of knowing who the person inside really was, who the soul was that resided inside the shell of the body.

They connected with each other on an even deeper level than either had thought possible. Their love, admiration, and devotion to the other grew ever stronger in this fucked up nightmare they lived in. The bond between them grew surer; more unbreakable if that was even possible.

What was happening to them every day in this place might have torn other soul-mate's apart, instead it only served to bring them closer. They told each other everything they had never gotten the chance to say to the other before, hoping against the odds that there would come a day that they could say them again away from this place. But they said them now, here, not willing to risk that if they did die they would forever remain unspoken. They each had found in themselves, and in each other a strength, a will to survive, for themselves, for each other, that they had never known existed.

Buffy tightened her arms around Faith, careful not to hurt her. They were never really given enough time to heal completely, and Faith had what looked like permanent finger marks on her throat from him. From him playing his favorite fucked up game of cutting off her air 'til she passed out, a game he played many times a day, always with Faith, but only occasionally with her.

His favorite game to play with her was to drown her, over and over again. She felt Faith tighten her arms in response they were both silent now, grateful for even these few minutes alone with each other. Buffy now understood why such simple things had always brought such joy to Faith.

They stayed holding each other speaking to each other through the echoes they shared. They had built for themselves a dream world of images, of a home, of a future. Now while they sat shivering in the cold room in their minds they were together, sitting on a blanket on the beach, luxuriating in the warmth of the afternoon sun upon their skin.

They could share the echoes sending and receiving them with little or no effort now. It had become a part of them like their own beating hearts. Trying at times to take the other there, take them away from what was happening to them in the here and now, by his hand, by Glory's. Often though it didn't work, the pain overriding, forcing everything else to flee their minds.

The connection between them had expanded even further since they had been here. They both physically felt the ghost on their own skin of what was being done to the other. It was like a muffled sensation upon their skin as if they were being touched through twenty layers of clothing, this more than anything else they tried to block from the other when he or Glory had them within their grasp. Even as strong willed as they were they could only keep the block up for so long, until it crumbled under the onslaught of everything else that he or Glory was doing to them.

For now, they kept holding each other, living within their dream world, both quietly alert in the back of their minds knowing it wouldn't be long until he came back. Whatever he did to Buffy, he always finished the day doing something five times worse to Faith.

He used his fists, his feet, his belt and other things that Faith didn't want to even think about to beat and torture them. His sexual abuse however, was solely inflicted, forced upon Faith. And for that, as fucked up as it was, Faith was grateful. She never wanted Buffy to know what that particular torture felt like. So Faith refused to even think about how it made her feel, she pushed it deep, deep down inside herself for now. Years of remembered practice helped her to disassociate what it made her feel like inside.

She shoved all of it behind the re-erected solid steel wall that she had carried around with her for years. She knew that if, WHEN, they got out of here she would have to deal with it, with how it made her feel on the inside. She was afraid though that it would send her hurtling once again down that self-destructive path. For now all her energy, her strength, went to staying strong, surviving, both of them surviving, in the face of and in spite of it all.

In her mind, Faith heard Buffy gently calling her back to her; she could feel how tired Buffy was. Her body, mind, exhausted from being beaten for hours. They drifted in their dream world together, wrapped around each other in the cage the Chosen Two slipped into sleep, dreaming of the ocean, and the sun's warmth caressing them.

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Their Slayer senses started to tingle the second he entered the cabin. They waited patiently for him to come into the Play Room, hoping against hope that he would step into the enclosed, small space of the cage. They stayed as they were, keeping their breathing steady and even, feigning sleep. Their bodies coiled, tensed, waiting for the right moment to spring, they ignored the pain, it was secondary to the need to escape.

His eyes drank them in as he made his way over to the cage. He thought they looked exquisite huddled together, clinging to each other in their sleep, covered in blood and tears. He felt his excitement grow, but he pushed it down, he would have time for that later.

He unlocked the cage door and quietly opened it. Carelessly he left the keys in the lock as he tiptoed in, wanting to surprise them. Slowly, carefully, he made his way over towards them, maybe he would play with them for few minutes anyway, he knew how much she loved their fear, their pain. He stood towering over them, feeling superior to them, over confidant. Whispering he leaned down toward them, reaching out, "Wakey, wakey, compa..."

They moved together as one, rising from the floor in a blur, defying their battered bodies, their pain. Growling, moving at him with all the rage, fear and hate that he had made them feel. Again, both felt an ancient answering response from somewhere deep inside themselves calling to the other.

They lifted him off the ground together, needing no words between them, the echoes between them doing all the speaking. They threw him across the cage, purring in satisfaction when they heard his head crack hard against the bars, and his accompanying groan of pain.

Fluidly they turned as one and ran out of the cage. One Slayer slammed the door, while the other locked it, taking the keys. "Fuck you..." floated softly from their lips in sync, as he snarled his rage at them at getting caught off guard, before he blacked out.

They ran hand in hand out into the main room towards the front door almost giddy with the knowledge that freedom was right at their fingertips. They stopped in front of the door, a trembling hand reached for the lock with the keys. A sigh of relief came from both of them at the thought that this was finally going to be over.

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"I don't think so..." came the sickly sweet voice from somewhere in the room behind them.

They didn't even have a chance to react as they went flying through the air in opposite directions. Ripping gashes in each other's palms with their nails as their hands were torn apart. They each hit a wall with equal force, cracking the logs. Their heads smashed into the unyielding walls. Both felt blood trickling down the back of their scalps as they bounced off the walls, to land in heaps on the floor face first.

They echoed each other's thoughts of 'ohgodnoohgodno' over and over as they remembered the last time they had pissed her off. They had been so intent on escape that they had been careless. They could feel her presence's now and... another's? Though the other's set their Slayers senses tingling, there was something different about it, something that somehow felt familiar to Faith.

"Get up! NOW!" Glory snarled at them in that same fucking sickly sweet voice.

They rose up to trembling legs, both of them shaking in fear, afraid even to raise their eyes from the floor. Silently they reached for each other in their minds, each trying to soothe the other's terror. Each seeking comfort, solace in the feel of being entwined in their mind with the other. Both bit through the gash under their bottom lips, feeling the pain, the ghost of the bite of the other, the blood tasting coppery, bitter on their tongues.

Deep inside of themselves, they felt the rumbling of something ancient, something in their blood, something that recognized the same thing inside of the other.

Maybe it was the taste of their own blood, or the ghost feeling of the other biting through their own flesh in an effort not to whimper with fear. The sensation, the almost taste of their mate's blood thick, somehow familiar upon their tongues.

Maybe it was the inner strength that each had found in themselves and within each other. Maybe it was their refusal simply to just submit.

Maybe it was just who, and what made them the Chosen One's, the Chosen Two, and simply Buffy and Faith.

Maybe it was all of it, or some of it.

Whatever it was, it would not allow them just to stand there cowering like cornered frightened animals.

Whatever it was, it would not allow them to stand there with their heads hanging low, as if they were ashamed of who and what they were.

Whatever it was, it would not allow them to play the bottom to Glory's top any more than they would with Johnny.

Whatever it was, it was smart enough not to throw caution to the wind and have them attack an enemy they could not defeat, not yet, nor would it let someone or something else define who and what, they were.

Whatever it was, it was them and they were it, both familiar, new, forgotten and ancient all at the same time. And each Slayer found its mate inside of the other.

Within a second of rising from the floor, all this and more flashed through both of the Chosen One's minds. They came to a silent understanding. Together they raised their heads; chocolate brown eyes stared into hazel for but a fraction of a second. They straightened theirs spines, standing tall, strong and proud. Still terrified, still trembling, but no longer cowering, they turned and locked their defiant eyes on Glory, waiting for the wrath they were sure was to come.

Their respite from Glory's anger came from the beautiful angelic looking man - Demon? - who stood next to Glory. Faith was seeing the angelic man clearly, while Buffy was flashing between seeing the demon he was so often portrayed as, and how Faith saw him. It was confusing and a little dizzying. They both heard the deep rumble of a chuckle come from him, though Faith could swear she heard him gasp first. Could almost swear the chuckle was to cover the gasp.

He clapped his hands, faking a delight he didn't feel. "Bravo Glory..." He almost sighed in relief when Glory dropped her hand, staying whatever it was she was going to do to the Slayers. Glory turned and smiled at him.

"I always knew you were a smart one." He placed his hand lightly on Glory's arm and felt her vileness creeping along his skin. Feeling what Faith felt every time the Demon Goddess touched her. He made the shudder of disgust that ran through him look like a ripple of desire, by sensually tracing his lips with his tongue.

He lowered his voice, letting it become husky, and looked at her through his incredibly long thick, black lashes. "So clever of you my dear not to break them. The despair, desolation, the pain, the fear is so much sweeter, so much more exquisite if they still believe they have a chance at escaping, or defeating you. Why even I could not have come up with such a sinfully wicked evil plan!"

"Yes it is, isn't it!" Glory wasn't about to admit that it had never been her plan, but now that she thought about it, it most definitely had possibilities. Time enough to think on that later, now she was enjoying too much the attention of this delectable demon-man. She shivered a little as the lust raced through her. She so wanted to devour him.

"Although..." he returned her smile, letting his eyes roam over the human mask that she wore, purposely not allowing himself to see her true face.

"Yes..." She was practically preening under his stare, the Chosen Two all but forgotten. Glory ran her fingertips down his arms, her nails raking the skin, almost breaking it. She smiled again as she felt his muscle's quiver with what she thought was lust.

Seeing Glory's attention diverted Faith cautiously made her way over to Buffy, careful not to make any move towards the front door. Glory might be distracted but neither Slayer was stupid enough to think that they would make it out the door with her in the room. She made it to the other side of the room without incident or drawing Glory's gaze to her. Both Slayers kept their sighs of relief to themselves; instinctively they moved their hands towards the other. They stood taking comfort in the feel of the backs of their hands touching lightly against the other's. They watched the scene playing out before them.

Buffy kept blinking her eyes trying to get him to stay in one form as he seemed to shifted back and forth. She wondered if her head had hit harder than she thought. She knew that Faith was seeing just the man. Why were they seeing different things? It was like this with Glory too, only the opposite, sort of. Buffy only saw Glory's human mask, while after that first day, Faith now caught vague glimpses of what lay beneath the mask.

For Faith, Glory's human mask seemed to always be shimmering, shifting. Although Glory's hands were always, the claw-like things with razor-sharp nails she had seen that first day. Faith never saw them any other way, they had sliced through her flesh, and Buffy's too many times for her ever to be fooled by the mask hiding them again.

He, she knew from Buffy's echoes, wore a mask too, but she never saw it with her own eyes, only with Buffy's. For some reason Faith was convinced that it was she, not Buffy, who was seeing his true face, she just didn't know why. Something about him was nagging her, and there was absolutely no fear of him, or any sense of evil about him for some reason accompanying her Slayer perception of him.

Faith however was careful to keep both the familiarity she sensed and the fact that she didn't fear him away from the surface of her mind, from Glory and even Buffy for now. She knew Glory would smell, sense it and somehow something was telling her that would not be a good thing for any of them.

"Well not to be... It seems however that if we weren't here they may have gotten away. Or was that your plan? A hunt perhaps? A little entertainment for us?"

Glory waved her hand and Luc held his breath thinking she was once again going to do something to the Slayers. He bit back the sigh of relief when nothing happened to them; he turned around when he felt another presence in the room behind him.

Johnny stood in the doorway, his head lowered, his body trembling slightly. A trail of blood ran down from somewhere under his scalp over his ear and down his neck. The terror radiating off him was the equal if not more powerful than both of the Chosen Two's together. Even Buffy and Faith could feel it and both were quick to hide the grin of pure satisfaction it brought.

Glory folded her arms across her chest, and glared at Johnny, her eyes flashed yellow for a brief second, "Care to explain?" Her whole body thrilled by all the terror in the room at the moment. Oh, this was so much fun!

"I... ah..." Johnny raised his eyes to look at Glory and his terror increased a hundred-fold. "I, ah slipped and fell in the cage, they locked me in before I had a chance to get up?" He gave Glory his most boyish, charming smile, hoping that she had not been watching. Hoping that she had been distracted by the presence of Luc at the time. Johnny knew he would be punished for this anyway, he was just hoping to lessen the punishment.

She looked at him trying to decide whether he was lying to her. She decided he wasn't, he was too stupid to lie, too frightened. "Stupid much?" She sneered, and decided to be gracious since she did have company after all. She would rather be spending her time with Luc instead of spending the next few days punishing Johnny.

"If it ever happens again... Well, let's just say you will be spending a few days with me, getting some first-hand experience. Oh the things I know..." She turned her gaze to the Slayers, "You two on the other hand, well... I might just have to put on a little demonstration for my guest here..." She left the threat hanging in the air. She got a little dizzy, and reached out to grasp the back of the couch to steady herself. The terror coming from the Chosen Two had escalated a million times after she finished speaking.

Johnny couldn't believe his luck! The fear receded quickly and excitement took its place at the thought of what Glory would do to the Slayers, he loved to watch her work! He smirked at them in unadulterated joy, his eyes glittering with lust, glee, triumphant over them once again.

When Faith saw that smirk, saw the message in his eyes, something snapped a little inside of her.

FUCK THAT! Fuck you Johnny! Time for a little pain of your own for a change!

The part of Faith that had thrown caution to the wind, who never worried about the consequences, came roaring out in full force. How she managed to keep what she was going to do from Buffy she never knew, but she did.

"LIAR!" she snarled as she rushed Johnny no more than a blur of motion.

It was over before Buffy had even taken more than a step to help her mate. She stopped abruptly, standing deathly still. The man/demon who shifted between what Buffy imagined an angel looked like and what she imagined the devil himself looked like had snagged Faith easily by her waist. He stood holding a thrashing Faith quite easily against his body, as if she were no more than an agitated infant.

Faith kept right on struggling trying to get out of the man's surprisingly gentle embrace. Somehow, instinctively, she knew he would not hurt her.

"YOU FUCKING LIAR!" She reached out for Johnny wanting to rip that fucking smirk off his face. "WE THREW YOU ACROSS THE CAGE, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT DIRTBAG LIAR!"

Glory had a look on her face like she was amused, lustful, delighted, and stoned all at once.

A wave of fear shot through Buffy when Faith moved towards Johnny in a blur that was almost even too fast for her to see. A second wave of fear hit her when Faith had been captured so easily by the man/demon. Buffy's fear was only matched by the fear Faith was feeling at the thought of what Glory would eventually do to her for throwing her little 'temper tantrum'.

Glory was grinning like a crazed lunatic the room was practically flooded to overflowing with fear. She felt she was literally bathing, swimming in it! This was all too delicious and it looked like it was only going to get better!

Johnny stepped up close to Faith, though not close enough for her to reach him. He smirked at her, knowing that Glory would never believe her. He thought he had the advantage as he saw the amused expression on his Demon-Goddess's face.

"Right! As if you two pathetic excuses could! You're the liar baby girl you were always the liar!" he snorted out, chuckling to himself.

It took a second for Buffy to realize that the fear Faith was feeling had nothing to do with the man/demon who was holding her. With that realization, he stopped shifting and she saw him exactly as Faith did, with his true face. When Johnny smirked and laughed, something in Buffy snapped. Like Faith, she threw caution, along with any consequences right into the face of the fucking wind. This time the blur shouting at Johnny crossing the room was her.

"FUCK YOU SCUMBAG! YOU'RE THE ONE LYING! NOT HER!"

Luc was now holding a thrashing Slayer in each arm, having caught Buffy just as easily as Faith. 'Fuck!' he thought to himself, 'How the hell had everything gotten so out of control?'

"And... we're supposed to believe you Runt 'cause...?"

"LIAR! YOU KNOW YOU'RE LYING!" Faith started thrashing again, just wanting to get in one good shot. At this point, she could give two shits if she broke her hand on his face. She was furious at herself, irrationally blaming herself for them not getting away, for having somehow fucked up their, Buffy's, chance at escaping. She could care less what Glory did to her for this, it terrified her, but she wanted to make sure that Johnny shared in that pain. Faith's mouth pulled back in a rabid snarl, she was growling low in her throat like the panther that Buffy so often compared her to.

"Like anyone here is gonna believe Faithy the white-trash-whore and her little slutty Runt lover, over me." Johnny spat out with malicious glee, then laughed right in Faith's face.

His laughter was cut short when she jabbed him square in the mouth, splitting his lip, and loosening his front teeth. He pulled his arm back balling his hand into a fist, not caring at all if he broke her bones. He aimed for Faith's jaw, tired of hearing her words, tired of not hearing what it really was that he wanted to hear.

None of them saw it happen. One second he was holding a Slayer in each arm, in the next second, Luc had both Slayers in one arm, and Johnny's fist captured within his own, "I believe them..."

Nobody moved, nobody blinked, at Luc's calmly spoken words.

Johnny felt sweat begin to drip down the back of his neck. He had forgotten a major power the man in front of him possessed. Luc had the ability to read the truth in 'men's' hearts.

Johnny knew he was fucked.

Glory was the first to move, she was next to Luc in the blink of an eye. "Are you telling me...?"

Luc saw her eyes glow yellow with anger, and was glad because it was for the lowlife Johnny and not for the Slayers. "You know I am. It is one of the many things I have the power to do, to know without a shred of doubt whether a human is lying or telling the truth. It's what enables me to do my job so well! While lying doesn't bother me per say, and I, just like you, my beautifully wicked Goddess, enjoy the pleasure of a good beating, which by the condition of these two, the idiot here seems to be good at, though not as good as you, my dear, of course. There is one thing I cannot abide." His voice grew hard, and mentally he thought to himself; he couldn't stomach or abide men like Johnny period, they made him physically ill. "One thing I do not, WILL NOT abide, WILL NOT allow, even if it interferes with my own pleasure. And may I be so bold as to say, that I am sure that we are alike in this Glory. I DO NOT, WILL NEVER, tolerate or let one of my minion's go unpunished when they LIE TO ME!"

Though no one saw it, they all heard the sound of bones breaking as Luc crushed Johnny's hand within his fist. The sound seemed to go on forever as Luc made sure to crush every last one. He smiled with satisfaction, his most famous faked - though not this time - evil grin spreading across his face, as Johnny screamed out in wordless agony and pain. Luc's grin grew even wider as he heard for his ears only, the low, soft purring of approval of his actions by the Chosen Two.

"Lying is so not good. Not good at all." Her eyes flashed yellow again at the dumb fuck.

Johnny's fear was only equaled by the pain running up his hand thru his arm, thru every cell in his body. It had been a long time since he had felt pain that wasn't accompanied by pleasure. He felt blood dripping from his hand, which was still being squeezed in Luc's iron clad fist. A surge of anger ran through him, he just barely restrained himself from lashing out, and smacking the pleasure filled smirks the Slayers were giving him off their faces.

Unable to restrain herself, Faith lashed out with her fist again, breaking Johnny's nose, practically squashing it flat against his face. She giggled with pleasure, a little crazy right now, and not really giving a shit that her knuckles were bleeding, or that she had probably broken her hand on his face. The adrenaline rush at finally giving back just a little of what he had been giving to her numbing any and all pain. She giggled even harder as he howled in pain.

"You fucking little bit..."

Johnny never got to finish, because Buffy, who was feeling a little crazy herself, lashed out with her foot. Dead on, dead center with every ounce of strength her little Slayer-runt, as he was so fond of calling her, body had and a little bit extra from only god knew where, she kicked him in the groin. "Ooops! So sorry!" Her own laughter joined in with Faith's and surprising them both, Glory and Luc laughed with them.

That ancient remembered thing that ran deep inside, in both their blood, purred with its mate inside the other in satisfaction, satisfaction at returning just a little bit of the pain, the humiliation that Johnny had inflicted upon both of them.

This had been one of the most entertaining, most delightful days since she had returned home. The fear, pain, terror today had been even thicker than the day the Chosen Two had tried to attack her. She was reeling, drunk, stoned like never before from all of it. They would have to do this more often! Why she hadn't laughed like this in eons, this whole thing was borderline ridiculous. That he was here just made it all the better.

Now what to do, what to do, hmmm? All around punishment, or punishment and reward?

She stopped laughing although the amused smile remained on her face. All eyes turned towards her. Johnny's were filled with hope that he still might get out of this with his skin intact. The Chosen Two's were a mix between fear of what she would do to them, defiance, and glee over what had happened to Johnny and their part in it. Luc's eyes were hooded, with what she imagined was lust for her.

She made her decision, turned her gaze at Johnny her eyes glowing yellow. "I think it's time you learned a few new things firsthand. Things only I can teach you..." She smiled as the sweat reeking with terror began to drip from Johnny's brow. "Go! You know where to wait for me. Don't even think of disappointing me!" She shooed him away with a queen-like wave of her hand.

Johnny scurried from the room like the rat he was, cradling his broken, bleeding hand to him. The snide laughter of the Chosen Two trailing in his wake. If he got out of this alive, he was going to make them pay a million times over for humiliating him like this. It would be a long time before they forgot who was master here; he'd make sure of that. Comforting himself with thoughts of revenge, he closed the door behind him.

Glory started to turn her body and her attention to the Chosen Two and Luc. Before she even finished turning, Luc had deposited the Slayers onto the couch, and had pulled her onto his lap on the recliner.

Glory giggled delighted by this little turn. Oh she was going to have so much fun dominating him later! She turned her attention to the Slayers huddled together on the couch; they really were a beautiful sight to her, light and dark, black and blue. She chuckled at her own thoughts.

"Hmmmm... now what to do with you two..." She pretended to think about it already having made her decision.

She was a HellGod after all, one who did not know the meaning of love, compassion, forgiveness, happiness. Any pleasure, joy, amusement, laughter or delight came only from the pain, fear, anguish, helplessness, and terror she rained down on others. Her world was one big Sadist's playground, the difference being that here the only ones who received pleasure were the doers. Here it was not a game of bondage, played amongst consenting adults, here it was not a game at all, it was everyday real life. Death was the only 'safe' word that those being tortured were ever given.

Luc leaned in close to Glory; he whispered in her ear, "Let me first apologize for the incompetence, the disrespectful behavior of the 'Pet' I gave to you. I've half a mind to take him back and send you someone much more qualified than him..."

"No! Thank you, but no. He's too much a part of this whole little game with the Slayers to let go. I assure you, it won't happen again, unless of course I want it to..."

SHIT! FUCK! So close, almost got him. Should of killed the bastard! Fuck!

Luc leaned in a little closer to Glory's ear, letting his breath caress it. Knowing exactly how Faith felt when she was this close to Glory. He was glad he had not eaten today; his stomach was churning with revulsion. "You are far too generous, my luscious one!" He was making himself sick, but the dumb insane bitch seemed to be falling for it if her sigh meant anything.

"Knowing you and your gentle, forgiving heart I am sure you will only torture him for a week instead the two weeks, if not more, I would... Perhaps you would be so kind as to let me watch you work..." He snaked his tongue around the shell of Glory's ear, he moaned low in disgust, silently praying that she would mistake it for desire.

She squirmed in his lap a little, and he felt relief at her stupidity again. She wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, was she? He doubted there was enough mouthwash in all the realms that could ever rid him of the vile taste of her upon his tongue.

Once again, he silently cursed himself for what he had done; his own loathing of men like Johnny had blinded him to the consequences of his actions. You would think at his age that it wouldn't be possible, but like mere mortals, he wasn't perfect either. He pulled himself back to the here and now.

"Of course you can watch. Watch as long as you like." She said in that sickly, sweet voice that grated his last nerve.

"Thank you, you are, as always, most gracious... If I may be so bold? If you would allow me... May I try and guess what your oh so sinfully wicked mind has planned for your little pets on the couch..." He pulled back to look at her, hoping that she would say yes.

Already she had played along with the pretense of this all being a game of letting the Slayers think they could escape just to please him. He was hoping that she would go along with his next suggestion. He needed to buy some time for himself and the Slayers so he could set into motion everything else that needed to be done to free the Slayers.

Glory nodded eagerly. Had he not stopped her earlier today, the day would not have turned out so pleasurable for her. Luc, after all, knew the hearts, souls of humans so much more intimately than she did. She was sure that whatever it was that he 'guessed' was her plan would be infinitely better than what she wanted to do. Sure that it would increase her pleasure of the Chosen Two's terror a hundred-fold.

He leaned in close to her ear once again, making his voice husky, sensual, as if he were her lover and telling her what it was he wanted to do to her in bed that night. "I imagine that you will let them believe that you are going to end Johnny's miserable existence by torturing him over the next week. Of course, having no intention of doing that much as you may want to. Rather you will be giving him lessons, as it were. Some personal instruction, firsthand experience, by your so delicate hand... Things, that he in turn, can practice on them, knowing now firsthand what it feels like." He nipped lightly at her earlobe, wondering if his teeth would rot and fall out from the foulness of her.

"Seeing how delightfully your mind works, I am sure that you will leave them here alone, with of course enough food to help them heal quicker. Leave them to plot, thinking that they have a chance at escaping this place and you. I can just imagine, on the eighth day, their faces when, low and behold, there is the supposedly dead Johnny. How sweet, tasty, stronger than today their fear will be after seven days of recovering and plotting. How much more they will feel the pain he will inflict upon their healed bodies. How much more exquisite their anguish will be when they realize there is no escape, at least not right then... Tell me my dear... am I right... am I... or... do you have something even more evil planned for them?" He held his breath while he waited to see if Glory would take the bait.

Oh! Oh! He was just so... so... evil... it was the only word Glory could think of to describe him. She knew he was right, today had proven that... oh and to lead them to believe... she was getting excited just thinking about it! This week would not go fast enough for her... "Luc?"

"Yes my beautiful one?" He was disgusting himself; he couldn't wait to get out of here and shower.

"Did you forget to tell me you knew how to read minds?" Glory smiled engagingly at him.

He grinned widely at her, flashing her his pearly whites. "I was right! Oh you are so clever! I just knew you were!" He doubted he would be able to eat anything sweet for a while. The shit coming from his mouth was so sweet it was making him ill. "Perhaps you would allow me the honor of coming back in eight days and watching with you?"

She nodded her agreement to him. He stood holding her in his arms for a second, before sliding her down his body until her feet lit lightly upon the floor. He shuddered at the foulness of her against him, and hoped she took it as a shudder of desire. He wanted with every fiber of his being to just crush her beneath his hands, until she experienced a little bit of what she had done to the Slayers. But he couldn't. He didn't know if he could beat her here on her home turf. If he lost to her, there was no hope of any of them getting out. He winked at her and thought, let the games begin, he hoped, prayed that the Slayers were good at reading between the lines. "I can see you are eager to go prepare for your session with Johnny..."

He waited, then waited a little more for Glory to answer him.

HELLO! Oh hello Glory... Come on you freakin' insane moron bitch answer me!

He was getting way too sarcastic for his own good. He needed to work on that real soon. He wiggled his eyebrows at her and almost jumped with joy when he saw that she got it. Someone had finally turned on the light in her brain, a dull light, but a light anyway.

"Huh? Oh! Yes! A lot of preparation needs to be done. Um... by me of course... a lot's involved in torturing a demon, even a half demon like Johnny to death!" Her voice rang out falsely.

He couldn't help thinking, 'Yup! Not the brightest crayon in the box this one!' Well he need not have worried about the Chosen Two having to read between the lines to know this was a trick or game Glory was playing.

"Yes, don't I know it. How about you go prepare, my oh so imperceptive one! I will meet you in a few minutes after I get acquainted with your two 'Pets' here. Yes?"

"Um... ah... sure." Glory walked closer to the Chosen Two who had remained quiet and unmoving on the couch since Johnny had left.

"As for you two... I will be back to deal with you in... ah... eight days... after, ah... I kill Johnny!" She smiled at them, her yellow eyes glittering dangerously.

Unable to resist, she leaned down towards Faith and ran her fingertips along her neck. She pressed into the finger marks left by Johnny, that every day were becoming more like a permanent tattoo. She smiled with sensual pleasure at the gasp of pain that came from the Dark Slayer. Glory gathered up the sweat from Faith's neck, and with a twisted sort of awe licked it from her fingertips. "Delicious..." she sighed; she waved her hand and disappeared right in front of them.

He moved to stand in front of the couch. He stared down at the Chosen Two huddled together on it. He remembered, in his mind's eye, the images of Faith in the Tapestry from when she had her breakdown in jail. How gaunt, frail, fragile, thin, beyond thin, emaciated she had been. She had looked healthy then compared to how she and Buffy now looked.

This was all his fault and he wanted nothing more than to gather them up into his arms and take them from here. Only he did not have that power. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg their forgiveness, but he dared not. He did not believe for one second that Glory had really left. Rather he thought she had made herself merely not visible. She was stupid, but not that stupid. HellGods weren't the trusting type, no matter who it was they were dealing with.

Faith moved slightly on the couch, using her body as a shield for Buffy. She did not fear this man in front of her, she did not know why though. What she did know was that just because she didn't fear him didn't mean that she could trust him. That was something he would have to prove that he was worthy of.

She realized from the conversation he had with Glory that he had bought them some 'Get out of jail free' time from both Glory and Johnny. Why though, what was his game? He had to be some sort of demon or god in order to be here. To be that familiar with Glory, he had to be. There was though, oddly enough, something so strangely familiar about him. Something familiar about the tingle she got from her Slayer senses. If she didn't know better she would swear that she had seen him somewhere before, but she couldn't remember where or when, or how.

Faith stared directly into his eyes and asked him, "Who are you?"

He felt a slight motion in the air behind him and knew with absolute certainty that Glory was still here in the room with them. He had to be clever about this. He needed for Faith to remember the Fates, there was something the Slayers needed to learn from them, well not learn, but be shown by them, via the Tapestry of course. Which role to play that would convince Glory that he was playing with their minds? He decided on the gallant gentleman, it was the one that always confused people the most when they met him, he was hoping though the Slayers would see through it.

But how to ensure that they would see through it? He chewed on it for a second or two before an idea came to him. A ridiculous idea but it was so ridiculous that they had to see through it. Didn't they?

He knelt down in front of them upon one knee and grabbed up a hand from each Slayer into each one of his. He smiled his most evil smile, while his eyes begged them for their forgiveness. They shrunk back into the couch from him, from his touch, but he knew that the fear they were feeling wasn't for him. He knew that they both could sense that Glory was still here.

He took a deep breath and began... "Please allow me to introduce myself... I'm a man of wealth and taste..." First he saw surprise then disbelief and then a hint of amusement in Faith eyes which she quickly blinked away.

Surprise when she recognized the lyrics. Disbelief at what he was telling her, them. Amusement that he was half singing, half speaking it to them. He continued, winking slowly at her, trying to make it look more like a leering thing, rather than an acknowledgement. "I've been around for a long, long years stolen many man's soul and faith... Pleased to meet you hope you guess my name..." He smiled pausing, giving them an opening.

"You... you're..." Buffy took a deep breath, fear coming off her in waves. This nightmare just kept getting worse... Then strangely enough, she felt the calm coming to her from Faith. She risked taking a quick peek at her, and saw that while Faith looked afraid of him, in reality Buffy could feel no fear of him coming from Faith in an echo. She decided to play along too, trusting Faith knew what she was doing.

Consciously Faith made her voice tremble with fear, " You're Luc..."

Luc cut Faith off on purpose, "Luc to my friends, but you can call me Lucifer... ah... But what's puzzling you is the nature of my game... That my dear 'Pets' is something best left for another time. Let me just say that today the pleasure has been all mine." He bent his head slightly. Silently he cursed himself for having to do this, and cursed Glory for still being here and making this a necessity.

He started to slowly squeeze each of their hands hoping they would catch on and play along. He brought each of their hands up to his mouth and kissed the backs of them. He kept squeezing slowly as he silently mouthed, 'I'm sorry' against each of their hands. He almost sighed aloud in relief when Faith started struggling to pull her hand out of his, whimpering in feigned pain, Buffy was quick to follow.

He silently thanked the 'Creator' for not having to make him truly hurt them while playing this fucked up charade. He held onto their hands a little longer, giving his best fake evil chuckle. He let go when Faith finally, gasped out, "Please stop it hurts... please..."

Luc rose from the floor, he knew they had a million questions. His eyes cautioned them to hold their tongues and to pay attention.

He locked his eyes with Faith; it was up to her to understand his message, to remember. "Such a beautiful Tapestry of pain your bodies are. I wish I could stay and add my threads to both your Tapestry's weaves of such dark colors of agony... But alas... right now my Pets a beautifully sinful Goddess awaits me... Perhaps someday the Fates will allow me to weave a little magic of my own upon both your beautifully bruised, pain filled, body Tapestries... 'Til then."

He began to bow to them.

What they did not know about him was that there had been very few times in his long life that he had bowed to anyone. Even in jest. Bowing was a sign of admiration, of respect, of honor for the person you are bowing to. He had met very few mortals and Immortals alike that he had ever had those feelings for.

The two women in front of him and not just because they were the Slayers, but for who they were as individuals and together, to them he showed...

...the admiration, the respect, the honor, the awe that he held for them by humbling himself and bowing low to them, touching his hand to his forehead, followed by his heart; then The Prince of Darkness, Lucifer, or Luc as he was known by to his friends was gone.

xxxxxxxxxx

"Hello, Anyanka," he said taking off his sunglasses as he walked into the Magic Shop.

Anya spun around. She squinted into the noonday sun shining in through the doorway trying to see who was standing there, but all she could see was a glowing silhouette. There was something familiar about him and his voice. Obviously, it was someone who had known her when she was still a Vengeance Demon, which never boded well.

"Anya... It's just Anya now."

"Well then hello… Anya."

He moved out of the doorway coming towards her. For a second all she could see was brightly colored dots. "Luc?"

"In the flesh. Miss me darlin'?" He smiled at her; he had always liked her, despite what she had done for a living so to speak.

He knew the reasons behind her becoming a Vengeance Demon and he could understand it. He had always kept a little bit of hope in his heart that someday she would be able to let go of the anger, the hate in her heart. Once she did that he knew, even if she didn't, that she would be able to live out the life that she should have had from the beginning, before it was destroyed over twelve-hundred years ago. Destroyed by a man, that was exactly like the man that tried and was still trying to destroy Faith's life.

Luc's smile grew a little larger as he saw the dark-haired young man behind the counter with Anya move protectively closer to her. Like the Wicca's he too could see auras and he could see the love that flowed between Anya and Xander.

Xander moved closer to Anya not liking the familiarity the angelic looking man in the doorway was showing towards Anya. Was this another old boyfriend? Maybe the tip off was him calling her by her Vengeance Demon name which meant... Xander moved quickly shoving Anya behind him and grabbed up an axe from under the counter. "What do you want?"

Before Luc had a chance to answer, he found himself flying across the room. Dazed he shook his head and raised it from the floor to see the two Wicca's standing just inside of the doorway. Shit it had been eons since anyone had managed to sneak up, let alone use magic on him in this realm. Him and his smart-ass mouth, he sat up wincing, damn that had hurt.

"I come in peace." First the Stones, now the, shit he couldn't remember what movie that was from.

"Move," Anya pushed Xander aside, secretly pleased at his protectiveness. She ignored his 'hey' and ran quickly over to Luc's side. She helped him back up to his feet and led him over to the table. "Getting a little slow in your old age Luc?"

"Honey... I think you may have jumped the gun there a little."

"Well... how was I supposed to know... Xander's being protector-man and all with an axe and everything... it looked... you know... and with Buffy and Faith dea... um... dealing with um... the stuff you know the stuff... oh hell can I just say oops?"

The Wicca's moved over to the counter by Xander. Willow looked at the man and couldn't help but think that he looked like an angel that had somehow fallen directly from heaven into the shop. She smiled wanly at him and murmured, "Sorry? Are you all right? I ah... didn't mean... well I mean I did mean to... but ah I didn't know that you knew ah... know..." She stopped when he rose up a hand; the little redheaded witch was making him dizzier.

"It's okay. More surprised than hurt." He smiled at her, and she smiled back at him. This one, in fact both witches were powerful, they hadn't even begun to know how powerful they were. He squinted a little at Willow, he sensed, saw, that she had dabbled in the darker side of magic. That was not good, he didn't want her to end up in his care one day. He didn't want that at all.

"The one who caught you off guard is Willow. Never thought I'd see that, someone catching you off guard that is. That's her girlfriend Tara. And this is Xander my 'Orgasm Buddy'." Anya pointed to everyone in turn; they all waved rather sheepishly to him. "And this is..."

Luc stopped her, "Anya... I'd rather do this myself... Please allow me to introduce myself... I'm a man..." Luc trailed off with a groan. What the fuck was it with him and that song? That was twice now in so many days.

Though no one knew it, he actually got a kick out of the song. When it had first come out, he had run around humming and singing it to himself for days. Now that he thought about, he seemed to introduce himself using it when he was nervous. Who would ever believe that he could be nervous about anything? But he was, what if he couldn't fix this?

Not to mention, even if they did get the Slayers back, what was going to happen? It wasn't like they had gone on vacation to Disneyland. There was bound to be repercussions, emotional, physical. Their bond had grown stronger since they had been there; they were united in a fight against a common enemy. Putting aside all of the emotional turmoil and damage in their effort to take care of each other, to escape.

What was going to happen though once they were free and they actually had to deal with what had been and was being done to them? He pulled himself away from those thoughts; his priority now was getting them free, or rather getting the right people in the right place to help get them free. He noticed that Xander was staring at him; he could almost see the wheels turning in his head as his words sank in.

"Hey that's a line from the Rolling Stones song Sympathy for the... ohhhhhhh shit..." Xander trailed off, he locked his eyes with Anya's. "Anya? ... Anya is this ah... is this..."

"Lucifer," Anya smiled at Xander, not really sure what the problem was. Surely, they didn't believe all the rumors that had been circulating for all these eons about him. Did they? After all their years of living on the HellMouth you would think they would know better than to just take everything at face value.

Xander reached under the counter and pulled out a cross. He held it out in front of him towards Luc, who just looked at him amused.

"Get thee behind me Satan!" Xander heaved a sigh of relief when Luc disappeared. "It worked? Of course it worked... I knew it would work..." He smiled, puffing out his chest a little proud of himself. Watching all those movies had finally paid off.

"Okay so now what?" Luc asked Xander.

"AH!" Xander jumped about ten feet in the air turning around mid-flight. The 'Devil' was behind him, arms folded across his chest, leaning casually against the wall. Xander thrust the cross out in front of him again at Luc, "Um... ah... go away?"

Luc took the cross out of Xander's hand and walked around him returning to the table. This was not going well at all, sometimes his own stupidity amazed him, him and that dumb song! He saw that the two Wicca's' were holding hands and chanting under their breath, he needed to stop this before it got further out of hand. "Ladies please... I am not here to cause any trouble... I am..."

"Yeah right... The devil not cause trouble... Good one..." Xander snorted. Okay was he stupid much or what? "Ah... what I mean is... ah... of course you're not... no trouble... we don't want trouble here... nope, not us..." He was starting to sound like Willow.

"Enough!" Everyone turned and stared at Anya. "Luc is a friend. We've known each other for over a thousand years." She stared back at them smiling as if she expected that to explain it all and calm their fears.

"Anya honey... I don't mean to offend you or anything... but you telling us he's your friend is not exactly a ringing endorsement... ah... considering you're an ex-vengeance demon and all..." Xander looked quickly at Luc and mumbled, "No offense."

"No offense taken. Completely understandable." This was bordering on the inane. Before he had a chance to continue, Anya held up a hand stopping him. He looked at her and could see that her clearing this up was important to her.

Anya thought carefully before speaking, she knew she wasn't always clear in getting across what it was that she was trying to say. She wanted to make sure that she did this time. "Do you trust me Xander?" She waited for him to answer her; instead he just nodded mutely 'yes' at her. "Do you think I would do anything to hurt you or stand here casually if I thought that Luc would harm you? Friend or not?" She looked at Xander, then Willow and Tara in turn. "Do you think I would do that to any of you? Do you not trust me?" This time he nodded his head 'no', as well as Willow and Tara. "Well then what's the problem?"

They all looked at Anya and realized that she was right. She was a Scooby just like them, and even more, she was family. Xander felt a little ashamed of himself, they all did. Did they really believe that she would be standing there so calmly if they were in danger, even if it was from someone that she considered a friend?

"Sorry... it's just well he's the Devil you know... all grr and evil like or supposed to be and well... we just. We should have known better..." Willow finished lamely.

"I understand but... You would think after living on the HellMouth all these years you would know better than too..." Anya paused trying to think of the right words. "Um... 'judge a book by its cover.' Or 'things aren't always what they seem' or 'believe everything you read' or..."

"I think they get it Anya." Luc smiled at her, they were getting way sidetracked.

"So then if you're not all grr... evil and stuff then what..." Willow started to ask him, curiosity overriding her fear. Because despite what Anya said, how could she not be afraid? He was the 'Devil' after all. She trailed off when he held up his hand.

"That is a conversation best left for another time. There are those who would be better equipped than me to explain who, what I am, then I. In fact, you know one or two of them and I have a feeling that you would be more likely to believe them rather than me." He waved her off again before she could question him about who. "I don't mean to be rude but I am rather pressed for time."

"Why are you here then um... ah...?" Willow wasn't sure what to call him. He certainly didn't look like any of his pictures, and as soon as she had that thought she realized how ridiculous it was. In fact, she wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming all this.

"Luc. Just call me Luc. It's what all my friends call me. I came because Anyanka, ah... Anya here purchased a certain item through a broker of mine. I've haven't seen her in so long I thought that I would hand deliver it." He had many working for him within this realm. It was a way for him to keep an eye on things. Luckily for him, Anya had gone through one of them for this particular item.

"Is it the 'Indigo Phallic Idol' or the 'Stone of Perpetual Bliss' or the 'Statue of Aphrodite' or..."

"No, Anya... it is a certain Urn..."

"You have an Urn of Osiris?!"

He felt the air in the room change immediately. They all grew somber; he could see the tenseness in their bodies and the overwhelming grief that radiated from them. He hated the fucking rules that said he couldn't just out and out tell them what was going on, instead of having to play these stupid damn games. "Yes... You do know what this is for don't you?" His question was directed at Willow, he knew she was the one who would be performing the spell.

Willow looked at Luc; her face was so solemn it broke his heart. Did she realize the kind of magic she was looking to do? The repercussions to her? He doubted if she would even care. There was nothing she wouldn't do for Buffy and now even for Faith.

"Can I see the Urn before we answer that?"

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Luc produced the Urn seemingly from thin air. He handed it to Willow.

"The Desert Gnome in Cairo works for you? I should have known. He drove a hard bargain, but I finally got him to throw in a limited edition Backstreet Boys lunch box for..." Anya was cut off by Xander's loud cough, "...a friend..." she trailed off.

"Yes the Gnome works for me. Your other item... hrmpf... will be shipped to you in the usual way." Luc said looking directly at Xander.

Xander looked away sheepishly, "You got your somber on, Will. The urn not up to spec?"

It was a second or two before Willow raised her eyes from inspecting the Urn, she looked at Tara and they shared a silent understanding. "It's the one." Willow pulled her gaze away from Tara and looked between Xander and Anya. "Which means it's time."

Xander opened and closed his mouth a few times before he finally managed nervously to stammer out, "It's time? Like, time time? With the... timeliness?"

"Are you sure?" Anya's voice quivered a little.

Luc realized that they had forgotten about him. He sat quietly, still as if he were a statue, waiting for an opportunity to join back into the conversation. He looked at Willow waiting for her to answer and was treated to his first ever 'Resolve Face Willow'.

"I am." No hesitation in her voice at all, she was no longer the shy timid hacker, but every bit the powerful witch.

"Mercury's in retrograde, and we have... do we have everything?"

Willow turned her gaze to Tara before she answered her. Her stance, her look everything about her was determined. "Just about."

"But why the sudden rushy-rush? Did the bot blow her cover at school?" Xander was rocking from foot to foot; Luc doubted whether anyone in the room except him could detect the slight movement.

Luc turned his attention to the blonde-haired witch when she answered Xander. He liked her; there was a very bright white aura, an innocence, which surrounded her. She was someone, he knew, who would never willing go over to the dark side. He knew the only thing or rather person who could ever make her take that step was the redheaded witch beside her. Only though if it meant saving Willow's life. Magic from the dark-side for this one would be a last ditch attempt.

"No, she did great. She impressed all the teachers."

"And they still thought it was Buffy?" Xander smiled his goofy smile at the thought and gave a little sigh of relief thinking he had turned the conversation away from what Willow was planning. His relief was short lived.

"Tomorrow night. We'll meet at your..."

Luc still waited patiently he had a feeling that Xander would draw the witch into a place in the conversation where he could start to plant the seeds of doubt about the Slayers' deaths. Once again, he cursed the rules he was bound by.

"Whoah! Let's apply the brake, and check rear and side mirrors here! This is deep stuff, Willow. We're talking about raising the dead."

"You do realize..." Luc began only to have Willow not only ignore him, but cut him off. So much for this group being afraid of little old him, the big bad 'Prince of Darkness'.

"And it's time to stop talking. Tomorrow night, we're bringing Buffy and Faith back."

Everyone stopped, almost like time itself had halted. They all showed fear on their faces, all but Willow who was still in full scale 'Resolve Face'.

"Tomorrow," Anya squeaked out, this was the first time Luc had ever seen her scared.

"I don't know..." Xander began, but Anya cut him off going into total panic babble mode.

"Discovery Channel has monkeys. And our tape machine's sorta wonky..."

"Guys. I need you guys on board here."

"It just... it feels wrong." Xander didn't know why but it just did, something deep inside of him told him it was. Something wasn't right about the whole thing.

"I..." Luc tried again only to be cut off and ignored by the blonde-haired witch this time.

"It is wrong." Willow shot Tara a surprised, hurt, confused look; she hadn't expected that from her. Tara took a deep breath before she continued, and Luc thought maybe he might not have to say anything at all. "It's against all the laws of nature and practically impossible to do but it's what we agreed to. If you guys are changing your minds..."

So maybe he would have to do something, Luc started to open his mouth, but he should have known better.

"Nobody's changing their minds. Period."

At this point Luc decided to wait until they were done; this was something he thought they should finish playing out.

"Excuse me. Who made you the boss of the group?"

"You did." Anya told Xander, then Tara backed her up.

"You said 'Willow should be boss.'"

"And then you said 'Let's vote' and it was unanimous."

"You made her that little plaque that said 'BOSS OF US,' you put on sparkles..."

Xander cut Tara off he had enough of her and Anya ganging up on him, "Valid points all. But we... I mean, we were just talking then..."

"I can do this, Xander. I promise. But not without you."

"And if something does go wrong...?" Tara ventured hesitantly looking at her lover. Good, Luc thought, now they might get somewhere.

"I'm telling you it won't."

Shit! Luc thought if anything Willow's 'Resolved Face' was even more resolved now.

"Scenario: We raise Buffy and Faith from the grave. They try to eat our brains. Do we, 'A': congratulate ourselves on a job well done..."

"This isn't Zombies, Xander."

"Zombies don't eat brains anyway. Unless instructed to by their Zombie masters. Lotta people get that wrong." Anya told them almost smugly. This was something she knew about; she was an ex-Vengeance Demon after all.

"Very good..." Luc snapped his mouth closed again. He should have known better by now!

"This isn't like Dawn trying to bring back Mrs. Summers or anything we've dealt with before. Buffy and Faith didn't die a natural death. They were killed by mystical energy."

Two points for the redhead, she was right. It wasn't anything like Joyce, she sadly was really dead. But in either case Willow was right because if the Slayers were dead this was one of their options. Perhaps even their only option to bring the Chosen Two back to life. But in order to use this they had to be dead, which they weren't.

"Which means we do have a shot."

Willow smiled at Tara, silently thanking her for her support.

"We saw their bodies, Will. We buried them."

Shit, fuck, damn it. Now he had let it go too far! He really was becoming a royal screw up. First, he let Johnny go, now this. How the hell was he going to fix this now?

"Their bodies, yeah, but their souls, their essences..." Willow's 'Resolve Face' started to crack just a tiny bit, "...they could be somewhere else, trapped it some Hell dimension like Angel was. Suffering some eternal torment that we can't even imagine just because she saved us and for some unknown fucking reason Faith decided to go with her... I am not gonna let her, them..." Now there was a big gaping hole in it, she was holding her eye's wide open trying to keep back the tears. Luc couldn't help but feel for her, for them. If only they knew where the Slayers' really were, he cursed himself silently again.

"...I'm not gonna leave them there." Willow took a deep shuddering breath. She blinked, holding her eyes closed for a second. When she opened them again, the tears were gone and her 'Resolve Face' was firmly back in place. She faced off against Xander again. "It's Buffy and Faith..."

Luc cleared his throat. They all turned towards him, they looked a little surprised, as if they truly had forgotten that he was there.

"Well I see that you know what the Urn is for. How are you so sure that they are in a Hell dimension and not somewhere else? A better place perhaps? Did you try to find them, contact them? Did you even see where their essences went to? You realize, don't you, that you risk bringing back something other than them if you are wrong. Don't you? They were the Slayers after all. You should be absolutely sure before you do this." He rose from the chair; he had to admire this group of young people, including Anya.

He bowed his head to them and spoke again, "I am afraid I have to take my leave now. I wish you luck." He moved swiftly towards the door, a blur really, he opened the door and turned to them, "As Anya said everything, everyone isn't always what, they or it seem."

Then the 'Prince of Darkness' was gone.

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Luc silently cursed himself for fucking up again all the way to L.A. He hoped that he had put enough doubt into their minds. If Willow tried to reach out to their spirits, he knew she would find the connection she shared with the Slayers from the Enjoining spell. Then she would know they weren't dead.

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He was standing on the other side of the counter in the Hyperion watching the interplay between the L.A. crew. They, just like the Sunnydale crew, were not just merely friends, they were a family. All of them amazed him, humbled and awed him. In the past few days between the Slayers', the Scoobies and now the L.A. crew, he had regained some of his hope for mankind.

Between what he had seen in the Tapestry and with his own eyes he knew that as long as there were people like them in the world there would always be hope. How could there not be? They were a ragtag crew and probably in all his long life the oddest crew of Warriors for the Light, he had ever seen. Mortal enemies fighting together, in harmony, in peace, for the good of the world, the loyalty, the love, the bond that was between all of them strong, if not one of the strongest he had ever seen.

Luc moved from the counter and made his way over to stand beside Cordelia.

Angel lifted his eyes from the book he was reading he looked around sharply. Something had sent his senses to tingling. He sniffed the air, and opened himself fully to the room. It was there on the edges of his mind tickling him, he didn't get the feeling that it was looking to harm them, in fact, it felt almost benevolent. He shook his head to clear it, maybe he was imagining it.

Ever since the Slayers had died, he had been having these weird little feelings like something was trying to reach him through the veil between realities, between life and death. He had been putting it down to wishful thinking, wanting something to be there that simply just wasn't. No matter what he told himself though, he could not shake the feeling that something about their deaths just wasn't right.

Softly Luc whispered, 'Sorry' then lightly touched Cordelia on the shoulder. He stepped back away from her, waiting for the vision to come.

"What?" Cordelia looked up at Angel.

"Huh?"

"Wh...ah shit!" Cordelia moaned out, grabbing her head.

Angel was out of his chair. Using his vampiric speed, he managed to catch her as she started to pitch forward.

Cordelia's hands fell away from her head, the searing pain made her eyes tear and glaze over. Her body started to quiver, convulse, as her brain was inundated with the rapid-fire images.

Each flashed series of images was accompanied by a blinding stream of pain in her head:

(Blinding white circular light, swirling, turbulent, mystical, bolts of lightning flashed through it, startling, maiming, hitting something, something unseen within the light. Something was wrong, there were too many in the light... The lightning was hitting too many...)

(Daylight, moving fast, green highway sign, with white around the edges, only the words: 'Welcome to S' were clear enough to read.)

(A bedroom, dusty, unused, sunlight filtered in through the partially open curtains, running across the floor like a beacon towards the object under the bed. A black backpack almost completely hidden under one corner of the large bed. It lay open, a very old, large black book partially falling out of it.)

(An antique vase, some kind of hieroglyphics on it held in a delicate pair of hands. The sunlight highlighting it warred with the darkness of the object itself.)

(An enclosed garden, tables, chairs, lounge, tiled patio, gate, the sun moved across the ivy on the wall.)

('Tween hour, hazel, green, chocolate-brown eyes floating, long lashes, sadness, fear, love flashed through them as they faded.)

(Dusk side-by-side graves, not new, not old, new grass, slowing dying with the coming fall.)

(Darkness, the moon slowly changing color, the same graves, three candles seemly suspended in the air, the same delicate hands holding the same antique vase with the hieroglyphics, something dark, thick in the bottom of it, red, blood.)

(Darker still, silent, the three candles lay extinguished, discarded by the side of the same graves, first from one then from the other, hands, reaching from beneath the ground they were buried in, reaching into the night, towards freedom, frantic, panicked, pushing aside the dirt that kept them trapped below.)

(Darkness laced through with red from the glow of the now blood-red moon, hazel, chocolate-brown eyes floating, fading, turning into pitch black hate-filled, cruel, uncaring, malicious, eyes of pure evil.)

(Two shapes silhouetted running away from the empty graves through the cemetery, shrouded in darkness, bathed by the light of the now bleeding blood-red moon.)

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She brought her hands up and rubbed her eyes not really caring if she smeared her mascara all over face. She started to sit up when she realized, at some point while she was out of it, Angel must have put her on the couch. She fell back down and groaned in pain at the tiny shooting poker-like aftershocks that ripped through her head. She moved her hands to her temples and lightly massaged them trying to alleviate some of the pressure behind her eyes.

Angel leaned over; gently he lifted her head and placed a throw pillow under it. "Are you okay?" He asked her in an almost whisper.

Cordelia smiled weakly at him, even seeing his concerned filled face she couldn't stop the 'Queen C' in her from coming out. "Sure just fine for someone who just had what felt like red-hot needles being shoved through her eyes. No problem, feel great!"

He ducked his head, murmuring 'Sorry' under his breath, and she couldn't help but feel a little bad.

"No... I'm sorry." She noticed Wesley, Fred and Gunn hovering in the background. She could see that Wesley was almost busting a gut to keep from asking her what she had seen. Cordelia waved them over to her weakly.

"Can you tell us what you saw?" Wesley asked her quietly, more concerned with her welfare than anything else.

Cordelia realized in that second that she had misread his face, he had been busting at the gut to ask her how she was, not what she saw. Considering how she always seemed to rant at them whenever they asked she really couldn't blame him for holding his tongue.

"Could someone get me a pad and paper I need to draw something as well..." She sat up with Angel's help, feeling infinitely better now that the shooting pain had changed to a dull ache.

Something about this vision had been a little different than the others. For one thing, there were no actual faces, no truly recognizable places. It was more like subtle hints, or a gentle push in the right direction. This time it felt more like the PTB's were trying to tell her something rather then get them to kill some demon thing. Whatever it was, Cordelia had no doubt about the who, what, and where, she just didn't know the why. She couldn't forget those haunted eyes even if she tried.

"Thanks..." she said to Fred as she handed her the pad and pencil. She took a deep breath; this wasn't going to be easy it had only been three months since... "Here's what I saw..."

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They looked at each other when she finished, they agreed with her, something about this vision was different. It didn't matter though that it was different, they knew where they needed to go and the sooner the better. Wesley, Cordelia, Gunn and Angel all thought silently to themselves that the why would be revealed to them when they got there.

"Road trip?"

"Road trip..." They all chorused.

Luc smiled from where he was sitting on the counter after listening to their conversation. Finally, something had gone right! The seeds of doubt had been planted and he knew that the vampire with a soul would figure it out. He smiled a little wider; they really were an amazing group.

Then the 'Prince of Darkness' was gone.

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She slowly opened her eyes trying not to think about how fragile Buffy felt within her arms. She felt almost completely rested for the first time since they had been dragged here to Glory's Hell World. Last night was the first time she had slept without the fear of being dragged bodily off the couch or out of the bath. She was still in pain and could feel her body struggling to heal itself. Her Slayer healing helping it along but not as quickly for either of them as it normally did. She imagined the slower healing had to do with the lack of sleep and food.

Her stomach grumbled low and deep at the thought of food. She didn't really notice the hunger pains, she had lived with them for most of her life. Up until recently there had only been two times in all her twenty years when she hadn't gone hungry. The first time had been when she had thrown in with the Mayor and the second when she had been in jail.

Buffy, she knew, had only gone hungry once in her life, and even that had been short lived, it had been the summer she had run away to L.A. after sending Angel to hell. Up until now, Buffy hadn't known what it was like to live with the constant hunger pains that after a while became like a natural part of your anatomy, like breathing.

Faith's stomach grumbled again louder and she couldn't help smile when she heard Buffy's grumble in response. Her smile grew a little softer when Buffy rubbed her hand across her stomach, before she snuggled deeper into her arms.

Another sort of rumbling grew louder in Faith as she felt Buffy's soothing touch upon her belly. She realized she was purring, deep inside, and belatedly she realized that she had been purring since she had woken up. Softly she stroked Buffy, making small comforting circles on her back and heard an answering rumbling purr from Buffy. At Buffy's purr, she felt that ancient, remembered thing deep inside, in her blood quicken and answer its mate.

It scared and exhilarated her in a way; there was something almost primeval, feral about it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that since they had been here they had started to express themselves more with growls, purrs, hiss' and snarls, rather than through speech. Was it another 'Slayer Thing'? They had even purred their satisfaction, approval to Luc yesterday when he had crushed Johnny's hand with his fist.

Faith kept gently stoking Buffy's back and let her thoughts drift to Luc. Was he really Satan? She didn't know why, but she was almost one-hundred percent positive that he was, which was weird because she had from the second she met him no fear of him. In fact, he was somehow familiar to her and that scared the shit out of her now that she knew who he was.

Not familiar in the sense that she had met him before, but more like she had seen him somewhere. Did he remind her of a male model from one of the magazines? He was certainly beautiful enough to be one. But that didn't feel right either. She let it go for now, sooner or later it would come to her.

So what was that whole singing the Stones song thing about? Was he trying to put them at ease? She could tell by his eyes that he had been. So what the fuck was that all about? And what the fuck was all that crap about weaving, threads, tapestries, like he was some goddamn seamstress? Faith chuckled silently to herself at the visual she got of the devil sitting on a couch sewing a hem in a pair of pants... then the image of the pants in his hand slowly changed into something that looked more like a square piece of canvas.

Faith pulled away from the changing images in her mind, afraid. Did she really want to figure out what he had been trying to tell her? She knew he had been trying to get his message across to her, not Buffy. Should she trust him? What if she did and this turned out to be another of Glory or Johnny's games?

But the bigger questions were: What if it wasn't? What if she ignored this, refused to try and this turned out to be a way to help them get out of this nightmare? What if this was their only chance and she missed it because she was afraid?

She had to try; she had to try for Buffy's sake. If it turned out that she was being set up, that this was another game, well...

Faith had figured out Glory's game after the very first day. Glory had practically told them, had shown them it.

After nine years of Johnny's games, it hadn't been hard to figure out even through her own fear. Glory was addicted to their fear, their pain, their anguish, so she used the things, people, situations, against them that they feared the most.

For Buffy, it was not being able to help, to save, to protect, to do what she had been Chosen to do. Glory had made it a millions times worse by making it Faith that Buffy was unable to help or protect. Making Buffy helpless to save or protect her soul-mate from her greatest fear, which was Johnny and what he had done and was doing to Faith again.

What none of them knew, including Buffy, was what Johnny had done and was doing to her again, was no longer her greatest fear. Faith's greatest fear now was that Johnny would do to Buffy what he was doing to her. She didn't know how, maybe it was sheer willpower or strength of mind, or simply just the love she felt for Buffy that enabled her to keep it hidden from all of them. But hidden from them all it remained. Even now, Faith shied away from dwelling on it too long.

Knowing what Glory's game was, was why Faith knew with absolutely certainty that if this was a game that Luc was playing with them, and they, she, was being set up, that she would receive the worst of it. Just like she did now. She could live with that, but she wouldn't be able to live with herself if it turned out that this wasn't a game and Luc was truly trying to help them and she didn't try.

Having made up her mind, she cleared it, making it blank like Angel had taught her. She relaxed back into the softness of the couch and the comfort that came from having Buffy in her arms. She knew she needed to let her subconscious take over, to let it puzzle through the images. She tried to focus her mind for the first time since being dragged here, looking for her center.

As she waded through all the pain, both physical and emotional, she slowly found her way to her center. She sank into the meditative trance-like state that Angel had taught her. She visualized once again Luc sitting on the couch hemming a pair of pants, then she just let her mind go and the images started to flow.

Faith watched him as he drew the needle through the pants, the thread pulling through the cloth. His hands moving in practiced rhythm as if this were something he did often. Then the thread grew thicker, the needle longer, the fingers holding it, smaller, more delicate. They were a woman's fingers, long, delicate, wrinkled and spotted with age, but still nimble nonetheless.

The material of the pants grew coarser, changing color to beige, the legs began to merge, 'til the needle passed through what looked like a canvas. There was an image or images drawn very lightly in different colors on the canvas. She drifted down the length of the large canvas over a dark rose-colored settee, over the cushions, her eyes being drawn up the back of it to the wall. She hesitated, not sure if she wanted to see what was there on the wall, but she pushed aside her fear and looked anyway...

Faith's eyes were drawn to one painting in particular. It was him, Luc. Was he younger then he was now? No, it was his eyes, they looked younger, more carefree, less world-weary, and they were a clear light blue. He was holding his hand out to a young woman, with flowing black hair. There was almost an ethereal quality about her, and her jade green eyes were looking adoringly at him. Faith's eyes were drawn against their own accord down the length of the woman's arm to her hands, hands that had long delicate fingers...

Fingers, hands that looked familiar, Faith realized she wasn't looking at a painting but at an intricate needlepoint. She started turning the room changing as she did. She remembered now, knew why the Slayer tingle she got from Luc was familiar, because she was getting that...

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"Child, welc..." Atropos greeting died on her lips when Faith finished turning. Nothing, not even the images the Tapestry of Life had shown, had prepared her for the vision of Faith standing in front of her.

Atropos bit back the gasp of horror, blinking away the tears that came to her eyes. Her eyes quickly traveled up Faith's body as she stood shaking by the loom, naked and vulnerable. Faith's whole body, including her face was covered in bruises, both old and new. She couldn't even begin to count the number of cuts, from fingernails, knives, and other things Atropos didn't want to think about.

She could see every single muscle clearly, as if she was looking at one of those pictures in an anatomy book. See how they moved, worked with each other as Faith trembled in front of her. Her stomach was concave, from lack of food, and Atropos imagined that it was that way instead of bloated because of her Slayer metabolism, her body using even the gas in her stomach in an effort to try to heal itself.

The skin over her ribcage was pulled so tight that Atropos could see the actual breaks in two of Faith's ribs. Her face sunken, and gaunt, the cheekbones so sharp that even a model would not want them. The gash under her bottom lip from her own teeth biting clean through her flesh was still not scabbed. Her slayer healing not bothering with such a minor injury compared to the others.

It was her eyes though, that made Atropos want to cry the hardest. They were so large and round, seeming even darker against the pallor of her face. A face that was frighteningly pale, even under the extensive bruising. They were almost lifeless; eyes that were weary, haunted and had seen far too much for one so young. They were filled with fear and pain. They stared back at Atropos asking her why. Why had this happened? Why?

More than anything ever in her very, very long life, Atropos wished she had the answer for her.

She opened her mouth to say something to the young woman in front of her. Before Atropos could start, Faith closed her eyes, when she opened them, they blazed a trail of anger right at Atropos.

"Well I'm here! Got your fucking message!" Her voice came out five octaves deeper than normal; it was rusty, rough, the words not falling from her lips easily. It had been a long time since she had done more than scream in pain, or whisper nonsense words to Buffy.

A long time since she had done anything but plead or beg, a long time since she had tried to communicate in anything but growls. "Now what? Ya want to show me some more great choices. Leaving out the best of course, like last time. Or maybe you just want to show me that I don't have any more fucking choices. That no matter what I do the scumbag is gonna eventually use all that shit on me that he likes to show me he has in the wardrobe in the play room.

"Maybe... maybe ya just wanna show me all the fun things Glory's gonna fucking do to me when she finally gives into her lust. Show me all the things that are gonna happen to Buffy that I CAN'T FUCKING STOP. Or is it that you people, or gods whatever the FUCK you are, are so goddamn bored that you've got nothing better to do but FUCK WITH OUR LIVES? IS THIS JUST ALL SOME FUCKING TWISTED SICK GAME YOU'RE PLAYING?"

Atropos took a step towards Faith, but stopped when Faith backed away from her quickly in fear. She didn't miss the pain that flashed across Faith's face at having to move so quickly. Atropos looked into those haunted eyes and watched as the anger, the rage faded from them and they filled with pain, the kind of pain that came from somewhere deep inside of your soul.

"This is all my fault." Atropos had to strain to hear Faith; her voice was so hoarse, low, tortured. "This is my punishment for all the bad I did all my life isn't it? That's why he came so I would know isn't it? I deserve this..." Faith choked a little on the tears that started to fall freely, "I know I deserve this... I've done evil things for as long as I can remember... They told me I was no good and I proved them all right... but... but B... Buffy she doesn't deserve this... She's never done anything bad, she's the hero... She's saved lives, she... she tried to save me... She gave her life for the world... She doesn't deserve this... She shouldn't be there... I should, but not her... not her..." Atropos had moved closer to Faith while she was speaking. Faith let her this time; she locked her eyes with Atropos, "... Please... please... I'm begging you... let her go..."

"Faith. I can't. I can't let Buffy go... I w..."

Faith dropped to her knees before Atropos could finish. She bowed her head putting herself in a completely submissive position to the Incarnate. She clutched at the hem of her dark green velvet gown and rushed out before Atropos could stop her. "Please... she doesn't deserve this... I'm no good, I'm evil... I know that... Please let her go..." Faith started sobbing great wrenching sobs from her soul, "I'll do anything you want... be anything you want... I'll be good... please... please just let her go... Please let Buffy go home..."

Faith fell back onto her calves, the sobs wracking her body making her double over, her thoughts just an endless litany of, 'I'm sorry B... I'm sorry... I'm sorry...'

Atropos dropped to her knees in front of Faith; she gently put her hand on her shoulder. She cringed inside when Faith flinched from the gentle touch her whole body tensing as if waiting for a blow. "I'm sorry Faith... None of this is your fault. If I could, if I had the power to do so, I would send you both home..." She gathered the trembling, crying Slayer into her arms, her own tears falling unnoticed. "I'm sorry... I wish more than anything else in the world that I had the power to send you both home... I'm so sorry..."

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"Faith...?" Buffy mumbled in her sleep, restless, something wasn't right. From her subconscious, she reached out to her. She could feel her pain, a different kind of pain, not physical pain.

"Faith?" She mumbled again, something didn't feel right about the body she was holding, like it was empty somehow. Panic flared in her. She started to climb up out of sleep; at some point, she realized there was something familiar about this. Similar to how they shared their echoes, what they felt without speaking.

Buffy let herself stay in that place between sleeping and waking. She focused, concentrated on finding her center like Faith had not too long ago and just let herself drift towards Faith.

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"What the...? She started running towards them, "Get away from her. What the fuck? FAITH!"

Faith struggled out of Atropos arms, she whipped her head up, "B...? Don't..."

Buffy didn't hear her, she dove for Atropos. Only to find herself captured easily, lightly by the ancient woman she thought had hurt her mate. She struggled within the ancient woman's embrace, her arms flailing wildly, as she tried to get loose. She almost punched Faith by accident as she was rising up to her feet from the floor.

"B... Buffy it's okay... B! She didn't hurt me!"

Atropos put the blonde-haired Slayer down gently.

Buffy flung herself at Faith.

Faith just pulled Buffy into her embrace hugging Buffy tightly to her, ignoring the pain that hummed through her.

"I... I..." Buffy just gave up and hugged Faith tighter in return. She couldn't stop the hiss of pain that escaped her as Buffy's arm pressed down on her broken ribs. Buffy immediately loosened her grip and leaned back from her, Atropos completely forgotten by both Slayers. "Oh god I'm sorry I didn't..."

"It's okay B... I know you didn't mean it..."

"I heard you calling to me... I got scared... Something felt wrong... different... like your body was there... but you weren't. Don't ever do that again Faith! Don't ever leave me like that! I got... I got..." Buffy started to cry softly, and Faith pulled her back into her arms again.

"Sssh... I'm sorry... I won't leave you again..."

"Promise?"

Faith leaned back a little and tenderly wiped the tears away. "I promise B..."

When she calmed down Buffy looked around the room. She saw they were in a vast room. A large loom was in the center of it with a massive intricate tapestry on it that extended beyond her sight in both directions. "Where are we?"

"You are in what we call the Tapestry of Life room." Both Slayers looked a little surprised at the sound of her voice. They had obviously forgotten about her in their concern for each other.

"I am Atropos, Buffy. Or you may know me as 'The Crone' one of the three aspects of the 'Fates'" She held her hand up when she saw Buffy was about to ask her a million questions. "Why don't the two of you clean up and rest a little first, then I will explain to you what I can. The Tapestry of Life will show you the rest." Atropos waved her hand and they were in another room.

"I hate when you do that..." Faith grumbled, though she really couldn't complain too much the room they were in was extremely appealing. Not to mention she felt absolutely no fear of anything or anyone for the first time in what felt like forever.

The room gave off an earthy warmth that was both inviting, sensuous and comforting at the same time. It was done in the deep browns, yellows, oranges and greens of the forest in the fall. A fire blazed in the hearth, and both Slayers basked in the heat it gave off. They couldn't help but rub their toes in the dark, dark russet plush carpet under their feet.

A large canopy bed with a thick down comforter was across the room and the lure of sleeping in such luxury, such comfort beckoned to them both. But it wasn't nearly as alluring as the tub-Jacuzzi that could easily fit six people in it on the other side of the room. Both could imagine how good the massaging jets would feel against their battered bodies. Already it was steaming with hot water and the scent of jasmine floated softly to them from it.

"I will leave you two to bathe and rest. There are clothes in the wardrobe. I will return for you in a little while." Atropos faded and then was gone.

"I really hate when she does that too." Faith's smile belied her words, she was grateful for just this little bit of time they were being granted here.

Buffy returned Faith's smile as she led them over to the tub. With weary, contented sighs, they sank into it. Buffy pulled Faith back to rest against her. She had gotten used to being in the bath with her this way over the last weeks, or had it been months? Right now though she didn't want to think about that, or there.

She idly wondered if the bath water was magical because her body was pain free for the first time since this nightmare had started. She really didn't care though, because right this second, this moment, she just wanted to enjoy the feeling, and if Faith's purring was any indication she was feeling the effects of the magical bath water too.

"Seems as though they know you here. Want to tell me about it...?" Faith didn't answer her, she was too busy purring contently, taking pleasure in the warm water, Buffy, and the wondrous, mysterious feeling of no physical pain. Completely ignoring the fact that she knew this couldn't last forever, sooner or later they would have to go back there. For now she wanted to pretend that there didn't exist. That none of it had ever happened.

"Faith baby? Want to tell me about it... Hmmm baby..."

Faith sat up, turned around and looked wide-eyed at Buffy.

"What?" Buffy asked her, then it hit her like a two-ton brick. How fucking stupid could she be? Fuck, she called her baby, using his name. "I... I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to call you that it slipped out... I'm..."

Faith stopped Buffy by placing her fingers tenderly on her mouth. "No... I like when you call me that... It takes away his power... takes it away from him... gives it back to me... I don't know how to explain it any better than that... I missed you calling me that..." She smiled softly at Buffy, who returned her smile.

Buffy pulled her back down to her, and Faith settled into her, leaning her head on her shoulder. They felt safe with each other, soothed by the feel of the other.

"I love you Faith..."

"I love you too B... Buffy..."

They fell asleep in the bath, purring deep inside, each in perfect sync with her mate.

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"Willow can we talk?"

They were sitting on the couch in the Mansion, in a half an hour the sun would be rising. Dawn had stayed over a friend's for the night and the Buffybot was back at the Summers' house recharging. Spike was off somewhere in the recess of the Mansion sleeping, preferring to spend the night here rather than alone in his crypt. Xander and Anya had left for their own home hours ago.

They were all a little depressed, sad over Giles leaving yesterday. He had tried to slip away without even saying goodbye. Luckily, Anya had found the note in enough time for them to get to the airport before his plane took off for England. They had debated telling him their plan about trying to bring back Buffy and Faith but had decided not to. Why get his hopes up, what if it didn't work?

Willow turned to Tara, silently thanking the Goddesses once again for getting her back. "What did you want to talk about?"

"You know how all along we felt like something wasn't right about their deaths? How something just didn't feel right, beside all the mystical stuff. How it didn't make sense that Faith would jump into the portal after Buffy. Especially since she had promised her that she would take care of Dawn if something happened." Tara paused looking at Willow; she knew she was rambling a little. Every time she saw that sad look, it broke her heart a little.

"Go on..." Willow wondered if Tara was going to try to talk her out of doing the spell. She was going to do it with or without their help. She would find three other people if she had too. But she was going to do it.

"Well something ah... Luc said struck a chord." Tara paused again trying to figure out how to explain, make sense out of her thoughts. "You know how I can see 'auras', you've been able to see them too, almost as well as I can. Especially Buffy and Faith's, because theirs is so strong and a little different because they're Slayers and soul-mates. That's what's been bothering me and I think on some level bothering you too." Tara knew that didn't make sense, sometimes she really hated her inability to get her point across.

"I'm not sure I understand Tara."

She hesitated she didn't want to bring that night up or the vision of the Chosen Two lying broken on the ground by the tower. "That night at the tower... When we saw their bodies... there was no aura around either of them..."

"Of course not they were dead. Why would there be...?" Willow snapped at her then instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry... it's just..."

Tara immediately moved over and gathered Willow into her arms. "No. No.. It's all right. But you see there should have been something even if they were dead. Like..." Tara struggled to find the word. "Like a shadow almost... a residual of their auras, their souls... But there was nothing... Like they were empty shells that never had any souls. I don't know how to explain it any better. But it was like they weren't Buffy and Faith but just copies of them... There should have been something..."

Willow closed her eyes and thought back to that night, visualizing the painful sight of the Slayers lying dead. She tried to see past her pain, feel past the pain, the sorrow she had felt, still felt. She remembered thinking that it wasn't them, couldn't be them, that it wasn't right. Remembered thinking on some very deep level that she felt absolutely no connection with either of the Slayers on the ground in front of them. Remembered thinking that she should, shouldn't she?

She should feel some type of connection because of the Enjoining spell. Especially with Buffy, who she was not only connected to through the spell, but also because of the time she had entered into her mind the night Dawn had been taken by Glory. There was also the certainty that they were trapped somewhere and weren't at peace. Why was she so sure of that?

"You're right... Tara, is there a spell we can do that will help us find them on the spiritual plane?"

"Yes... we just need a few things."

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The sun was high up in the sky when they finished gathering everything they needed. They made a small circle of candles on the floor in front of the fireplace creating a protective circle. They had decided that Willow would be the one to look for them, well, actually Buffy since her connection was strongest with her. It wasn't really a spell like casting a fireball, but more of a meditative state that allowed the spirit or soul to wander into the realm of the dead. They made themselves comfortable in the circle and were just about to begin when the patio doors burst open.

Angel came running in, the blanket over his head smoking, on fire. He ran past the witches and tossed it into the fireplace. The rest of the L.A. crew straggled in behind him. Looking a little frayed around the edges, they needed to get a bigger car. They had all worked each other's last nerve on the drive from L.A.

"You would think after two-hundred odd years, that you would know by now, that sunlight is bad for your complexion, ya bloody poof."

Angel ignored Spike who had just entered the living room and turned to look at the witches. "Cordy had a vision," he said by way of explanation. "Did we interrupt something? It looks like you were just about to do a spell." Angel sighed in relief thinking they had stopped whatever it was they were supposed to stop. Then he noticed that there wasn't an Urn on the floor. This wasn't what they were supposed to stop.

Willow got up from the floor; she hugged Angel quickly in hello. "Why don't you sit down? You can tell us about Cordy's vision and we can tell you what's been happening here. What it is that we were about to do."

"Oh good! Willow's going to tell a story!" Anya said as she and Xander came in through the open patio doors.

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Willow was once again within the protective circle. She closed her eyes, relaxed into the meditative state and let herself, her soul, find the connection that she shared with Buffy.

They were all scattered around the room, quiet, still. They had decided to wait until the witches were finished to pursue Cordy's vision. Tara watched Willow intently; she saw a slight shimmering, then a movement in the aura that surrounded her lover. She nodded to the others; Willow had found what she was looking for.

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Angel had been standing by the stairs, preferring not to sit. He watched them intently; he knew he would not be able to wait. Something was telling him not to wait. It had been almost twenty-four hours since Cordy had her vision, and as the hours passed, he increasingly felt like they needed to move faster. Like time was running out. He waited until he saw Tara's nod then silently he slipped up the stairs, heading for the Chosen Two's bedroom.

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Faith woke up and hour or so after they had fallen asleep in the bathtub. She lifted Buffy up out of the water, whispering to her softly when Buffy murmured a sleepy protest. She sat Buffy on the side of the tub, quickly dried her off, while Buffy clung loosely to her around the waist, her head resting in the crook of Faith's neck.

She picked Buffy up again, walked over to the bed, pulled down the thick soft comforter and deposited Buffy on the mattress pulling the comforter back up over her. She gently brushed the hair off Buffy's face, leaned down and tenderly kissed her on the forehead. Silently she thanked the Fates for giving them this respite from Glory's hell.

She went and let the water out of the tub and dried herself off. She threw a few more logs on the fire, then crawled into the bed beside her mate who was already sound asleep again. The last thing Faith felt before she fell into a deep sleep herself was Buffy reaching for her and pulling her close.

Buffy mumbled restlessly in her sleep. She pulled Faith closer to her, needing to feel her comfort, her warmth.

Faith pulled the comforter higher up over them, still sleeping herself. She felt Buffy's agitation and ran soothing circles over her back. Even in her own dream state, she knew that it was important that Buffy not wake up. In her sleep, Faith followed where Buffy led.

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Willow drifted, following the connection she shared with Buffy. She felt her spirit lift, leave her body, she was calling out for Buffy softly without words, seeking the Slayer's help in finding her. She began to move with purpose, faster, and felt as her spirit began to take almost a solid-like state. It was the same, but not the same, as when she entered Buffy mind. But the connection seemed to be more. Were they both here?

She blinked once or twice in confusion, then everything came into focus. Her eyes grew wide with horror when she saw she was standing in a room that Vamp-Willow would have fallen in love with.

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Angel moved quickly down the hallway towards the bedroom, his demon urging him to move faster. He too felt it; felt that time was growing short. Angel hesitated a second before he opened the door. He stepped over the threshold, and was almost overwhelmed by the presences of both of them and their combined scent that clung to the room.

His mind screaming in anguish over the loss of them, who he realized now, were his Anmchara, the Celtic name for soul-friend. His Anmchara the combination of close friends, spiritual centers, and mentors; they transcended sex or sexuality, and even death. It was built on deep friendship, trust and affection. He was theirs and they were his.

He moved swiftly across the room and pulled the backpack out from under the bed.

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She heard someone calling her, calling her in the same way that up until now only her mate had been able to. She responded to the call, helping the other to find her way. Buffy drifted closer. As she did, she felt the fear coming back. She knew where she was heading. She didn't want to go and she whimpered in fear in her sleep. The call to go grew louder, more urgent, she needed to do this. She ignored her fear and drifted further, feeling her spirit begin to take almost solid form.

She opened her eyes and found herself in a room she had become all too familiar with over the last few months. She shrunk back in fear; she didn't want to be here. God she didn't want to be here!

She felt the comforting arms of her mate slide around her from behind. Her mate pulled her to her gently, and leaned down and whispered in her ear, "It's okay B... we're not really here..."

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Willow spun around, and nothing could have prepared her for the horror of the sight of the Chosen Two.

Oh Goddess NO!

"Buffy? Faith?"

"Willow?"

"What... oh my god... what... where..." She couldn't even form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence.

"Good to see you too Red," both Slayers' chuckled at Willow's 'I-so-can't-believe-you-made-a-joke' look.

"Oh Goddess, who did this to you? Where are we? How the fuck did we, you get here? How... how...?"

Buffy crinkled her brow thinking, things were a little fuzzy, she looked up at Faith who returned her puzzled look. They both knew that none of them could stay here long like this. She would know. She would feel it.

"Um..." Buffy stopped afraid to even say her name. Her instincts telling her if she said it, or even thought her name, it would be like invoking her. A shudder went through her and she felt it go through Faith. Then the words seemed to form on their own in both the Slayers' minds.

"The Key knows..."

"The Soul holds the key..."

"And the Two will open and hold the door..."

"The Fallen knows the way..." The Slayers finished together.

"What?" A riddle? They had to be kidding. Didn't they? But they looked just as confused as she felt.

"Time to go... Can't stay here... Not safe Wills... Not safe for any of us..." They felt the pull to leave and began to drift back towards the warmth of the temporary safe-haven of the Fates domain.

Willow felt the pull to leave herself. She waited, watched them as they began to fade. She saw their auras, their souls that surrounded their bruised, beaten, battered bodies.

And she knew...

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Angel pulled the book out of the bag. It was the book they had used when they went in search of Cordy in Plyea. The one with all the spells to open the portals to other dimensions. What good was this? What was this supposed to tell them? He flipped through the pages scanning them faster than any human could; hoping something would jump out at him. He found nothing, he growled in anger under his breath. Frustrated he threw the backpack as he started to make his way towards the door.

The contents of the bag flew from it; something caught him out of the corner of his eye. He turned and watched as the lifting gloves tumbled through the air in slow motion. Flipping over and over as they fell towards the floor. That was it! That was what had been bothering him!

And he knew...

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Buffy and Faith both sat up at the same time wide-awake.

"Did we? Did it... Were we?" They said over each other in a rush to ask the other. They locked eyes with each other, and smiles grew on both their faces.

"They know..." They said together as they rose from the bed and walked towards the door.

"It time that we find..." Buffy began as she opened the door.

"...out what we need to know..." Faith finished as they left the bedroom.

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Angel hit the bottom step and ran into the living room just as Willow rose and stepped out of the protective circle.

"They're not dead!" Both shouted at the same time.

The L.A. crew and the rest of the Scooby gang, including Spike, who was now a member, looked back and forth between Willow and Angel. Their faces a mixture of hope, sorrow, joy, and want.

"See I told you."

"So you did..." James smiled at Gary, his arm going around Dawn who had begun to cry quietly.

"Willow? Angel?" Dawn whispered softly from the open doors.

Everyone whipped around towards the open doors. "Who the hell are you?" Angel snarled.

"Hey easy there! Don't go all 'game-boy' face on us... you either." Gary said and looked pointedly at first Angel, then Spike. "We're here to help..."

"That's right... We're all here to help the Chosen Two."

Everyone whipped around towards the kitchen, where the new voice had come from.

The 'Prince of Darkness' smiled at them from his perch on the counter. "I think it's time to bring the Slayers home."

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...I watched with glee while your kings and queens fought for ten decades for the Gods they made ~ I shouted out "Who killed the Kennedy's?" when after all it was you and me ~ Pleased to meet you hope you guess my name ~ But what's puzzling you is the nature of my game... - The Rolling Stones

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