Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – June 2004

Angel leaned back in his chair opening a book and couldn't help but smile, okay so there was something really nasty and possibly apocalyptic going down, but that was over in Cleveland while the Hyperion hadn't been this quiet in over a year. There were still plenty of slayers around but nowhere near as many as normal and all the ones most likely to bug him were thousands of miles away. Peace and quiet reigned and all was right with the world, well except for the possible apocalypse but when you've seen one you've seen them all he reasoned flipping to the page he'd been on when he left it last time.

Of course there was always one fly in the ointment, Angel remembered as Spike stuck his head around the door. 'Have you seen the Knibblet?' Spike asked.

'You mean Dawn?' Angel responded.

Spike rolled his eyes. 'Of course I bloody well mean Dawn' he replied.

'Then why not use her real name not one of those stupid nicknames you hang on everyone?' Angel asked.

'Why are you such a pedantic bastard?' Spike asked. 'Everyone knows the nicknames I use for people' he continued. 'If I ever ask someone "where's the wanker" they always point me in your direction' he told him. 'Of course that works whether they know that's what I call you or not' he added with a smirk.

'Piss off Spike' Angel told him and started to read.

'Do you know where Dawn is or not?' Spike asked.

'I saw her with Connor earlier' Angel told him, eyes still firmly fixed on the page. 'They were going out' he explained. 'Movies I think.'

Spike's eyes narrowed. 'If he take's advantage because Buffy's not here to watch them…' he began.

'My son would not take advantage of Dawn or any other girl' Angel replied angrily, sitting upright in his chair and throwing the book onto his desk.

Spike snorted. 'And what would you have done at his age?' he asked sarcastically.

Angel opened his mouth to snap back a reply, thought about what Spike said and then closed it again. 'Okay fair point' he admitted reluctantly, 'but I was a libertine layabout' he noted. 'At least Connor knows if they slept together both of us would know which has got to prey on his mind at least.'

'He hurts her I hurt him' Spike told Angel.

'If he hurts her' Angel replied seriously, 'you can join the queue because I'll be at the front of the line' he told Spike. 'But he won't' he added. 'They've been seeing each other for what going on six months now?' he asked, 'has she been anything but happy?' he asked then couldn't help but chuckle, 'has he looked anything but increasingly frustrated?'

Spike thought about it then laughed. 'I'll give' he responded. 'But if he starts looking more relaxed, starts doing less exercise and his skin clears up I'll knock his bloody block off' he told the other vampire.

'You'll try' Angel told him. 'He's as fast as we are if not faster, he's got a hell of a good right and he can always run outside into daylight to get away' he pointed out. 'Oh yeah, and for the record, and knowing you give as much of a crap for my opinion as I do yours and as much as it hurts me to say it, I do respect the way you look out for Dawn even if I think sometimes it's only to keep in Buffy's good graces, or maybe to try and get back in her pants' he told him.

Spike thought about that. 'You're right, I don't give a crap about your opinion' he agreed. 'As as for the Knibblet, I looked after her even when Buffy was dead and I didn't have a soul yet, so don't think for a second I don't really care about her threats of immolation or not' he told him seriously.

Angel raised his hands palm towards Spike. 'I'll take you at your word' he replied.

'Alright next question' Spike said, changing the subject. 'Where's Dru?'

'With Cordy' Angel told him, 'she was rambling on about something and we're trying to figure out if she was seeing a vision, making it up again to piss us off, or actually just yammering on because… well because she's completely nuts.'

'Good luck to the Princess trying to figure that out' Spike responded, 'can't say I could ever tell for sure and I had a lot of practice.'

Angel nodded and then his expression changed into a distinctly evil grin that reminded Spike of the old Angelus days. 'And after talking about Buffy and Drusilla guess who starts her first day on the job as my personal assistant tomorrow?' Angel asked. It seemed the ideal time to give Spikey the "good" news.

If Spike paled it was of course impossible to tell. 'Harmony?' he asked quietly.

'You guessed it' Angel told him happily. 'Worked off her notice at Wolfram and Hart, very professional of her I'd say, and we told them if they dusted her in the meantime we'd retaliate' he explained then reached over to retrieve his book again. 'So now yet another girl you had a dysfunctional relationship with is going to be hanging around' he said. 'Make's you feel good does it?' he asked, 'because it gives me a warm happy glow I haven't felt in a long time.'

Bugger was enjoying this Spike thought. 'Did they warn her about Dana?' he asked.

'Yeah but I don't think she really understood the implications off having the anti-Dru hanging around' Angel replied with a shrug. 'She'll learn fast the first time Dana jumps on her because she didn't like Harmony's body language.'

Spike grimaced. 'That crackpot slayer gives me the creeps' he opined.

Angel nodded. 'It's the way she looks at you, or more like through you' he agreed. 'I'm just glad it's Drusilla she fixated on instead of following me around' he continued. 'Now if Dana stalked you as a hobby now that would be funny' he declared. 'Knox says his portable blood screening gadget is ready so we can test Harmony every day to see if she's been snacking on people' he added.

'Christ, what's one more bloody woman with Spike issues anyway' the vampire observed fatalistically. 'No point in revelling in my misery' he continued, 'that's more your line' he said. 'Care to cheer me up though? Don't suppose there's any trouble between you and Nina that might brighten up my day?' he asked hopefully.

'Sorry to disappoint you but no' Angel told him smugly. It was in fact likely the most normal and uncomplicated relationship he had probably ever been in, which was really weird in itself when you considered he was an ensouled vampire detective dating a werewolf. They had a shared interest in art as well as the smell of blood so that helped, and beyond that it lacked the sheer angst of most of his previous romantic entanglements, as long as it never made him too happy Angel was more than pleased with the turn his love-life had taken. He still occasionally wondered if he might have ever really had a future with Cordelia but when he thought about it in a reasoned manner there was too much risk of the kind of whirlwind, emotional and dynamic relationship with Cordy that made your soul go AWOL. Nina wasn't the love of his life but she was far safer than Cordelia or Buffy. Perfect happiness was to be avoided, 75 happiness was still pretty good and much less risky.

And anyway, Angel thought, at least if word got around he was screwing someone those damn rumours that he was a eunuch might stop.

'So can we expect a litter of puppies any time soon?' Spike asked. 'They say doing it doggie-style is good for conceiving' he added, trying and failing to deliver the line deadpan.

Angel smirked. 'So how often are you getting laid?' he asked.

'Hey I was just having fun but you went too far now' Spike protested. It was a low blow that one, he thought.

'So I suppose Connor's not the only one doing plenty of extra exercise these days then' Angel observed. 'As for me' he continued, 'I think I might be starting to get out of shape' he said. 'Might have to start hitting the gym more.'

'Oh yeah rub it in why don't you' Spike replied.

'Some guys have got it Spike and some aren't getting it' Angel told him triumphantly. This really was a good day, he thought. The fly in the ointment wasn't that big a deal as long as the little bastard was suffering he decided, going back to his book as a dejected looking Spike headed back out the door.

Great Russell Street – London – June 2004

Molly blocked the punch and retaliated with a quick jab that connected harder than she planned it to because the girl she was sparring with chose an inopportune moment to move slightly towards her. Inwardly wincing at the crunch under her knuckles Molly felt, as much as watched, the teenagers nose get flattened as it broke with a unpleasant sound and blood started to pour out.

'Oh crap' Molly exclaimed as she broke from the sparring. 'Are you okay?' she asked, knowing it was a stupid bloody question as soon as she said it.

'Du boke my dose' the girl moaned, touching it and wincing at the pain, her eyes were tearing up too.

'It happens sometimes' Molly told her, 'I did pull the punch honest, you just sort of threw your face at my fist' she explained. 'Don't worry once it's reset it'll heal up good as new' she promised. 'Kennedy once broke a girls jaw in training but two days later the girl was right as rain' she told her, exaggerating slightly as it happens, it took more like three and a half.

The new girl Leah fought back the tears, there was no way she was going to allow herself to cry because of getting thumped by a damn Sassenach. She had only just arrived back from basic training in Los Angeles and since she was Scottish once she was considered good enough for the field they had shipped her straight back across the Atlantic to join Molly's European Team.

'I can reset it if you like' Molly offered. 'Done it before, it'll hurt though' she advised, approaching the girl.

Leah nodded and tried not to make a sound as Molly reset her broken nose with a very unpleasant crack followed by a definite cringe

'You beating up on the noobs again?' Natasha asked, walking into the training room as Leah used a handkerchief to stem the flow of blood which was dripping onto the crash-mats.

'She kinda ran at my fist' Molly explained sheepishly.

'Oh yeah' Natasha replied, 'there's a likely story' she continued with a smirk. 'Put in a complaint' she advised Leah. 'It's clearly a racist attack, she don't like the Scotch.'

'We're called "Scots" not Scotch' Leah replied instantly, her voice muffled by the handkerchief and more than slightly distorted by the injury. 'Scotch is a drink and I want one' she added.

'Hey I think you improved her accent' Natasha exclaimed.

'Kiss my arse' Leah responded sharply. She knew her strong brogue made her difficult to follow sometimes but there was no way she was going to let a Scouser criticise what she talked like. They were almost as bad as that abomination of an accent they had in Birmingham, at least there weren't any Brummie slayers yet, thank God for small mercies.

'Ooh she's firey, probably all that red hair' Natasha joked.

'Knock it off or she won't be the only one leaking blood from her nose' Molly told Natasha.

'Getting a taste for duffing up the troops?' Natasha responded with a grin. 'They'll transfer you to Pylea with all the other irredeemably violent ones.'

Molly sighed. 'For the record you only get away with that kind of backchat after you've been the field at least a year' she told Leah. 'But any more of it and I'll pull rank' she said, turning to look at Natasha, 'and hair' she added darkly.

The slayer from Liverpool took the hint. 'I'll be good' Natasha promised. 'Come on I'll see if I can get you a bevvie from the Fridge' she told Leah. 'The boss there caused the mess so I reckon it's fair she cleans it up' she added, indicating the spots of blood on the floor.

Unable to find a decent retort Molly gave up trying and went to fetch something to clean up the blood from the cleaning cupboard. She was back in the training room scrubbing a crash-mat when Roger Wyndham-Pryce came looking for her. 'You know we have people to do that sort of thing' he told her.

'I broke a girl's nose when we were sparring' Molly explained. 'Well they if you broke it you pay for it so I suppose this is the price' she told him, indicating the bucket full of water and detergent.

Wyndham-Pryce nodded. 'I would have thought breaking a slayers nose was rather difficult' he said. 'Your resilience to impact and blunt-force trauma is quite literally legendary.'

Molly shrugged as he finished cleaning the crash-mat hopefully it wouldn't stain. 'It is difficult to break a slayers nose' she replied, 'unless you're another slayer' she continued. 'We're famous for how hard we hit too' she noted reasonably. 'I doubt you could break my nose' she told him. 'Well not without a cricket bat or something.'

'We'll leave that little experiment for another time My Dear' Roger Wyndham-Pryce told her. 'It would go against the grain to hit a young girl in the face anyhow' he continued, 'at least not unless she possessed a pair of bright golden eyes and a set of unusually long pointy teeth' he said with a gentle smile. 'I did once do that, surprisingly hard on the knuckles' he added.

'I could do it all day until mine bled and they'd be fine again the next morning' Molly told him, straightening up. 'Is there something you wanted?' she asked.

Roger Wyndham-Pryce suddenly looked a great deal more uncomfortable. 'Indeed' he told her. 'I don't like to get involved with peoples private lives' he began, 'but I've heard some rumours that I feel duty bound to investigate' he told her.

'Yeah?' Molly queried, wringing out the cloth she had been using into the bucket.

'They concern yourself and that rather strange chap that guards the Deeper Well' he said awkwardly.

'What are people saying?' Molly asked.

The watcher began absent-mindedly playing with his wristwatch. 'Well to be blunt they're saying that you are in some kind of… relationship… with him.'

Molly rolled her eyes. 'Well yeah' she affirmed. 'You wouldn't believe how much effort that took either, he just wouldn't take the bleeding hint.'

'It's true?' Wyndham-Pryce exclaimed. 'I was hoping it was idle gossip we could quash' he told her. 'You're just a young girl, we don't even know how old he is' he continued then paused. 'He hasn't… he hasn't taken advantage of you has he' he asked nervously. If he had then as the girls watcher he would feel duty bound to go find the man and give him a damn good trashing.

Molly grinned. 'It was hard enough to get him to kiss me' she replied. 'I think I scare him and I know how old he is' she said, 'I know loads about him, he can't lie. I won't tell you though, I made a promise.'

'But the age gap' Roger Wyndham-Pryce declared. 'My God if he was the age he appears to be he'd be too old for you.'

'And he'll still look that age when I'm sixty' Molly replied. 'Thinking long term I'm on a winner' she joked. 'At least I've gone for an immortal with a pulse' she pointed out. 'It's less weird than Buffy's track record' she continued. 'And as for age-gaps you do know how old your sons girlfriend is right?' she asked rhetorically.

The watcher narrowed his eyes. 'Now Molly you know my feelings on that matter' he responded.

'Alright, it was hitting below the belt' Molly admitted, 'but that's not so much an age difference thing as a demon god thing right?' she asked. 'Drogyn's human, he just doesn't age' she said. 'And if you're worried about him "taking advantage" he still lives by the code of chivalry, it's not in him.'

'During the Age of Chivalry, by which I mean Medieval England, the legal marriage age, and therefore the age of consent, was ten' Roger Wyndham-Pryce noted.

'And now it's sixteen which is how old I am, nearly seventeen too' Molly responded. 'It's none of your business but I'm not sleeping with Drogyn, we don't even see each other very often, but if I was that wouldn't be anyone's business but ours.'

'Not legally perhaps but morally I have a duty to watch over my slayers interests' Wyndam-Pryce told her, then for a brief moment his patrician façade faded. 'Damn it girl I wouldn't want you to get hurt emotionally any more than I would physically' he told her quietly. That one had sneaked up on him insidiously he realised, he was also starting to understand why Rupert Giles had developed his fatherly affection for his charge. For all her brusque working class manner and appalling cockney accent Molly was extremely endearing, it made him wish he had been blessed with a daughter instead of a son. Even the prospect of Wesley carrying on the family name looked remote these days, so his hope for grandchildren that might turn out better than his son was fading fast.

Molly looked slightly taken aback. 'That's sweet' she said eventually, 'but I can look after myself' she told him.

Roger Wyndham-Pryce took a deep breath, straightened up and restored his usual over-formal and stern demeanour. 'Very well if that is your decision so be it' he told her. 'But kindly inform this Drogyn chap that if he ever hurts you in any way I would have absolutely no reservations about taking a cricket bat to him' he declared.

Warehouse District – Cleveland – June 2004

If anybody had worried about whether or not they were going to know when the Lord of the Covenant was about to arrive they need not have bothered. It was hardly the most low-key or subtle entry into our dimension.

Glory was painting her toe-nails, if only because there was nobody to do it for her, when reality seemed to suddenly jump a pace to the left and she nearly lost her breakfast and did lose her balance, falling off the end of the couch where she had perched herself and sending bright red nail varnish all over the floor.

Illyria was more graceful, or perhaps luckier in her stance, because she merely fell against one wall and managed to stay on her feet. None of the slayers felt anything, they weren't remotely as well tune in to the ebb and flow of the universe as the two deities and they just watched in surprise as the Old One and the Hellgod suddenly seemed to have lost their coordination.

'Holy crap' Glory exclaimed. 'I haven't felt something like that since I got yanked out of Ben.'

Illyria quite involuntarily modulated her form from her human Ria persona to her armour, it was a reflex action to what her equivalent subconscious was telling her was imminent harm. 'Do you feel the aura?' she asked Glory who nodded and gave an equally involuntary shudder.

'It's like the vibe I got of the first but put through an amplifier' Glory replied. 'I mean it's a lot like the First.'

Kennedy burst out of her room. 'Willow's freaking out' she yelled, causing a stampede with Buffy at the front of the queue. When she got through the door she found Willow laying on the floor twitching, her hair had turned jet black and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

'Willow' Buffy said loudly. 'Willow' she repeated bending down to take her by the shoulder, squeezing gently.

The witch stopped shaking and her eyes snapped open, they were as black as her hair and she stared almost through, as much as at Buffy. 'It's here' she said.

'No shit' Rona responded.

Willow got off the floor slowly. 'I can feel the Hellmouth seal' she said. 'It's channelling energy to Berith, he's using it to tear a hole between the dimensions and come through in his fully-powered state.'

'How do you know?' Buffy asked.

'It's like the energy the Sunnydale Seal was putting out during the last weeks but at a higher frequency so it's washing over you normal people' Willow replied. 'It's breaking over me like waves on rocks' she continued. 'My Goddess Buffy the power, the evil, it's taking everything I have to hold on.'

'Illyria and Glory felt it too' Buffy told her as Kennedy moved next to the witch and took her hand. 'Glory said she feels the First.'

Willow's face momentarily paled and dark veins started to crisscross her cheeks before she gritted her teeth and fought them back by strength of will, her normal colouration returning after a couple of seconds. 'I can sense him too, I think he's helping to channel the energy, he must be inside the Cleveland Hellmouth.'

'Well if I had to guess where he ended up, it would have been the backup Hellmouth' Amanda observed reasonably from her position towards the back of the crowd.

'Didn't think he'd still be working with Wolfram Hart after the Sunnydale fiasco' Buffy opined.

'We are a mutual threat to both of them' Illyria noted. 'An alliance remains a valid and logical conclusion although they do not cooperate well' she said. 'Glory and I can adapt to damp out the dark energies, how is the witch?' she asked.

'I'm starting to get a grip on it' Willow responded. 'Really starting to think Berith isn't just getting by on a good Rep.'

'It has been too long since we faced a worthy adversary' Illyria declared. 'A challenge will be good for testing our abilities' she stated.

Willow suddenly froze. 'Oh crap' she exclaimed. 'Where's Wesley?' she asked.

'He went somewhere with Faith' Buffy replied. 'Probably found a sleazy bar where they fit in' she said. 'No offence' she added quickly turning towards Illyria.

'I need to find him now' Willow said. 'I mean it.'

'Why?' Kennedy asked her.

'The Magicks, he's tuned in to them too' Willow answered. 'He hasn't got a fraction of my power but he's got even less of my control' she said. 'You remember him in the Hellmouth, he can lose it just like I can.'

'Oh shit that's all we need' Buffy moaned, 'Dark Wes.'

Alleyway – Cleveland – June 2004

Faith felt herself flung against the wall hard and then pinned there by some force she couldn't see. She was already bruised from being slammed around and it seemed like he was getting stronger and stronger, she didn't even know he had the kind of power needed for telekinesis, she supposed she was only lucky that when he stopped shaking and got off the ground he hadn't fried her ass with a fireball, those she knew he could do. 'Wes' she yelled at him frantically. 'Get a grip, this isn't you' she told him.

Wesley chuckled and walked over, his jet black eyes fixed on her. 'Or maybe this is the real me let out to play?' he suggested. 'The little Angelus hiding in my subconscious, Christ I feel sorry for him that's a first' he said. 'You know I never truly forgave you for torturing me' he said. 'It's always there at the back of my mind every time I look at you' he told her. 'I imagine that's why doing this is so much fun' he said, crashing her to the ground hard once again then releasing her from his mental hold.

'Faith rose to her feet' don't make me put you down Wes' she told him, painfully shifting into a fighting stance.

'You've got to be bloody joking' Wesley replied with a burst of laughter before slamming her against the wall once more. 'I could break every bone in that gorgeous body of yours and you couldn't so much as lift a finger to stop me' he said with a smirk.

Wesley looked around. 'I've always so wondered what was on the other side of the abyss' he said. 'Stood on the very edge of the precipice so many times but never quite had the motivation, or perhaps the courage, to make the final step' he continued. 'I was a bloody fool' he declared. 'No guilt, no fear, it's wonderful, exhilarating' he told her. 'Was it like this for you during your own sojourn into the dark?' he asked. 'Were you really evil or just badly misguided and looking for someone to look after you and you found Mayor Wilkins?' he continued. 'I always thought you were little girl lost, well except for the affair with the broken glass, that made me fairly convinced at the time you were evil, but I must confess to not being an objective observer.'

'Please Wesley, I know you' Faith told him. 'You're a nice guy who had a fucked up childhood and some shitty breaks' she said. 'Shit Wes I am you.'

Wesley grinned. 'The Stockholm Syndrome works fast these days' he responded. 'Identifying with your captor, how sweet' he told her then once more slammed her against the wall and held her there as he walked over, reaching out to stroke her cheek. 'So what were those torture techniques again?' he asked. 'I've tried out a few on other people myself since I experienced them, but never on the one who actually deserved it.'

'Something is fucking with you Wes' Faith told him. 'Fight it' she begged.

Wesley smiled lasciviously. 'Fucking with me?' he repeated. 'Now there's an idea' he added, running his hand further down her body.

'Oh God no Wes, not like that' Faith begged. 'Not like that.'

Wesley's eyebrows raised. 'Well that's a turn up for the books' he said. 'So how do you want it?' he asked. 'Like the new me do you?' he asked. 'I imagine I am more your type now' he suggested.

'No' Faith told him. 'You're not.'

Wesley released Faith from his telekinetic hold and she started to fall forward with him catching her and propping her up, pushing her back physically with one hand so that she was leaning against the wall, the two of them close enough to kiss. 'I suppose I could forgo some torture for something a little sweeter' he said, leaning in.

Faith's knee to his groin changed his opinion on the torture instantly but also rendered him fairly incapable of doing anything about it as he slumped to the ground. Even the magicks require the ability to think straight and although physical Faith's blow prevented him from thinking very much apart from just how much it hurt just right at that moment.

The effect of the blow bought the taste of blood into his mouth and he started coughing as Faith prepared to knock him unconscious. She figured Willow could get his head straight back at the Loft.

Wesley looked up at her as she knelt beside him and readied a fist, she looked into his eyes and watched them start to clear, the blackness swirling away. The pain had broken more than his balls, though he was hoping they only felt that way, it had also broken the hold the dark magicks had on his mind and enabled the real Wesley to get a goddamn grip on himself, as well yet again as the grip he had on his balls. 'I'm sorry' he gasped. 'I'm so sorry' he told her as the pain started to fade away, the tears he was starting to shed not caused by that.

Faith unclenched her fist and stroked his cheek. 'This is my type' she said and leaned in to kiss him.

When Willow teleported in she had a large number of questions, but the first one that crossed her mind was why exactly Wesley was lying on his back on the ground with Faith's tongue down his throat and clearly not trying to do anything to stop it. It was only later that she remembered that for every Guinevere there is, by definition, a Lancelot.

The problem was King Arthur wasn't remotely as dangerous to cross as the God-king of the Primordium Willow decided. It was definitely not the kind of additional trouble you wanted when Wolfram and Hart's best inter-dimensional trouble-shooter was in town.

Note from the Author:

Probably gave too many hints to call it a plot twist ;-)

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