Rowan stood on the roof's edge on top of A.I.'s building looking at the light show that was night-time Los Angeles. Behind him he heard the service door creak and heavy footsteps approach him.

"Angel," he acknowledged the newcomer without turning around.

They stood side-by-side on the roof's edge in silence for several long minutes.

"So, Buffy sent you the Gem of Amara," Rowan commented deceptively neutrally, despite the momentousness of this revelation earlier downstairs. "You don't seem to be in the habit of wearing it 24/7. Quite impressive, really. Where is it now?"

"I destroyed it," Angel answered off-hand, purposefully not looking in his shorter companion's direction.

"You...?" Rowan practically spluttered and looked up at Angel like he had grown a second head. The vampire tried to keep his features smooth. It was unusual to see the Lehaïr off-balance like this.

"Yes," Angel nodded. "And the more I see and hear, the surer I am I made the right decision. It only has any kind of value to vampires, but you seem to have an unhealthy interest in it. Why's that?"

Rowan stepped away from the edge, taking a few calming breaths.

"It seems I've underestimated you in quite many ways," Rowan spoke quietly with his back to Angel. "The Powers chose wisely."

"What do you mean?" Angel asked suspiciously. In the sleeves of his long coat his stake bracers were on hair trigger. Despite this apparent advantage, he no longer had any illusions as it came to their comparative martial arts skills. What he had heard from Wesley made it quite clear.

"The moment you mentioned the Gem, the first thought I had was to wrest it from you by any means necessary and use it as a bargaining piece with Morgaine," Rowan answered in brutal honesty, turning around to face Angel again. "In case Wesley or I have forgotten to mention it, I'm somewhat inconveniently beholden to her."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Angel burst out in shock, now off-balance himself. "Do you have any idea how utterly exposed and vulnerable that makes you? Even the Master was constantly on his tiptoes when he had to conduct any affairs with her."

"Be that as it may, the fact remains that I wouldn't have hesitated to dispose of you to claim it. It's just as well that it never became more than a moot point."

"Your honesty is admirable," Angel nodded curtly, still somewhat shaken by the info that Rowan was somehow tangled even deeper in the Priestess' schemes as he had previously revealed. "But I still don't really like you, nor do I fully trust you in the long term. You continue to raise more than a few question marks."

"I'd be disappointed if you did trust me," Rowan grinned. "Give it a few decades. I tend to eventually grow on people."

"Speaking from experience?"

"It took close to fifteen years before Aryane would give me more than the time of day," Rowan shrugged. "Going on patrol?"

Angel could recognise the question for the veiled dismissal it was. "I suppose you want to get on with the self-exorcism, so yeah, I'm going." At the service door he turned around for the final time. "Oh, in case I don't see you before you leave. Stay away from Buffy."

"If I decide to, it's because I have Faith, not for any other reason," Rowan responded evenly. "Stay safe, Angel."

"You, too."

After the vampire had left, Rowan circled once around the roof and then chose a patch with no structures nearby. He undressed himself completely and then went to work. With a pointed finger he drew twelve symbols on the roof tiles in the form of a regular dodecagon with himself inside it. Alternating Air, Earth, Fire and Water, three symbols were written using each element in a predetermined pattern.

With these preparations done, he sat down cross-legged in the centre of the polygon and delved deep within using the final element – Spirit. Little by little, minuscule particles of light started emerging from his skin and a figure – a young, human boy – began to take shape opposite him but still inside the polygon. Each exuded speck felt like a needle had been forcefully thrust into him, and soon Rowan was fully covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Still it went on – stopping now would most likely kill him.

It took a star's lifetime but finally Rowan felt the final piece leave him. Opening his eyes he saw a hazy hologram-like representation of the tribal boy who had lived 26,500 years ago and whom he had then seduced for his form and visage. The boy's eyes were in shadow, like black pits, denoting that his exposure to the werewolf poison had indeed partly damaged the anchor.

"Thank you," he whispered quietly, almost in tears, and sent out a gust of "wind" made of Spirit. The particles vanished as did the symbols he had drawn leaving only a still-lingering emptiness inside. He hadn't felt this kind of loneliness in a long time.

The next day

"Home, sweet home," Rowan muttered only half-sarcastically as he stood in the middle of the main hall of Angel's mansion surrounded by his luggage. The demon chauffeur A.I. had been able to procure for him in L.A. had left only a minute earlier after an uneventful and discreetly silent drive to Sunnydale.

The place was still in very much the same condition he remembered from the Spring before. The vampire had by no means been a sybarite, but neither was he a strict spartan. Rowan was in no hurry to imprint his own personal preferences on the premises, but maybe it wouldn't hurt to ask Joyce and Xander for some hints on how to make the place conform to a somewhat modern style of living.

The daily – or even nightly – needs of a habitually brooding vampire were still quite distant from what could be regarded as congenial.

Deciding to leave the upper floor for a later time, he made a quick tour of the place he could now call home – at least for the time being. Nothing had changed in the library where he had helped Gwen come to terms with herself. The second bedroom, where both Gwen and he had come in a much more pleasant way, had gathered quite a lot of dust but with the bed and the furniture luckily covered with sheets.

He carried most of his stuff to the master bedroom with its huge wardrobe and other containers. Unpacking he would leave for later. In the dining room the long table and the chairs around it were also covered against dust, but it was the kitchen that would require most work before it would be fully functional again. When one's full diet consisted of blood, a working refrigerator was really the only requirement.

The large, tiled bathroom appeared to be in an acceptable condition but there was no running water and the tub would have to be replaced. The lack of electricity and water would have to be sorted out quite soon. Using only elemental Water for everything was definitely no long-term solution. He had no idea how setting up those with the city worked but he was certain Rupert would be able to help him there. He had money but his residency status was still very much vague. He would also be needing a landline and maybe a mobile phone, but those could wait.

Back in the master bedroom he threw himself onto the bed and interlaced his fingers under his head. A place just for himself – and Faith if she was willing to live under the same roof with him. He hadn't had that since having to leave the place at Arkilien where he and Aryane lived before the war started in earnest.

And like every time something brought his former mate to his mind, he felt like punching something. How could he have been so blind back then?

With her heart-shaped face and ember-like eyes Aryane had been the most sought-after amane among their people. Almost always dressing in pure white, she had loved to adorn herself with wide but impossibly thin golden bracelets, necklaces and bands around her biceps. She had known herself to be basically the epitome of female beauty, so she often purposefully used her body as a canvas to break that symmetry and create something new. Using semi-permanent body paints, she had had large scale elemental symbols drawn all over her flawless skin, sometimes so that the tendrils reached all the way to her cheeks and temples. Naturally that had taken nothing away from her beauty.

For a long time before they became mates, they had been unable to stand each other until they just clicked – the classic rivals-to-lovers trope. Their life together had been mostly idyllic until the time when the plan to seal the Soft Places reached its culmination. During those hectic times they had by necessity seen each other only infrequently, as their respective responsibilities in the effort consumed almost everything they had to give. Still, it was always there in the back of his mind that afterwards they would return back to enjoying their life together with Aurora as their constant companion.

Her betrayal had cut deep, so deep that he had not been able to consider any other option but to imprison her in the Lower realm with those collaborating with her. It had been a harsh punishment, which he still stood by. He must have reflected back on it during his time in the Void, but almost every memory he had of that place had faded away. He had to really force himself to remember meeting Buffy there, and the only real tangible memory was of his retelling of the story to the Slayer before their assault on Balthazar's lair.

26,500 years Aryane had been locked away in an inescapable prison in which time may or may not have flowed much faster or slower than here in the Middle realm. He had no doubts she was still alive – The Hegemon had pretty much confirmed that – but in what form and shape?

And then there was the small, nagging doubt in the deepmost recesses of his mind, a doubt kindled by Buffy when she had thrown him, Gwen and Angel out of Giles' apartment just before Wilkins' attempted Ascension...

...

"Buffy, please, we are all on the same..." Giles pleaded. He was himself somewhat shocked about Rowan's revelations but the trust he had in his friend was still not shaken.

"No!" Buffy shouted. "Oh, my God. I should have realized this sooner. The story about Aryane and the fifth column. It all makes sense now. It's happening again. You..."

"Don't," Rowan shook his head with a hint of warning in his voice. "What they did was unspeakable."

"How do you know!?" Buffy almost screamed. "How do you know she wasn't working on some higher agenda as well and decided to keep you in the dark?"

The whole room fell absolutely silent at Buffy's outburst and Rowan seemed to stagger a little. She realized that she had gone too far.

...

But, as it was, there was no way he could roll back time or change the situation even if he wanted. In their current configuration the Seals were impenetrable for their kind. The only one who could conceivably do so was Aurora, but like everyone else, she was gone – in a certain way, but still.

It was mid-afternoon when Rowan left the mansion in search of the Scoobies. His best bet was definitely the magic shop Rupert now owned, but a courtesy visit to 1630 Revello Drive was also a must at some point. He had no idea what Mike might have been doing since the destruction of Sunnydale High but finding that out was also included in his short-term agenda – as was paying a visit to his old dojo.

His route from Crawford Street to Maple Court took him past the UC Sunnydale campus, just to satisfy his curiosity. A quick feel with Earth told him in no uncertain terms that there was indeed a vast underground complex underneath him and centred on the campus. The Initiative.

There were lots of students about, so he relied on his Aviators to stay somewhat inconspicuous. He let his hidden gaze sweep over the crowd but couldn't immediately spot anyone he recognised. A few guys here and there had a definite military feel about them, and they all looked more than a little antsy. So, something dire must have already happened at the Initiative, and quite recently. He was willing to bet his sword it had something to do with Cordelia's Vision and the reason he was needed here.

When he reached Maple Court, he had to stop in his tracks and chuckle aloud. The magic shop he remembered had been quite unremarkable and unassuming, but now a large blue sign with "MAGIC BOX" written in large letters that could have been taken straight out of an amusement park stood proudly over the façade.

He had been away for eight months or so, something that was only a number to him. He still had occasional trouble trying to figure out just how much each particular slice of time affected the humans, so the reaction to his comeback could be just about anything. Would the Scoobies welcome him back with open arms or would they have all but forgotten about him? When he had talked with Giles over the phone, the Watcher sounded delighted at hearing his voice. But, in the end, there was only one way to find out.