A/N- there will be a few songs mixed in to this fic. I.e. the title, that pretty much determines that Evanecsence will be around here somewhere. Enjoy!


Bring Me To Life - A BtVS/Angel Crossover Event

Part 2- Divine Interception


The first thing that she felt was cool hands against her face. Darla nudged her head to one side, before nudging back to her original location.

"Darla?" She heard a familiar voice. A man's voice.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, and she came face-to-face with the one being on earth, aside from her son, that could still make her heart go pitter-pat.

"A….Angel," she whispered softly.

She knew it was him before her eyes came into focus. For 150 years, they had traveled everywhere together. Even without her vampiric senses, she could still feel his presence before she could lay eyes on him.

Her eyes came into focus as she found Angel, peering down over her, surrounded by his team. Gunn, Fred and Wesley to his left, while Lorne and Connor stood to his right.

"Connor", she breathed, relief washing over her face. "Are you alright?"

Connor nodded, walking over and placing a hand on his mother's shoulder. "I'm fine. What about you?"

Darla leaned her cheek against her son's lukewarm hand, savoring the feeling of her little boy's touch against her skin. Connor's heart warmed with comfort as his mother leaned into his touch so easily, so naturally.

The sight gave Angel a little jolt up his system. His son. Finally reunited with his mother.

It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen, and in his 247 years of life, he had seen pretty much everything there was.

Darla's hand raised up to her pounding forehead. "Mmmnnngh….wh-what…what happened?"

"You tell us", Gunn shrugged. "We were just interrogatin' Hubcap-Boy over there…"He pointed to an annoyed Skip, still trapped in his red force field. "…..when all of a sudden, the lights turn up about a billion watts, and you, Boy-Junior here, and some girl we've never seen before drop out of the ceiling."

At that, Darla's eyes widened in concern. "The girl…Angel, where is she? I- -"

"She's fine, Darla", Angel reassured her gently. "She's upstairs right now, resting. A little bruised, but she'll live."

Darla let a sigh of relief flow from her.

"Darla", Wesley's voice and called to her, and she locked eyes with the former Watcher. She noted that his gaze seemed much more different than the last time she saw him. His gaze spoke of a deep, dark pain. Of shadows within himself, within his own heart. But there were still the flashes of light that played amongst those shadows.

He was still a fighter. A warrior of light.

"Darla, and, believe me, I don't mean this with any malice, but what are you doing here?", he said, carefully picking his words.

For some strange reason, he felt it necessary not to hurt her feelings. He couldn't quite pick out the reason for that. Perhaps it was because of Darla's incredible sacrifice for Connor's birth. Then again, it may have been the English gentleman in him that compelled him to act as such. It struck him with amazement, still, that he had seen Darla several times over the years, on many a perilous occasion. And yet, he had never yet noticed how…beautiful she was. Wesley was not blind. He knew Darla was a ravishing, sensual woman, both by appearance and by the readings in the Watcher Diaries. But the type of beauty she showed now was different than ever before. Pure. Calmed. Serene.

Precious.

Shaking his head slightly, the ex-Watcher continued. "You've been dead for a little more than a year."

"I…the Powers…they sent me", Darla said.

Everyone turned to look at each other with shock on their faces at the name she mentioned. It was clear that this was the last answer they expected.

"The Powers That BE?" an amazed Angel said, griping her hands, softly, but firmly. "They sent you here?"

Darla nodded gently. "Yes."

"Why? How?", the souled vampire fired away his questions.

Darla paused for a minute, then a strange expression came on her face. As if she had remembered something. She said as she sat up, "I-I don't know how, but this wasn't what I was sent back for…at least, not like this."

"Not like what?", Fred asked, puzzled.

"Human, sugarplum", Lorne answered the Texan beauty. "Our little nightingale's turned human."

Gunn, Wesley and Fred turned to the Host with wide-eyed surprise, before turning to their leader.

"Angel?", Gunn asked. " 'Zat true?"

Angel nodded, without taking his eyes off his Sire. "It's true. I smelled it when she first dropped in here."

Even though he sounded calm and rational, Angel's mind was still reeling from the mysterious drop-in by Darla….as a human again. He wasn't sure how or why, but somehow, the mother of his son had made her way back from the dead once again. He shook his head.

She's got more lives than a cat, he thought. Or Buffy, for that matter. And that's a lot of lives.

"Some….something that she did. Cordelia", she thought back, trying to recreate in her photographic memory what exactly happened. " Or, at least, something old and evil pretending to be Cordelia. I don't know, she…did something to me. I was just a spirit. A …a vision. "

"So you…weren't supposed to…come back? As a mortal?", Wesley asked, intrigued.

"Oh, for the love of Pete! Haven't you been listening, you ninny!", Skip groaned as all eyes turned to him. "If 'Queen of the Damned' here says she doesn't know what happened, shouldn't the little light bulb in your tiny little mortal brain be going off right about now? Of COURSE she wasn't supposed to come back as a mortal! Hell, she shouldn't even be here right now!"

Angel's eyes flashed yellow for a moment, clearly not in the mood to deal with the renegade demon's antics. "Fred, if Tin Woodsman over there says another word without permission, get out that Infinite Agony do-hickey", he scowled in his razor-edged, dangerously low voice.

"Why wait? I've heard preventive medicine can be the best solution", Fred glared at the imprisoned demon, before making towards the book with the spell to produce the sphere f Infinite Agony.

"No,no,no,no!", Skip amended quickly, looking ever so nervous. "Um…th-th-that's okay. Pretend I'm not here, or something! I'm just a piece of furniture, or a new lamp, or— "

"Are you still talking?", Darla snapped at the mercenary demon. Skip wisely clammed up.

"God. Minions. Never know when to shut up." Sighing, the beautiful ex-vampire resumed talking. "I can't…understand what happened, myself, but…I was sent here. To Connor", her gaze looked up at her son as she said this. "I was supposed to…prevent…"

"Prevent what?", Angel asked, gently.

Suddenly, Darla took on a new face. A more resolved face. "Angel, you have to trust me on this. Something unbelievable is about to happen, and it's not for the better. We have to stop this thing."

"We will", he assured her, his voice firm. "Whatever it takes, that…thing inside Cordelia is going to pay for what it's done."

"It goes deeper than that, Angel", she said, her eyes hinting a powerful knowledge hidden to all of them. And a great fear, as well. "Way deeper."

"How much deeper?", Connor asked, his face scrunched in concern.

" 'End of the World' deeper, baby", she replied, turning to her son for a moment, before turning back to Angel. "We need help, Angel. I need you to make a phone call, okay?"

"A phone call?" Angel looked puzzled. "To who?

"And why?", Wesley asked, equally as baffled.

Darla took a deep breath, ready to deliver the bombshell. "Sunnydale. We need the Slayer".

"Faith?", Connor asked, his eyes lighting up slightly at the prospect of seeing the curvaceous dark-haired beauty again.

"No", his mother shook her head, before returning her gaze to Angel's "The other slayer."

Angel's face dropped in shock. "Buffy?"

Connor frowned before turning to Wesley. "Who's Buffy?"

"The Slayer before Faith", Wesley answered, though looking almost as surprised as Angel was.

"The one who died and came back to life a bunch of times?", Gunn asked.

"The one with the goofy name?", Fred added.

Darla nodded. "Yes. What's going on right here, what's happening to Cordelia, is all tied up with Sunnydale's problem"

"Darla, what is this all about?" Wesley asked, mystified by her news.

"I wasn't allowed to say much before", Darla said, pursing her lips together, so she could wet them. "I don't know if I still am, but I don't care…This all involves the Tro-Clon."

"The Tro-Clon?", Fred asked in amazement, clearly remembering the reference.

"One Born of Darkness…," Wesley remembered the first part of the prophecy.

"…..To Bring Darkness", Lorne finished. "Well, that's gonna be just dandy. What, with Mother Love still running around out there, hatchet-crazy and all, and all she needs is the blood of one virgin to do all that."

"She can't finish the ritual by herself", Darla assured the Host. "She needs a second person to do that…and seeing as how Angelus killed the Beast, and Connor is with us, I don't think she'll be able to find help on such short notice."

"Good. That's one less thing we need to worry about", Angel sighed. "Now, Darla, what does this have to do with the Tro-Clon?"

"This IS the Tro-Clon, Angel", Darla said. "The final arc of it is underway."

The gang exchanged looks of concern.

"Then this is the thing we're supposed to be fighting?", Connor asked.

"Yes", Darla nodded, "but only part of it. That's only one half of the whole problem."

"What's the other half?", Angel asked, puzzled at the sudden turn of events.

She met his gaze, taking a deep breath before delivering the news. "The First Evil. It's back."

Angel's face went blank with disbelief. Images of that horrid Christmas Eve flashed through his mind, when he met the Thing the Darkness Fears for the very first time. It had tormented him with the images of all his memorable kills as the sadistic Angelus, especially that of Jenny Calendar. The first love of Rupert Giles's life, a sub-member of the Scooby Gang. The First Evil had tried to revert Angel back into Angelus by tormenting him endlessly; instead, it drove the iron-willed Angel to his breaking point, risking to burn in the sunrise than to ever hurt Buffy like that again. Only a miraculous snowstorm, courtesy of the Powers That Be, saved him from the oblivion he desired.

"The First?", the Champion asked, disbelief tinged in his voice. "He-it's back?"

"The First-what?", Gunn asked, baffled by what Angel and Darla were talking about.

"The First Evil", Wesley explained. "The original source of all evil. Created all evil, human and demon alike, in existence."

"Get outta town!", Gunn exclaimed incredulously. "Y'all mean evil actually has a source?"

"Yes. And it's power is immeasurably great", Wesley added. "Beyond sin…beyond death."

"And it's beyond insane, to boot", Angel grimaced at the memory of the First's mind games.

"But I don't understand", Fred asked. "What would this…First Evil…want with Cordelia's baby? What's the connection?"

Wesley suddenly looked up, understanding in his eyes. "It could want to use it for the same purpose the thing in Cordelia has for itself."

"To use it as a vessel", Angel realized. "To become flesh."

Skip opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but swallowed his words back when Fred said "Infinite Agony!" with a smoldering warning look in her eyes.

"This thing…is it working with the First, or is it a separate entity?", Wesley asked the blonde beauty.

"I…don't remember", Darla said. "I knew…I KNOW the plan, but the force 'Cordelia' used in making me mortal again must've blindsided my memory. At least for the moment."

"But you'll remember, won't you?", Angel asked, a tinge of desperation edging in his voice.

Darla nodded. "Of course. I might just need a little rest."

"Do you remember anything about the First's plan?", Fred asked. "What it wants? Hat it's doing?"

"I'm afraid that this time, it's really decided to take the gloves off", Darla said, a hint of worry in her voice. "All this time while you've been chasing the Beast in L.A., the First has been launching an all-out assault on the entire Slayer line. It won't stop until Buffy, Faith and all other potential Slayers have been destroyed, and the power of the Slayer is lost forever."

"This thing's going after Buffy?", Angel's voice became tinged with concern.

"And her friends, family and anyone else who sides with her", she confirmed.

Immediately, Angel's protective instincts kicked in. No one was going to hurt his Buffy, he determined. All-powerful or not.

"We have to help her", Angel said in a gritty, determined voice.

Wesley nodded. "Well, surely the Council must be aware. I still maintain a few contacts there…I'm sure if we contacted them, they might be willing to share with us the information that they've collected on the First. Perhaps they might even have information regarding Cordelia's pregnancy-"

"Wesley", Darla stopped him, a sad, pitying look drawn on her features. He knew something was amiss; he had seen that look before.

Right before the bad news.

"What?", he asked, puzzled.

"You mean you didn't know?", she asked, that sad look still upon her face.

"Know about what?", Wesley asked, sensing a dread creeping up on him.

"The Watcher's Council is dead, nimrod," Skip sneered. "Blown to smithereenies by a nice little bomb package. They've been dead for over a month."

Wesley's eyes shot to Skip, then turned back to Darla. A look of disbelief and terror coursed his rugged good looks. He stared at Darla, for what, of him, seemed like an eternity, to confirm what the mercenary demon so gleefully told him. The sympathetic look on her face gave him all the validation to Skip's claim that he needed.

Angel's face displayed his shock, as well.

Darla reached out and gently took Wesley's hand. Her heart bled for him in this hour, his grieving hour. She could truly feel his pain, his denial, his sense of loss. "Wesley, I'm so sorry…I know you had friends working there…I know they were close to you…"

Wesley stared at her, almost as if in a daze, too enraptured in his own pain to fully appreciate Darla's warm hand on his, or the shiver he felt in his system when she touched him, leaving that to a smaller part of his mind. He shook his head and looked back up at Darla, his psyche reeling. "Robson?…Blake?…Eliza?…Conroy?"

Angel realized that those were British names. No doubt the names of all of Wesley's deceased colleagues. Dead Watchers.

"All gone", Darla bit her lip in pity.

"Mr. Giles?", he suddenly asked, feeling knots in his stomach, the man in him wanting to vomit until there was nothing left inside, but the Englishman in him trying to compose himself.

At the mention of the name, Angel looked up in fear and concern. He knew how much Giles meant to Buffy. If he, too, had fallen, it would destroy her…the pain might- -

"No, he's alive", Darla shook her head. "He was the only Watcher to have survived the attack. You and he are all that's left of the Council."

At that, Angel let out a relieved sigh.

As the realization of Darla's words hit home, Wesley felt his knees start to buckle, and he forced himself to find a nearby chair and slump into it. He truly felt for the first time, like he was trapped in a freefall. He had been banished by his friends, had his throat slit, had the woman he…Lilah…been murdered in his own working place, faced a slew of unimaginable evil over the last few months…but now he felt the first waves of nausea truly begin to grip him.

For years, as a young fledgling Watcher, as early as the days of his "Head Boy"- winning training at the Watcher's Academy in Devonshire, he had been brought up with the ideal that the Council was invincible. Through times of upheaval, through World Wars, through great peril and conquest, though generations of men would fall and cities would be lost…the walls of the Council, he was trained to think, would always stand. Their foundations unshakeable, their presence irreplaceable…their legacy always existing.

And now they were gone…they were all gone…

"How?", he finally croaked out.

"I think we covered that, didn't we?", a rather insensitive Skip smirked. "When something goes 'ka-blooey!', it pretty much stays—"

"Fred, get the sphere and shut that oversized trash can up, would ya?", Gunn snapped.

"Will do", Fred quickly said, standing to get the book.

"No,no,no! I'll be good from now on, I promise!", Skip pleaded.

"This is your last warning," Angel snarled at him. Turning back to his Sire, he calmly said, "Sorry about that. Go on."

Darla sadly continued. "There was an explosion, when they were all in session…they had information on the First. They were debating whether or not to give it to Buffy for use…" She paused for a beat. "Actually, they were more like preparing for a war with the First…every Watcher from around the world- -"

"Around the world?", Wesley looked up, his eyes wide. "There was a Code Red-1 Alert? They were…ALL there?"

Angel recognized Wes's Council-speak. Back when he was Angelus, during his romp in Sunnydale, he had stolen a few copies of Giles's Watcher Diaries. The Diaries contained entries on vampires, monsters, spells, fighting tactics, and Council activities. He recognized Code Red-1 to be the highest level of alert on the Council's defense protocol list. It meant that an event so powerful, so unprecedented had occurred so as to require a meeting, or a calling in of every Watcher, black-op and Council-employed personnel on Earth to the main headquarters in London for an emergency briefing. The demon in him figured it would be good to keep tabs on the Brits…in case he ever wanted to destroy them himself.

"From England to Rome to even Melbourne," Darla said, the left corner of her mouth turned slightly. "They were in the session at their Headquarters when it happened. A bomb exploded in the center of the Boardroom…There were no survivors."

"The First?", Angel asked, the look in his eyes revealing the detective inside him trying to piece all this together.

"Its minions", Darla corrected. "The Harbingers…they compromised the security of the Headquarters somehow…one of them must've planted the bomb."

"They were all wiped out", Wesley breathed heavily, and then looked at Darla with a question that dared not leave his mouth. "They were…ALL there? Every …one of them? Every…last…Watcher?"

Darla knew what he wanted to ask. Although she knew it would cause him unbearable pain, she knew he had to know. "I'm sorry, Wesley", she said softly. "Your father was one of the first to enter the session…I'm truly sorry for your loss."

Fred gasped as she realized what Darla was saying. "Oh, Wesley", she breathed, stunned by the news that one of her closest friends had just suffered an unspeakable tragedy.

Wesley sat there, his gaze lowered to the floor. He said nothing, changed not his expression. But it was clear to everyone what he was feeling. What anyone could be feeling after hearing that news.

Angel knew Wesley had never been close with his father. In fact, the father seemed almost ashamed of him, judging on what he heard and saw of the relationship. But still…it was his father. The man who gave him life. And the man who, as much as Wesley tried to downplay it, deep down, he had always admired. And respected.

Gunn came over and placed a hand on his crest-fallen friend's shoulder. The Watcher looked up, his glasses slightly fogged, at his one-time love rival.

"I'm sorry, man", he said simply, but his voice thick with empathy. Gunn knew what it was like to lose family. All too well. His sister's flashed through his mind.

Alonna, her name flashing through his thoughts, painfully remembering his sister, her sweet smile, her constant jokes. So young, he thought. So young to die so soon

Connor spoke up. "He died a noble death, Wesley", he suddenly said. "He died fighting evil. He was a hero. If you want to honor him, we must take up his fight. Don't let his death mean nothing." His mother's earlier pleas rung in his mind as he said this.

All turned to the usually stoic boy, stunned by his words. Connor was never much for talking, and now suddenly, he was a younger, slimmer Winston Churchill-incarnate.

Angel had to force a small smile. This was a side of Connor that he had yet to see. The motivator. The inspiring warrior.

The words had their desired effect. Wesley's eyes became hardened, his jaw set. Suddenly, his legs found new strength, his soul new purpose.

"He's right", Wesley said, standing up. "All other things aside, we have to figure out the connection between the two anomalies. We have to find them…and obliterate them. Both this creature inside Cordelia AND the First Evil."

"We will", Angel said quietly. Raising his voice a tone, he took command. "Fred, get Sunnydale on the phone. Call Willow. Tell her to bring Buffy and the others down here right away. Also, tell Willow to tell Giles to bring any research material, Council or otherwise, he can get his hands on regarding the First or Higher Beings and any prophecies he might have regarding the Tro-Clon."

"Connor, Gunn, keep a close eye on Rust-Bucket over there", he motioned to Skip. "He so much as hiccups, call Fred, get her to do the sphere-thing."

"Can do", Gunn said as he shot a glare at Skip. Connor gave the demon an equally disgusted stare before walking to the weapons cabinet to select a weapon.

He turned to Wesley, suddenly freezing up. How could he expect him to work now, when he just had a large part of his life destroyed to him within a matter of minutes?

"Look, Wes", he began hesitantly. "Um, you don't…if you want…you can take a walk, get your head cleared, or - -"

"I think I'll consult my books", Wesley said, folding his arms. "I'll see if anything with these events are related or connected. Perhaps there's something that I missed in my old research based on last year's pregnancy."

Stiff upper lip. A trademark British tradition. One that Wesley had proudly practiced all his life. And he certainly wasn't about to stop now…no matter the circumstances.

He turned to go, when Darla's hand laid on his bicep. He turned to see the smaller woman's empathic gaze, reaching to him.

"Wesley", she said softly.

His eyes met hers, softening slightly, despite himself. What was it about her that…made him calmer when he should be dying inside? Or that could comfort him, when he would know no such thing?

After a beat, Darla sighed. "You'll be okay", she said simply, smiling comfortingly.

Wesley looked stunned for a moment, before regaining himself. "Y-Yes…th-thank you, Darla." He reached out and gently lowered her hand back to her side. For a moment, he slid his hand down to her own, not holding it entirely, but simply feeling it.

"Thank you…", he trailed off, before turning and returning to his study.

Darla followed his form as he disappeared behind the closing door of the study. She wasn't sure what she was feeling right now…sympathy, yes, but something else. There was something in his eyes, his dark, lonely eyes that made her want to cry, to hold him against her and comfort him…do anything to give him a moment's peace. That, at the very least, was what he deserved.

"Darla?", Angel's voice woke her from her reverie.

He turned to Darla. "You look a bit tired. Maybe you upstairs, get some rest?"

Darla nodded, smiling. "Maybe a quick nap would suffice. I'm still a bit drained from that teleportation spell."

"About that", Angel said, stroking his chin in interest. "How'd you all of a sudden learn magick? You never bothered to use any when we were together, last I recalled."

Darla chuckled. "I'll explain everything once I get a little rest." She crooked her head a tad at the tall vampire. "Unless…you'd like to show me where my room is?….Maybe give us a chance to catch up? "

Angel considered for a moment. After a beat, he relented. "All right, I guess. I'll take you upstairs, then."

All heads turned to the former lovers, some eyebrows raised. Connor gave a most suspicious look to both his father and mother.

Clearly a very awkward moment for the teen.

Angel rolled his eyes. "For God's sake, people, get your minds out of the gutter, will ya? I'm just going up to talk."

"Naked! cough cough", Gunn feigned a cough.

"I heard that, Gunn", Angel growled, before escorting Darla upstairs.

"You don't really think they'll…you know…?" Fred asked the Host while making unusual up-and-down hand gestures.

"Dry their nails?", Lorne smirked.

"You know what I mean", Fred frowned.

Lorne sighed. "Can't tell. Hard to say when it comes to those two."

"They'd better not", Gunn said. "It's them doin' that which got us to this point in the first place."

Little did he know, that the comment he made was taken in by Connor. He knew exactly what Gunn meant.

His birth.

This had all started with him. The Rain of Fire, the sun blocking out, all those innocent people murdered…it was started with the day he came out of Darla. Into the world.

A world which, he thought, neither wanted nor accepted him.

A world in which he could never belong to.

The world would've been better, he thought, dejectedly, if I was never born at all.


To Be Continued…