A/N: Anybody know if Angel's being renewed yet? If they get cancelled, I'ma be super-pissed.

Oh, well.

Thanks to ALL of you for sticking with me during this very arduous period in my life. The support has been very heartwarming, especially from Eternal Darkness, Linnea, Eliza Rosenburg, Buffy Fan, pru, Megan, S J Smith, LissaMarie, Phi, IceQueen8, LanFear1 and the 2nd Evil. YOU GUYS ROCK!

I don't know how I managed to do it, but after a few sleepless nights, this chapter has finally been finished. YAAAY!

(Hem-hem…sorry 'bout that)

My sincere apologies for having taken as long as I have to do this, but you all know my situation by now. Anyway, it looks like we'll be situated in a REAL home within a week's time. I'm holding my breath for that one. I can't wait to start taping Buffy Season 7 re-runs that I've missed.

By the way, I found out that Charisma Carpenter's not going to be a regular in Season 5, assuming there is one. I'm really sad about that, having watched and enjoyed her presence in the Buffy-verse for 7 years. Best of luck to her and her newborn baby!

Enjoy this (At long last) latest chapter of...


Bring Me To Life

Part 6 - Reunited (And it feels so...well...)


From the vineyard, viewing all of these events unfolding before its omniscient eyes, the First Evil, in the form of Buffy Summers, was very displeased.

"This is...most disturbing", the First/Buffy scowled. "The Slayer and her pals were never meant to find their way to that meddlesome vampire's city. That could out a serious dent in my plans."

Now, rare was the day that the First Evil was ever angry or nervous. After all, it never had any reason to be. Being incorporeal, it could neither be fought nor killed. But with the same token, it could never act on its own. And while it might have been diabolically clever, a gift that came with being around since before the dawn of time, that meant it had to take up a lot of faith in its followers and those it manipulated. Something that hadn't always panned out.

Especially against this Slayer and her friends.

And now, they were reunited with the Champion, Angel, and his gang. This had the makings of a nightmare scenario for the First. And that made it nervous. And when it became nervous, it became angry.

Very angry.

It took a look behind to the awaiting Harbingers, standing ready in wait for command.

"The time for waiting is over", the First/Buffy growled. "Send a group to L.A...but wait until I give the word for attack. And you..."

The First/Buffy walked over to one of the Bringers. "Head down South. Bring...him...up to Sunnydale. It's time I summoned forth a champion of my own."

The First/Buffy walked over to a slab of rocks, heaped away by a bunch of laboring Bringers with power tools.

"Well, they might not have finished the job yet", the First thought aloud. "But let's see what I can whip up with a little...imagination."

At that, the malevolent being let loose a fiery bolt of red and black mystical energies from its "hands", which encircled the pile of rubbled stone and rocks. The swirl began its encirclement, swallowing the rocks whole and sending them spinning in a black cyclone of energy.

The First smiled evilly as the swirl reached its chaotic crescendo of blinding speed, until, at last, a pair of feet began to materialize from the bottom of the cyclone. Then large, strong legs. Then a torso, a strong imposing chest, broad shoulders, and at last a head.

A hideous, horned head.

The figure dropped to its hands and knees, its new life breathed into its raw form, a natural exhaustion from the birth process set in.

The First/Buffy sauntered up to its new creation, smiling flirtatiously as it bent down to eye the creature face to face.

"You will do my bidding", the First/Buffy wickedly smiled. "And you, my sweet, will be my left arm of destruction...and the last sight that the Slayer and her beloved Champion will ever see."

The creature said nothing, keeping its face to the ground. And then, gradually, it let out a small, low chuckle. It was neither jolly nor pleasant, but disturbing and bone-chilling.

And the chuckle built itself up to a deep, evil laughter.

A laughter which echoed throughout the vineyard, piercing the night, frightening away the birds in the trees, the squirrels on the ground, and the ducks floating peacefully on the water.

All of them heading for safety. For higher ground. For anyplace to get away from the origin of that chilling laugh.

...the origin of which would come the darkest, most destructive force seen by man or beast, dead or living...

...a force that would now set its sights on the world's last hope for survival...

Its champions.


The Hyperion stood silent for a few moments, the dozens of people on the inside now standing around, looking suspiciously at each other.

Buffy stood at the front of the group, taking a few tentative steps forward. She could still not see anyone, hear anyone else.

Except the tall, dark and very handsome vampire standing not but a few steps up from her.

"Angel?"

She said that name with a quiet hope. Almost a childish awe. Like a little girl staring up at Santa Claus for the very first time. She said that name so softly, as if in fear of scaring him away if she spoke too loudly.

She couldn't believe that it was him.

Angel.

Her Angel...even if he wasn't really hers to have.

Her voice jolted the Champion out of his stunned reverie. "Buffy...what...? You're...here."

At long last.

She was here.

The thought alone was enough to make his soul sing, but to have her here, now, alive and beautiful, even more so than ever, if such a thing were possible, sent waves of shock and joy throughout his body.

Buffy...

His sweet, beautiful, brave Buffy... was here at last. She had come back to him.

"Angel...wh-what are you doing here?", she continued, blinking back her surprise.

Angel looked at her incredulously. "Um... I live here"

Buffy blushed, embarrassed. "Oh. Right. Of course."

"Always knew how to make an entrance, didn't you?", Angel chuckled, staring poignantly at the gaping whole in the center of the Hyperion.

"Well, you know me", Buffy shrugged with a smile. "Never much for the knocking."

Angel stared at her for a beat. "I've…you know…"

Buffy nodded. "I know." Then she smiled. "I have, too."

The half-smile that now adorned his face was still enough to make her sway. But she gathered up whatever resolve she had in her system to maintain her composure…however difficult it might be around him.

The tingling sensation, their sacred bond between their souls was now humming, vibrating in both of them. Every drop of love, of hope, of passion etched into that pure link that bound them for all eternity.

Connor said nothing, only took in the interaction between this girl that had arrived and his father. It was apparent to him that there was more between those two than meets the common eye. And judging by the scent those two were giving off now, perhaps they were even romantically involved.

That alone was enough to raise his interest in these new people that crashed through the hotel walls unceremoniously.

Wesley took a moment before coming down the stairs. "Buffy?"

At the sound of his voice, the moment broke around the two star-crossed warriors. Buffy turned to gaze in surprise yet again at the man who she recognized only by face to be her former Watcher.

"Wesley?" She could barely register that this rugged, weary-looking yet handsome man was the snooty, pretentious Watcher she knew years ago.

"You look...well", he stated simply, but managing a faint smile at his former charge.

"You look...hot", she cocked an eyebrow at him, obviously approving.

A dry, somewhat exhausted smirk grew on Wesley's face. "Not something I planned on, but...thank you."

"'Sup, Angel?" Faith smiled warmly as she greeted the vampire.

"Hey", Angel nodded in response. "How're your ribs holding up?" He was referring to the injuries to her ribcage she sustained when attacked by both Angelus and the Beast during the rampage in L.A.

"Healing nicely", the dark-haired Slayer shrugged. "Slayer powers definitely have advantages."

"Hey, Angel", Willow greeted, edging to the front alongside Buffy. "Looking good, as always."

"Hey, Willow. A pleasure, as always", Angel nodded, smiling.

"Aww, you're just saying that cuz I helped put back your so--" At Buffy's look of confusion, Willow blurted out, " --veriegnty! Your so-vereignty over Los Angeles!"

Angel scrunched his eyebrows. "Sovereignty?"

I didn't tell Buffy about your little lack-of-soul problem a while back yet, Willow telepathically explained to the Champion. So play along, GOT IT?

"Oh...OH! My SO-vereignty! Right", Angel chuckled nervously. "Yeah, can't be losing that now...that could only lead to...badness."

Buffy cast a suspicious look at him. "Uh-huh", she said.

"Um...SO! Wesley! Great to see you again!", Willow changed the topic rather quickly, opting to talk to the handsome ex-Watcher instead. "And still with the extra-stubbly machismo."

"Hello, Willow", Wesley greeted with added warmth and another faint smile.Seeing Faith just behind Willow, he managed a polite nod. "Faith."

"Wes", she returned in kind, with a small smirk on her face. She hated to admit it, but she was actually starting to like this side of Wesley. He seemed more real now, less of the prim and proper, more of the down and dirty. And besides, he was much hotter like this.

"Hi, Wesley", Dawn chirped up from behind.

Wesley turned to Dawn, blinking in surprise. "Dawn. You've grown up...I've missed a lot, it would seem."

Dawn shrugged. "Not so much...well, okay, a ton, but that's later stuff, okay?" She gave a wave towards Angel's direction. "Hi, Angel! It's been a while."

After staring at the Slayer's sister for a moment, he spoke. "It's amazing", Angel said.

"What's amazing?", Dawn asked, puzzled.

"Every time I see you, I see more and more of your mother", Angel smiled. Although he knew that technically, this was only the second time he had actually met Dawn, the memories he had of Buffy's little sister were kind, warm ones.

Dawn was taken aback by the unexpected compliment. She had to fight the tears that stung at her eyes for a moment at the mention of her late mother. "Thank you", she smiled. "It means a lot to me."

"So…This is Wesley? He looks all dark and...sexually desirable", Anya noted.

Xander coughed in some surprise.

Darla crinkled her nose at that. The remark made her more than a little bit jealous.

"You must be Anya", Wesley chuckled, amused by the girl's blunt honesty. "Willow's told me about you."

"None of that's true!", Anya said defensively.

Wesley looked at her in surprise. "She told me you come in handy against fighting the forces of evil."

Anya blinked, stunned. Even after some of Willow's attempts to mend the bridges between them after the Magick Shop met its fiery demise, she had come to expect the witch to paint a very black-and-white portrait of her to others,with heavy emphasis on the black. To hear that Willow actually talked her up to someone was surprising...and welcome."Except for the stuff that's SO true!", she backpedaled, beaming a pleased smile.

Giles silently moved to the forfront. "Angel", he nodded politely, managing a faint, curteous smile.

"Giles", Angel nodded in kind, with a mirrored smile. "How've you been?"

The exchange between her ex-lover and her surrogate father figure did not go unnoticed by Buffy. It saddened her to think back at how their once-promising friendship had collapsed almost entirely after the four-month rampage Angelus had unleashed on Sunnydale years ago. Angelus had commited many unspeakable horrors during that short-lived, but violent reign of terror, among them the brutal murder of Jenny Calendar and the sadistic torturing Giles endured at the vampire's hands. And although Giles had eventually learned to forgive a very contrite Angel, Buffy knew that their relationship would never be quite the same as it once was.

"Um...apocalypse", Giles smirked, almost embarrased. "And you?"

"Apocalypse", Angel sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

Giles' keen eyes soon turned tohis former replacement. "Pryce?", Giles said in astonishment as he eyed the younger man."My God...you look...tested."

"In more ways than one I'm afraid, Rupert", he said, as he walked over to his former co-Watcher. "Good to see you again...though I wish it were under different circumstances."

"You've heard...about the Council?", Giles asked, hesitating briefly before finishing the question.

Wesley nodded grimly, his eyes reflecting his darkened emotions.

"Then you know about...your father?", Giles asked quietly, the elder Watcher's eyes sadly gazing at his quasi-protégée.

Wesley said nothing, only cast his eyes down like heavy stones.

Giles sighed, sympathetically. True, he and Wesley hada terrible start when they first met, a large sense of emnity developing between them over Buffy's guidance. But over the years, as they had conversed via telephone, Giles had noticed the changes slowly start to develop within Wesley, and had come to slowly respect, even like the man whom the Watchers Council designated as his replacement.

There was much empathy as Giles placed his hand on the young ex-Watcher's shoulder. "Then you know what we have to do...what...he...would have wanted you to do."

Wesley's eyes met Giles for a moment, a silent understanding passing between the two men.

The electricity of the moment was broken when Andrew said, "Wow. The last two Watchers convening together as one to salvage the last of their kind and the fate of the world hangs in the balance...it's just like that part in Star Trek :Generations, where Captain Picard and Captain Kirk meet in the time continuum and agree to go on the dangerous mission to stop the evil - -"

"Andrew!", Kennedy snapped. "Nobody cares, okay, Spock-boy?"

Andrew flailed his arms in a huff before pouting and folding them across his chest. "Fine. Nobody gets me."

"That's because the Star Trek convention is a couple states away, Chewbacca", Rona wryly grinned.

"Actually, ST Con 2003 is in San Diego this year. I have all-access passes to this year's convention, 'cause last year, I had to miss it on the count of a bad case of mono, but - -"

"Andrew", Molly sighed. "How many times are we supposed to gag you before you realize that there are more important issues at hand than your silly convention?"

Andrew sulked as he walked over to the back of the group.

"Wes?...Wow! You're looking all...manly", Xander said, impressed at the former Watcher's appearance.

Wesley rolled his eyes at that comment. He always found that Harris boy to be a bit of a nitwit. "Hello to you too, Xander", he sighed.

"Yeah, well...so, Angel!", Xander turned his attention to the vampire. "Long time, no see, Deadboy. Nice place you got here."

"Xander", Angel greeted with an exasperated sigh. Even after all this time, Xander still had a way of bugging him. "For the umpteenth time, stop calling me that."

"Angel, what's going on? Who the hell are these people?", Gunn asked, still suspicious.

"Relax, Charles", Fred rolled her eyes with a smile. "Willow and Faith are here, so they must be that famous 'Scooby Gang' we've heard so much about."

"Um, actually, due to contract infringements, we go by 'that crazy group of teenagers with that dog solving mysteries in a van'", Xander quipped. After a beat, he added, "Or at least we would if we had a dog. And a van. And if we were all...you know, teenagers."

"You must be Xander", Fred deduced.

"Ah, so you've heard of me", Xander beamed with pride. "No doubt Cordy and Angel have mentioned my usefulness in the face of danger, my quick thinking...my razor sharp wit?"

Fred paused a beat, considering her words. "Actually, they...mentioned you talked a lot...like, ramble-talked a lot."

Xander's face deflated. "Oh." Had Cordelia seen that face first-hand, she would have had to chuckle. It was a classic 'Harris Moment', as she had teased him when they were dating years ago.

"So", Buffy said to Angel, taking in the people before her. "This is Angel Investigations, huh? Nice group of people you've got- -" She stopped when she saw Lorne. "Demon. There's a demon! Why is there a green, horned demon here and no one seems interested in the least?"

"Whoa, easy, Buttercup", Lorne held up his hands. "I'm one of the good guys here."

"Oh, well, in that case- - wait a minute. Did you just call me Buttercup?" Buffy scrunched her eyebrows in confusion.

"Would you prefer Sweet Doodle?" Lorne grinned.

Willow sighed, thanking Hecate that at least one amongst them was in the loop on things...and even more thankful that it wasn't Xander. "It's okay, Buffy. That's Lorne. He's a friend. Uses his powers for good."

"Oh...you mean like Clem", Buffy said.

"Sort of, but...he's a bit braver. Lorne, that is", Willow shrugged, a smile suddenly brightening her face as she remembered one of Lorne's many talents. "Plus, he does a mean version of 'Heard It Through the Grapevine.'"

"He sings?" Buffy asked, turning to Lorne. "You sing?"

"Well, not to toot my own horns, but…", Lorne chuckled. "I've been told I've got quite a set of pipes. You should hear my Motown. I do a version of Aretha Franklin's 'Respect' that'll knock your socks off!"

"I think it's about time for introductions", Angel sighed, knowing that a meet-and-greet was probably the only way he could avoid bloodshed between the two tightly-knit groups. "Buffy, everyone, I'd like you to meet my crew. Most of you already know myself and Wesley." He pointed to Gunn first. "Charles Gunn. He's our strongest human fighter. Used to run a demon-hunting crew down here up until he joined us."

"Nice to meet you", Buffy smiled as she extended her hand.

"Likewise", Gunn replied, eying the small blonde from head-to-toe. He had heard Angel and Wesley, and occasionaly Cordelia (although not so much from her), mention the famed fighting prowess of the Sunnydale Slayer, but the ever-skeptical Gunn was still surprised to see that this cute, tiny, cheerleader-type blonde could be the unstoppable demon-killing machine he had heard so much about. "So, you're Buffy, huh? The Buffy? Wow, I've gotta say, never come face-to-face with a chick I've been intimidated by, but I guess there's a first for everything."

"Don't worry", Buffy winked mischievously at the taller man. "I'll go easy on you."

Seeing the interaction between the two, Fred nudged Angel with her elbow, poignantly making motions with her eyes to introduce her next.

"Oh…Oh! Right. This is Fred. Fred Burkle. She's our resident physicist and inventor. She joined our crew after we rescued her from Pylea."

"Py-What-A?", both Buffy and Xander wondered aloud.

"Pylea, Sweet Doodle", Lorne told Buffy. "My home dimension. And believe me, once you check in, everyone's just waiting to check the hell outta THAT dump."

"HI!", Fred enthusiastically approached Buffy. "So…you're Buffy? Gosh, I-I mean, WOW! Angel and Cordy talk about you a lot, well, not so much Cordy, 'cause when she mentions you, Angel has something called 'Buffy-face'. Is it really true that you came back from Heaven? What's heaven like? I've read some really interesting theories on paranormal phenomena that hypothesize that Heaven is actually a small time anomaly intersected right at the center of the entire time continuum itself - -"

"Whoa, Fred!", Buffy held up her hand to stop the sudden verbal bombardment that came from the girl. "Slow down. My brain can't process language that fast." After a small beat, she continued, smiling. She had no idea why, but she liked the girl already. There was something about her that gave off a powerful Willow-like vibe. "So, this is the famous Fred that Willow's mentioned to me before. It's nice to finally meet you in person."

"And they say I talk a lot", Xander pfft quietly. Not quietly enough to avoid Angel's and Buffy's super-sensitive hearing, though. As he found when both turned to him and shot him disapproving glares.

"What?", he shrugged, oblivious, as usual.

Willow looked over her shoulder at Kennedy, who stood back none-too-patiently, arms folded across her chest. "Ken, this is Fred. Fred, Kennedy."

"Pleased to meet you", Fred greeted with equal enthusiasm.

Kennedy stared at the attractive, slender brunette, a thin, facetious smile on her face that did little to mask the jealous glimmer in her dark eyes. "Likewise I'm sure", she replied, her tone saturated with forced courtesy.

"Fred's one of the only people I know of besides me that can count Phi tables in reverse", Willow trumpeted proudly. "It's really quite amazing."

Buffy did not miss the feigned look of fascination on Kennedy's face. Despite the fact that she personally did not like this girl in the least, Buffy knew that her duty as a best friend morally obliged her to be happy for Willow regardless of her own feelings. And if there was one thing Buffy Summers had intimate knowledge with, it was the pain-staked notion of duty. So Buffy had to grin and bear it; if she could accept her role as a Slayer since her calling at 15, then she could bear to stomach the willful, often-rude girl her best friend had chosen for herself. Or was chosen for her, anyway, Buffy dryly thought.

"Remember, last time you were here how we ran into that naughty equation?", Fred chuckled.

"Yeah…2.4169!", both girls exclaimed aloud, before breaking off into hysterical peels of laughter.

Everyone else was standing at a loss as to what was so hilarious about a decimal number.

"We have just entered the Nerd Zone", Faith smirked.

Both Fred and Willow ceased their laughter when they realized they were the only ones laughing.

"Um…I guess you had to be there", Willow shrugged.

"Oh, yeah, I'm just dying…of embarrassment for that dribble", Skip snorted.

Buffy's eyes ticked to the entrapped demon. "Who's that?"

"That", Lorne pointed to Skip, "is one of the bad guys, MoonPie."

"Is he a hostage?", Andrew piqued up.

"Basically", Angel said, returning his gaze to Buffy. "His name is Skip."

"Skip?" Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Out of all the cool evil villain names out there, one of them drew the short straw and got Skip?"

"Yeah, right?", Andrew snorted. "Nothing like Dr. Doom, or the Violator, or Darkseid, or even Bulls-Eye. You know, I'm really digging the new Bulls-Eye in the DareDevil movie, 'cause the original comic version of Bulls-Eye looked like a giant blueberry in a ---"

"Andrew", Xander snapped. "See this?" He made a trickling-down gesture from his head with his hands. "That's all the caring, flying right out of our ears."

Off the Fang Gang's confused look, she shrugged. "That's Andrew. He's new-ish here. Don't bother listening to him. We don't."

"Anyway", Angel continued, taking her advice and ignoring Andrew's outburst, "Skip's in cahoots with whatever's taken over Cordy. So far, we've gotten a few bits and pieces out of him as to what's the deal with the Master Plan."

"So, what's the sitch?", Willow asked. "And what does any of this have to do with the First Evil?"

"We're hoping our…friend…can impart us with that information", Wesley replied, his eyes sweeping derisively over Skip.

"Keep dreaming", Skip arrogantly sneered. "Whatever's coming next, it's something beyond any of your puny comprehensions. We're talking Evil Incarnate, here. Power beyond power. And whatever you chump-sickles think you can whip up and throw at me, it's nothing compared to what I'll be facing if I spill the beans."

Buffy walked over to face Skip, a menacing gleam in her green eyes. "I wouldn't be too sure of that…Skippy."

Skip knew full well who it was that was standing before him, so that knowledge, coupled with that murderouslook in the tiny blonde's eyes made him more than a bit nervous, but the demon swallowed hardand attempted to cover up with false bravado. "Buffy Summers. So, you're that famous Slayer the underworld's been quaking in fear over, huh?" He snorted. "I've seen better."

"Have you really?", Buffy said in a mock-fear voice. "Well, gosh, what'll I do? Hey, look, guys, the big, ugly metal demon said he's seen better. I can feel my self-esteem splintering away as we speak." Her eyes regarded him, unimpressed. "And just what are you supposed to be? Some demon spirit trapped in the body of a washing machine? Maybe an off-Broadway Wizard of Oz reject? Ooh, I know! Maybe…some blind kid in Metal Shop 101 made a project out of you from recycled buckets and wished really hard for you to become a real boy!"

Angel chuckled softly. God how he'd missed that sense of humor of hers. The way she could get under any bad guy's skin. It was one of the things that made her so special, so…so Buffy.

"Make jokes all you want, Slayer", Skip snarled, obviously annoyed. "But the fact is, you're in way over your head on this one. When it arrives, it'll make damn sure that the third death's a charm for you. And this time, you won't come back from Paradise. Or, wherever it decides to send you."

"Haven't you told your buddies back at Evil, incorporated yet?", Buffy smiled, but with a hint of danger lurking under her expression. "The more times you send someone to blow up the world, the more times I send them back on their asses. Stick around and you'll see." She paused a beat. "Or then again, I guess you'll have to, you know, 'cause you're a prisoner and all?"

Skip growled in irritancy.

Suddenly, Spike came to the front, dusting himself off. "Well, dunno 'bout the rest of you, but I'm certainly workin' up a pretty penny on me dry cleaning bill. Any of you how hard it is to get a leather coat clean of all this - -"

He stopped when he looked up. Straight into the eyes of his GrandSire.

"Oh. It's you." Spike rolled his eyes.

Angel's gaze broke from Buffy to Spike when he noticed him coming to the forefront of the group. Upon his eyes landing on the face of his platinum-blonde CrandChilde, the warm look on his face flashed in surprise, then grew frigid with a stone-cold scowl.

"Spike", he all but growled as he gritted his teeth at the very unwelcome appearance of the irritating vampire.

Darla's eyes widened in recognition as she saw her Great Grandchilde. "Spike?...William?", she gasped.

Hearing his real name, the blonde vampire directed his gaze towards the woman. Upon thus, his jaw dropped in shock.

"Wait a minute...D-Darla?"

"Darla?", Willow's head darted around, until she met on with Darla's face. Willow was the only core member of the Scoobies to have actually seen Darla's human and vampire faces. "Omigod! Buffy, it's Darla!"

"Darla?", Xander and Dawn exclaimed in alarm.

"Darla? The vampire?", Anya looked around.

Uh-oh, Darla thought, concerned at the alarm over her presence. This can't go well…

Buffy 's eyes locked onto Darla's form. "What..?" The slayer's mind made the connection. Mentally adding some wrinkles to her brow and other demonic features, and she was a perfect match for the vampiress who was her first opponent in Sunnydale. Her mind flashed back to that fateful night at the bronze, when the vampiress came at her, her twin Colt .45's blazing bullets as everything around that darkness flashed with the deadly gunfire.

The same one who tried to kill her…and Angel…

And her mother.

Darla drew in a shaky breath before softly addressing the Slayer. "Hello, Buffy."

"Darla", Buffy whispered, before her eyes narrowed. "Xander…stake me!"

"What?", Connor asked, puzzled as to what was going on. He turned to his mother, who was frozen in place, an uncertain expression on her features.

Automatically, Xander tossed her a stake.

Angel held up his hands. "Buffy, wait, don't - -"

But before he could say another word, the stake came whizzing through the air, with deadly precision…right at Darla's heart.

"NO!", Wesley leapt towards Darla, intending to shield the smaller woman, who was frozen with a 'deer-in-the-headlights' expression on her face. But he was moving a half-second too slow, a half-step too late as the stake neared its target…

Just then, a hand shot out and snatched the stake in mid-air. Mere inches from Darla's heart.

Connor held the stake so tight that it was starting to splinter.

Buffy was stunned. She didn't think that anyone could have moved that fast. Well, no one human, anyway.

Connor's icy gaze pierced the Slayer's eyes. There was something familiar about those eyes. Something she couldn't put her finger on…but it was very familiar…

Before she could form another thought, however, Connor drew out his knife from his belt and launched himself in an unbelievable vertical leap right at Buffy.

"Connor, don't!", Darla called to him.

But as he landed he lashed out at the Slayer, knife slicing through the air. Buffy's instincts kicked in as she ducked nimbly under the knife, blocking Connor's next blow with her forearm while she landed a roundhouse kick to his stomach. She tried for a second, which Connor grabbed. With one good twist, Buffy spun helplessly through the air until she landed hard on her back.

He moved to advance when a young girl about his age stepped in his path.

"Don't!", Dawn simply said, her tone pleading.

Their eyes met almost instantly. And the one known as the Destroyer felt his entire world stop around him.

He'd been around in the world long enough to have seen pretty girls, even beautiful ones. Cordelia, of course, being the most beautiful he'd ever seen. Until now.

Her huge blue eyes stared back into his. They were so deep Connor felt himself drowning in them. Her hair, a golden brown color, was in fair contrast to her milky white skin. Beautiful wasn't the word to describe what he was seeing right now. There wasn't a word invented yet that could do this girl justice. He felt a slight churning in his stomach, a nervous reaction, and he felt sick, but in a good…no, a wonderful way.

All this and only a handful of seconds had just passed. Only to Connor, it felt like forever…

Dawn stood there, the shield between her sister and this strange new boy. Boy? No boy she knew could ever leap like that. Well, not anyone normal. But she felt a strange spark when she caught his dark brown eyes. It was something unlike she ever felt before…

"Dawn, look out!", Buffy's voice broke their moment when she landed a hard side-kick out of nowhere into the boy, knocking him down. Buffy seized the moment as she pounced right onto him.

"Buffy, no!", Dawn tried to call, but it was futile. When Buffy wanted to fight, there was just no stopping her.

"Buffy! No! Connor! Stop it, damn it!", Angel frantically shouted. The vampire jumped into the fray, attempting to pull Buffy off of his son, but was met with a crushing blow from Connor, intended for Buffy. It was enough to send Angel flying back on his head.

Spike tried his hand as he tried to grab the boy. "Alright, ya little ponce, off you g- -"

He got a mouthful of Buffy's elbow, missing Connor by inches, for his efforts, knocking Spike right on his ass. "Ow, Bloody hell, why does everyone keep hitting me!", he muttered as he tried to stand.

"Stop it! Stop it!", Willow shouted.

"They'll kill each other!", Fred squealed.

Connor leapt onto Buffy's prone form but Buffy was ready for him. A quick forearm to the face and she turned on top of him. But Connor wasn't ready to give up yet. A quick roll-over counter and he pinned her beneath him. The two warriors rolled about furiously, each gaining a brief advantage before being forced under again.

"Shouldn't we do something?", Molly insisted. "This is getting rather out of control!"

"Are you trippin'? I ain't gettin' near no guy with a knife!", Rona said, taking a cautious step backwards. "Do I wear a sign that says 'Organs-for-free'?"

"But Buffy's our leader!", Amanda protested.

"No, Rona's right", Giles said, brushing the girls behind him with a protective sweep of his arm. "It's much too dangerous for you girls to get involved. Buffy is more than capable of handling this situation herself."

"Yeah, but the hotel probably isn't that capable of sustaining a fight between two super-beings", Gunn said as he tried to find a spot to pick and intervene.

Buffy and Connor traded vicious blows to each other as they continued their ground struggle.

"Somebody, stop him!", Xander yelled.

"Why don't you do something then?", Anya snapped, as she watched the combat transfixed, until the knife embedded itself a few inches from her feet. She let out a frightened 'EEP!' before hopping behind Xander in fright.

"Oh, for the love of Vince McMahon!..", Lorne sighed as he tried to separate the two, rather unsuccessfully.

Suddenly, three pairs of strong hands pried the two combatants apart. Buffy felt herself wrenched away, looking up at Angel and Spike.

"Easy, now, luv", Spike gritted out as Buffy wildly thrashed in his grip. "Take a breather."

"Get…off…me!", she squirmed in their iron grasps.

"Buffy, please, you have to calm down- -", Angel tried.

"Calm down! That little …he tried to - -"

"I'll explain everything", Angel said, calm but his voice hard. "But you have to stop fighting."

After a beat, Buffy relaxed her muscles. "You'd better."

Faith, however, wasn't having that easy a time trying to hold down Connor.

"Okay, Junior, cut it out!", she said as she tried to hold him back.

"Did you see what she almost did to her?", he hissed, his eyes wide with anger.

"I know. But you didn't make things easier, either. Now stop!", Faith insisted.

"NO!", Connor boomed as he brushed past her when he was met by Spike dead center en route to Buffy.

"Don't even think about it, Spunky", he said, his eyes dark, fists balled into punching formation.

"Get out of my way", Connor said quietly in a deadly manner.

"I'm in your way. Deal with it", Spike replied coolly. He had no intention of moving. And he was more than ready for a fight.

"Connor", Angel called, just as Connor looked ready to spring into action again. "Just calm down."

"No", he said, his eyes still fixated on Spike, who returned the glare.

"Connor", Darla's voice rang out over them. At that, Conner turned to find his mother approaching him. She stopped just in front of him. "Baby, relax. There's no need for this."

"She tried to kill you", Connor defensively pointed out, his eyes softening as they met his mother's eyes.

"I know", she nodded. "But it was a mistake. And so's what you did. Violence only begets violence, son." She paused a beat. "Besides, that's no way to treat a lady."

"But- -"

"No, Connor", Darla shook her head, her voice calm but leaving no room for argument. "I know your heart was in the right place. But what you did was wrong. We don't fight humans. Not good ones, anyway. Or haven't you learned from what happened in the factory with 'Cordelia'?"

Connor wanted to argue more, but seeing the look in his mother's eyes and all the anger dissipated out of him. Reluctantly nodding, he gave in. Darla smiled as she reached up and gently stroked his cheek. Despite his anger, Connor felt himself smile at his mother's touch. She was the only one who could calm him, ease him with a mere gesture.

"Can somebody please explain to me what the hell is going on here?", a frustrated Buffy demanded.

"Um, actually, that's what I'd like to know", Xander said. "For example, why is Angel protecting, correct me if I'm wrong, but the evil blood-sucking fiend who tried to kill each of us, including Joyce?"

Angel grimaced. He should have anticipated that Buffy wouldn't react well to Darla's presence. After their short, but violent history, how could heexpect Buffy to react in any other way?He tried to sum up the overly complicated explanation of Darla's arrival in just a few words."Things are...different now."

While this was all being said, Wesley took a few steps inching towards Darla, putting himself in front of her as far as he could, as if to shield her. Whether or not that was a conscious or unconscious move was uncertain.

Buffy scowled, not taking her eyes off of Darla. "Unless she's got herself a bullet-proof heart, there isn't going to be a lick of difference when I take a stake and ram it right through her --"

"Darla is human", Wesley said, his tone clipped, his eyes hard as he stared back at Buffy.

Buffy's jaw dropped, her eyes wide in disbelief.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Right before the bombardment of questions.

"Wait...what?", Willow blinked, stunned. "Darla? Darla's human? HUMAN?"

"That's impossible", Giles said, inhaling a deep breath.

"You can't be serious!", Xander exclaimed.

"No way!", Dawn shook her head in disbelief. "She can't be human. She's a vampire!"

"Who's a vampire?", Vi, one of the Potentials, looked around in fear.

"I think...she is", Molly pointed over to Darla. "Or...was?"

"Spike?", Willow turned to the blonde-dyed vampire. "Is it true?"

Spike took a few steps towards Darla, locking eyes with his Great Grandsire. Angel and Wesley, however, quickly moved protectively in front of her.

"If you so much as touch her--", Angel warned, his fists balled tightly.

"Oh, knock it off, ya soddin' wanker!", Spike spat. "I'm not going to hurt the chit."

"You'll be dead before it crosses your mind", Connor warned as hecame in from the side, the coldness in his voice surpassed only by his frosty eyes.

"And quite painfully, might I add", Wesley added, his voice taught with warning.

"Oh, swell", Spike rolled his eyes, already irritated. "Now all of 'Team Pouf' is gangin' up on me?"

"Stand aside", Darla softly requested. All eyes turned to her in surprise.

"Darla--", Angel began to object.

"Trust me", Darla simply said.

"I do trust you", Angel said, before turning his dark gaze back to his GrandChilde. "It's him I don't trust."

"Oh, for heaven's sake", Spike growled, brushing past Angel and Wesley. He stood face-to-face with the smaller woman, locking eyes once more.

He regarded her appearance. Stared at her up-and-down. His nostrils flared with scent, analyzing her from every angle.

"Are you done now?", Wesley said, a hint of annoyance betraying his otherwise cool voice.

Spike looked at Darla again and smirked. "Human, huh? Always with the one-upmanship, now, weren't you, luv?"

"This from the guy who went halfway around the world to get a soul?", Darla smirked back. "Someone's got daddy issues."

At the mention of the word 'soul', Angel's eyebrows raised a tad. He thought he was mishearing their quiet conversation. But, given his supernatural hearing abilities, that was probably not accurate.

"I don't have--", Spike started, flustered. "You...bugger this, that wanker isn't my father! Damn that sharp tongue of yours." He really hated that she could get under his skin like that. Then, something dawned on him. "Wait a tick! How'd you know I've got a ---"

"Calm down, Spike", Darla chuckled. "You always get so grumpy when someone else ribs you even a little."

If Spike had any doubts about whether or not this was really Darla, all of that dissipated. Only the real Darla would be able to irk him like this.

"Thanks for the analysis, Dr. Freakin' Freud", Spike muttered, scowling.

"Anytime", Darla smiled back, almost annoyingly.

Spike forced down a smile that threatened to pull at his lips. He always enjoyed sparring with her verbally. Of course, rued was the day that William the Bloody would ever admit to anything. Led alone to one of his 're-birth' family.

He turned before turning back to Buffy. "It's true, Ducks. She's human. I can hear that heartbeat singin' in my ears."

"Wait a second--we're talking about Darla, right?", Xander said, skeptically. "THE Darla? Legendary vampire, murdered and tortured people longer than the good ol- U-S-of-A was even around?"

Darla felt a stab of pain and guilt at those words. She hated to be reminded of all the horrible crimes she committed during her vampire days...so much pain, destruction and death that she wrought. So much blood on her hands...

"Darla was brought back during an...encounter with 'Cordelia'", Wesley cautiously explained.

"Wait a second...Cordy's behind this whole human-Darla thing?", Xander blurted, stunned. "How? When? Why?"

"Not Cordy...whatever's taken control of her", Angel clarified. "We think whatever's controlling her was responsible for all of this."

"And what makes you think that this isn't part of that thing's plan?", Buffy snapped, still very skeptical. "Hasn't it occurred to you that this could be a trick to get you to lower your guard so she can--"

"It's no trick", Darla's voice rang out. All eyes turned to the blond-haired ex-vampire, who started to take a few steps towards Buffy.

Connor moved with her, but she turned to her son and shook her head. She did not want him protecting her this time.

"I've been sent back to prevent something terrible from happening", Darla said as she came face-to-face with her former nemesis.

"And why should I believe that? How do I know you're not helping this thing?" Buffy said, her eyes narrowed. She'd read up on Darla's exploits after Angel staked her to dust. And if there was one thing she learned from the books and her own experiences, it was that Darla was not a creature to be trusted. "The Darla I knew would have thrown a picnic at the prospect of a good apocalypse."

"The Darla you knew is gone, Buffy", Darla said in her feathery-light, yet raspy voice. Her eyes reflected a sort of sad honesty. "I know that I have no right to ask you to trust me, especially after what I...what she did--" The 'she' Darla was referring to was her vicious demon.

"You fed off my mother", Buffy practically snarled, pronouncing every word slowly and forcefully, her anger rising to the surface. "My mother!"

"And I can't take that back", Darla shook her head, gazing back at the Slayer with remorseful eyes. "I wish I could, but I can't. You have every reason to hate me, every right not to trust me...but all I know, is that if we're going to beat this thing, if we're going to save all those lives hanging in the balance now, then we're going to have to put aside our differences."

Buffy opened her mouth to object, when Darla's next words stopped her: " And if nothing else...do it for Cordelia. She's counting on us."

Buffy closed her eyes tight. Cordelia's face ran through her mind, screaming for help many times, replays from the seemingly endless times the girl had gotten herself into peril. Her friend was counting on her. And while Cordy and she were never exactly the best of friends, she had always come through when it counted. And if aligning herself with one of her oldest enemies meant Cordelia's freedom, then Buffy had only one choice to make.

"For Cordy", Buffy sighed, defeated. "Fine…But if you I trust you for a second, you're wrong. I'll be watching you. Every minute. Every second. Try anything funny, and we'll see just how many times you can stake a 'human' before they die."

Darla nodded in agreement, a tense silence passing between the women.

"And on that fun note, let's talk sleeping arrangements, rates, pillows, anyone?", Xander quipped, but forced down his smile as he saw the tense faces rapidly filling the room.

Spike's eyes narrowed as he observed Connor. Something about this kid was bugging him, but he couldn't place his finger on it.He turned his suddenly observant eyes back at Angel, still beside Buffy before turning back to Connor, still facing Darla. Suddenly, the connections started to form quickly in the vampire's mind. Hestudiedall the boy's features. The eyes. The hair. The cheekbones. Skin texture. Height…

And the scent the boy was giving off had a stunning familiarity to it…

And that's when it dawned on him.

"Oh, my God!", he exclaimed. This drew everyone's attention towards him.

"What now?", Angel groaned, still put off by Spike's presence.

Spike let out a small chuckle. "Well, knock me over with a Wiccan broomstick! Always did have a knack for the impossible, Peaches, but this…well, you pretty much topped yourself."

Darla's eyes widened in concern as she realized that Spike was about to let the proverbial cat out of the bag. "Spike…", she warned, a slightly pleading note in her voice.

"What are you talking about?", Buffy asked, confused about what Spike was going on about.

"Oh, come on, luv, take a look at the little whelp", Spike motioned to Connor. "Look hard at him. Angel's eyes. Darla's cheekbones. A sneer very reminiscent of a certain vampire with a certain aero-dynamic hairstyle…"

Angel held his breath...well, figuratively speaking. He had a sinking feeling that was about to happen wasn't going to be pleasant at all.

Buffy's confusion was plain on her face…and then it dawned on her.

"Oh, my God", she whispered. She took a step closer to the boy, who immediately got into defense stance. Almost identical to Angel's own posture.

"You're Angel's son." She paused, swallowing before she spoke again. "You're Connor."


Meanwhile...
Sunset - Clarity, Iowa
"Well, I've been afraid of changing coz I built my life around you,

But time makes you bolder, children get older,

I'm getting older too, Well I'm getting older too.

So, take this love and take it down,

Year and if you climb a mountain and you turn around.

And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills,

Well the landslide brought me down.

And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills,

Well maybe, well maybe, well maybe the landslide will bring you down."

Lindsay McDonald gave a faint grin as the applause came following his song. He never was much for showboating. He never even gave a 'thank you' to the crowd after receiving such adulated applause. He simply nodded and grinned his acknowledgement. Something engrained in him from his parents. They might have been piss-poor and struggling, but at least they were honest.

With a heavy sigh, the handsome ex-lawyer plopped down into a barstool, unloading his guitar from his shoulders. A few folks passed by, slapping him on the back, a few 'You go gettem, boy's and 'Them some pipes ya got, kid's mixed up in the hail of compliments that bombarded him.

The young red-headed bartender smiled flirtatiously at him. "What'll it be, Mr. Undiscovered Country Music Star?"

Lindsey returned it with an equally flirty gaze. "Come on, Claire. You know what I like, baby", he drawled, his eyes playfully suggestive.

The young woman giggled. "Well, I'll see what I can do 'bout that after I getcha a cold one."

Lindsey loved to tease the girl. He knew that ever since arriving back in Clarity, the place of his dirt-poor roots, that the girl had a crush on him from almost the first time he entered the bar. 'Irving's Bar', the name above the establishment. A place he found himself frequenting after his daily 9-to-5 down at the local candy store his brother owned. One of three siblings he had left.

It was hard at first, readjusting to the drain, muck and downright dissatisfaction with Midwest life after coming from the wealth, power, caviar-munching and champagne-sipping lifestyle of L.A. that his former employers, Wolfram and Hart, had provided for him. At first, Lindsey had serious second thoughts about the trade-off. He had even considered going back to Wolfram and Hart, asking them to take him back into their fold. However, he knew, in the end, that it simply would not happen.

First, after the way he left the firm, he knew that if he ever set foot again inside that tower of glass and steel, he would probably have never been heard from again. He had seen first-hand how Wolfram and Hart deals with unsatisfactory employees. He could practically feel Lee's blood on the side of his face, freshly splattered from a gunshot wound to the head, courtesy of Wolfram and Hart's 'termination' of his contract.

Second, he knew, perhaps always knew, that even if Wolfram and Hart accepted him back, even if they did give him back the fancy office, the extravagant benefits, the mountainous raise, and the silk-and-roses lifestyle back to him, it could only end badly. How far could he really trust a firm who implanted him with a possessed, murdering hand? Without his permission? If Wolfram & Hart could do that, well, nothing was short of their reach, now was it?

And third, there was something nagging him at the pit of his stomach, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but was there nonetheless. Like there was a certain need to do this. Almost a pre-requisite for his conscience, his soul to be at peace. He was tempted to think 'atonement', but he refused to. He'd be sounding too much like Angel. At that thought, he laughed. Whoever thought that Lindsey McDonald, cunning, intelligent, and handsome heir-apparent from Wolfram and Hart would have been likened to Angel? Certainly not Lindsey.

But still, there was the need for him to put to rest his own sins of the past. With the stroke of a pen, with the argument of a legal charge, with a simple word through a telephone, he sentenced innocent people to die. He let murderers walk free into the night, ready to kill again. Men, women, even children had befallen a cruel fate, because of his actions.

He had to go through with this. He owed too much to those victims, to the memory of his father, to let his own crimes go unpunished. Well, maybe atonement was more or less in the right ballpark.

Huh, what a picture, he thought, Now I'm just a few steps away from wearing all black and ridiculous tabs on strong-holding hair gel.

Aside, from it, he was getting used to life back in Clarity by now. Sure, the pay at his job wasn't much, and the hours were hell, but the people…he'd be damned if he ever had anything bad to say about the people here. Some of the most honest, well-meaning, friendly, and just more fun-loving than most other folk. Just better people. They reminded him what it meant to be human again. Really human. It wasn't just a pulse and a brain-wave. It was about feelings. People were about feelings. Wolfram & Hart almost drained him of that. But not enough to totally strip away what was purest in his heart.

What made him human.

"Here ya go, sugar", the girl smiled at him. "Just how ya like it."

"You are a heavensend, Claire", Lindsey sighed. He grasped the bottle with one hand and toasted her. "To your health."

"So", she leaned in close, the scent of her sweet perfume faintly wafting in his nostrils. "You never did tell me exactly what a big city guy like you's doing back in a town like this, now did ya?"

"Just living, sweetheart", he shrugged. "That's something we all take for granted. Living. Choices. Just doing what we do. Took me a while to realize that. And I almost lost myself before I could find myself again."

"Sounds like you just went through hell and back over in L.A.", Claire noted.

Lindsey snorted. "Trust me, Claire, you don't know the half of it."

He reached into his pocket of his long-sleeve jacket, and placed a few dollar bills on the counter. "Always know how to bring a guy up, sweetie. The rest of the money's yours."

Claire's eyes lit up as she saw that the rest of the leftover change was in about 40 dollars worth of tip. "Ooh, Lindsey!", she squealed. "Thank you!"

"Think nothin' of it, sugar", Lindsey smiled as he got up from his barstool.

"You know", she drawled in a seductive voice. "One of these nights, you'll just have to stick around after you sing…maybe we can do a duet."

"You sing?", Lindsey's eyebrows raised.

"Not quite", she smirked. "But I bet you could help me hit those…high notes."

Linsdey smiled back, chuckling. "I'll keep that in mind…g'night, Claire."

He strode out of the bar, his guitar in hand. He sighed, knowing of the prospect of work still awaiting him in the morning. Maybe a late-night session wasn't such a good idea after all, he thought. Ah, well

He had just placed the keys to his pick-up truck in door, when a voice stopped him cold.

"Lindsey McDonald, right?"

His hand froze on the keys. Instantly, he stiffened. His instincts told him to be on guard.

"Depends." He said that with a smooth, calm voice, masking his alertness well.

"On what?"

In an instant, Lindsey's left hand shot out. An audible click was followed by the sudden appearance of a sawed-off, well-concealed spring-propelled shotgun…which he had pointed right at his would-be attacker in the second he whirled around.

His eyes flashed warning. "On who wants to know."

His eyes rested on a smaller man, wearing a Porkpie hat and a slightly scuffed leather jacket. The yellow Hawaiian shirt, plastered with light blue palm trees in the design, was tucked sloppily into the man's khaki pants. In Lindsey's eyes, this guy was the poster boy for what a man should not dress like.

"Whoa, tough guy!", he raised his hands. "Watch where you point that thing, you could put an eye out."

"You don't tell me who you are and what you want in exactly 3 seconds, I'm going to put out a lot more than just your eye", Lindsey said, his voice still smooth, but his glare smoldering. "You from Wolfram & Hart?"

The man, balding, from what Lindsey could tell, spread a huge smirk across his face. "Nope. Wolfram & Hart isn't looking to hiring anybody nowadays. You know, on the count of most of them being dead and all."

Lindsey's eyebrows raised. "Say that again?" Surely he wasn't hearing what he thought he was hearing...right?

The man rolled his eyes. "Dead. Wolfram & Hart? Your former bosses? Big evil law firm in L.A.? They're all gone. Finito. Ancient history. Bit the big one?"

"Yeah, I heard you the first time", Lindsey snapped, his shotgun still pointed straight at the man. "I just don't believe that's possible. This is Wolfram & Hart we're talking about, not K-mart. They don't go out of business that easily."

"Boy, the news really does trickle down slow in these parts, don't it?", the man shook his head. From what Lindsey could tell, there was a strong Northeastern accent laced in his voice. Like he should be driving a cab down 7th Avenue in downtown Manhattan. "Haven't you heard the news, Lawyer Boy? L.A? Rain of Fire? Sun blocking out? Major apocalyptic broo-haha? This has been going on for the last few weeks!"

"Yeah, I've heard about all that", Lindsey said, his face reflecting his surprise. "I just figured..."

"That it was business as usual at the Tower of Power? Hardly, Blue Eyes", the man said. "In fact, the big W & H was caught with their pants down, just like everyone else. In some cases, literally, when the big, ugly Beastie stormed the building and turned it into the aftermath of a Neeman Marcus discount sale day."

Lindsey blinked, stunned almost to the point of loss of words. "Are you telling me that me that everyone at Wolfram & Hart is dead?"

"Ding-ding-ding! Tell 'im what he's won, Johnny!", the man sarcastically said. "Yep. All gone. Well, at least at the L.A. office. Though I don't think it'll be too long till the ones in Cairo, London, New York and Paris go down too. It's the end, kiddo. The Final Showdown at the O.K. Corral."

"Who are you?", Lindsey said, his voice rising slightly. No doubt that this mysterious stranger's words had rattled him a little.

"Well, cowboy, how 'bout you put away that peashooter and you find out?", the man said, his eyes fixed on the gun in the ex-lawyer's hands.

"Everything all right, Lindsey?", a gruff voice asked from the side.

Lindsey's eyes darted to the dimly lit entrance of the bar. There stood two men in the doorway, each dressed in rugged, country style clothing. The one who spoke had long brown hair, a white cowboy hat covering the top of his head and just a hint of his eyes, narrowed in suspicion at the stranger opposite Lindsey McDonald. The other one had short blonde hair, his baseball cap rimmed down in front. His hands were rested tightly around the barrel of a 12-gauge shotgun.

Lindsey regarded the stranger for a moment, and then turned back to the two men. " Don't worry, Sam. It's nothin'. You can tell Leo to put away the gun."

The man in the cowboy hat nodded. "You need anything, you just give us a holler, ya hear?"

Lindsey nodded. "Thanks, Sam." The two men slowly withdrew back into the bar.

After a minute, the stranger smirked. "Nice folks. Protective types, aren't they?"

"Just around people who don't belong here...like you", Lindsey said, lowering his own gun. "Now I'm asking you one more time before I shout that holler--who are you?"

"Geez enough with the threats already! Haven't had so many guns pointed at me since the time I walked in downtown Boston wearing a Yankees jersey", the man smirked. "Name's Whistler."

"Whistler, huh?", Lindsey scoffed, unimpressed. "What'd you do to your parents that made them call you that?"

"Hey, hey, hey! Let's not get touchy, here", Whistler said, defensively. "A little more respect for a messenger from the Powers that Be, please."

"You're a messenger from the Powers?", Lindsey asked, disbelievingly. "Nice try, buddy, but I think that Porkpie hat's on just a little too tight."

"Think back to your W & H days, Slick", Whistler said. "Think back to everything you've read in the file on Angel."

"How do you know Angel?", Lindsey's eyebrows narrowed in intrigue and suspicion.

"Who do you think trained the great Champion how to act all 'champion-like'? Here's a hint: it wasn't Mick from the 'Rocky' movies", Whistler bragged.

Lindsey's eyes widened as he suddenly realized who it was standing in front of him. "Whistler...half-demon messenger from the Powers That Be...you found Angel in the alleyway in Manhattan, 1996...showed him the way to fighting for the forces of good." He paused. "Well, the files did mention you were a tacky dresser."

"You know", Whistler tersely said. "In New York, a lot of guys would've been shot for all those pot shots you've been taking."

"Yeah", Lindsey shrugged, non-chalantly. "But we're not in New York, and you're not the one with the gun, are you?"

"Touché", the half-demon smirked. He had to admit, the kid had spunk. And fire. Those were qualities that would serve him well, if he was up to the challenge he was about to lay at his feet.

"Now", Lindsey continued. "You've already answered one part of my question, now all that's left is the second: What do you want?"

"Simple things, really", Whistler quipped. "Ice cold beer, steaming hot dog with mustard, more sleep...the Knicks to actually be watchable again...ever since they lost Ewing, man, the whole team chemistry's just been shot down the--"

"I meant with me", Lindsey snapped, nearing the end of his patience. It'd been a long day, and he really wanted to get some shut-eye before his morning shift, not trade quips with some vagabond who looked like he'd been vomited on by the World's Tackiest Closet.

"Oh...right", Whistler shook his head again. "Well, that all depends on what you want, doesn't it , Lindsey?"

The young man's patience wasdangerously wearing thin. "I'm not in the mood for any mind games, pal. So just spit it out."

Whistler grinned, amused. "Think about it. Here you are, Lindsey Mc-freakin-Donald, shot up like a rocket through law school, handpicked by Wolfram & Hart into their special little world, going all the way to Junior Partner, and eventually, being selected President of Special Projects Division...one disgruntled workday later, you're slumming it back in your hometown, pushing candy for a nine-to-five at your brother Earl's store, hitting on the local bar maid while doing your best Billy Ray Cyrus impersonation. And you've somehow managed to fool yourself into thinking that this is what you have to offer the world for the rest of your life? That you're happy doing this?"

"I am happy", Lindsey said, his voice low and dangerous.

"You're as miserable in this town for the last two years as I've been for the last 5 minutes", Whistler snorted. "Do you honestly think that by hiding away in the Dust Bowl that you'll be able to atone for what you did during your time as Mr. Hot-Shot-Evil-Lawyer? That a couple of hits from the Billboard charts and a few friendly smiles would undo the deaths your hands were tainted with?"

"I never killed--"

"No, but you might as well have", Whistler countered. "That's what your conscience keeps whispering to you on all those late nights you try to rest your head to bed, isn't it? That you could've done something else? Maybe you could have stopped a few more innocent deaths other than those psychic kids in the orphanage?"

Lindsey didn't respond. But his eyes spoke the truth. Whistler was right on target. What could he really say? His conscience did eat away at him nightly. He was frustrated. And, despite everything he'd done, he felt like there was something he didn't finish that night he sped away from L.A. in his pickup truck for the last time.

"Life doesn't stop going just 'cause you got yourself a new hand, boy-o", Whistler continued. "It keeps going. Never stopping, never ceasing, until that one big spin where everything's a blur and then--poof! Off the axis. And newsflash, Cochran, Jr., that big push--it's about to happen soon."

It dawned on Lindsey. "So you're telling me--an apocalypse is coming...?"

"Not just a apocalypse, kiddo--THE apocalypse", Whistler said, his face serious now. "This is the granddaddy of them all. The Big One. The Mother Load. The Crap Shoot for All the Marbles."

He paused ominously. "The Final Battle is going down. Soon."

"So, basically", Lindsey said, "I'm going to die."

"Well, you are human", Whistler shrugged. "It's bound to happen sooner or later."

Lindsey took this all in, nodding before he took a deep breath. "Well, nice of you to drop by and tell me that...I'm going home now." He turned back to his car.

"Wait a second! Slow down!", Whistler exclaimed. "That's it? I tell you the world's about to go down the tubes and you're just heading back to your tiny little apartment to wait for judgment day?"

"No", Lindsey shook his head. "I'm going back to my tiny little apartment to wait for eight o'clock in the morning, when I can get up, shower and somehow make it to work on time. There's a difference."

"You can be a difference, McDonald", Whistler said. "You don't realize it yet, but you still have something left in the tank. You can still be someone who counts."

"Is that right?", Lindsey sneered. "How? I'm barely making a living for myself, I don't have the connections or the power I used to have a Wolfram & Hart, and I'm just a mortal. I'm not a champion like Angel, and I never will be. I'm just me. Lindsey McDonald. And I'm fine with that."

"I don't believe that", Whistler said, his eyes reflecting an earnest honesty.

"Believe what you want--I don't give a damn", Lindsey said as he opened the door to his pickup. He had one foot in the car when Whistler's next words froze him in place.

"Then what do you give a damn about--Darla?"

At her name, Lindsey's head jerked around. His gaze went from semi-calm to furious within an instant. A dull pain surged through his heart before rage overtook him. He stalked over to Whistler, grabbing the smaller man's coat roughly and shaking him hard.

"Don't ever talk about her in front of me again! Understand?", his eyes burned with anger, his voice practically a growl.

"Never let go of her, could you? Understandable...I mean, she is the woman you love", Whistler shrugged calmly, in spite of his precarious situation.

"You don't know anything!", Lindsey spat as he threw Whistler roughly away from him.

"I know that you still keep a picture of her you snapped yourself in a frame under your guitar case", Whistler said, adjusting his jacket. "For good luck before you play...I know you spent part of your time on the internet, surfing everywhere for rumors on her whereabouts during your first few months back in this dumpy town...I know you had to cry yourself to sleep when you found out that she staked herself in an alleyway last year...to give birth to a kid. A kid you wish were yours and hers...and how you nearly drank yourself to death in the weeks that followed, mourning for her."

Lindsey felt the sting of tears start up in the back of his eyes, blinking them back hard. Those were very personal memories dredged up to the surface. Times he wanted to let go of. Times he didn't want to remember ever again. He knew that Darla never returned his love for her, but that couldn't stop him from loving her. He knew not of any man that could do that. And now, just as he'd finally come to terms with the death of the woman he loved, this man had now resurrected those memories in one cruel joke...

"And I know that she's alive. Again."

Lindsey's eyes widened. He didn't know whether or not to laugh or cry or be angry...the words sent a jolt running though his heart, a shiver up his spine. Darla...alive? It was impossible...wasn't it?

"You're lying", he said in a fierce, yet quiet tone.

"After all I've told you, knowing who I am, you still don't believe me?", Whistler asked .

Lindsey didn't know...and he didn't care.

"Where is she?", Lindsey asked, quietly, but with a soft trace of hope in his voice. His emotions were running so fast that he was starting to tremble.

The half demon shrugged. "In distress. As most beautiful damsels find themselves in the stories."

"WHERE IS SHE, DAMN IT??", the young man's voice roared, filled with a desperation and longing so powerful it nearly made him hoarse.

"Alright, alright, geez", Whistler sighed. "L.A. Dealing with the apocalypse that you so eagerly seem to be running away from."

Lindsey's eyes fixed back to his car. "I'm going to find her", he started to walk back to his car.

"And then what?", Whistler scoffed. "Drag her away from the evil ? Spirit her away into the sunset? Live happily ever after? It doesn't work like that, McDonald."

"I don't really give a damn about how it works!", he snapped angrily. "If Darla's alive, and she's in trouble down there--"

"Then she'll tear you apart sooner than let you take her away from a fight she wants to win", Whistler said. "Look, Slick, a lot's gone down in the last year or so you've been in this little exile. It's not just Darla's life that's at stake here--it's the lives of every living thing in existence. And, let's face it, you've been out of the loop for a while. This is the real deal happening here."

"Then help me", Lindsey gritted his teeth, his anxiousness at its limit. "You're supposed to be one of the white hats, right? Tell me what I need to do. I want to..."

He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. "I need to help her...I want to help everyone...but especially her."

Whistler chuckled, shaking his head. "Look at you...love-struck and all...well, love's as noble an intention as any...I can help you, Lindsey. Under three conditions: you do what I tell you, when I tell you and you don't ask questions. Got it?"

Lindsey hastily nodded. "Fine. Anything, now come on!"

"Geez, Mr. Huffy! Cool your pits, huh?", Whistler said. "Alright, we need to get by your place. Get a few 'special' things you've tucked away."

"Why?" Lindsey asked, confused.

The half-demon glared at him, annoyed. "What did we just agree on?"

"Whatever", muttered Lindsey under his breath. "Then what?"

"Then", Whistler said as he hopped into the car. "We find the interstate highway and make a bee-line towards the Coast. After we pick up an extra passenger on the way."

"Wait a minute--what extra passenger?", the young ex-lawyer exclaimed.

"Another player in the game", Whistler said simply. "Hope this guy won't be asking as many questions as you, though. Otherwise, it's gonna be a looong ride."

Lindsey sighed as he hit the ignition. He knew this was crazy, stupid and completely irrational on his part. He was about to return to a place he swore never to return to, on the advice of a guy who looked like he just stepped off the unemployment line, on a mission to save the world that would likely kill him. All to chase the vision of a woman whom he never thought he could have, anyway.

But it was Darla...and any way he could finally win her heart, he would take...

...no matter how insane...

"Oh, man", Lindsey shook his head, tiredly, as the truck started to roll down the dirt path road. "Earl's gonna kill me when I get back."

Lindsey had a feeling this was going to be a long ride...

"Hey, no worries, McDonald", Whistler drawled. "You're doing a great service to humankind...Besides, I have connections: I'll have the Powers write you a sick note or something while you're gone."

Lindsey sighed. A veery, loong ride...


TBC