I get by with a little help from my friends….(And a really awesome Beta by the name of Starway Man)

Hey, all! Looks like Spring '11 is just around the corner, and I can't wait. In the meantime, thanks to all who reviewed including MacKenzie Creations (great to have you back, Mac), oceanluvr, Lilly Emerald, Demondog666, teamtiva, BloodyTink, angelplusbuffyequals4ever, CClovesBA, Imzadi, Na'ir al Saif, philly cheese dude, katrin DKS, ashes at midnight, megagalvatron12, david Fishwick and Angellufy, wingster55 and najee79. I bow down to you all!

FYI, I'm still working out who goes with who, so there's a lot of room for change at the moment. I'm not really sure how it's all going to play out until it's written. So, no need for Spuffys or Bangels to start jumping to any conclusions yet. Like Yogi Berra said, it ain't over till its over. Also, I've been toying with the idea of adding in Kate Lockley, but I'm not sure how people feel about that, as she wasn't a very popular character in the Buffyverse. Wanna help me decide? Then visit my page and vote on the poll at the top!

Well, here's the latest chapter. Enjoy…


Bring Me to Life - A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event

Part 19

Head-Trippin', Part II


LA - About 20 blocks from the Hyperion Hotel

Now


The vampire went careening backwards into a nearby dumpster as Connor's fist connected with its jaw, a bleeding man and his girlfriend trembling behind the male teen raised in Quor-toth.

Growling, the vampire slowly rose to its feet. "Kid, you have no idea how big a mistake you just made."

His patented sneer on his face, Connor primed himself for Round 2. "And you have no idea how much I don't give a damn."

To be honest, Connor hadn't actually intended to go on the hunt when he'd stormed out of the Hyperion half an hour ago. He'd only wanted some space and time to think. Dawn's perceived rejection had hurt even worse than when 'Cordelia' had spurned him in the past. He'd been angry, hurt, confused…making it a bad time to run into a pair of vampires twenty blocks north from the hotel, who were trying to feast on an unsuspecting couple on their way home.

A bad time, that is, for the vampires.

The one Connor had decked lunged at the super-powered teen, but Connor was too fast, leaping effortlessly over the vampire, then grabbing him by the scruff of his jacket, spinning him around and launching him headfirst into the alley wall.

The second one took advantage of Connor's distraction, grabbing him from behind in a bearhug and lifting him off the ground. Which was stupid of him, really, he should have gone straight for the throat. So in return, Connor shifted his weight and kicked upwards with both legs, taking advantage of the sudden shift of gravity by twisting his body and arm-dragging the vampire to the ground.

Connor kicked the soulless demon in the face for good measure, although it still managed to rise, groggily, to its feet. Both vamps then lunged at him simultaneously, hoping to get the better of their better-trained assailant by sheer numbers. But both had underestimated Connor's uncanny speed and inhuman agility, as the son of two vampires leapt up in the air and kicked both demons at the same time, knocking them both against opposite sides of the wall.

Connor was a whirlwind of rage and fury as he continued to pummel the vampires, hard punches and crushing kicks coming in wave after crashing wave upon his hapless adversaries. It was rather therapeutic, in fact, as any Slayer could have told him. At last, Connor staked the vampire beneath him -mercifully - before grabbing a nearby trash can lid and tossing it with supernatural speed and strength at the other one, attempting to flee for its life.

The sheer velocity of the lid meant the vampire was neatly decapitated, exploding into a cloud of dust; and good riddance to it.

Panting with excitement and aflame with battle fury and adrenaline, Connor barely acknowledged the couple that awkwardly thanked him for saving their lives, brushing past them and walking onwards through the alley, not unlike his biological father used to do in his early days in LA.

It may have helped a little with the anger. But the battle had done nothing to soothe Connor's wounded heart, for thoughts of Dawn and that kiss were still flickering around in his mind.

Damn it, he was so tired of being so angry and so conflicted all the time. Especially when it came to women. Thinking back on it, Connor had only known Sunny for a few hours after he'd arrived in this world, and she'd ended up dead.

Cordelia had only used him and played with his mind, and according to what he'd learned, she wasn't even the real deal after she returned from...wherever that place was.

And Dawn…she was supposed to be different. Maybe it was stupid of him to think so, but Connor had actually thought she was supposed to be the real thing, the one that understood him and accepted him for who and what he was. Instead, she'd turned out to be just like the rest of them.

None of it was real. None of it was anything that mattered, anything he could

hold on to. They were all the same.

That was the burden of being a vampire's son, he supposed. Angel's and Darla's offspring. All his bloodline had done was bring him pain, even before he was born.

That's why I don't belong anywhere, or with anyone, he angrily mused. Because freaks aren't supposed to be happy. Or love. Or kiss pretty girls like Dawn. Or know peace. Freaks are only supposed to fight, and hunt and kill and destroy.

And that's what I am, Connor bitterly mulled. A freak.

Infuriated, Connor's battle instincts went on overdrive, his senses extending to find any trace of more demons. Mostly, it was because he wanted to drown his heartache in the blood of violence. Connor knew he couldn't control the pain that a broken heart caused him. But he could definitely control his fists and feet, when he was beating down on the undead populace of Tinseltown.

He was traveling so fast that he didn't realize where he was, until he looked up - the abandoned train tracks to the far north of Francis Avenue and Rose Boulevard. Where the vacant bar formerly named North Hollywood Billiards was.

Normally, vacant bars wouldn't be a big deal. Unless, of course, they had been overrun by vampires during the Permanent Midnight and turned into their personal recreation spot. It was a perfect place to hear some tunes, hang with other vampires, and bring a few human victims to drain - the last place that nosey cops would come to look for missing persons.

The Fang Gang hadn't yet gotten around to clearing the place out of the vampire squatters, as they'd had bigger problems to deal with regarding the impending apocalypse.

Through his red veil of anger, a part of Connor realized that he should turn back right now. Too many vampires meant trouble - he'd learned that much during the Permanent Midnight. Without backup, walking in there would be suicide.

Yet the rest of the man formerly known as the Destroyer demanded more violence, yearned for more battle. His mind made up, Connor stalked towards the loud demon bar, ready for more lethal combat.

Not bothering to knock, Connor opted for explosively kicking down the front door, which buried the hapless vampire who stood watch there beneath it.

Connor's actions drew the immediate attention of all the bar patrons, the nearest being a group of vampires playing Kitten Poker, and a vampire at a table picking up his latest meal - an attractive, slim brunette that had disappeared off the streets on her way to a club two nights before - someone recently added to the menu of the bar.

The vampire had only begun to sink his fangs into the young woman's neck when Connor's stake - flung with deadly accuracy - pierced his chest, and a cloud of dust covered the screaming female.

In one motion, Connor grabbed her off the table and shoved her towards the door, barking 'Go!' as she wisely ran away.

Like wolves, every vampire in the bar bared their fangs at the boy, snarling menacingly, outraged at the human's audacity to come into their bar.

Connor merely smirked, tense for battle. "Sorry, guys. It's closing time."

And then he launched himself towards the soulless demons…


"Connor?" Dawn anxiously shouted as she, Faith and Spike made their way down the back alley that was Norris Lane.

Thus far, the mission had been going smoothly. No vampires had been encountered within the last few miles, although Spike suspected that had more to do with their missing, hormonal quarry than good luck.

Dawn's shouting was, however, doing them no favors in maintaining that luck.

"Con-mmph!" Dawn protested angrily as Faith's mouth covered her hand.

Annoyed, the dark-haired Slayer asked, "Li'l D, didn't Big Sis teach you anything while I was in the slammer? Shouting at night plus vampire territory equals death by huge blood loss. Think you can remember that?"

As Faith removed her hand, Dawn flushed with embarrassment. "Oh. Yeah. Right. Sorry..."

Faith sighed, now remembering why she hadn't wanted Dawn tagging along on this little adventure. Still, she could understand where the kid was coming from, or she supposed she could anyway. When she'd been Dawn's age, it was all just get some and then get gone.

Patting her on the back gingerly, Faith said, "Just keep it together, brat. We'll find your boyfriend."

Dawn glared at the older girl. "I'm not a brat, and he's not my-"

"Whatever! Just stop shouting, and maybe we can find Connor without letting every vamp between here and San Diego know we're coming," Faith waved her off.

"Might not take long, luv," Spike mused from the front, his nose actively tracing Connor's scent. "The Mini-Pouf wasn't too careful 'bout covering his tracks, I reckon. Scent's getting stronger. We should find him in no time-"

"Could you please not call him that?" Dawn huffed in annoyance. Off Spike's confused glance Dawn said to him, "Mini-Pouf. I know what that means! 'Cause for the record, Spike, Connor's not gay. You're just making fun of Angel through his son. That's…what's the word Buffy used to use...? Right, projecting. That's it. You're projecting."

Spike's face soured, that last word sounding awfully close to what Darla had said about 'daddy issues' with his poncy Grandsire. "You want to give it a rest with that riff, Bit? You're lucky the Slayer and I even brought you along 'ere..."

He peeled back the hole in a wired door, making space for the two women to climb through before going under himself. "Connor's a stupid name, anyway," he groused.

Dawn looked annoyed all over again. "Right, because William is sooo much cooler."

Spike pointed warningly at her. "Watch it, Platelet. You're skatin' on thin ice, right now."

Dawn swallowed hard, realizing she might have overstepped her limits, and grew quiet.

Faith's eyes slid towards Spike quizzically as they kept walking, her Slayer-sense on the alert for danger. "What's up with that, anyway?"

Spike was puzzled. "What, mini-pouf? Well, I've always referred to Angel as the Big Pouf, or the Magnificent Pouf, 'cause one time we-"

"Not that," Faith shook her head, wanting to get THAT visual out of her mind straightaway. "Your name. All the stuff I read and heard about you, I never heard you called anything except Spike or William the Bloody. Now, unless there was a Mrs. the Bloody around jolly olde England back in the powdered wig days, I'm guessing that's not your real name."

Spike grew silent as memories, good and bad, of the human life he had lived - as a hopelessly clumsy, socially awkward and often-ridiculed English gentleman-poet - sifted through his head. "You'd guess right, luv."

"So, what's your real name?"

The former William Pratt was silent for a moment. "Doesn't matter now, does it? That name belongs to a bloke who's been dead for over a lifetime."

"Well, technically, he's undead, Blue Eyes," Faith lightly joked, as Dawn stared at her curiously.

"How 'bout you, pet?" Spike changed the subject. "Unless your parents followed that bloody 80's phase, you probably have a last name, too, I'd wager."

The tension in her body language was not lost on him as the brunette Slayer registered his words, her easy going grin slowly fading from her face. "Maybe I do."

Spike eyed her curiously. "Maybe? What, you forgot your own name?"

"Some things are worth forgetting," Faith softly murmured, a wave of bad memories washing over her: an absent jailbird father, cold apathy from a now-dead alcoholic mother, and the ache of loneliness that had followed her all her life - till her Watcher had finally found her, and gave her a life and a purpose she'd been lacking. And then she died, too, at the cruel hands, or hooves, of Kakistos.

"Oh, come off it, pet," Spike cajoled, although he understood it would be wise to tread lightly around what was an obviously sensitive subject for Faith. "If you show me yours…maybe I'll show you mine."

Off his charming and flirtatious remark, Faith gave him a slow-burning smile, yet shook her head. "Nuh-uh, handsome. You've gotta touch the right places first…then? Maybe I'll make the right sounds."

The heat of that invisible chemistry was once again radiating between both Faith and Spike as the ensouled vampire stepped closer to the dark-haired Slayer's personal space. Again, Dawn noticed it as she walked behind the two.

Spike's blue eyes were glinting with growing lust. He said to Faith, "So tell me, luv, the right places are…?"

With another smoldering smile, Faith leaned in close to his handsome face, bringing one solitary black-polished fingernail up to trace his well-angled features. Her breath, sweet and hot, was intoxicating to Spike's well-honed undead nose as she brought her face within a hair's breadth of his lips.

"Now that…" Faith slowly drawled, her dark eyes holding the British vampire in thrall, "…would be cheating."

She coyly smiled as she left one last lingering touch on his chin before the Chosen One turned her back on him and kept walking forward, her hips swaying back and forth.

Even as he allowed himself a brief chuckle, Spike's eyes were glued to the Boston girl's ass, watching the younger Slayer with intrigue and curiosity. He suddenly remembered a night in the Bronze, and a sinful promise to make him 'make him pop like warm champagne' …

Oh yeah, she was definitely not Buffy. And right now, he wasn't sure whether that was a bad thing or not.

Only one thing was certain, in Spike's mind - Faith was sure as hell leaving quite the impression on him, and in a big hurry.

As he looked to his left, Spike saw Dawn eyeing him accusingly, one perfect eyebrow arched questioningly.

"Eh? What's up, L'il Bit?" Spike demanded, he knew she'd learned that look from her sister.

Dawn folded her arms as she stared at Spike, letting her gaze trail downward.

"You tell me…Spike."

The way she said his name so poignantly was not lost on Spike as he gruffly closed his duster around him, before resuming their trail. "If this is about Buffy, now's really not the time, luv. And where'd you learn that sort of talk, anyway?"

"My brain, last I checked," Dawn replied smartly.

"Speaking of brains, I thought you'd have more sense than to pine for one of Angel's offspring," Spike replied in kind.

Dawn gaped at the vampire, offended. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do I really have to explain it to you, Nibblet?" Spike pseudo-sighed with a knowing stare. "'Cause I've seen the way you've been lookin' at him lately, fancying the li'l nipper like the last Danish left in the box. And unless my nose is badly mistaken, I'd say you two were definitely playing a couple o' rounds of tonsil hockey 'fore he left the playpen."

Dawn's cheeks burned crimson red, causing Spike to smirk…and then to frown in disapproval at his own words. Despite the falling out he'd had with Dawn over the near-rape of Buffy last year, he was still very protective of the former Key, and the thought of her snogging with any teenage dirtbag - and especially one spawned by his windbag of a grandsire - caused many a violent thought to course through his mind.

"All I'm saying is, you're just asking for trouble mixin' it up with that sort," Spike said, getting back to the subject at hand. "If the kid's anything like his old man, it's not gonna end well. Kid's got issues, just like Angel. Trying to love one of them is like trying to fill up a black hole, like I'm sure Buffy could tell you."

"You don't even know Connor," Dawn retorted defensively. "He's been through a lot, you know! For anyone. He…he just needs someone he can talk to. Someone who understands him..." The youngest Summers trailed off, thinking about her own life - or rather the life that she knew wasn't real before two and a half years ago, because of the whole Key thing. "Someone who knows what it's like to not really belong, or not have anyone take you seriously because you're just a kid in their eyes. I…I get that."

Off her sad musings, Spike reached over and tenderly stroked Dawn's hair, the gesture bringing the former Key's attention back to her makeshift big brother.

"You belong, Nibblet," Spike replied way too tenderly for a vampire. "You always have. And if anyone says different, I'll snap their bloody necks for it."

Dawn chuckled, she had missed being able to connect with Spike like this. Things just hadn't been the same ever since she'd found out about…well, what had happened, or rather had almost happened, that night Xander had blurted out the truth whilst Dark Willow had been on the rampage.

"I…I'm glad you're here, Spike," Dawn smiled tentatively, deciding to put away the past.

Spike grinned. "So, we're friends again, Sparklette?"

"Promise not to try and rape my sister again?" she asked, sternly.

A flash of guilt and hurt flickered on his face, before Spike quickly concealed it with a smile. "Cross my heart, and 'ope not to get staked."

Relieved, Dawn smiled and allowed him to get closer to her as they continued to walk onwards…both of them oblivious to the fact that Faith, having overheard every word they'd said with her supernaturally acute hearing, was frowning.

The dark-haired Slayer was concerned about the mention of a rape attempt involving Spike. That was something she would have to find out more about later…

Spike, Faith and Dawn continued to trek forward until they reached the end of

Connor's trail…where Francis Avenue and Rose Boulevard met to form the cross where North Hollywood Billiards was.

Faith tensed as she spotted the bar. She and Wesley had hit up this place when they'd been searching for Angelus, during his rampage a few weeks ago. Frankly, she hadn't found it fun the first time, and going there again didn't appeal now.

"Spike," Faith said, a twinge of worry in her voice. "Dude, we gotta keep moving. We can't stay here long."

"I'm right there with you on that, luv," William the Bloody replied with equal consternation, sniffing the air. "Trouble is, Junior's scent leads right in there."

Faith shook her head in disbelief. "You've gotta be kidding me. North Hollywood Billiards? The little punk decided to take a joyride in there? Is he stupid or what?"

"Well, he is the poof's kid 'n all, so chances are…yeah," Spike shrugged.

"What's North Hollywood Billiards?" a worried Dawn asked.

"Demon bar, Dawn. One of the more violent ones 'ere on the West Coast, as of late," Spike said, his sharp eyes checking the perimeter of the bar for any immediate threats. "Great place to hang out with B'ooritz demons, listen to some BB King, hold a few ritual sacrifices in the basement and chow down on kidnapped street urchins while having a beer or two."

"This place is bad news," Faith added, her eyes narrowing. "I was meaning to stop by and Molotov Cocktail the place after we got Angel's psycho half back under control, but after Willow stopped by, well, you know the rest."

Dawn gulped. "It's really that bad?"

"Yeah, Nibblet, it is," Spike grimly replied before turning back to face Faith. "If you've got any ideas how to play this, Slayer, I'm all ears. Thing is, I'm smelling a whole lot of me undead mates in there. The place is bloody crawling with vampires."

Faith sighed. This was the last place she wanted to be at with Buffy's kid sister in tow and Angel's kid having flown the roost. But she wasn't going back to the hotel without Connor, that much she promised herself earlier on.

"Alright, we're going in. But we can't leave Dawn outside," she said at last. "Too risky. Dawn, get your stake out and make sure you stay behind me and Spike at all times. Don't try to be a hero, but if one of those uglies in there gets past us, stake the crap out of it."

"Okay," Dawn answered, somewhat nervously as she clutched her stake protectively at her side.

At her obvious trepidation, Spike clutched her shoulder and gently squeezed it. "Don't worry, L'il Bit. If I see anything get within five feet of you, I'll rip its bloody throat out. I watch your back, remember?"

Dawn gave the platinum-haired vampire a small smile. "Yeah. And I'll watch yours, too."

Faith hid a small smile at this brief exhibition of Spike's gentle side, another one of those layers to the enigma that was William the Bloody peeled away for her to see. Who'd have thought he was good with kids?

Damn it, she had to focus, she realized as she shook her head. The way Slayers did, if they wanted to live.

"Okay, lady and gentlevamp," the latest incarnation of the Vampire Slayer said, checking the stake in her waistband one last time. "Let's move."


For those who have never entered into a melee brawl, it is key to remember one simple piece of advice - never enter a free-for-all all by yourself. Super-powers or not, it's a big mistake.

Connor was finding out why, roughly five minutes into the fight. For a while, he'd been doing very well - staking vampires left and right, tossing one over the bar, kicking and punching his way through the crowd in a furious blur and feeling very cathartic about it all.

Unfortunately, there was one advantage the vamps had that he didn't. Sheer numbers.

It seemed the more of them Connor staked or punched, the more of them kept coming, until at last, he was surrounded by a swarm of the undead, all snarling at him like a pack of feral dogs.

Yet, never one to back down from a fight, Connor welcomed the challenge as he threw himself into the left of the vampires, crashing into them with a powerful flying kick. He lashed out at two to the left of him, them backhanded another to his right. Dust flew everywhere...

But there were simply too many of them, and before he knew it, one vampire dove under him and took out his legs, and it all went downhill from there.

The vampires swarmed him, taking turns kicking the youth in the ribs, face and everywhere else. Connor could only groan as they roughly hauled him to his feet and pinned him to a nearby table, holding his arms and legs fast.

One of the larger vampires, the leader by the way he'd established himself, sauntered up to the pinned captive, leering.

"You're him, ain't cha? Angel's brat," the vampire smirked. "Heard of you. Angry emo kid looking for fights with the big bad vampires."

He suddenly backhanded Connor so hard that the teenage boy was seeing stars, his mouth trickling with blood from the split lip he suddenly sported.

"Yeah, I heard of you," the vampire continued, cracking his knuckles. "Little punk who thinks he can play hero, like his turncoat daddy. Should've brought him along, runt. Maybe we would've had more competition."

Connor, defiant to the end, spit out a stream of blood and saliva at the vampire. The vampire merely chuckled, then hauled back for another punch, one that would have penetrated the chest and cleaved Connor's heart in two…

…when the back door suddenly exploded off its hinges, kicked down by Spike. Flanked by Faith he led the way in, Dawn well guarded behind them.

The wild yellow eyes of the vampires suddenly veered towards the newcomers. Connor could barely believe it as he saw the cavalry - and Dawn - had arrived just in the nick of time.

Dawn's blue eyes widened in she saw Connor laying on the table, bloodied and tattered.

"Connor," she breathed in concern.

"Dawn…?" the youth croaked out in confusion.

A few of the vampires recognized the peroxide-blond male immediately. Black leather duster, the trademark bleached hair, the cocky strut…it had to be the infamous William the Bloody.

Spike offered the room one of his trademark smirks. "What's a matter then, lads? Thought you wanted some more competition? Well…"

With that, he slipped on his game face; fangs, ridges, leer and all. "Here we are now…"

Her eyes trained on the leader, Faith pulled out one of her stakes from her jean jacket, and sent it twirling in a blur towards the leader vampire, catching him full in the chest before he exploded into dust two seconds later.

To the shocked vampires who now understood what she was - the Slayer - Faith mockingly stretched out her arms in a bold invitation, a wild grin on her face as she drawled the words:

"Entertain us."

One of the vampires took her up on that invitation, boldly - or stupidly - charging the trio. Faith promptly decked him for his troubles, and effortlessly plunged her new stake down.

And then the real fight began...


Hyperion Hotel - Angel's Room

Now


Buffy had known this was coming, even as far back as when Willow had told her that the Scooby Gang was needed in LA.

She had seen it coming as Angel was unraveling his life story to her, only a few hours before. And she had felt it looming ever-so-closely, when Whistler had sprung the not-so-secret secret of her and Spike.

A... 'torrid affair', one might call it, and Whistler almost certainly had.

Yet, as Angel closed the door to his bedroom and turned to face her as she leaned anxiously against the dresser on the other side of the room, Buffy knew she would be a liar if she said that she was even the slightest bit prepared for this moment - when she and Angel were finally going to see where things stood between them.

They were actually going to discuss her 'thing' with Spike…and whatever was going on between him and Cordelia.

Cordelia and Angel…just the sounding of those syllables together in her brain brought forth in Buffy the urge to tear something to pieces with her bare hands. Which was not a good impulse to have as Angel walked closer to her, closing the distance between them.

The silence between the two former lovers was utterly deafening as they stared at each other; clouded dark brown eyes meeting steely green-moss orbs. Neither giving an inch in the silent battle of wills.

"So," Buffy began coolly, trying to mask her own anxiety.

"So," Angel replied in his own eerily calm tone, despite the simmering emotions within his own soul.

Seeing as how he was clearly not willing to make the first move, Buffy - employing a classic Slayer strategy - decided to take the offensive. "So, I figure there's no point beating about the bush. How long have you been making eyes at Cordelia?"

Angel was clearly taken aback by that question. Then, as he remembered the not-so-subtle glances between his wretched grandchilde and the former center of his entire existence earlier on, the Irish-born vampire found the resolve he needed to answer Buffy in kind.

"Hopefully, not as long as you and Captain Peroxide have been doing the same thing," Angel fired back, coldly.

His fast reply instantly knocked Buffy off-balance, the petite blonde suddenly finding it hard to find the words to reply as her face flushed red.

Buffy's brief silence made Angel's mouth drop open in surprise, before he looked away morosely. "So…Whistler was right."

The hurt in his tone made Buffy want to instinctively go to him, to wrap her arms around his neck and whisper apologetic words into his neck. But she held fast. She wasn't the one who had decided to end things between them way back when, after all.

"Guess he was," she replied quietly.

Angel's eyes shot up back towards her, clouded with an emotion she couldn't identify. And it took all of Buffy's strength not to flinch at the intensity in those dark pools that were the window to the soul.

Angel chuckled wryly to himself - a sound that sent chills down the blonde Slayer's spine, as it sounded like something that would come out from Angelus's mouth - as he now realized something that he should have picked up on immediately from her arrival. "Guess that's why I can smell Spike's scent on you. Funny, really; there was a time I would've been quicker on the draw with that."

"It's not what you think," Buffy said quickly. A little too quickly, along with the missing words - not anymore.

Angel shook his head, another bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "I think you honestly don't want to know what I'm thinking right now."

Buffy's eyes widened, letting the implications of her ex-lover's statement hit home. And that was what she needed to propel her forward, almost right in his face.

"Then why the hell am I even here?" she snapped. "Wasn't that the whole point of this little get-together? To clear the air, figure out where we stand now?"

Every inch of Angel's body felt as if it was on fire as he glared malevolently at Buffy, standing only two feet way from him and her glaring back at him with the intensity that could make an erupting volcano look like a wet matchstick.

The air between the two supernatural warriors was practically rippling with unspoken emotions - anger, passion, jealousy - and that was just the short list.

"Fine," Angel replied, grittily. "So, tell me where we stand." He paused, remembering that while his life (or unlife, as the case may be) had been a complete roller-coaster over the last four years, Buffy's couldn't have been much easier. She was, after all, the Slayer. "Tell me what's happened to you, ever since the last time we talked."

Buffy sighed, wearily. These one-on-one confrontations with Angel had a way of draining her energy faster than any demon fight could. "Well," she replied with a humorless chuckle of her own. "I did say I owed you a life story."

Angel folded his arms patiently across his chest. "And I've got nothing to do for another hour or so."

So, Buffy began to tell her life's story since the last time they had seen each other - the night they had met somewhere in between LA and Sunnydale, after Willow had resurrected Buffy with the Urn of Osiris.

Angel had known how that soldier-boy, Riley whatever-his-name-was, had opted to skip out on Buffy, long before that. The thought both brought him relief and angered him, as he had never approved of the Iowan - and yet, if he'd stayed, maybe he wouldn't be smelling Spike's stink on Buffy right now.

The hell with it, Angel thought. I left her so that she could have a normal life. With a normal boyfriend. Instead, she wound up together with Spike? How could I have been so wrong? Was doing the right thing back then really the biggest mistake of my life?

Angel began to think it was, after he heard details that Buffy had omitted during their previous meeting. How the hellgod Glory had kidnapped Dawn - who was the Key needed to return to her own hellfire dimension, while destroying all of reality in the process. Buffy told him of the Scoobies' last stand against Glory and her minions, with the lives of her sister and all of the different realities out there at stake.

How she'd defeated Glory and saved her sister and the world, but at a very costly price - her gift to the world. Her own life…

Angel's throat clamped closed in emotion, the familiar guilt nearly overpowering him as he heard her tale. Buffy, his sweet, brave Buffy, had died in order to save the world - and where had he been? Off in another dimension to rescue Cordy from the demons in Pylea, too far away to help her when she'd needed him most of all.

It was like Willow telling him Buffy had died all over again, in a way.

Reading his emotions well, Buffy reached out to the vampire, clutching his hand. "Angel, don't. Please don't. We've been over this before; I told you, it wasn't your fault. You didn't know, and you weren't there..."

"I should have been," he croaked hollowly.

"Even if you had been there, what the hell could you have done?" Buffy asked, her tone soft but frank. "Angel, you never fought her. I did. So did Spike. Glory kicked both our asses without even breaking a sweat, she was…unbelievably strong. Too strong. She would have hurt you or worse, just like she did with Spike. Just to throw me off my game. And if that had happened, I…" She broke off, shuddering. "No. You had your battles, I had mine. And that was my fight, not yours."

Angel didn't buy it, though. The Powers had sent him visions of her in trouble before. Doyle had had one that Thanksgiving, and he'd gone back to Sunnydale at once when he'd been needed.

So why wouldn't the PTBs have sent one to Cordelia of Buffy battling a freaking hellgod, with all of reality as the prize? It just didn't add up; hell, even Wolfram & Hart should have known, what with all the seers they had on retainer. Surely the evil lawyers would have done something to take out Glory themselves, if she was such a big threat to their own scheduled apocalypse?

Unless somehow, that had all been part of this unborn Power's plan…

Angel shook off his own musings as Buffy told him of how she had been resurrected by Willow and the gang - in her own grave.

Something she'd conveniently forgotten to mention, the last time they'd talked.

For a moment, the vampire was so angry that he nearly crushed her hand, he was clenching it so tightly. How could her friends have been so stupid? Angel had seen a resurrection or two in his time, and if there was one cardinal rule to such spells, it was this - always leave the body in an open space. Raising a body within its coffin was defeating the whole purpose of the resurrection, unless you wanted the resurrected being to die of shock and fear.

"Angel," Buffy said loudly, shaking her hand in his iron grip. "Hand. Breaking!"

Realizing what he was doing, Angel abruptly let go of the blonde Slayer's hand, backing away from her as he tried to get a hold of himself.

Despite the pain in her hand, a part of Buffy soared in happiness at the thought that he still cared so much. When asked if she should continue, Angel briefly nodded, taking a moment to compose himself before settling down to listen to her story.

Buffy told her ex of how she'd barely had time to register what had happened before Giles had left, and she'd gotten saddled with the super-sized responsibilities of raising a rebellious sister, mounting bills - which forced her to sink to new levels of embarrassment and humiliation when she put on a cartoon cow hat and slung hash at the Doublemeat Palace - and the growing expectations of her friends for her to be the same old Buffy, to act as if they hadn't torn her soul out of Heaven and forced her to deal with a pain that no human being should ever have to bear.

Angel could relate, in a way. After his walk on the dark side hunting Darla and Drusilla, and dealing with Wolfram and Hart, not to mention Connor's disappearance and the boy's open hatred of him upon returning from Quor-toth, his friends had also expected him to be the same strong, fearless Champion he always had been.

God help him, but there were times when Angel wondered if things would be much easier in his unlife, without these damn mortals constantly nagging him with their worries and expectations.

But then, Angel felt almost immediately ashamed at the thought. His life would be much emptier without Cordy, and Wes and Gunn and Fred and Lorne. He had been alone for nearly a hundred years after the soul had been forced upon him, and those days were like a bad memory compared to the here and now. Even with an angry teenage son he barely knew or understood, Angel would not take back having Connor around for anything.

"I had no idea last year was so tough for you," was the only comment an apologetic Angel offered, staring at her sadly.

"It wasn't the funnest time I've ever had," Buffy sighed. "I still about dream about Heaven, you know. I've never told this to anyone, but I think - I think my mom was there. And if it wasn't for Dawn, I might have..."

"Oh…Buffy," Angel trailed off, stunned and pained.

Stifling any tears that threatened to come, Buffy shook her head. She admitted to missing the peace and love and serenity of Paradise, but not that much. It was just hard to deal after Willow's black magick had forced her back into a life that was growing much harder and lonelier than she had remembered, one without her mom, or Angel, or Riley…and even without Giles, after he'd returned to England.

Apparently he had left so that she would stop drifting through life like a living zombie, and stop depending on him for doing the stuff she should have been doing herself. A stupid course of action, given the chaos Giles had found upon his return, but then hindsight is always 20-20.

Buffy sighed heavily, leaning back against the dresser. "I guess they weren't kidding about that whole 'The Slayer walks alone' thing," she laughed wryly. "It's been a long walk."

"And no one was there for you," Angel murmured. Guilt washed over him again, as the Champion chastised himself for not keeping in closer contact during that time.

Granted, he'd had his own drama at the time with Holtz and Darla's pregnancy, but for Buffy…he would have made the time. So, why didn't he?

Because he was afraid, he realized shamefully. Because he was terrified that Buffy would have shut him out, tell him to leave her alone and to stop meddling in her life. Angel didn't want to even think that Buffy would have told him it really was over if he'd shown up at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Buffy paused for a long moment before she swallowed thickly. "Actually...someone was," she said quietly.

Angel's first thought was of Dawn, but when he realized where she was going with this, his lips tightened into a thin, hard line as sadness and guilt suddenly gave way to jealousy.

"Spike," he quietly growled.

Buffy nodded. "It was…well, you remember I told you about him falling in love with me during the whole Glory thing, right?"

Angel nodded, thinking back to when Buffy had confided that information to him - that night following Joyce's funeral. It had taken all of his strength not to storm off and skin Spike alive for even looking at Buffy like that.

"Back then, we were becoming friends. He actually put his life on the line for Dawn and me. After I...came back...I needed someone to talk to after Giles left; I told him about me being in Heaven, and we started…connecting."

"But Spike wanted more than that," Angel said, knowing his wayward grandchilde all too well.

"He did," Buffy confirmed. "He made that part of it pretty clear even before I died, but I wasn't willing to go there. For a while, he couldn't handle it. Kept prodding and poking at the subject. You know how Spike is."

Boy did he ever, Angel realized with guilt. He was, after all, the Yoda to Spike's twisted version of Luke Skywalker during those first eighteen years together.

Drusilla may have sired him, but Angelus had made Spike into who and what he was, to Angel's everlasting regret.

"After Willow and the others brought me back, he was there. Spike was always just...there. One night, we kissed. Don't ask why, just know that it involves a showtunes-lovin' evil karaoke demon who almost became my brother-in-law. And we kept on kissing after that."

Seeing the look on Angel's face Buffy quickly added, "He made me feel...something. And that's what I wanted...needed, to feel. Just something. Anything other than that awful, sucking emptiness in my chest I was constantly living with. But eventually I told him it was over, and then one night...he actually hit me. And his chip didn't fry his brain, or anything. Spike said it was because I came back wrong. I…I think that was the kicker for me. I just...I snapped. We spent the next half-hour beating the crap out of each other, then the building started falling down around us. One thing led to another, and then we…" Buffy trailed off, though Angel didn't need to be a detective to figure out the rest of the story.

He tensed, angrily. The repulsive mental images of Spike, Spike, and Buffy, together...Spike kissing Buffy's neck, clutching Buffy's breasts, Buffy moaning Spike's name…

And before Angel knew it, a piece of the reading table he had been gripping broke off in his hand, effortlessly.

"I hope you're insured," Buffy tried to break the tension with a weak joke, but the cold fury on Angel's face let her know that this wasn't a time for Buffy's Comedy Hour.

Sighing, she continued, "The next day, I swore it would never happen again. But it did, Spike was always there - he insisted that I was like him. A creature of the dark, and I belonged there with him. I hated it, and I hated him. But I kept coming back to him. It was…he was the only thing that made things hurt less. And I couldn't give that up. I wouldn't. I would have gone completely nuts if I did, what with everything else happening, including the Nerd Herd..."

Buffy's honesty did nothing to quell Angel's rage. In fact, the former Scourge of Europe was dangerously close to a full-scale meltdown. He had left Buffy unprotected to deal with the advances and mind games of a monster like Spike - a vampire after his alter-ego's own undead heart - and she had given in to his advances, because she was too hurt, too lonely, and too miserable to resist.

Because he hadn't been there for her.

Things hadn't been any easier for her friends, either, Buffy added, as she told him details of Dawn's kleptomania, and how Xander and Anya's wedding had fallen apart, which had led to Anya returning to her vengeance demon ways.

But the most dangerous tale of all was Willow's addiction to magicks, which had led to her nearly killing Dawn whilst on a scary magical high, losing and regaining Tara…only to lose her again forever when a gun-toting and vengeful Warren Mears, furious after Buffy had ruined his greatest scheme, had stormed the Summers home and fired four shots - intended for Buffy - one which tore Tara's insides out.

That nightmarish day had given birth to Dark Willow, a creature of grief, rage and primal power, who hadn't hesitated to flay Warren alive with her magicks.

Angel flinched at the thought of the cute, shy redhead he had known for years acting in a way that Angelus would have truly admired. He never would have thought her capable of such an act. But then Angel, more than anyone, knew how grief could drive someone to do the unthinkable - like to attempt to smother an old friend in a hospital bed, after he'd kidnapped your son.

But Willow didn't stop there, as her quest for vengeance brought her face to face with her own friends and nearly resulted in the destruction of the entire planet, until Xander had somehow managed to bring his oldest friend back from the brink of world destruction.

Angel breathed a silent prayer of gratitude that at least he could still rely on Buffy's White Knight to help save the world, whilst he'd been trapped at the bottom of the ocean. The boy had been and still was a pain in the ass, sure, but as an ally his help was often invaluable. A certain meeting with Angelus at Sunnydale General Hospital years ago was proof of that.

"So where was Spike during all this?" Angel suddenly asked, becoming aware that Buffy had neglected to mention his role during those events.

He could smell the nervousness off her as Buffy replied, "He'd left town by then. Before that, I...I broke it off with him. Permanently. After Riley and his wife briefly showed up, I realized that what Spike and I were doing wasn't good for either of us. He...well, Spike took it badly. Refused to accept that 'no' meant 'no'. One night, before Warren, I was out on patrol and I got hurt. I came home, tried to take a shower, wipe the blood off…and Spike was there."

If Angel's heart had been human, it would have skipped a beat at that moment.

"He tried to convince me to get back together with him, but I told him to go away. But he kept pushing. And then…" Buffy bravely sucked in a breath, the undead man opposite her hanging on her every word. "He…Spike tried to...force the issue."

Angel felt as if he had been struck by a stake in his heart, the cold reality of her words sinking in. "He raped you."

Buffy shook her head vehemently. "NO! He tried to…but I kicked him off me, and then he ran away after realizing what he'd almost done. Then when Xander found me - no, never mind, let's not go there," Buffy said uncomfortably, recalling exactly what Harris had said and what he had threatened to do. "Basically, Spike disappeared. By the time we got around to visiting his crypt, he'd already left town; and we had Dark Willow to deal with then, anyway."

Angel ran a hard hand across his face as he processed what Buffy had told him. What Spike had done…had tried to do to the woman he loved. Images of a different kind filled his mind…Spike throwing Buffy to the ground, Spike clawing cold fingers against flawless tanned skin, grabbing at sacred regions he was not ever allowed to touch, a teary-eyed and bleeding Buffy crying, begging helplessly for him to stop…

It was the last straw for him as Angel suddenly whirled and effortlessly punched a hole in the plastered wall, startling Buffy.

"Angel…" she started, only to be cut off by the vampire's low and angry growl. An animalistic sound that sent shivers down Buffy's spine.

"He's ashes," a scowling Angel uttered as he removed his hand, furiously pacing back and forth. "I should have dusted Spike a long time ago, I know that - but now, no more excuses. First, I'm gonna rip off his fingers, tear out his intestines and strangle him with them…"

"Angel," Buffy tried again.

"Then I'll yank out his eyes - no, wait, I'll leave his eyes in so he can see me rip off his arms and legs, then I'll take what's left of him out to the forest and bury a whole damn tree in his chest, and then I'll burn the ashes one-by-one with a magnifying glass…"

"Angel!" Buffy brought him back to reality as she grabbed his arm and forced him to face her. "You're overreacting. Nothing happened that night-"

"The hell it didn't. Stop making excuses for him," Angel growled, startling her again.

"I'm not!" Buffy said loudly, and the least bit angrily. "I'm not. But…after that, Spike went off to Africa…he went through some trials, there was some demon shaman in a cave or something. He never told me details, other than that he suffered a lot to get what he wanted. And when Spike came back…the next time I saw him, he had his soul back."

Angel froze, not knowing what to make of that. But the knowledge of his Grandchilde's new ensouled status did nothing to ebb his fury. Soul or not, what he'd tried to do to Buffy was unforgivable in Angel's book.

"When Xander and I found him, Spike was practically insane, talking about all the things he did…I felt like I was seeing you coming back from Hell all over again. He got a soul for me, Angel. I…I had to take care of him after I learned that. I felt responsible for him-"

"Buffy, you are not responsible for what happened to Spike," Angel replied sternly, as Buffy looked away. "Spike did what he did, that was his choice. Maybe he thought getting a soul like me would be enough to make you love him, or maybe he just wanted to prove something to himself. Who knows? Either way, there's only one person responsible for Spike, and that's Spike." He paused, awkwardly as he considered that statement. "And Drusilla, I guess. She was his sire, and all."

Buffy's response was dry. "Right, because she's just chock-full-of-sanity, isn't she?"

"That's not the point, Buffy," Angel argued.

"Forget it, it's done, okay?" Buffy waved it off, huffily. "Anyway, I was just starting to get the hang of things, new gig at new Hellmouth High as a guidance counselor, and Willow had just come off her rehab with those Coven people in England who Giles took her to see. Things were finally getting…normal again." She sighed. "So, of course, that's when all hell broke loose."

"The First," Angel replied.

Buffy continued the tale, telling him of her dreams of Potential Slayers around the world being slaughtered one-by-one, while the Watchers Council had apparently been obliterated. How her small suburban home had become flooded with refugee Potentials from every corner of the earth, and she had been tasked with another great burden : turning a bunch of awkward teenage girls into an army that could face Bringers, über-vamps and the forces of darkness in order to save the world from the First Evil.

Angel took a long, hard look at the small blonde before him, registering her tired appearance, the weary look in her eyes for the first time. No wonder she looked so worn down. She literally had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Reaching out, he gently cupped one of her warm cheeks in his cool right hand. For a moment, Buffy closed her eyes as she savored the gentle coolness of his touch - long-denied, but never forgotten to her - against her skin. Just for a moment, she felt herself relax.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," Angel said, his heavy brown eyes leaving no doubt of their sincerity.

"You're here now," Buffy replied softly. "That's what matters."

His brief smile was short-lived as she looked at him and frowned. "Alright, I've shown you mine, time for you to show me yours…what's going on between you and Cordy?"

Let it never be said that Buffy Summers wasn't full of surprises, because that question had thrown Angel for another loop.

"Cordy?" he nervously croaked.

Buffy eyed him with careful scrutiny. "Yes. Cordelia Chase. Xander's ex back in high school. Tall, brunette, currently evil downstairs…?"

Angel sighed, having dreaded this conversation for some time. But seeing the determined look in Buffy's face, he knew there was no backing out of this one. Not by a long shot.

"Angel, I'm waiting…" Buffy huffed, impatiently tapping her foot.

"Yeah, well, it's complicated," he shrugged.

"So simple it up for me," she shot back.

"Oh, it's never simple when it comes to Cordelia," the vampire chuckled, which earned him the evil eye from the Slayer. Swallowing hard, Angel continued, "It's not like it started immediately. You remember what she was like when she first came here to LA..."

Buffy rolled her eyes as she remembered the brash, arrogant Cordelia Chase of old. "How could I possibly forget?"

"I guess things started to change after she got the visions, and I had my epiphany during the Darla thing," Angel said, recalling that dark time in his unlife. "The others were sort of taking me back in stride, but Cordy…she was really hurt by what I did. I wasn't a very nice guy around that time. So, I really had to work at it to get back on her good side. A little after that, we started…bonding more than ever before."

"How much more?" Buffy asked, suspiciously.

"It wasn't like that, at least not back then," Angel insisted. "We just became a lot closer. Maybe it was because of the visions. She felt the pain of the people I was trying to help, connecting with them in a way I couldn't. I guess the job brought us closer together."

To say that Buffy was a little bit jealous was like saying the sun was a little bit hot as she clenched and unclenched her fists, wondering just what was going on between the pretty Seer and her handsome vampire ex-honey.

Angel swallowed. "After you…after Glory…I wasn't handling things well. Burying myself in cases, putting on a brave face for the team. Cordy saw through it, though. She helped me deal with it, deal with a world without you in it."

"And after I came back?"

"Nothing changed, at least not too much. You and I still couldn't be together, but I hadn't started thinking of her as more than a friend. Then Darla showed up. Then Connor was born, and Cordy stepped up in helping me take care of him. She was really good with him, when he was a baby…" He smiled a little at the memory of Cordelia fussing over and changing Connor's diapers. "I never would have imagined she could have been so good with kids."

Off his smile, Buffy felt deep insecurity creep up in her. "I could be good with kids," she retorted defensively. "I've been raising Dawn ever since Mom died, you know. A-a-and I got a B-plus in Home & Careers in the baby assignment in 9th grade. Well, okay, D-minus, but that's only because the stupid janitor swept it away while stupid Bobby Rucker was trying to ask me to the Fall Dance, and I put the thing down just for a minute…"

"Buffy," Angel said, giving her a strange look. "You're doing that...thing again."

"Oh. Right. The yammering. Sorry, go on," she blushed.

"Cordy left for a while, she'd found a new boyfriend, Groo. But after Connor was kidnapped," Angel pseudo-sighed as he recalled that bitter memory, "she was there. Again. She helped me get through that, too. After she disappeared and came back with amnesia, I was completely focused on trying to help her get her memories back. But when she...well, you know all about her and Connor, or at least what I thought was her and Connor."

"Uh-huh?" Buffy uttered, wondering where he was going with this.

"So, I can't trust anything 'Cordelia' had said ever since her body came back from Up There. Buffy…I have no idea what Cordelia, the real Cordelia, truly feels for me. I mean, we never got the chance to talk that night Connor sent me to the bottom of the ocean. But the others think differently. Fred started it last year, but then everyone kept going on about kye-rumption or whatever, telling me that Cordelia and I were so perfectly suited for each other..."

"So, what, you just bought into it?" Buffy scoffed, more than a little offended that Angel would have let himself be led on by his friends with what he held in his heart so easily. "You let your friends Yenta you into thinking Cordy was your dream girl? Gee, do you let them dress you in the morning, too?"

"Is that really any different to what you let happen with your friends, when they pushed you towards Mr. Perfect, the Soldier Boy?" Angel retorted, with none-too-subtle jealousy.

"This has nothing to do with Riley," Buffy shot back.

"Doesn't it?" Angel fired back mercilessly. "Don't think I didn't put together what happened there. Willow points you in his direction, Xander - in all his cheerleading glory - urges you on, a few dates and a parental approval later, you're proclaiming your love for him right in front of my face."

Buffy flushed red as the memory ran through her mind of her throwing Riley in Angel's face, after she came to LA years ago - chasing after Faith. To this day, Buffy still felt a bit guilty about that. Not that she had ever let Angel know that, of course.

"I only said that because I was angry, Angel," she said indignantly. "You were being all defensive of Faith after she pulled a Body Snatchers on me. How was I supposed to feel?"

"Well, how do you think I felt knowing that you were screwing some farm boy from Iowa you'd met just a few months after I left?" a glowering Angel stepped closer to her, old wounds reopening and bleeding together with the new ones. "Or better yet, how do you think I feel now knowing that for four months, you were sleeping with Spike?"

Buffy was so angry that she was trembling with rage. "Right, because hearing that you slept with Darla, and better yet, had a kid with her - the one thing I can't ever give you – that was such a treat for me? Or even better, that you were getting mushy over Cordy, Cordy, after your friends pushed you into it, ignoring what I was, what we were? Do I have to remind you who left who in a sewer before Senior Prom, so you could go play private dick in Hollywood?"

"You know damn well why I left, and that wasn't the reason why," Angel hissed, his voice teeming with emotion. "Buffy, there's not a moment gone by in these last few hard, lonely years where I didn't want to run to you and lose myself within you, to take comfort inside you, to let you fill me up with all your warmth, all your laughter, all your heart and soul. But I couldn't, because if I do that, I'd hurt you worse than you could possibly imagine."

"Imagine?" Buffy laughed, coldly. "Do you have any idea what it was like for me to see you walk away in that mist on Graduation Day? Without a word, without a goodbye, without even a 'Hey, glad you didn't die!'? I don't give a damn what excuses you try to shove in my face! I loved you so much, and you left me, Angel, you just turned around and you left like I never meant anything to you. And now you have the nerve to get pissy over who I sleep with, after you abandoned me?"

"Yes," Angel retorted heatedly, his eyes smoldering as he finally forced himself to tell the truth. "Because I care. Because I'll always care. Because you deserve better than what you've settled for. And because no matter what happened with Darla, no matter what I thought I felt for Cordelia, no matter what I might have thought or seen or done, my heart always knew one truth: it's you, Buffy. You're the one. Always have been, always will be. Anything else, anyone else…is just second-best."

Buffy was stunned speechless for a second, her mouth agape in awe and her mouth gone dry as she heard the words she longed to hear from his mouth for far too long.

Both Champion and Slayer took a moment to reflect on those words…

And then she was in his arms, her mouth crushing against his, as lips that longed for each other's touch for so long finally found each other.

Angel heard his brain telling him to stop, telling him to cease and desist before it was too late to turn back - but as he felt Buffy's strong legs wrap against his torso, felt his palms cup her firm ass as they fell forwards against the opposite wall, he couldn't think of anything else except that he needed to have Buffy's mouth attached to his.

What was he thinking, comparing Darla and Cordelia to this woman? Nothing and no one measured up to her. Period.

Buffy gasped in between heated kisses as she savored the feel, the taste of him. It had been so long, yet there were certain things about her first ever lover she could never forget. Her back arched and her mouth opened in pure pleasure, her brain turning to mush as she felt his mouth hungrily nape at her neck as her heart thundered madly against her bosom, feeling more alive in only two minutes under Angel's mouth than she had in more than two years.

"Angel…oh, God," Buffy breathed, lost in ecstasy as she ran her fingers through the back of his hair.

Equally lost in a state perilously close to perfect bliss, Angel murmured against her collarbone, "Buffy…Geez, you feel so…"

A knock on the door interrupted their passionate embrace, breaking them apart just as Angel began to pull up her sweater.

Panicked, Buffy began to pull her garments down taking a moment to smooth her hair out. Angel shot her an apologetic look - to which she offered a sweet smile - before he staked towards the door.

"What?" he tersely greeted the other person…a clueless, innocent Fred.

"Um, hey, I know you guys told me not to bother y'all unless it was time for the spell, but just so y'all know, it's time for the spell," the brunette shyly blushed.

Angel was surprised that an hour had flown by so quickly. "Oh, thanks, Fred."

"Um, and also…Connor's missing," Fred winced, knowing Angel wasn't going to take that news well.

"What?" Angel was immediately concerned, as was Buffy, the latter who quickly strode to Angel's side. "When?"

"Um, that would be about a half hour ago," Fred said. "But don't worry. Faith, Spike and Dawn went out to get him."

"Dawn?" the Slayer yelped. "You guys sent my kid sister back out into the streets with Faith?"

"You sent Spike after my son?" an incredulous Angel demanded.

Fred gulped. "Well, he couldn't have been gone long, so I'm sure they'll be back soon-"

Buffy angrily shook her head as she headed for the door. "When I get ahold of Dawn, she is USDA dead meat."

"Wait," Angel grabbed her shoulder. "Where are you going?"

"After my wayward, soon-to-be-chained-to-her-bedpost sister?" she retorted.

"Wait, Buffy, you can't leave! What about the spell?" Fred asked fretfully.

"It'll just have to wait," Buffy said dismissively.

"No, it can't! The ingredients are super-sensitive, Buffy. If we wait too long, they'll lose their potency. It'll take us days to find replacements," Fred explained.

"Days?" Buffy exclaimed. "Great, so what am I supposed to do now?"

"Go downstairs, and get ready for the spell," Angel told her as he hastily put on his trademark black leather duster. "I'll go find them."

"Uh, Angel, about that," she winced. "You, uh, might want to stick around, seeing as how with Faith and Spike gone, and Buffy about to go under, we're kinda in short supply of superhuman muscle?"

Angel looked conflicted as he weighed the options - leave his friends defenseless while they attempted to save Cordy, or leave his son's fate in Spike's hands.

"What do you want to do?" Buffy asked him.

Angel took a moment before he made up his mind. "He's my son, Buffy."

Buffy nodded in understanding. "Then you better hurry back."

"Will you be okay?" he asked in genuine concern.

She gave him one of her famous half-smiles. "I'm Buffy Summers. Of course I'll be okay."

Angel returned it with one of his own small smiles. "Good," he kissed her cheek without thinking, before he picked up a nearby broadsword. "I'll be back soon."

And with that, Angel quickly strode to the nearest window, climbing down the fire escape with a grace only he could muster as he went off to find his son and Dawn…leaving a flushed Buffy behind, tracing the mark where he had just kissed.

Fred raised her eyebrows at Buffy, a curious smirk on the pretty Texan's face. "So, what was that all about?"

Buffy offered Fred a tentative smile as they walked down the hall, a pensive look on her face. "I'll let you know when I figure it out."


Hyperion Hotel - Main Lobby

Now


As Gunn, Lorne, Whistler and Xander finished lighting the black and red candles, while Giles and Anya lit incense sticks and Wesley and Andrew spread mystical sand in a large circle around the center of the lobby, Willow - ever the perfectionist - went over her checklist one last time.

"Okay, let's see. Three eyes of newt? Twelve dollars." Check. "Sacred sand blessed from the heart of the Mojave Desert? Two hundred dollars." Check. "Tongue of a black poodle? Ick…twenty dollars," she shuddered.

"Calamus root for enhancing dark magic? Ten dollars. Sheep's blood? Ten dollars. Ground-up Kraken tooth from the black magic black market, for conduit capability? Fifteen hundred dollars. Idol of Hypnos, the Greek God of Sleep? Two thousand dollars…" Willow trailed off, suddenly marveling how much all this had cost financially.

With a final nod, she glanced over at Xander and smiled. "Saving the life of an old friend from a nasty mystical Power-That-Can-Suck-It?"

Xander's eyes drifted to his still-unconscious (and now bruising) ex-girlfriend, smiling before he returned his gaze to Willow. "Priceless, yet worth every damn penny."

"Hell yeah," Gunn nodded as he and Xander exchanged looks of male solidarity.

"Um…so what's all this stuff supposed to be for again? A, a Hippo Soul spell?" a puzzled Andrew asked Wesley, his gross mispronunciation of the spell earning him a mordant glare from the former Watcher.

"That's Hypnos Soul-Seeking Spell," Wesley sighed, wearily. "It's an extremely ancient and very powerful spell, found only in the Bisylline Codex. It's supposed to act as a connection between souls in the dream state."

"So, it's like a sleeping spell?" Xander asked.

"No, not exactly," Giles replied as he finished lighting the last row of candles near the lobby's front desk. "Sleep is involved, yes - but the context is that in sleep, the-the soul of a person can enter the astral plane, or the ethereal plane of existence beyond the mortal realm, via sleep."

"Not just sleep, Giles," Willow added as she began grinding the mixed spell ingredients together with a mortar and pestle within a large granite bowl. "The astral plane can also be accessed through astral projection, meditation and mantra, near death experience, lucid dreaming, and a few other means."

"So, what's all that got to do with getting Cordy back?" Xander shrugged, puzzled.

Anya rolled her eyes at his naïveté. Were all mortals so short-sighted? "Well, duh! The astral plane is the realm of the planetary spheres, crossed by the soul in its astral body on the way to being born and after death, the place inhabited by angels, spirits or other immaterial beings."

Off Xander's confused stare, Anya dramatically oversimplified it: "Cordelia's-Soul-Stuck-In-Biiiiig-Floaty-Place."

Xander felt his temper begin to rise at Anya's dig. He suddenly remembered why he had given up trying to get back together with her, after that incident with D'Hoffryn and all those dead frat boys a few months ago. "Thank you, Ahn, for that stunningly well-thought out explanation."

"She's not wrong, Xander," Wesley interceded, sensing an ex-lover's quarrel coming and deciding to shut it down before it got started. "From what Whistler tells us, the rogue Power needed Cordelia's soul alive and intact to facilitate her possession, and eventually to give birth to itself."

"Yeah. Think of that broad's soul as a…an otherworldly telephone wire between this reality and the next," Whistler explained. "It's the tether that's binding the Power and the parasite to her body and to this world. Sever the link, and both go bye-bye."

"Hey, hold up: wouldn't that mean that Cordy's soul dies? Or – whatever?" a concerned Gunn asked, Xander visibly blanching at his words.

"No, not necessarily," Willow corrected. "When the Power possessed Cordelia, before it descended from that higher realm - it stashed her soul somewhere in the astral plane. The real Cordelia is stuck somewhere between this world, and that other one."

"Between life and death, you mean," Xander swallowed, worried beyond comprehension at the thought of Cordy's soul lost in cosmic limbo. Anya noticed it and glowered, wondering where these feelings were coming from - since as far as she knew, he hadn't seen or talked to the woman in ages.

Giles gave Harris a grave nod. "I'm afraid so. But, but if we can reestablish the dominance of Cordelia's soul within her own body by extracting it from the astral plane, we, uh, we should, in theory, be able to expel the Power and this cosmic parasite, which would, in effect, r-restore Cordelia to her normal state."

Off that, a relieved Xander smiled; an entrapped Skip glowered; and an insecure Anya frowned fiercely at the emotions her ex-fiancé was exhibiting.

"But...why do they have to go into her mind to do it?" Andrew asked cluelessly.

"Because Cordelia's mind and body is the gateway that'll lead to where her soul is," Wesley explained. "In dreams, her mind has access to the astral plane. And only through the mind in such a dream-state can Buffy and Darla find her soul there."

Gunn suddenly frowned, realizing there was something missing here. "So, what was the big deal with not letting Red do the spell earlier, if it's such a simple sleep-and-snatch like you're makin' it out to be?"

Giles, Willow and Wesley exchanged troubled glances between each other for a moment, something Xander didn't miss. Harris quipped, "Guys, it's no fun exorcizing evil spirits if you don't share!"

Giles sighed heavily before he admitted, "Unfortunately, there is a-a grave risk involved in performing this spell."

"Yeah. Emphasis on 'grave'," Willow frowned. "It's not exactly a sleeping spell, Xand. It puts the three individuals involved into a…a comatose state."

Lorne was thrown by the news. "Whoa - back it up second, cherry pie. Comatose?"

"As in, coma?" Xander yelped, incredulously. In his experience, comatose meant bad – Faith and Buffy had both had undergone such a thing, and the aftermath hadn't been pretty.

"It's the only way the spell can be conducted in order to appease Hypnos," Willow said. "A state of mind that comes as close to death as possible, the ultimate sleep."

"Can't this Hypnos guy just give you an A for effort?" Xander asked, not liking the idea of both of his best friends being placed in harm's way in the least.

Willow gave her lifelong best friend a deadpan stare. "This is dark magic we're talking about, Xander, so it really doesn't work that way. Remember what happened when we resurrected Buffy? You can't just pretend and hope that Hypnos doesn't notice what you're doing."

"So, what if something goes wrong?" Gunn asked, ignoring the chagrined look on Xander's face. "What's the worst case scenario here?"

Giles frowned. "Worst case, uh, if there's even the slightest disruption to their psychic link, the consequences could be…well, fatal. For all of them."

Lorne, Xander, Anya and Gunn exchanged concerned looks. Wesley, who had just finished pouring the sacred sand in a circle, did not appear happy about it, either. After all, Darla was one of the participants in this dangerously perilous spell.

"Of course," Xander nodded, with an angry chuckle. "Can't have a spell that doesn't involve everyone possibly dying in the fine print, after all. Where's the fun in that?"

"It'll be fine, Xander," Willow assured her friend with a small smile. "I can hold my own on the magical front. Darla seems like she's tough enough, and Buffy...well, she's Buffy."

"Oh, sure, it'll all be peaches and gravy," Skip sarcastically wisecracked from his red-hued prison, as everyone turned to face him. "By the way, Red - don't you think it's worthwhile mentioning the fact that out of the four times that spell has ever been done since it was created, the survival rate of the participants involved happens to be…hmm, let me think, a big fat zero?"

Off Xander's surprised and questioning stare, Willow gave a meek, yet optimistic shrug. "Well…um, yeah, there is that, but hey! There's always a first time for everything, right?"

"A zero percent success rate? People, not to be Nervous Nellie here, but are we really going to test out beating those odds?" a hesitant Lorne asked.

"We don't have a choice, Lorne, not if we want to save Cordelia's life and soul," Wesley grimly replied.

His hard eyes suddenly veered towards Angel's study, where the door opened to reveal a tense-looking Darla. His gaze softened slightly as he beheld the blond beauty's troubled gaze.

"Is everything all right?" Wes asked tentatively, as he approached her.

Darla gave him a small smile and nodded. "Everything's fine." Even though her lips were still warm from that kiss Lindsey stole from her moments before…a kiss that, loathe as she was to admit it, was actually pretty damn scorching hot. "Um, i-is everything ready to go with the spell?"

Wesley frowned at once. "Err, about that…do you mind if we speak for a moment? In private?"

His request surprised her, but off the concerned look in his eyes, Darla nodded in consent as Wesley led her quickly across the lobby of the hotel into another room.

Whistler exhaled in annoyance. What was with these humans and their priorities of romance over everything else, even the potential end of the world? It was a miracle the demons hadn't openly taken over years ago, what with the soap opera love lives these people had!

"Sure, take your time," the balance demon called out to the pair, as they closed the door behind them. "It's not like we're dealing with a freakin' apocalypse, here!"

"Did somebody say the 'A' word?" Buffy called as she and Fred came down the stairs.

Whistler noted the conspicuous absence of one major key player. "Speaking of 'A' words, blondie, where's Angel?"

"Out," Buffy replied briskly. "He went to find Connor and Dawn."

Then she turned accusing eyes towards Giles and said, "And thanks SO much for letting my grounded 16-year-old sister go off in downtown LA with Faith at a quarter to midnight, by the way. You didn't by any chance tell her to take candy from middle-aged guys who drive white vans, too, did ya?"

"Actually, she's almost 17-" Xander started to say before a sharp elbow to the ribs from Anya shut him up. "Will you quit doing that?" he demanded of her.

"It's the least you deserve for leaving me at the altar," Anya shot back in annoyance.

"Oh, God, are we back to that again? Geez, Ahn-"

"Did we ever really get past it? Xander, you humiliated me-"

"SHUT. UP! Both of you!" Buffy growled at the former couple, before turning her gaze back to her former father figure. "Well?"

Giles began backpedaling under the intense stare of his Slayer. "W-w-well, w-we all came to consensus that perhaps Dawn could perhaps, er, would…"

"Hey, whoa! I'm not taking the blame for this one, G-man," Xander shook his head at once; he was already deep enough in Buffy's bad books. "You're on your own, there."

The former Ripper threw Xander an annoyed glare. "Thank you so much for that, Xander," he bit out with a terse smile.

Not a moment later Oz came bounding down the stairs, four ornate Tarot cards in hand. The werewolf paused for a moment as he saw Willow, his brief, yet intense gaze speaking volumes to the witch - who stared back with a longing gaze of her own, before Oz shook it off and approached her with the cards.

"Brought the party favors," he quipped with a small smile.

A flustered Willow nodded. "Uh…yeah, thanks. Gotta have those."

As her fingers grazed his, Oz's lips parted open slightly, his fingers tingling at the all-too-brief contact with his beloved redhead.

No, not mine, Oz reminded himself as he strained to get ahold of his emotions. She's with that Kennedy chick now. She's hers…not mine.

He quickly let go, and Willow instantly missed the contact, fleeting as it was. Turning to place the cards in front of the bowl, her eyes met those of Buffy, who threw her one of those questioning glances that only best friends could read - a glance that said she wanted to know more about what had happened between her bestest bud and her werewolf ex.

Willow only gave her a half-smile and mouthed "Later" to the blonde Slayer, who nodded imperceptibly.

"Okay, hold up, sugar pie - I'm confused," Lorne asked Buffy. "I mean, short on muscle as we are, you sent Angel out on the town while we're dealing with an Exorcist Twist here?"

"I didn't send him anywhere. And it's his son we're talking about here, Lorne," Buffy sighed in annoyance. "Quite honestly, I'd be out there with him right now if I didn't have to get Cordy's astral what-cha-ma-hoozit out of That-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named's paws."

"Aw, gosh; no big, bad Angel around?" Skip sneered, delighted at the news. "Gee, better hope this flimsy little cell doesn't give out. On account of I'm gonna kill you all when that happens."

A glowering Gunn grabbed his home-made axe from nearby, brandishing the deadly weapon in front of the metallic minion of the Beastmaster. "If I were you, spike head, I'd hope you don't get out, either. You wouldn't be the first demon I've chopped up into little pieces."

"Ooooh, I'm so scared," Skip mocked the glaring street fighter.

"Better be," Gunn spat, clutching his axe tightly.

"Can we forget about the demon silver spoon for a moment?" Buffy sighed, anxious to get the spell over with. "Xander, Giles, Anya, load up; I want you to give Angel's people all the backup they need. Andrew, keep a lookout at the door for Angel and the others. Wesley will be keeping an eye on the spell."

"So where do I fit in?" asked Lindsey, who suddenly made his appearance after exiting Angel's private office…with a noticeable limp, which Buffy paid no attention to.

The Slayer had her own misgivings about Lindsey. If he really had been with those Wolfram & Hart guys, that gave her no reason to trust him in the slightest. Still, with her about to go under and Angel, Spike, Dawn and Faith all out retrieving Connor, bodies were scarce and she needed all the help she could get.

"I guess you can help Wesley," Buffy sighed, before adding, "And on the off-chance that you decide to screw us over, just remember - we have more weapons that you."

Lindsey smirked. "No screwing, Goldilocks. You have my word on it."

Scowling at the unwelcome nickname Spike had bestowed on her last year, Buffy turned her attention to Willow, who looked set to go with the mojo. "Will, are you -"

"Oh, for Hecate's sake, Buff, yes! For the umpteenth time, yes, I can handle this," the redhead exclaimed, sick and tired of the concerns for her well-being. "I know it's risky, I know I'm still recovering from the addiction thing, and I am fully aware of the risks! But I'm already committed to this 100 percent, and I can't remain focused if you keep breathing down my neck about it, so just back off, okay?"

There was a beat of awkward silence as all eyes turned to Willow at her outburst.

"Actually…I was only about to ask if you were ready to rock," Buffy shrugged slightly, looking a little embarrassed.

"Oh," the Wiccan Wunderkind swallowed, sheepishly. "Well, uh, sorry. And…you bet."

"Good," Buffy smiled, before she turned to the others with a determined gleam in her eyes. "Then as soon as Darla gets here…let's kick some astral."


"When were you going to tell me? If ever?" Wesley asked, a note of tension in his otherwise calm voice shortly after he and Darla entered the room.

The blonde woman gave him a look, before turning away for a moment. "Truth be told, I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but unfortunately..."

Wesley looked at the floor for a moment, before looking back up at the blonde beauty. He stared at her back, not quite sure what to say...he was only sure of what he felt.

"I don't want you to do this, Darla," Wes said, folding his arms. "It's too - the risks are too great..."

"Wesley, I don't want to do it either," Darla sighed as she returned his gaze at last. "But there's no other choice. It's either this or Cordelia's life - and soul."

"Then we'll find another way-" the ex-Watcher started to say, looking a bit more stubborn and adamant now.

"There isn't one, and you damn well know it, Wesley," Darla reminded him sharply. "Yes, there are risks involved, and yes, there's a lot of danger-"

"Danger? That would be a euphemism compared to what we're actually talking about," Wesley said, his eyes shining with concern, his voice grim. "This spell has had a zero percent success rate thus far. You could end up lost inside Cordelia's mind, suffer irreversible brain damage, left in a permanent catatonic state - you may die, Darla. Again. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, I understand," Darla said, her voice now etched with determination. "But you have to understand that without this spell, Cordelia will die...or end up a vegetable. Is that a price you're willing to pay, just so I can walk off scot-free?"

Wesley struggled to find the right words, before finally speaking. "No… no. Despite everything that's happened over the last year or so, Cordelia's like family to me… and I want to help her in any way possible, but…"

"But?" Darla asked sharply.

"But, I…I just...I don't want to see you in danger...I...the thought of it...makes me rather...ill." Wes paused before adding, "Violently ill, actually."

Darla smiled as she reached up and tenderly stroked the right side of his face, trailing her hand across the scruffy edges of his five o'clock shadow and upwards into a few strands of his hair. She looked into Wesley's eyes and saw his concern, his fear for her safety, plain and unmasked for her to see.

Few people had ever cared about Darla in her long lifespan, both as a human and a vampire. Angel had cared, but - not enough. They'd produced a son together, but having a child with someone didn't necessarily equate to 'happily ever after' territory.

To see this man, this handsome, yet hardened Englishman softening under her touch, out of fear for her well-being, warmed Darla's heart immensely.

Wesley shut his eyes for a moment, savoring the feel, the soft touch, the scent of her skin on his, an aroma like vanilla and traces of jasmine, burning every sense onto his memory. He wasn't used to warmth or tenderness anymore. It was a luxury that he couldn't afford, not these days.

Not after he'd gotten his throat slashed and all his friends had abandoned him, especially Fred.

But something about Darla now seemed to be able to melt Wesley's inner walls, tear down the barbed-wire fences he built around him, around his heart. Leaving him to stare in breathless marvel...and to want more.

"Wesley, I..." Darla paused briefly, before gently speaking. "It's something I have to do...in war, there are risks to be taken, and the bigger the risk-"

"The bigger the payoff, I know," Wesley said emptily. "I am British, you know. We invented classic war rhetoric."

"The stakes are too high for selfish personal feelings, Wesley," Darla reminded him. "For you, me, everyone on this entire planet...there are billions of lives in the balance. We can't afford to lose this battle."

"I know all that," Wesley said, as his eyes suddenly met Darla's blue-green orbs. "It's just that...I...I don't think I can...handle...losing you..."

Darla's eyes widened in amazement at his words. Wesley's breath caught in his throat before continuing, "I mean, I-I know we haven't...known each other all that long...maybe we don't really know each other at all, in some ways...and it's probably...foolish of me to say it, but-"

"Wesley?" Darla cut him off gently, as a strange spark caught her eyes.

"Yes...?" was all the British man could muster.

"Shut up," Darla said in a breathy whisper, and before either of them knew what was happening, Darla's lips moved forward and softly met his mouth.

At first, Wesley was so surprised that he didn't know what to do - until his brain finally registered that Darla, the woman he'd become completely and unashamedly besotted with in during so short a time, was now kissing him.

So he returned the favor, matching her gentle kiss with a tender pressing of his own lips to hers.

Darla's hands reached up and glided over his hair, softly grasping a few strands of his brown hair. Darla had no idea why she was doing what she was doing, other than it simply felt right. There was something in Wesley's eyes that now drew her to him like a magnet. And she felt as if she was being sucked in whole.

Wesley trailed a hand into Darla's own hair, softly brushing back the golden tresses of her head. There was no teasing, no games, only pure feeling, raw emotion as his free hand trailed alongside the back of her shirt, his tongue exploring the depths of Darla's mouth, tasting the sweet, inviting flavor of her lips, her teeth, her tongue, tasting of honey and sugar.

If anyone had mentioned Fred or Lindsey's names at that moment, both Wes and Darla would have never even noticed.

The kiss slowly became more passionate, more driven, as Darla let out a tiny moan, which made Wesley try to pull her in deeper into their embrace. He wanted every drop of her that she would give, to savor the sweetness of her breath for as long as he could, and more.

If there was one thing Wesley Wyndam-Pryce knew how to do, it was how to kiss. Lilah Morgan could have told you that. And Darla was finding out first-hand just how good a kisser he was, relishing the feel of him, the scent of his cologne, the flavor of his skin, never wanting to let go...

And then, of course, the click of the doorknob turning surprised them both, making Wes and Darla jump apart at once.

"Yo, Wes!" Gunn called out as his head came slightly through the door. "Are you guys done in here or what?"

Darla quickly brushed back a lock of hair from her face, looking away awkwardly at the walls. Wesley ran a hand over his flushed face as he looked at Darla, biting back his irritation, his frustration at the interruption of their unexpectedly passionate moment.

"I suppose so, Charles. What is it?" he asked as evenly as he could, despite the urge to scream at Gunn bubbling up from deep within him.

"We're just about ready to roll with that head-shrinkin' mojo. Thought I'd give y'all a heads-up," Gunn casually answered, completely oblivious to the tension within the room as the door was only slightly ajar and he hadn't made eye contact with Wesley and Darla.

"Uh...yes, right. Th-thank you, Gunn..." Darla replied shakily.

"Right. We'll...be right there," Wesley said, almost aloofly.

"O-kay," Gunn said, something in Wesley's voice caused his antennae to twitch. He then came fully into the room and looked at them, hard. "You two alright?"

"Fine," Darla spoke up, smiling falsely.

"Never better," Wesley nodded tersely.

Gunn nodded and stared at them suspiciously before he closed the door behind him, anxious to get back to his guardian duties.

Wesley returned his gaze back to Darla, who stared back at him now, almost shyly.

"I...forgive me, I should've locked the door..." he started to say.

"No, it's...I'm fine," Darla shook her head.

"Eh...perhaps..." was all Wesley could spit out.

Darla looked down at her hands, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well...I should..."

"Right...the spell," Wesley sighed, as he turned to grab the remaining supplies from the table. "Duty calls."

Both had moved towards the door, as Wesley turned the doorknob. The door was open about halfway when Darla turned to him.

Their eyes locked for the longest time, powerful urges and emotions coursing through them both.

"Wesley?" she asked softly, her eyes meeting his.

Wesley felt his breath catch at her stare before he responded. "Yes...Darla?"

"For what it's worth..." she smiled. "No one's ever kissed me like that before. Alive or undead," Darla admitted, her voice raspy and hesitant. She then turned and walked out first.

Wesley blinked, stunned at her words. His senses were still on fire, from her smell, her taste, the angelic sound of her voice, the softness of her touch, her skin...

"Gunn, after we finish this spell, I'm going to kill you for interrupting us...very, very, slowly," Pryce growled to himself before he finally left the room, only a few paces behind Darla.


Hyperion Hotel - Lobby

A few minutes later


It was finally showtime.

Within the center of the white-powdered circle, Willow made her final preparations. 'Cordelia' was in the center of the circle, bound and unconscious, with Darla and Buffy laying on either side of the possessed seer. Darla on the left, Buffy on the right.

As a concerned Fred nervously wrung her hands, Gunn placed a hand on her back, softly.

"It'll be okay," Gunn assured his ex-girlfriend, a small smile on his often-grim face. "You know that, right?"

Despite the uncertainty that surrounded the former couple nowadays, the pretty science whiz gave him a smile for his efforts. "Yeah."

Elsewhere in the room, to say that there was tension between Wesley and Lindsey was an understatement as they helped Willow prepare for the ritual. Wesley cast a cold scowl towards the ex-lawyer, who gave the former Watcher a disdainful smirk in return.

Willow groaned at the obvious pissing contest between those two. It's times like this I'm glad I play for the other team, she thought to herself absently.

By now, Kennedy had joined the ranks of the group in the lobby. As she saw Oz give her girlfriend a reassuring wink, which she rewarded him for with a beaming smile, the Potential Slayer felt herself tense up, eyeing the werewolf contemptuously. She could tell how this guy was attempting to move in on her territory, and didn't like it one bit.

"Okay, Will," Buffy muttered from the floor. "All systems go. Let's do this."

Off her nod, Willow lit the final candle and began reading the incantation from within the Codex:

"Hypnos, God of Sleep,

Keeper of the Veil,

Watcher of the Gateway,

I am thy humble servant,

And I beseech thy guidance,

Let the veil be lifted for these three souls,

Let passage be granted through me, the magician…"

With that, Willow lifted the Tarot card representing her and placed it in the bowl: the Magician, the card of the conduit.

"Unto these three…the Warrior…" For Buffy, she placed her card in the bowl: the Strength card, the card of power.

"…the Priestess…" for Darla, she placed her card within the bowl: the High Priestess card, the card of mystery and unlimited potential.

"…the Empress…" the final card was for Cordelia: the Empress card, the archetype card for the mother, the creator.

"Lift the veil for these three, I ask of you,

From the many, let there be one,

From the scattered, let there be whole,

Open the way for these wayward, humble souls…"

She dropped the still-burning match she'd been holding into the bowl, whose contents immediately caught fire. Within moments, a purple smoke arose from the ashes and the lights began to flicker within the hotel.

The others barely had time to brace themselves as a powerful, howling gust of wind suddenly blew through the hotel lobby, scattering papers, knocking over books and other objects to the floor.

Terrified, Anya clung for dear life to Xander as Gunn shielded a frightened Fred behind him and Lorne, Whistler and Lindsey clung to the staircase banister. Wesley was struggling to get a hold of his footing against the powerful blast.

"Is this supposed to happen?" a bewildered Kennedy shouted as she turned concerned eyes towards Willow…who stared, frozen, into the glowing indigo fire in sudden trepidation.

"Willow, you have to stop!" Kennedy shouted, panicking as bad memories surfaced in her mind – the night Buffy had been exchanged for a demon through a portal, and her girlfriend had sucked out her energy to fix the problem.

Sensing the redhead's hesitation, Oz summoned forth his talons to cling to the floor, forcing his way near the magic circle. "Willow!" he shouted. "You can do this! Don't stop now! If there's anyone who can do it, it's you. C'mon, Will, don't give up now!"

Her face suddenly filled with determination, Willow's eyes grew black as night as she held outstretched hands toward the flame.

"Great Hypnos, let what was hidden now be revealed,

Let what was closed, now open,

So mote it be,

So mote it be,

Hypnos, Show Us the Way! Now!

NOW!"

The fire suddenly jumped into Willow, but did not harm her; instead, it jetted outwards into three separate streams, each stream finding their three respective targets - Buffy, Darla and Cordelia - and passing into their foreheads, each of their eyes glowing a bright purple hue as the mystical energy passed through them…

…only for Buffy and Darla to shut their eyes peacefully as the wind died down around the lobby, normalcy returning to the hotel; at least for now.

The others gazed in awe at the scene before them as Willow, glowing bright purple, sat floating in the circle, a ring of purple light connecting her to the Slayer, the ex-vampire and the possessed seer.

"God damn. I think it worked," Giles uttered softly, marveling at the result.

"Atta girl, Will," Oz breathed in relief as he beheld the glowing Wicca safely floating in the magic circle.

"Is Willow going to be okay?" Xander asked worriedly, reminded of that day on Kingman's Bluff despite all his mental efforts not to.

"She's not in the astral plane, so she's not in any immediate danger," Wesley replied as he inched towards the circle.

"Indeed," Giles nodded, following his compatriot. "But we cannot interrupt her concentration for even the slightest second. Otherwise, we-we could end up killing them all."

"So what do we do now?" a concerned Fred asked.

"Nothing, I'm afraid," Giles sighed as he cast his eyes towards his sleeping Slayer. "This is a battle that only Buffy and Darla can fight. All we can do is stand guard, a-a-and hope for the best."

Whistler gave a small nod. "Not to worry, Watcher Man," he said, gazing fondly at Buffy. "If there's anybody here that can stay on balance when the world goes topsy-turvy, it's definitely the Blondie Menace."


Buffy's body hit the floor with a hard thud, as she groaned in pain.

"Ouchie," she grimaced, clutching her ribs. "Double ouchie!"

Buffy picked herself up off the floor, taking a look at her surroundings…which were nothing but dense, white-grey fog.

It was like walking through a really dirty cloud, it was so thick. Where the hell was she, anyway? Was this Cordelia's mind? And if it was, what was with the whole London fog theme?

There was nothing as far as the eye could see, not a trace of life…

"Boy, let it never be said that Cordy had a lot of cluttered thoughts," Buffy chuckled to herself, before she remembered that there was another person supposed to be here with her.

"Darla?" the Slayer called out into the pea soup-thick fog. "Darla, where are you?"

"Over here," came the raspy voice of the blonde ex-vampire, as she emerged from the fog close by.

The ominous entrance startled the Slayer for a moment before allowing herself to relax.

"Good," Buffy sighed, before looking around again at her mysterious surroundings. "Okay. Now 'here' is where, exactly?"

Darla, looking disconcerted herself, took in their foggy environment. "If I had to guess, I'd have to say that this is somewhere in Cordelia's mind…most likely the area where her thoughts connect to the astral plane."

Buffy fanned some of the fog away. "Either that, or we just walked into a cheesy music video."

"Not at all," a familiar, yet cold voice addressed them.

Both women whirled around to see 'Cordelia' coldly regarding them with an evil smile. "You just entered into the place where you're both about to die."

At that threat, Buffy and Darla turned to each other…and shrugged dispassionately.

"Been there," Buffy rolled her shoulders.

"Done that," Darla glared at the creature who'd manipulated her son and tried to make him into a murderer, as she settled into a fighting stance.

Getting into battle position, Buffy closed her fists and bared her teeth. "And you're about to join the club."

And with that, both blonde heroines lunged towards their laughing enemy…

…and yet, hit nothing but air as they phased right through their cackling adversary.

"Missed me," 'Cordelia' smirked, the Beastmaster indulging in a bit of cheesy gloating.

"Okay, Succu-bitch," an angry Buffy cracked her knuckles. "Round Two it is, then-"

"Buffy, wait!" Darla, as if sensing something, held out her hand, stopping the Slayer's incipient onslaught.

At that moment, the fog disappeared to reveal a cold, desolate wasteland. The sky above them began to darken and finally opened up to pour down heavy rainfall.

A confused Buffy was wigged at the sudden change in venue. "What the hell…?"

"Let me dumb it down so that you can understand me, you bottle-blonde necrophiliac," the Beastmaster grinned in sheer arrogance. "This might be Cordelia's mind, but this is my world you're in now. I control this whole mindscape. You don't go anywhere I don't want you to go, you don't do anything I don't want you to do. To borrow a phrase…I am God here."

"And as an added bonus, since we're doing this little 'bonding session'? While you're connected to Cordelia's mind…she's also connected to both of yours," the villainess gloated at the two glaring blondes. "Which means that I can see all your little secrets. All your dreams, all your fears…all of your darkest nightmares. And here I am with all this mind-warping power…"

"This should be fun," 'Cordelia' chuckled, her voice filled with sheer malice. "You two here, in my power...where your worst fears, your greatest nightmares...are about to come to life. Real, corporeal, bone-smashing, blood-curdling...life."

"Wow...pretty good eye for the vividry," Buffy shrugged. "Bones, blood-curdling...a little gross, but, hey, what else is there to do when you're an evil bitch intent on destroying the world? What better way to pass the time than make up icky adjectives?"

"Oh, you're laughing now, Slayer, but let's see how you laugh when you come face-to-face with your worst nightmare," the Beastmaster smiled sinisterly. "But just for starters, I think I'll start with someone you both have something in common with." She smiled with false sweetness. "Tootles."

She was gone in a flash of red light.

Darla and Buffy looked at each other, their faces full of confusion.

"What the hell did she mean by that?" Buffy asked in confusion.

Darla shook her head. "I don't know...but I'd rather not stick around here to find out. C'mon, let's get moving."

Buffy nodded, walking across the damp ground. She wouldn't admit it, but Cordelia...or whatever the hell that thing was...had caused her some alarm with her words.

Who exactly was this 'someone' she and Darla had something in common with?

She looked across the barren terrain that lay ahead, the nightmarish landscape that the Beastmaster had shaped Cordelia's mind into. Buffy shuddered at the sight: it was vista full of despair, desolation, gloom, hopelessness.

"Pay no attention to it," Darla said as she kept her pace even with Buffy's. "That thing inside Cordelia which gave the Beast its orders, it's altered everything we see here to try to throw us off our game. The dark sky, the rocks, the rain, everything. It's all designed to mess with our heads."

"Trying to psych us out, huh?" Buffy asked quietly.

"There's often no more powerful a weapon to use against your enemies than fear. Four centuries of experience talking here," Darla responded, almost as quietly. "I spread a lot of it around in my day."

Those words made Buffy think furiously as she glanced at the blonde walking next to her. Angel had told her some details of his, or rather, Angelus's relationship with Darla. The centuries-long travels together, their cutting a bloody swath throughout the Old World and places beyond. He had told her about Darla's hunting patterns, her tutelage of Angelus in the nature of cruelty, of sadism, of the art of torture, both physical and psychological.

Ever since Angel had...turned...all those years ago, Buffy spent some of her fleeting spare time reading up on the lore regarding Angelus and some of his more notable exploits. She shuddered to herself now, remembering some of the more gruesome details of his actions. Still, it wasn't like she needed some book to know just how truly evil the demon inside of her lover was.

Buffy had lived the damn books back in her junior year of high school, when Angelus had made Sunnydale into his violent playground for four months as he roamed free amongst men - thanks to her making Angel truly happy.

A chill ran up Buffy's spine as she recalled the twisted mind-games Angelus had played with her, using her own conflicted and confused emotions against her, making her doubt herself, her duty, her will while he stalked her and her friends. Even killing Ms. Calendar and Willow's fish, one to prevent getting himself cursed again and the other just 'cause he could.

Just the way Angelus had carried out his reign of terror - the calculation, the deliberation of his actions, it was so methodical and cold that it had frightened her then. It was made only worse because of her love for Angel, and the conflict that had arisen between protecting her friends and wanting to restore her beloved back to what he'd been.

There was no doubt in Buffy's mind that those were lessons Angelus had picked up from Darla, his sire. The teacher had passed on all she knew to the student, who'd ultimately surpassed her, even though he still owed his treacherous, murderous skills to her.

But there was much Buffy didn't know about Darla herself. Sired by the Master, turned Angel in an alleyway, yadda, yadda, yadda, but she didn't know Darla's mind like she knew Angel's. Or Angelus's, for that matter.

There was so much Buffy suddenly wanted to know about her. Maybe, she hoped, by understanding Darla better, she would in some way be able to better understand Angel. Hell, maybe even Spike. He and Drusilla had spent enough years together with Darla and Angelus in the 19th century, after all.

But there was still the issue of trust that needed to be established between them. Buffy knew that Darla and herself hadn't the best history together. And considering the less-than-friendly meeting between them earlier, developing that trust would be easier said than done.

"You and Angel, you mean," Buffy responded at last to Darla's last comment.

Darla shook her head. "Not the Angel you know."

"I get that," Buffy said, sighing. "But then, it's not like I haven't seen him in his Hannibal Lecter phase either."

"True," Darla nodded. "But there's still a lot you don't know about him. About his past, with and without the soul."

"Maybe I don't want to know those details," Buffy said, a slight hint of bitterness in her voice.

"No, I don't suppose you would," Darla said, shaking her head. "When I came back a few years ago, the second time I was human, I noticed how Angel has a tendency to become very touchy about some things...you being the prime example. Just like you're touchy about him."

Buffy halted her pace and whirled on Darla. "What's THAT supposed to mean?"

Darla sighed, brushing a lock of hair away from her fair face. "It means that when it comes to Angel, you tend to have a tunnel-vision of sorts. It's fine, even noble that you just want to focus on the man he is now, but I suspect that at times…you forget that there's also a vicious demon there, just beneath the surface."

"I've never forgotten that," Buffy answered her, even though before her 17th birthday, that had been a bare-faced lie. "Not that it's any of your business, though."

"Maybe it's not," Darla replied. "But haven't you ever wondered what it was that always drove Angel away from you? How the gears in his mind work to ultimately drive him to solitude, no matter how many friends he has? Or lovers, for that matter?"

"I don't need to understand what he doesn't want me to know about," Buffy replied, feeling her anger start to rise. "I..."

She broke off, swallowing. Her eyes averted Darla's gaze, looking to the ground.

"You love him, and that's all you need to understand," Darla finished for her, her voice as soft as her eyes.

Buffy looked back up at Darla, pursing her lips together, before nodding, her eyes sparkling with pain.

"I do love him," she softly replied. "More...more than anything, but...I don't know if that's enough anymore. If we...and then there's Spike to consider, th-there's...just so much..."

"There always is," Darla raised an eyebrow at Buffy. "It used to be so much simpler, didn't it? Remember that night I tried to shoot you with a gun, after feeding on your mother? You never used to give up so easily...especially not where Angel was concerned."

"What would you know?" Buffy snapped, disliking this trip down Memory Lane. "You don't even know me! You have no idea what Angel and I have been through."

"I know more than you think. Even if I can't remember everything I learned Up There after I became human for the third time, Angel and I have talked," Darla replied patiently. "Where I've been, I've gotten tabs on everything...I know what you've been through, and I know it was hard-"

"You don't KNOW...anything!" Buffy said testily. "I don't care how much you know or might think you know, but you don't know me, Darla, and you-"

"Tut-tut," a somewhat familiar male voice spoke up from the rear. "That's no way to speak to your elders, little girl."

At that voice, both women whipped around in an instant. And what their eyes fell upon sent a jolt of fear and terror coursing through the both of them.

For the person who had spoken to them had a powerful connection to their past...indeed, both their lives had ended because of the being now before them.

"After all, manners get you a long way in life...and in death."

Buffy's eyes widened and a powerful, almost-forgotten fear overtook her. It had been a long time since she had been afraid of anyone...as much as she felt afraid now.

"You..." she managed.

Darla took an instinctive step backwards. Her heart began to pound wildly, her knees starting to shake as she stared back into the blood-red eyes of the man...no, the soulless vampire...that in 1609 had taken her life...and so much more, away from her...

"It can't be," she gasped.

"But it is," the Master - in all his leather-swathed glory - chuckled darkly. "Darla...my dear one...I'm back."


To Be Continued…


Next: Buffy and Darla have their hands full as they face down the Master and make their way through 'Cordelia's mind-maze. What…or whom… will they find at the end? And can they survive long enough to save the real Cordy?

Things get complicated as Faith, Spike, Connor and Dawn fight for their lives…and Angel discovers some unlikely allies in the sewers.

And the shocking return of two old enemies from Willow's past coming to bat for the First Evil's cause…one of them who's really made her skin crawl…

Well, that's all for now. Tune in next time, same Bat time, same Bat Channel. And as always, reviews are candy for the soul.