A/N: Hey, gang! Guess who's back! By the way, thanks to my awesome beta, Starway Man, I've decided to make a few revisions in the story-some noticeable, some not so major. To see what I mean, re-read "Part 14- Guess Who's Comin' To Armageddon." There are just a few tweaks in the continuity, felt they were necessary for what I'm trying to set up later.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed including: thenight613, wingster55, CoffeeJunkie33, Baloer4eva, Sirona, jau0062, BlackQueen92, RebeccaAnne, teamtiva, MacKenzie Creations, angelplusbuffyequals4ever. Angellufy, erikax3, Lilly Emerald, EmeraldWings90, Prodigious-Singleton, megagalvatron12 (You fail me again, Starscream lol) ashes at midnight and David Fishwick. Yeah, you know you guys rock!

Well, here it is, you've waited all spring and summer long, so now sit back, grab some lemonade, get a Twix bar ready and enjoy the latest chapter of:


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

Part 19 - Smells Like Team Spirit


Los Angeles - North Hollywood Billiards

Now


Roughly a quarter of an hour before midnight, the classic song by Nirvana blared out from the beat up-old jukebox within the bar…

"Load up on guns, bring your friends

It's fun to lose and to pretend

She's over bored, self-assured

Oh, no, I learned a dirty word..."

…while a snarling vampire, thrown effortlessly by Faith the Vampire Slayer, crashed against the wall next to it, having only a fraction of a second to recover before Faith's stake found its mark, the vampire exploding into ashes.

Dawn watched in sheer awe as Spike and Faith went to work, cleaning house on the charging vampires.

"Hello, Hello, Hello, How Low?

Hello, Hello, Hello, How Low?

Hello, Hello, Hello, How Low?

Hello, Hello, Hello…"

Spike was certainly a sight to behold, as his fists and feet worked in a violent whirlwind - clubbing, socking, kicking, tossing and staking any soulless demon in sight. He clotheslined one vampire down with authority, kicked one sneaking up behind him in the kneecap without even glancing before staking it, and grabbed a hapless charging foe and flipped him onto the one he'd just leveled - before he plunged his stake into the first one, then stomped down hard to penetrate the sternum of the fallen demon below, both bloodsuckers instantly exploding into dust.

"Two-fer-one special," Spike smiled in evil fashion, still in his vampire game face. "Gotta love Friday nights..."

There was nothing overly fancy about his fighting style; no smooth elegance, no finesse which fighters such as Buffy or Angel possessed. Just brute force used with deadly effect, hitting hard, fast and without mercy or remorse. Spike was a killing machine, an engine of destruction, a Panzer tank set loose to run roughshod on the battlefield.

"How you holdin' up there, luv?" Spike called out to his attractive partner, as he backhanded another vampire across the room.

"Easy like peazy," Faith grunted in kind as she landed a powerful punch that knocked down one vampire before she dusted it, and then she flattened another bloodsucker with a fluid roundhouse kick before staking it.

Then the young woman effortlessly somersaulted over another one attempting to charge her. Dumbfounded, the vampire never had a chance to turn around as Faith impaled the soulless demon from behind, dismissing it with a flippant remark as it exploded into ashes: "Pfft…dumbass."

Dawn Summers didn't dare even to blink as she watched the dark-haired Slayer in action. It wasn't like how Buffy fought, although the influence of Rupert Giles's training was still evident to Dawn's inexpert eye. Faith fought with a supernatural grace and elegance that was captivating, yet with a wild edge, a lust for battle that made her both beautiful and terrifying.

A deadly flower, entrancing to behold and yet lethal to the touch.

For a timeless moment, Dawn wondered just how things might have gone two years ago if Faith, Connor, Spike and Buffy had all gone up against Glory at the top of their game.

During that moment, Connor managed to get free of his captors, getting his second wind as he promptly kicked one on the right, freeing his right wrist. With a flick of his hand, his stake launcher jutted out and the Miracle Child staked a vampire to his left. That rage and fury that spurred him on earlier was back in full-force, as Connor began pummelling the nearby vampires one by one with a barrage of furious blows and stakes.

The bar was awash in violence, blood and dust as the three supernatural warriors set about mowing down the pack of undead, the few smart ones opting to escape via the side doors while others tried, unsuccessfully, to test their mettle against the invaders.

"With the lights out, it's less dangerous,

Here we are now, entertain us,

I'm so stupid, and contagious,

Here we are now, entertain us…"

In the heat of battle, Connor - running mostly on adrenaline and ferocity, after the beating he'd sustained earlier - saw a lone vampire, wounded but still moving along the wall, wind his way past the horde of demons as he bypassed the embattled Faith and Spike…and set his sights on Dawn, who was too busy watching them fight to notice the imminent threat to her life.

"Dawn!" Connor shouted in warning, staking the vampire in his path as he moved in a blur of preternatural speed towards the dark-haired female teen.

Dawn's head whipped towards Connor, distracting her even further, giving the vampire enough opening to tackle the girl to the ground. Dawn shrieked as the lewdly grinning bloodsucker opened its jaws, lowering its fangs toward her jugular…

"Get off her!"

…only to be grabbed by the back of the collar of his coat by a snarling Connor, slammed headfirst against the wall, and abruptly staked by the teenage warrior, exploding in a plume of ashes.

"You okay?"

Wide-eyed and dumbfounded, Dawn stared up at her panting savior - Connor's forehead was glistening with sweat, his lips still red from the blood spurted thanks to the leader vampire's blow, his sinewy chest heaving up and down under the thin fabric of his red cotton shirt, his cobalt blue eyes hard with awareness and yet soft with concern for her at the same time.

Dawn couldn't help but to unconsciously lick her lips, completely and totally attracted to this 18-year-old boy. Oh, wow...

Nodding dumbly with a quiet "Uh-huh," she accepted Connor's hand as he lifted her off the floor.

Dawn barely had time to register how warm his palm felt before she spotted a vampire coming at them from behind with remarkable speed.

"Behind you!" Dawn shouted, suddenly remembering the stake she had clutched in her right hand before thrusting it forward, narrowly missing Connor and finding its mark on the vampire's exposed chest cavity. The soulless demon's momentum did the rest, impaling it neatly on the stake before it burst into ashes a second later.

Thunderstruck, Connor gaped at the long-haired, pretty brunette, amazed at how fast she had moved. And that she might have just saved his life.

"Sister of the Slayer, remember?" Dawn winked at him, grinning.

After flashing her a grin of his own, Connor moved to guard her flank as three other vampires approached.

"I'll cover you," the male teen told her, as he stared down the two to her left while she eyed the one on the right.

"Thanks," Dawn said, readying her stake for more action as the vampires charged.

The battle raged but the enemy numbers began to thin under the relentless assault of the four heroes, as the vampires who weren't dusted finally realized the odds were no longer in their favor and most of them began to run for the exits. Most...but not all.

Faith was busy mopping the floor clean - or rather, dusting it rotten with ashes - with about six vampires in the last three minutes. A well-aimed kick here, a stake to the heart there, heck it was almost routine. But they still kept coming.

Two rushed her from behind and tackled the Boston-born Slayer to the ground, drawing a cry of pain from her. Four others took advantage and began to dog-pile on Faith, kicking and stomping repeatedly at her, connecting with her still-healing ribs.

Dazed, she could only flail helplessly as one of them wrapped their hands around her throat and began to squeeze hard.

Suddenly Spike, who seemed to have materialized out of nowhere, grabbed the offending vampire by the hair, hauling him off her.

"Now, that ain't playing nice, izzit, mate?" he growled, before Spike thrust the shaft of a pool cue he found deep into the vampire's chest, dusting it almost immediately, before he turned amber eyes towards the other vampires. "Bleedin' hell, if you tossers wanted to jump the lady's bones so bad, you could have at least bought her a drink before trying to slip her the…"

In a flash, he slashed the pool cue through the air, cracking the other five demons in the face, knocking three of them to the floor as the other two staggered back, dizzy.

"…shaft," Spike finished with satisfaction.

Effortlessly, Faith flipped up to her feet, her large doe eyes dark with rage as she nailed one of the still-standing demons with a flawless spinning roundhouse kick, then staking it before dispatching the other with wood to the heart.

Through the cloud of dust as she turning to her left, Faith saw an impressed Spike raise his eyebrows in approval.

"My hero," the Chosen One drawled with a sultry smile.

"Yeah, right. A knight in bloody armor, I am," Spike grinned, turning to face the other three vamps.

One of the three undead, a balding vampire wearing ripped jeans and a flannel shirt, snarled at the peroxide-blonde vampire, "So, the rumors are true! The great William the Bloody - turned traitor and siding with the stinking humans, like his GrandSire Angelus. Even hides behind a Slayer's skirt." He spat at the undead hero, getting a blob of spit on Spike's trademark leather duster. "Pathetic."

"Ooh, dude," Faith bared her teeth in a feral grin. "Them's fightin' words."

Spike's eyes narrowed at the nearly-hairless vampire, before his lips set in a sinister smile. "Hope you enjoyed 'em, too, Cueball Head. Cause that's the last sentence you'll ever complete." He paused, disdainfully regarding the vampire. "From the looks of you? Prob'ly the only sentence you've ever completed, at that."

Enraged, Baldy charged at Spike. But the self-proclaimed "Big Bad" merely smirked condescendingly at his foe as he easily evaded the soulless demon's attempted blows, Spike's century-plus of honed combat skills helping him anticipate each brutish attack of his balding adversary.

After growing bored, Spike grabbed him by the shirt and headbutted him, cracking his jaw with a crushing uppercut then kicking him backwards, giving the newly-souled vampire the time to spin around, his black duster swirling around him like a cape, and drive the pool cue straight through his enemy's heart, dusting him.

The remaining two vamps stared in dread at the former rogue Slayer and the second most feared vampire on the planet, who were eying them like tigers staring at two bloody pieces of gazelle meat.

A beat, which was followed by Faith's cocky, yet intimidating, "Boo!"

Startled, the vamps turned tail and ran. Not one to let them get away just like that, Faith picked up two pieces of jagged wood from a shattered table she had thrown a vamp through and sent them whizzing through the air. Supernatural precision and accuracy did the rest, as the vamps exploded into ashes.

"Hell of a lot of bloodsuckers here tonight," Faith noted to Spike as she resumed her assault on two more escaping vampires.

"Wings Night, I'd reckon," Spike explained, as he focused on two targets of his own. "First hundred vamps in get 'em at half-price. Who'd pass that up in this town?"

Off Faith's confused glance, Spike shrugged his shoulders. "It's the 21st century, luv. Vamps don't live off blood alone, you know. We're progressive now."

Faith rolled her eyes at the image of a chicken wings-munching Spike as she worked back-to-back with the second vampire-with-a-soul while they went to work reducing the bloodsucking populace within the bar.

Approximately six minutes, ten broken chairs, seven shattered tables, two cleaved pool tables, twenty-seven stakes-to-the heart and five decapitations later, North Hollywood Billiards resembled the Sahara Desert: dirty, dusty, empty and eerily quiet.

In the wake of the carnage, the four white hats looked around the desolate bar, proudly admiring their handiwork.

Faith grinned as she glibly shouted across the now empty bar, "Last call!"

Off Spike's odd look, Faith casually shrugged. "What? I've always wanted to say that."

Dawn gave Connor a look of concern. "Are you okay?"

Nodding briefly, Connor stared at her in amazement. "You came for me?"

"Well, duh," Dawn replied, before she angrily punched him in the arm. "Jerk!"

"Ow!" Connor rubbed his arm tenderly, before glaring at her. "What was that for?"

"How about bailing on me while we were in the middle of a conversation, dumbass?" Dawn glared just as angrily at the male teenager, as she raised her left hand and ticked off a finger for each transgression. "Not to mention, hurting my feelings? Running away in the middle of the night to go demon bar-fighting? Making me worry that something was going to happen to you, because of me? Should I go on?"

That unpleasant conversation from earlier in the evening ran through Connor's mind, causing him to scowl. "What do you care?" he muttered, wiping the blood from his mouth as he began walking away from Dawn.

Shocked and even angrier than before, Dawn grabbed Connor's arm hard, spinning him around to face her. "Hey! I nearly got my jugular turned into a open fountain for you, you…asshole! On the one-to-ten scale of the 'I-Give-A-Crap' meter, I'd say that puts me right through the friggin' roof - at one hundred and one, or thereabouts!"

Faith watched in curiosity, as Connor's cold scowl clashed with the heated blue-eyed death glare that Dawn levelled at him in return. For a moment, she was reminded of a certain broody vampire and a feisty blonde Slayer…

"Well, sorry I was such an inconvenience to you," Connor spat, sarcastically.

Dawn's fists clenched, as she fought the urge to slap that sneer right off his irritatingly perfect face. "Mister, you are so cruisin' for a bruisin', you know that?"

"Seriously, why'd you even bother?" Connor continued, hurt slipping into that hardened blue-eyed stare of his. "You made your feelings about me perfectly clear in the hotel -"

"What, when I kissed you?" Dawn interrupted in disbelief.

"No, when you said you didn't want to be with me because of what happened with Cordelia," Connor retorted with a glower. "Because of the baby, or - whatever that thing inside her is. You found out something about my past that you didn't like, and you decided that you wanted to stay away from me. But guess what? I can't change who I am or what I've done, Dawn! I am who I am, and if you can't handle that -"

"Hold it right there!" Dawn all but shouted at him, her pretty features curled into an unbecoming scowl. "I never said that I wanted you to stay away from me, you idiot! And I never told you that it was because of the baby thing -"

"You didn't have to," Connor muttered as he interrupted her this time.

"I'm. Not. Finished," the angry former Key ground out, as she jabbed her index finger into the boy's solid chest with every word for emphasis. "You had your chance to rant, Boy Wonder - but now it's my turn. And I'm here to tell you that if you had bothered to let me finish earlier, you would have heard the part about me saying that there was an apocalypse going on, about me being scared to move too fast. I've never had so much going on in my life at one time, Connor, so excuse me for being a little panicked! I can handle falling for a guy, and I've handled an apocalypse or two in my day, but not both at the same time! I'm only sixteen - okay, seventeen in a few months - so excuse me for being a little scared of all of this happening so fast and at the same time!"

Connor opened his mouth, but Dawn kept going, "Shut up! I'm not done yet. Look, maybe it was a knee-jerk reaction on my part, but I've had a little time to think about things on the way here to save your sorry butt. And I'm telling you, I officially don't care about your...your 'thing' with Cordelia, or whatever's possessing her. I don't care about the baby, I don't even care that you've obviously got your share of issues...although I probably would, too, if I grew up in some creepy hell-place like you did.

"What I do care about is the fact that you hurt my feelings when you just shut me out like that, the last time we talked. I've had to deal with that sort of thing my whole life, Connor. From my parents, my sister, Buffy's friends, everyone. And if you think I'm going to take it from you, just because you're seriously cute and have that sexy 'broody superhero' thing working for you, then you've got another thing coming, mister!

"So don't you ever bail on me when I'm talking to you again. If anything, it's your job to chase after me after I bail on you! That's how this relationship is gonna work. And if you don't like it, just leave. Again. But don't think that I'm going to chase after you again, because what happened tonight is strictly just a one-time deal!"

As the male teenager stared wide-eyed at the beautiful, yet angrily panting girl before him, Connor's lips suddenly twitched as he focused in on one word. "Relationship…?"

Realizing her slip, Dawn decided to roll her eyes as she looked at Connor poignantly. "Yeah, dummy. Relationship. As in, I'm your girlfriend, and you're my boyfriend. But if you ever hurt me like that again, I'll dump your ass faster than it takes for Buffy to snatch up the first pair of Jimmy Choo's at a shoe sale. We clear on that?"

Connor couldn't stop his lips from curving upwards in a smile, as a warm feeling of hope spread through his chest. "I'd be crazy to say no to you, wouldn't I?"

"Darn tootin'," Dawn said as her glare softened into a lovely smile, her hands reaching up to his shoulders. "Now shut up and come get your reward for saving my life…boyfriend."

Both teens couldn't help but to smile as their lips made contact, arms wrapping around one another and their kissing was about to become a lot more intense when…

"Ahem," Spike cleared his throat gruffly.

The Key and the Destroyer broke apart, both blushing as they remembered that they were not alone, their eyes registering a smiling Faith and a scowling Spike.

"Hands where I can see 'em, Peaches The Next Generation," Spike threatened Connor from his spot next to Faith. "Unless you fancy me ripping them off of you, touching the Nibblet like that."

Connor returned the undead man's scowl with one of his own. "I'd like to see you try, Blood Boy."

"Would ya, now?" Spike smirked as he and Connor took predatory steps towards each other, only for Faith to step between them.

"Hey, back off, both of you," Faith said, turning her eyes to Connor. "Look, if you want to make out with your girlfriend, wait until after we get you back to the hotel, kiddo," she said. "Meanwhile, let's check out this place and free whoever's locked up in the pens for appetizers. I don't want any innocent bystanders around when we torch this dump."

Connor never took his eyes off a still-smirking Spike as he nodded. "Fine."

After heading downstairs and freeing the pitifully few surviving prisoners, many of them young women in their twenties, and herding them out the back door, Spike, Faith and the two teens went back upstairs and took a look around the empty bar.

"That everyone?" Faith asked Spike, who sniffed the air for any traces of life.

"Just us, dust and all that bloody alcohol," Spike replied, as he looked to the stacks of liquor and beer bottles behind the bar.

Faith grinned wickedly as she took out her skull Zippo lighter. "So many flammables. What's a girl to do?"

Spike caught on, returning her grin with another sinister smile. "Love your way of thinkin', pet." He turned to the two teens. "C'mon, you two. It's time to get your firebug's degree in arson, courtesy of Spike's School of Hard Knocks."

With nothing else to be said they all besieged the bar, tossing dozens of liquor bottles against walls, spilling their contents over broken tables and chairs, and all over the wooden floors of the demonic establishment. No bottle was spared, no corner unstained as the bar began to stink of a variety of alcohol and some otherworldly mixtures.

Dawn covered her nose. "Wow. That really reeks."

"Yeah, isn't it great?" Faith grinned in anticipation. "Now, here comes the fun part."

"Right-o, love," Spike smirked as he drew out a cigarette and put it to his mouth. "If you'll do the honors…"

With that, Faith flicked her thumb across the cover of the lighter, clicking it back, and letting loose a small jet of fire that illuminated her face in an eerie orange glow. Reaching across, she held the lighter out to Spike, who grazed the end of his cigarette into the flame, and began taking a deep, satisfying puff of the cancer stick.

Spike paused for a moment, taking a look at both Connor and Dawn - who were watching him intently. "Just remember, kiddies," he said in a lecturing tone, wagging the cigarette in front of him as if he was an annoyed schoolteacher. "Smoking is bad for you."

With that, the second-ever vampire with a soul casually flicked the still-lit cigarette behind him onto the alcohol-soaked wooden floors…and within moments, the fire that ignited began to spread across the bar.

"Come on, let's hit the road," Faith said, taking one last look at the burning bar. "Looks to me like LA's wildest demon bar is goin' out in a blaze of glory."

With that, the quartet exited the establishment via the front door before the flames grew too wild, making their way outside.

"Think that was enough to burn the place down?" Connor asked Faith.

He quickly received his answer when the flames began shooting out of the windows of the bar, the roof suddenly igniting as the entire building began to light up like a Roman candle.

"Yeah, I think it did the trick," Faith grinned in satisfaction, the group spinning on its heels to head back to the safety of the hotel. "See? Easy as…"

Faith's declaration of victory was cut off as she spotted a swarm of vampires, attracted by the fire, making their way towards her. To their right, another dozen vamps dropped down from the fire escapes…to her left, another group approached.

All snarling. All hungry. All headed straight for the four white hats.

"…crap," Faith murmured. She turned to Spike. "Body count?"

"A little north of two dozen, I'd wager," Spike replied, his body tensing for instant response, be it fight or flight.

His eyes grim, yet his lips drawn into a determined line, Connor pulled out a stake. "I say we take 'em."

"And I say, 'You're an idiot,'" Spike brusquely retorted. "There's too many of them for us."

"Spike's right, there's no way we can take 'em all after that last throwdown. I'm still needing a moment to catch my breath," Faith nodded.

"I don't think they'll be too happy to oblige ya on that, Doe Eyes," Spike said warningly as the vamps began closing the distance fast.

Dawn turned frightened eyes to Spike. "What do we do?"

Eying the empty alleyway behind them, Spike knew they only had one chance to survive this. "Run. Head for the back o' the alley, there's a sewer hole in there somewhere. Go, now!"

The four heroes turned swiftly and sprinted to the alley, the snarling vampires hot on their heels behind them…


Los Angeles - an alley six blocks from North Hollywood Billiards

Now


As all the clocks finally struck the midnight hour, a furious Angel slammed the head of a soulless vampire right into the brick wall of the alley.

"I'll ask again," the ensouled vampire demanded, holding a fistful of the demon's hair in his powerful left hand, his right one clutching a stake. "I'm looking for my son. Where. Is. He?"

"Hey, I-I didn't know that was your kid, Angel," the dazed vampire stammered, even though that was a bare-faced lie. "I swear on my own grave, man…"

"Not what I'm asking you," Angel growled. "Now in the next five seconds, I'm getting one of two things out of you: a location, or your ashes. Your choice, friend."

"Alright, alright," the vampire coughed. "That crazy offspring of your came into North Hollywood Billiards a little while ago. Started tearing up the place, and a couple of us started roughing him up a little…"

Angel shoved his captive's head further into the wall for that comment.

"…b-b-b-but then this Slayer chick - dark hair, leather, a real hottie - showed up with some teenage girl and a guy who looked like he was William the Bloody!" the bloodsucker yelped.

Angel's scowl deepened at the mention of Spike's alias, Buffy's words about his past rape attempt echoing in his brain. No, not now. There'll be time for that later. Focus!

"Myself, I bolted as soon as they started dusting everyone in sight," the soulless vampire continued on. "And I swear, that's all I know. If you hurry, you can probably catch them there now."

After a beat, Angel decided that this canary had sung everything his little undead heart could muster. "Thanks."

The vampire looked up at Angel, demonic yellow eyes lighting with hope. "So, you're gonna let me go now?"

"No," Angel replied before he shoved the stake through the sycophantic vampire's chest, a cloud of ashes exploding all over the Champion as he swiftly walked toward the bar's location. "Just being polite, is all."


The alleyway near North Hollywood Billiards

The same time


The four heroes sprinted through the alleyway, climbing over metallic chain link fences and discarded trash cans, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the pursuing vampires as possible while searching for the sewer entrance.

They had managed to put some distance between themselves and the undead pack, but not much and not for much longer.

"Thataway," Spike pointed towards the left. "There's a manhole that'll lead to a few blocks south of Angel's hotel."

"Too far," Connor replied, eying a sewer hole in the alley to the right. "That one should take us right behind the hotel."

"Forget it, kid," Spike shook his head. "I don't trust routes I haven't tested meself."

"This isn't your turf, leech," Connor snapped. "I've used the sewers all the time in the last few months. I know them all by heart."

"Like a good little rat, ya mean?" Spike baited the boy, who looked ready to pounce on him.

"Enough!" Faith shouted as she held Connor back, looking at him directly in the eyes. "You sure about this, Junior?"

Connor nodded, his voice confident. "Positive."

Faith sighed. "Okay. We're going with the kid's route." As Spike looked ready to protest, Faith waved her hand. "Not now, Spike!"

"Fine. But don't say I didn't bloody well warn you," Spike muttered, knowing in his undead bones that this wasn't going to work out well.

Dawn saw the swarm of shadows rounding the corner. "They're coming!" she shouted.

At that, Faith nodded to Connor. "Do your thing, kid."

"And stop calling me 'kid,'" Connor growled as he popped open the sewer lid. Faith leapt in first, followed by Dawn, then Spike, leaving Connor to jump in last, closing the lid behind him.

"Think we lost them?" Faith asked Spike, who shook his head.

"Not likely," he replied grimly. "They can track us by scent, odds are they'll be down here after us in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Our best bet is to move, fast as we bloody well can..."

The overwhelming stench of the sewer was enough to make Dawn gag. Granted, the last sewer she was in a few hours ago wasn't exactly peppered with potpourri, either, but this smelled like…like someone had died in here…

Taking hold of his new girlfriend's hand, Connor motioned for Faith and Spike to follow him. "This way, come on!"

After following the youth for three minutes into their trek, Spike tensed up. He still couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something wasn't right here. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it kinda felt like…

Like we're being watched, Spike realized, before taking a look towards a boarded-up hole to the right of him. Nothing.

At least, nothing that he could see.

Noting the vampire's tense behaviour, Faith gently nudged him. "Hey. You alright?"

Spike continued to stare at the hole as the quartet kept moving. "Just can't shake this bad feeling I've got, luv. We shouldn't be headin' this way..."

Overhearing his comment, Connor threw a dirty look at the peroxide-blond vampire. "Still can't get over it, can you? Does it really bruise your ego that much that I know more about this city's sewers than you do?"

For what felt like the umpteenth time since he arrived in this horrible city, Spike glowered at the boy who was, for all abominable intents and purposes, his nephew. "Chip off the Great Pouf's great big blockhead, I see. Got your old man's 'know-it-all' personality and everything."

"Guys, please, this isn't helping anything," Dawn pleaded with them.

"I'm nothing like Angel," the youth all but snarled at Spike as he stopped and turned to face the British vampire. "And if you don't shut that annoying hole in your face right now -"

"You'll do what, kid?" Spike retorted coldly as he came closer to Connor. "Newsflash, but the only reason I haven't unscrewed yer empty little head and used it as a bowling ball is because the Nibblet has a thing for you, and I hate to see her unhappy. But get in Uncle Spike's face again, runt, and I might 'ave to change my mind."

"That's it!" an angry Faith shouted, shoving them apart, hard. "That is it! I've had it with all the macho alpha male crap I've had to put up with since I signed on for this gig! Connor, quit it with the hormonal rampages and start with the Pied Piper routine back to Angel's hotel. Spike, you quit being a smartass and stop needling the kid. And the next one of you who even looks at the other one funny is getting their teeth pulled out the old fashioned way, and I don't care whose kid or Grandchilde you are!"

The Destroyer of Quor-toth and the legendary Slayer of Slayers glared intensely at each other before Connor resumed his walk, Dawn close behind.

Dawn sighed, wondering if this was how Buffy had felt in the old days, when Xander and Angel used to get in each other's face that way. "You didn't have to antagonize Spike, you know," she quietly scolded Connor.

"You're taking his side?" a surprised and hurt Connor asked his girlfriend.

"No, I'm not," Dawn corrected him. "I'm just saying you could try to lighten up a little, Connor. Not everyone in this world is trying to show you up, or hassling you about who your parents are."

"It's just…well, I guess Ange...my dad's still a sore spot for me," he quietly admitted.

Dawn patted her new boyfriend's back affectionately. "Trust me - been there, done that."

Connor's face lit up in a tender smile as he looked down at the pretty face of the youngest Summers woman, who returned it with a caring gaze of her wide blue eyes.

Their tender moment was cut off, however, when Connor came face-to-face with something he hadn't expected: a fresh wall of concrete, where a tunnel (which would have led them to the last stretch of sewer leading to the hotel) should have been.

"Oh, no," Connor breathed, as he frantically rushed forward in disbelief, running his hands across the newly constructed wall before slamming a frustrated hand against the wall. "NO!"

Faith eyed the wall in trepidation. "I take it this is bad?"

"This wasn't here a few weeks ago!" Connor replied, dismayed. "I don't get it. How did they manage to seal the tunnel off so fast, what with the Rain of Fire and the Permanent Midnight and everything else?"

"Guess those DPW blokes aren't as lazy as ya might think," Spike mused, shaking his head. "Told ya we should've used my route."

"Can't we just retrace our steps, go the other way?" Dawn suggested, before the echo of several loud growls was heard in the sewer tunnel.

Faith felt her stomach tingle and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, which for a Slayer meant one thing: vampires.

"I figure we don't have time, Li'l D," Faith muttered, before the vampire swarm rounded the corner.

Like a pack of ravenous wolves, the undead swarmed around them, making sure the exit was blocked, which left the four heroes trapped in the freshly walled-off sewer.

Her eyes trained on the soulless demons advancing towards them, Dawn nervously clutched her stake. Connor could smell her fear emanating off of her in waves. It upset and angered him.

Sweeping her behind him, the well-trained teenage warrior readied his stake in his right hand, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet in a stance Angel had taught him.

"Stay behind me," Connor told his girlfriend. "I'll protect you to my last breath."

Dawn's heart fluttered at his sweet, protective gesture, before cursing her luck. Just when she had finally landed herself a sweet, cute and unique guy for a boyfriend, she was probably going to die before they got to explore just how deep their feelings were.

Well, if she was going out this way, Dawn figured she was damn well going to take a few of these undead bastards with her. She'd make Buffy proud. Steeling herself with a fiery look of defiance, she stared the undead in the eye, ready to meet them head-on.

Faith and Spike looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between his sharp blue eyes and her large brown orbs. This was really bad. Both of them had been in pretty tight scrapes in each of their respective paths. But even with Faith's five years as a Slayer and Spike's 123 years as one of the deadliest vampires to walk the Earth, neither quite knew what to do with their backs literally against the wall in a cramped sewer, with hordes of the undead ready to tear them to pieces.

Except to do the only thing they knew how to do - bring the house down with them, as they fought for their lives to the very last.

As he pulled out two of his Marlboros from his duster, Spike glanced at the attractive raven-haired Slayer beside him, a feeling of regret gnawing at him; he reckoned it was a pity that they'd probably go down without figuring out…whatever it was that was happening between them.

Or if it could hold a candle to his feelings for Buffy.

Or that he wouldn't be able to see Dawn grow up into the lovely young woman that she was transforming into almost right before his eyes.

Or if he could really make a difference with this new soul of his, burning in him like a spark that wouldn't die.

Or that he wouldn't have the chance to piss off Angel one last time.

Still, if there was ever a way for a dark warrior such as himself to go out, it was exactly like this. Spike abruptly recalled telling Angelus as much back in that Yorkshire mineshaft over a century ago…

When was the last time that you unleashed it? All out fighting in a mob, back against the wall, nothing but fists and fangs? Don't you get tired of fights you know you're going to win?

Bloody ironic, now, innit? Spike thought to himself with a smirk. He wouldn't mind at least a little glimmer, the smallest sign that victory could be within their reach right now.

"I'll watch your back, pet," Spike promised Faith, as he handed her a cigarette.

Her lighter pulled out, she lit it, and did the same for Spike. "Watch your own, stud," Faith winked at him. "Hey, how's my lipstick?"

He gave her an appreciative once-over. "Quite fetching, luv."

"William the Bloody, ever the gentleman," the raven-haired Slayer smiled, before she turned to the hissing pack of vampires, ready for one last stand. "You gonna paint a picture, boys, or are we gonna throw down already?"

The enemy growled at Faith's audacity, before Spike decided to throw in one last jab of his own. "Come on, people," he tossed his still-lit cigarette in the face of the closest vampire, trademark smirk on his face. "This isn't a spectator sport."

And then the demons began to swarm in on them…

"Duck!" the four white hats heard a familiar male voice shout.

…when the whistling sound of a metallic, disk-like object whizzed through the pack of evil undead, taking the heads of several vampires clean off.

Dawn and Connor barely had time to duck as the object bounced off the wall behind them, bouncing back in deadly symmetry towards another crop of vampires too slow to evade the lethal circular object's trajectory, their heads lopped off as the rest of their bodies exploded in ashes. It was a move that would have made Captain America proud.

The disk-like object was easily stopped by the hand that threw it…a hand that belonged to a fearsome-looking Angel, broadsword in hand, and clutching what appeared to be a sewer lid.

"Angel!" Dawn shouted, hope spreading through her.

"Dad?" Connor blurted out, confused.

Faith only smiled in relief. Angel was here to save the day, just like he always did.

But Spike literally groaned in dismay at the sight of his showboat Grandsire. "Oh, great, who the hell invited Captain Caveman-Brow to this party?"

Ignoring Spike - all too eager to do so, in fact - Angel snarled at the stunned vampire survivors, "Stay. Away. From My. Kid."

With that, the Champion charged toward the vampire pack, belting one of them with his makeshift shield while neatly decapitating three more vampires with his large blade. He moved with precision, no wasted movement, no move uncalculated.

Yet when Angel struck, he was devastatingly effective, leaving nothing standing in his path. A modern day knight in urban dress. A Champion of the innocent.

A father out to save his son, the way he had failed to do so when Connor was just a helpless infant.

Angel's relentless assault turned the tide as the others jumped into the fray, Spike and Faith hammering down with blows and stakes while Connor and Dawn did the same. The surprising eleventh-hour appearance of the proverbial cavalry, and the combined assault of the other four heroes, was simply too much for the vampires to handle.

"I'll say this for ya, Peaches," Spike grunted, flipping a vampire over and staking it as he and Angel found themselves fighting back-to-back, a scenario that both were all too familiar with during two decades of running together with Darla and Dru. "You certainly haven't lost any of your timing playing Dick Tracy down here in Hell-A."

"Shut up and watch your flank, Spike," Angel coldly retorted as his large, powerful fist connected with one of the soulless demons while his sword slashed through the throat of another vampire, dusting it.

As the now-desperate pack of undead monsters continued to battle against them, Angel and Spike managed to ignore the mutual disdain for one another and work in tandem, ancient instincts surfacing almost like second nature. Spike cleared the advancing vamps off Angel's left flank while the elder vampire made sure to dispatch any vampire coming up behind Spike.

It was hardly even an effort to do so, instinctual, practiced and honed over years of battles together. And while the white hats were vastly outnumbered, thanks to Angel's hidden arsenal and his relentless fury, their attackers never stood a chance…

Approximately three minutes later, the scattered ashes under the sewers were the only remains of the overpowered vampire mob.

"Everyone okay?" Angel asked, his concerned gaze directed at Connor as the group took a moment to catch their breath.

Connor, fighting to catch his breath, had a conflicted look in his blue eyes as he stared at his biological father, the male teen not sure whether he was grateful or annoyed by Angel's sudden rescue. It only took one look at Dawn and the realization that such a flawless example of female beauty would have been killed had it not been for Angel's intervention, though, for his feelings to slide over to the 'grateful' side of the fence.

"Yeah," Connor said shortly, not sure how to act. "We're good."

Dawn, however, had no conflict on expressing her gratitude, leaping forward and hugging Angel tightly. "Thanks to you."

Surprised for a moment, Angel - suddenly glad he didn't need to breathe, as she was squeezing so tightly - returned Dawn's hug; gently prying her off of him, yet still holding her shoulders, smiling down at the brunette girl. "You sure you're okay, squirt?"

"Squirt? I'm a whole inch taller than Buffy now, you know!" Dawn said in mock annoyance.

Affectionately, Angel patted the youngest Summers girl's head. "And I'm sure you've been telling her that every time you two get into an argument, knowing you."

"Every chance I get," Dawn smiled mischievously, earning a chuckle from Angel. Thanks to the memories bestowed by the monks of the Order of Dagon, Angel had become very fond of his former lover's sister, her youthful enthusiasm and spirit reminding him of his own beloved little sister, Kathy.

Still - as he looked over, and saw Connor guardedly keeping his distance - Angel wondered, with some hurt, how it would feel to have his son express the same kind of affection for him that Dawn had no problem showing.

But Angel had no more time for such thoughts, as Faith walked over and patted his duster-clad shoulder. "Nice save, Big Guy."

He offered the dark-haired Slayer a dry smirk. "I'm sure you could've taken them without me."

"Really couldn't have," Faith replied as she raised her eyebrows at him.

"I think we bloody well could have," Spike piped up.

Immediately, Angel's cold glower zeroed in on Spike - his every instinct screaming to lift his sword and cut off the British vampire's head - before realizing that Buffy wouldn't want that. Returning his gaze to the others, Angel said, "Come on, we've got to get back to the hotel. Buffy and the others should have started their spell to get Cordy's soul back by now."

With that, the party of five began walking quickly through the sewers, heading south in the maze of dark, dank tunnels that would eventually lead them towards the hotel.

"How much further?" Faith asked the dark-haired vampire, a few minutes later.

"I'd say another twenty minutes at this pace," Angel mused, he knew that it could be done faster but Dawn, as a normal human, simply wouldn't be able to keep up with him, Spike, Connor and Faith. And Buffy would most likely kill him if anything else were to happen to Li'l Sis tonight.

"Do you really think you can get Cordelia back?" a now-anxious Connor suddenly asked his father. "The real one?"

Angel let out a breathless sigh, his thoughts wandering to both his Vision Girl and Buffy, two of the most important women in his un-life, both of whose lives were in mortal danger at this moment. "I don't know, Connor. No one can guarantee anything right now."

"Way to rally the sodding troops, MacArthur," Spike sarcastically snorted as they entered the next tunnel.

Stopping short, his patience with Spike dangerously close to snapping, Angel whirled to face his Grandchilde. "If you want to keep that damn tongue of yours attached to your mouth, Spike, I suggest you shut up, right now!"

Spike drew back in surprise. "Bloody hell, Peaches, what's got your panties in a twist?"

The image of a squirming, bloody, teary-eyed Buffy begging for mercy underneath a cold-hearted Spike flashed unbidden before his eyes…

"Just. Shut. Your. Mouth." Angel's jagged voice rumbled like thunder through his throat, the scowling hero clutching his sword so tightly it nearly cut into his skin. "I'm not telling you twice."

As the others looked on in sudden dread, due to his natural belligerence Spike simply couldn't help himself. "Well, maybe if you beg me once, then," he acidly shot back, as both surly, ensouled vampires drew menacingly close to each other.

Dawn nervously swallowed as she saw both of her surrogate big brother figures ready to tear each other to pieces. Uh, oh

Faith threw up her hands, exasperated. "You know what? Screw this shit, I've had it."

With that, she swiftly came between both vampires and gave them each one good, hard shove from each hand. Both Angel and Spike staggered sideways…only to feel the ground suddenly give underneath their feet, the fake surface below them buckling, sending them falling down into a shallow pit…

"ANGEL!" the undead detective could hear Dawn's worried scream.

…a pit lined with stakes.

With a flash of superhuman speed, Faith and Connor each managed to grab hold of a dangling Spike's hands, the British vampire grunting as he struggled to hold on.

"Relax, Spike, I've gotcha," Faith promised through a strained voice as she and Connor slowly pulled him up.

Meanwhile, Angel carefully held himself up over one of the large stakes, his hands catching the deadly spear before it could penetrate his sternum, holding his own body over the sharpened wood piece in an amazing display of agility.

"Angel, are you okay?" Dawn shouted down into the pit.

Grunting, Angel pushed himself off and landed safely on a patch of solid ground in the pit. "I'm fine."

Suddenly, a clattering of footsteps could be heard, making the others above ground turn in alarm.

From the pit, Angel looked up…as a small boy, red-haired and dirty-looking, suddenly appeared out of nowhere, pointing a spear menacingly at the Champion from above.

The first thing Angel noticed was that he was very young, perhaps no older than twelve. The second thing the detective noticed was his eyes. The kid looked brave, sure, like he was bigger than his little body gave him credit for, but the uncertain, scared look in his wide green eyes made the kid look like…well, a kid.

But within moments, the boy was no longer alone as a group of mean-looking, spear-carrying teenagers appeared out of nowhere, surrounding the four heroes above ground, their staffs raised in attack formation.

From the pit, Angel called up. "Spike?"

"Yeah, I'm alright," Spike answered, before an African-American youth, the leader from how he carried himself, spoke out.

"No. You're not alright 'til I sayyou're alright," he gruffly interjected, glaring at Spike. "Holly, you good?"

Holding a spear against Faith's throat, a pretty blond girl - Holly, Faith presumed - curtly replied as she never took her eyes off the Slayer. "Copasetic."

Another youth, a Hispanic from the looks of him, came up from behind Dawn, who gasped as she felt the sharp edge of his spear graze the back of her neck.

A bolt of rage instantly swept ran through Connor as he saw this. "Get away from her!" he snapped, about to make his move, when a purple-Mohawk-haired-teenager pushed him back, menacingly pointing the spear at the miracle child.

The leader youth, having no patience for Connor's antics, barked an order to the Mohawk kid. "Trip. If Lover Boy over there so much as breathes wrong, stick him full of holes."

"You got it, Golden," Trip replied, his eyes trained on Connor.

From the pit, Angel's hard brown eyes bore into the boy, picking him out as the weakest link of the group. "You know, I kind of have this thing about people pointing sharp, wooden…"

Suddenly realizing that a polite warning would get him nowhere, Angel opted for the direct approach.

"Gimme that."

In one preternaturally swift movement, Angel leapt up out of the pit and landed on his feet in front of the twelve-year-old, knocking him down with but one quick, hard push.

The distraction was all Spike needed as he batted the spear out of the one called Golden's hands, shoving him hard against the wall by the scruff of his shirt. "You feelin' all right now, Sunshine?" Spike leered at the caught-off-guard youth.

Following suit, Faith easily batted Holly's spear aside, following up with a hard side kick to knock the girl down to the floor before she pounced on her.

The Hispanic kid, distracted, took his eyes off Dawn just for a second…

…which was all it took for her to elbow the teen in the face, wrestling with him for the spear.

Mohawk Kid, or Trip, or whatever you wanted to call him, moved to back up the Hispanic boy - when Connor, in a blur of speed, kicked his spear at the center, smashing it in two, before landing a hard punch at the teen's face and sweeping his legs out from under him.

The battle then really started in earnest…until the sound of three gunshots stopped all the combatants cold. Click-click BANG-BANG-BANG!

"Enough!" a commanding female voice then rang out.

Faith, who had her balled fist frozen in mid-air, turned and slowly lowered her arm in surprise as she stared at the owner of that gun. Recognition set in as the Chosen One wearily said, "Oh, you gotta be kidding me…"

Knowing that a gun would do nothing to permanently hurt him, and not smelling any blood indicating that any of his people had been shot, Angel offered the downed boy his hand. "You okay?"

Surprisingly, the boy accepted the offered hand and hauled himself up, grunting, "Yeah."

Slowly, Angel turned around to meet the wielder of the firearm. "Look, why don't you just put that thing down before -?"

"What? Before someone gets hurt?"

Angel froze, as his disbelieving eyes finally beheld the blonde woman who held the gun. Oh crap, what's SHE doing here?

For just a few feet from him, gun cocked in mid-air, decked out in what appeared to be police-issue S.W.A.T Team armor and wearing a confident smile on her face…was an old friend/enemy.

"But then that's just like you, isn't it, Angel?" smirked former LAPD Detective Kate Lockley. "Always gotta play the hero."


Inside Cordelia's mind

Now


In the eight years she'd been a Slayer, Buffy had learned not to be fearless - but rather, to be able to overcome panic and terror.

Whenever the situation looked hopeless, which was very often a semi-annual event, the blonde Chosen One was able to not let her fears paralyse her - to block them out, and power on through to victory.

It was an ability that allowed Buffy to dig deep and find the resolve, the will, to defeat and vanquish a number of fearsome foes.

Dark Willow. Glory. Adam. Mayor Wilkins. The Sisterhood of Jhe. Drusilla. Spike. The Order of Taraka. Even Angelus.

But there were some things…some nightmares…that still blasted pure, unadulterated fear into even a heart as mighty as that of Buffy Anne Summers.

One such nightmare - a red-eyed, 6'6", bald, fanged and deformed monstrosity of a human being - was staring down at the petite Slayer and her recently resurrected travelling partner…who was staring, wide-eyed and petrified, at her ghoulish Sire.

"What's the matter, Slayer?" the Master's ancient, hollow voice curdled out of his throat, a smile full of malice plastered gruesomely on his bat-like visage. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

For a moment, Buffy could feel it happening all over again…the icy, clammy grip of the Master's taloned hand around her soft throat…the sharp pain as ancient fangs broke through her youthful skin, draining her, drinking deeply of her blood…her nose, her lungs filling with water as she fell face-first into that shallow underground pool, her life slipping away…

Shaking that horrible memory off, Buffy steeled herself, hardened blue-green eyes meeting the soulless, blood-red orbs of the creature that was responsible for her first death all those years ago.

"You…are not real," Buffy said, forcing her voice not to waver by sheer willpower.

The Master cocked his head, as if studying the girl who'd vanquished him atop the Sunnydale High School library seven years ago…

…and with a movement simply too fast for the human eye to see, he savagely backhanded Buffy several feet through the air, the Slayer then skidding across the rocky mindscape as she landed hard on her back.

Dazed, Buffy spit out a trickle of blood as she tried to make it to her knees, the Master's cold and demonic voice ringing in her ears: "That feel real enough for you?"

So…fast, the thought rang though Buffy's head as she tried to clear away the cobwebs. Damn. Forgot how…fast that ugly bastard moves. And he still…hits…like a Mack Truck on steroids.

The Master's deformed face whipped immediately towards Darla, and she felt a frightened gasp escape her throat. She wanted to run. She wanted to scream, to fight, to do…anything but just stand there like a frozen ice sculpture.

Still, all it took was one look into those horrible crimson irises and she was petrified, like a canary staring at a King Cobra.

Try as she might, Darla could not stop the flood of awful memories from washing over her - that first cruel bite he took of her throat as she lay dying that day, in that foul-smelling bed in the Virginia of 1609.

The day the ancient soulless monster ended the life of a cynical, bitter, amoral whore - and created one of the most feared vampires of all time.

"Darla," the Master's voice came out with something akin to affection, or what passed as affection amongst monsters. His steps were slow and deliberate, as if stalking prey, as he approached her. "It's been too long, my dear."

"Stay away from me," Darla said quietly as she instinctively drew back, not sure if that was a command or a plea for mercy that just left her lips.

A small, grotesque 'O' formed on the soulless creature's pink-stained mouth. "Now, now; that's hardly generous of you, is it? Think of how much I've missed you."

"Miss this!" an annoyingly familiar voice perked up the Master's ears…

…just as Buffy's foot connected with his head in a stunningly fast flying kick. The blow knocked the powerful vampire off balance and sent him flying backwards several feet, before he hit the ground with a loud thud!

As Buffy turned to Darla, she could see the fear written plain as day on the older woman's face. She had a haunted, frail look in her blue eyes that spoke volumes about her current state of mind.

Grabbing the woman's slender shoulders, Buffy shook her, hard. "Darla. Darla, get a grip! He'll be on his feet again any minute. If you can't help me fight him, then get clear - I can't worry about protecting you while I'm fighting Grandpa Gruesome at the same time!"

"He's here…he's really here," a confused Darla stammered. "I-i-it can't be, he's gone forever now, he's dead -"

"He is dead," Buffy assured her, trying to keep the snappishness out of her voice. "Because I killed him. I even crushed his bones into chalkboard powder, just to be sure! Look, whatever that thing really is, he's not the Master. He's not the same thing that killed you and me, both. It's a trick from the Beastmaster to keep us from getting to Cordelia, which is why I need you to get it together before he kills us bo-tthhghlk!"

It was as if he'd moved at the speed of light, he was just so fast as the Master's cold, iron-hard grip suddenly clamped around Buffy's throat from behind her. As he lifted her up into the air, Buffy's eyes bulged as she suddenly found it impossible to breathe, desperately trying to pry his death grip from around her neck.

"I'm afraid you're sadly mistaken, little girl," the Master sneered, his blood-red eyes turning towards Darla as he spoke. "Whatever made you think I wished to kill she who was my favorite, for centuries? I only want to make my beloved Childe what she was again…strong, powerful, fearless, an immortal Belladonna that blossoms in the night and feeds off the pestilence of man."

"No…" Darla whispered, still too frightened to move.

Buffy gasped in pain as the soulless vampire's grip tightened around her larynx.

"You, on the other hand, Slayer, have annoyed me long enough. I believe I told you once that you were destined to die, that it was written." He chuckled at a long-lost memory, as Buffy continued to squirm in his grasp. "And with that annoyingly flippant tongue of yours, you told me you'd flunked the written. Well, then, I hope you brought a book, you insufferable little bitch…"

With that, the Master threw the blonde Champion hard, and head-first, into the side of a jagged rocky peak. "Because it's time to go to school."

As an afterthought before he moved to finish off the fallen Slayer, he turned to a still-frozen Darla. "Don't worry, I'll be right back."

Buffy slumped against the base of the rock, knocked for a loop and a half. Yet, she still found a way to dig deep and push herself up off the ground, her lower lip split and her head ringing, but still defiant, still strong. Still willing to kick that thing's ass.

"May as well give it up now, Baldy-locks," Buffy coughed, steadying herself. "'Cause the real Master could hit a lot harder than that. The only thing you have in common with him are your boyish not-so-good looks."

"Ah, excellent," the Master clucked his tongue. "I was worried that your acid tongue would have lost its sting after all these years. All the sweeter for when I tear it out of your mouth and swallow it whole."

Buffy frowned at him. "Did you just try to hit on me, Fang Face? Because, seriously…eww."

"Make all the quips you wish, Slayer," the Master growled, as they circled each other predatorily. "But I'll be sure to finish the job this time. And why, might you ask? Because you cannot beat me here. I'm faster, stronger, and smarter than you can remember. Whereas you are the same smart-mouthed little tramp that died at my hand, before you ever even knew the ultimate pleasure a man can bestow. You can take a hit, Slayer, I'll give you that - but endurance alone doesn't make you a warrior. It just makes you a…hmm, what's the term I'm looking for? Oh, yes, a punching bag."

"Okay, Jabber Jaws," a bruised but unbroken Buffy smirked. "You wanna do this? Fine." She cracked her knuckles, set her jaw and got ready for battle. "Let's do this."

Enraged at her gumption, the former leader of the Order of Aurelius charged at her, a taloned right hand extended like claws ready to literally rip her heart out.

But utilizing supernatural agility, Buffy leapt over him, spinning in mid-air and delivering a solid kick to his head as she did so. The Master was knocked off-balance and Buffy began to rain down upon him a series of high roundhouse kicks, solid jaw punches and backhand strikes, relishing every blow that landed.

However, the Master was more than a match for everything she could dish out, catching an attempt at a backhand strike before twisting Buffy's arm painfully and landing a solid, crunching punch on her face. Dazed, Buffy staggered backwards as the Master's fist drove into her well-toned midsection, doubling her over in pain before the soulless monster drove his knee sharply up into her face, her nose spurting blood as she fell backwards onto the ground.

"Buffy…no…" Darla breathed, watching helplessly as her Sire began to tear the Chosen One apart. Buffy was strong, agile, courageous…but against the Master? How could she stand a chance against him? How could anyone stand a chance against him?

"He'll kill her, you know," a male voice suddenly called out from several feet next to her. "Just like you killed me."

Darla whirled, shocked to see the smirking face of a young teenage boy, fifteen - no more than sixteen years old, at best. She instantly remembered who he was - it was the face of Jesse McNally. Xander and Willow's best friend. The boy she'd sired years ago when Buffy had first come to Sunnydale, the Master distastefully refusing to partake of her 'scraps'.

The face of one of her many past victims. Oh, God

Meanwhile, Buffy's head snapped back as the Master's boot connected with her face, the petite blonde fighter collapsing into a heap of tender, bruised flesh.

"Oh, but how I've missed hurting you, Slayer," the Master crooned as he slowly circled Buffy's prone form. "It's very…addictive."

Slowly opening her bloodshot eyes, Buffy managed to roll onto her stomach before pushing up with her elbows, grunting as she slowly rose to her feet. "Yeah? Well, it's time for…mmngh…you to kick…the habit…and for me…to kick…your ass, for a change."

Amused at her tenacity, the Master smirked at the beautiful, yet bleeding, Chosen One. "My, my. You just don't know when to give up, do you? You're like a cockroach that doesn't know when to lay down and die."

Buffy spat out a globule of blood, flashing a dazed yet defiant smile at the Master. "Better a…cockroach…than a big…ugly…bat-nosed…freak show. And I can...do this…all…day," she panted heavily.

Buffy knew in her heart, however, that she was bluffing. The Master had her on the ropes, and at this rate, he was soon going to inflict more damage than her supernatural healing factor could cope with. She had to put him down soon, and get a minute to breathe…or she'd be finished.

"Of course you can. You Slayers are built for this kind of thing, aren't you?" the Master spat, his cold, horrid voice full of scorn. "But sadly, little girl, time is short...and so is my patience."

With a wave of his hand, the earth began to shift behind them, and suddenly, a lake appeared out of nowhere.

Before Buffy could process what had just happened, the Master, moving with unparalleled speed, was suddenly hoisting Buffy up by the throat, the blonde Slayer choking and gagging helplessly as the ancient vampire carrying his weakened prey towards the water.

Buffy's beautiful face was suddenly horror incarnate, as the Master's intentions became clear as day to her. She tried with all her might to fight this thing, but he was too fast, too strong…

"Moral of the story, Slayer? Sometimes, there are no happy endings," the Master leered at his helpless quarry. "Here endeth the lesson."

"No!" Buffy shouted, but to no avail as the Master suddenly plunged her deep into the water, laughing maniacally as she kicked and struggled underneath his grasp, the water rippling with her helpless flailing.

Buffy strained to hold her breath. But weakened by the brutal fight she'd just undergone, she could not hold out against the diabolical vampire's chokehold and the walls of water above her head, her mouth and nose suddenly beginning to fill with liquid as breathing became impossible…

Trembling, Darla turned away, unable to bear seeing Jesse's face. "I'm sorry."

The boy's malicious laugh offered her no forgiveness. "Sure you are, toots. It doesn't make me any less dead, though, and it doesn't make you any less of a murdering bitch. Huh, no wonder why you can't make a damn bit of difference in this fight - you're nothing. Less than nothing. Just a two-bit tramp whose best bet of making it in life was finding the right john-slash-sugar daddy."

Upon hearing that, Darla's face hardened as she turned towards him. "Beat it, Casper. I know you're not real."

"Does that matter?" 'Jesse' sneered, his face vamping out to reveal his demonic features. "Because what's happening is. All the deaths, all the pain you caused…that's real, sugar tits. You think you can change any of that just because you decided to play Jiminy Cricket with your third round trip from beyond the grave? Well, you can't. So just sit back and let it happen, babe. You're not a fighter, Darla, you never were, so just kick your heels back, relax and-"

Crunch!

The impact of Darla's fist against the fake Jesse's face was loud and audible, collapsing the fledgling vampire to the ground.

"Thanks for the wake-up call, kid," Darla said vindictively, her clothes suddenly morphing into something more appropriate for combat-a black leather duster, white halter top, black boots and black leather pants.

Darla's blue eyes were suddenly gleaming with a predator's gaze, as she kicked 'Jesse' in the balls and then left him behind in her dust. "I needed that."

"You're like a rat, Slayer," the Master taunted Buffy, as her struggles became weaker. "And what's the best way to deal with a rat, hmm?"

Beneath the water, Buffy was just about to die, the lights of life slowly fading from her eyes. Can't…end like…this…have to…keep…f…fight…in…g…

"Simple - you drown them," the Master smiled evilly as he felt the life leaving his prey…

…until a pair of female hands suddenly seized his shoulders, hauling him off the Slayer, before a hard right hook knocked him several feet in the air.

Dazed, the Master shook off the shock and began sitting up. He screamed, "Who dares -?"

Standing in the lake, having already tossed Buffy onto the shore in one smooth motion, Darla stood tall, ready for battle. "I dare - you damned bastard!"

Barely half-conscious, Buffy fought for precious, life-saving air as she vomited the deadly water out of her lungs. In a blur of speed that not even she could comprehend, Darla was almost immediately by her side, kneeling and tending to the Slayer.

"Are you alright?" asked Darla, genuine concern in her eyes.

"Right…as rain," Buffy barely coughed out the words, still dazed and injured. "Hey…what's with…the new getup?"

"I think I just figured out how this place works," Darla said simply, before standing to stare down her enemy. "You can sit this one out, Buffy; I'll take things from here."

"Darla…no," Buffy rasped out, still struggling to get her bearings. "He's…too strong…he'll…kill you…"

As Darla measured the infamous vampire king on the other side of the lake, getting to his feet and snarling in fury, her eyes narrowed dangerously into slits. "Well, then...I guess I'll just have to kill him first."

She took one huge leap, bounding over the lake like the Incredible Hulk and landing only three feet away from the Master.

"Hello, Heinrich," Darla coldly addressed the soulless demon by his former human name, Heinrich Joseph Nest.

She was now the only person left on Earth who knew of the Master's human life more than a thousand years ago, as a corrupt German priest who'd worshipped the Dark Arts long before being sired by Aurelius himself. A blind vampire who'd indoctrinated the former priest into his order, before being betrayed to his death - by the soon-to-be-Master - at the hands of a Slayer during the 12th century.

"That's Master to you, my Dear One," the former Heinrich hissed at her.

"I'm not your Dear One, and I have no master save the Creator himself," Darla scowled.

The Master narrowed his grotesque red pupils at his favorite Childe. "So, this is the thanks I get? After all I did for you. After everything I gave you -"

"You gave me nothing but a restless nature and a blood-stained soul," Darla spat, her stance becoming defensive. "Or at least, the real Master did anyway. You might not be the real thing, but I'll take whatever I can punch."

"Worthless whore! I'll drain you until you're an empty sack of flesh and bones," growled the Master.

"Will you? Promises, promises," Darla yawned as if bored as she dug her heels in, flashing him a deadly smile. "Now, let's dance...handsome."

The Master, or at least the mental image of him, bellowed an angry roar as he charged towards Darla.

"Darla…look out!" Buffy coughed as she struggled to get to her feet.

At that moment, the air around Darla began to glisten and shimmer, and suddenly, a large spear appeared in her hands. At the last possible moment, as the Master came charging down upon her like a crazed bull, Darla twirled effortlessly, gathering valuable momentum…

…and plunged the spear deep into the Master's chest cavity.

The ancient vampire could only gape in bewilderment at the sudden turn of events, as he staggered back, the wooden shaft still impaled in his chest.

Darla smirked wickedly at him with a look of satisfaction. "Oops. Look what I just did. But I'm still your favorite, right?"

The Master could not even utter a reply as he slowly disintegrated into a pile of black, sticky ashes.

With unfeigned disinterest Darla simply discarded the spear, walking back quickly to check on Buffy - who was staring at her in complete awe.

"How…how did you do that?" a wary Buffy asked, now incredibly suspicious. Darla seemed human enough, and Buffy's built-in Slayersense weren't screaming 'vampire!'…and yet no human being could have done what she did. "Was it that…magic…that you were talking about earlier?"

"Not exactly," Darla said, as she helped to lift the blonde Slayer to her feet, the beating she took leaving Buffy with no choice but to lean on Darla for support. "I just figured out that in this place, reality is what you can make of it. The result of mental constructs that we project. You said it yourself...we're trapped in Cordelia's mind, with whatever the Beastmaster throws at us. So I decided to quit playing the helpless damsel in distress, and you saw for yourself what happened."

Buffy frowned. "So, in other words...we think it, we do it?"

"In a nutshell, yes," Darla said, closing her eyes for a moment as if sensing for something.

Buffy, already wigged out by the landscape and the sudden reappearance of one of her oldest enemies, was now completely confused by Darla's actions. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for something," Darla muttered, before opening her eyes. "There."

" 'There' what?" Buffy demanded.

"Cordelia. I can feel the presence of her human soul," Darla explained.

Alert, Buffy looked around...but she sensed nothing but rocks, peaks and rain. Even the Jesse vampire had vanished by now. "Where?"

"It's further up. We have a lot of ground to cover," Darla simply stated, before resuming their earlier pace. "Come on."

"Gimme a second, I'm still feeling a little oogy," Buffy complained, thanks to all the damage the pseudo-Master had just inflicted upon her.

Sighing in exasperation, Buffy had little choice but to follow as she leaned on the ex-vampire for support. She couldn't sense jack squat around this place, and yet apparently, Darla could. Whatever it was that was guiding her, though, she wasn't about to question. They were working on a very small window of opportunity, and things weren't getting easier.

As she trudged alongside Darla, Buffy couldn't help but to stare at her travelling companion. "By the way, what was with the complete one-eighty back there?"

Darla, puzzled by her question, stopped for a moment. "I don't understand."

"You know, one minute you're all scared and timid when ol' Fruit-Punch Mouth appeared out of nowhere...and then suddenly, you turn into Xena Warrior Princess?" Buffy asked. "I'd pretty much counted you out of the game by that point, so…what gives?"

Hesitating for a moment, Darla decided to be honest. "There was a friend of yours. A dead one. Or at least, something pretending to be your dead friend while you were fighting that fake Master."

"A friend of mine?" Buffy asked, surprised. "Who was it?"

Swallowing for a moment, Darla quietly uttering, "His name was…Jesse."

It took Buffy a few moments before her eyes widened, as she pictured the face of a cute, yet goofy boy - one of Willow and Xander's friends - who she'd met on her first day at Sunnydale High, all those years ago.

One of her first friends in Sunnydale, who'd been a vampire the next time she'd seen him.

"Jesse?" Buffy was floored by Darla's latest revelation. "Wha…how?"

"One of the Beastmaster's tricks," Darla exhaled. "No doubt it figured it could get to me, by using one of the sins of my past."

"Sins of...?" With a shock, Buffy suddenly remembered exactly what had happened in the Bronze, during the night of the Harvest. She narrowed her eyes at Darla and said, "It was you, wasn't it? You were the one who turned him into a vampire before Xander and I found Jesse in the sewers that day."

Darla looked away remorsefully, her wordless gesture confirming Buffy's suspicions.

For a moment, Buffy's left fist curled into a powerful five-fingered ball that ached to shatter Darla's pretty face like glass. But then, the Slayer forced herself to stop - reminding herself that were it not for Darla's intervention just now, that thing pretending to be the Master would have killed her, again. And, from what Angel had told her earlier, Darla had changed. Besides, from the way the former vampiress was acting now, it appeared that she was still paying for her past crimes.

At last, Darla broke the tense silence with a soft, raspy apology.

"There's a lot of things I've done over the past four centuries that I'm not proud of, Buffy. Jesse was one of them," she said, looking to her companion with regret-filled eyes. "There is an ocean of blood on my hands that I can never wash off, and almost endless suffering I've caused that I can never apologize enough for. I don't expect you to understand that…nor to forgive me for it." Darla looked away. "I know I never will."

Upon hearing her words, Buffy's mind flashed with the images of the past, the faces of the people in her life who could make similar statements. Angel, Spike, Giles, Anya, Oz, even Willow, and now, Cordelia...

At some point or other in their lives - for some of them, several times over - they had all done things that had cost others their lives, things Buffy knew that haunted them every single day. And yet…she still loved them all no less. They were her friends; part of her make-shift, unconventional family.

Darla wasn't part of that, of course…but it didn't mean that Buffy couldn't get how she felt.

"Maybe I understand better than you think," Buffy relented with a sigh. "The forgiveness part, I'm still…working on. But, given time - and provided you don't try to kill me again, of course - who knows? Maybe I'll get there someday. Maybe, and that's a big maybe…if all goes well, maybe we can even be…friends."

The small smile that she gave the ex-vampire showed Darla that her former enemy was earnest and true in her words.

"I'd…like that," Darla smiled back, hesitantly.

Buffy sighed, yet maintained her smile. "Me, too."

Darla paused for a moment, before smiling wickedly. "Of course, from what I've seen concerning your life while I was Up There, if you think it would help speed the forgiveness process along…we could always have sex together."

At her words, Buffy blanched, stopping dead in her tracks. She spluttered, "Whatamawhodi-huh?"

"It'd be strictly in the interests of establishing friendship, you understand," Darla said, her eyes looking surprisingly serious.

Buffy immediately began fidgeting nervously. She hadn't anticipated that Darla swung that way...even though she of all people knew just how highly sexed the members of Angel's 'family' could be. "Listen, Darla, I-I don't really think that's a good…n-n-not that I'm not flattered…I mean, I'm not, I'm j-j-just not into…"

Buffy frowned, seeing the façade on Darla's face crack ever so slightly. "Wait up. Am I being punk'd here?"

Darla giggled softly. "Yes. Relax, Buffy, I was only teasing. I mean, you're cute and all, but you're not my type."

Thinking back to the tension between Darla and two certain handsome white hats earlier, Buffy smirked as she decided to have some fun of her own. "Soooo, what exactly is your type? Are you more into the stubbly, sullen, studmuffin guy...or do you happen to dig the cocky, cool guitar hero variety?"

The ex-vampire's smile faded as her cheeks burned pinkish-red. Darla suddenly pictured both Wesley and Lindsey's handsome faces, remembering what it had felt like to be in Wesley's pleasantly unexpected, heated, fiery embrace, and how it differed from the surprisingly tender, sweet kiss that Lindsey stole from her.

Off her silence, and her visibly confused body language, Buffy chuckled. "And they say my love life is complicated."

Darla sighed as they continued onward through the barren mindscape. "Honey, you don't know the half of it."


Deep within the recesses of Cordelia's mind, the Beastmaster - still using her host's physical form - angrily clenched her fists, drawing blood as she stared at the two blonde heroines continuing to make their way towards her location.

"Damn it!" she cursed. "I thought that overgrown bat-faced freak would have been enough to get rid of both of them!"

"Then you had better hope that your next trick will be up to par," said a voice from the shadows. "Hadn't you?"

Painfully reminded that she was not alone here, the Beastmaster sighed, grinding out her next words. "Of course…mistress. I'm sure that the next little party surprise for our guests will get the job done."

"For your sake, I hope that's the case. Because you know what will happen if they reach their friend," the rotting and maggot-faced figure said, as both villainesses turned their eyes to their guarded prize…the soul of the real Cordelia Chase, asleep and encased in an amber-like cocoon.

Completely powerless to stop anything from happening.

"Don't worry," the Beastmaster assured the dark figure. "The faux-Master was just the warm-up act. As long as they're in this realm, the power is in our hands."

"I have no doubt of that. After all…" the fallen Power stepped out from the shadows, morphing into a beautiful African-American woman.

Or, at least, what appeared to be a woman. What she truly was, however, was ever so much more than that.

"…Power is a concept that I'm…quite familiar with," the woman smiled serenely.


A cave near the outskirts of San Francisco, CA

The same time


"Will you just stop squirming?" Amy Madison snapped, as her hands crackled with supernatural magical energy.

"I'm trying to stop squirming, will you stop flapping your lips and just hurry up with the - OWWWW!" screamed a grotesque, humanoid mass of pinkish-and-white flesh, apparently a male, the mystical forces flowing from Amy surrounding him, and suddenly giving him a painful jolt.

"Hey, you did that on purpose!" the man - or humanoid - screamed accusatorily.

Amy wickedly smiled. "Did I? Hmm, can't tell over how loud my gums are flapping, can I?"

The hideous, humanoid form glared at her as the energy suddenly died down around him.

"There," Amy sighed. "The spell's been recast. You should be good to go for another few days, until your next recharge is needed."

Snorting, the male abruptly stood up, muttering, "Well, took you long enough," before heading back to working on a strange mechanical contraption fashioned to look like a laser weapon.

Annoyed, Amy threw up her hands. "Sure, whatever. Forget about saying something along the lines of 'Gee, thanks, Amy, for magically cocooning my flesh with your magicks instead of letting me die instantly.' And while we're on the subject, I haven't heard a 'By the way, Amy, thanks a lot for saving me when Willow flayed me alive last year! Boy, you're just the best girlfriend ever!' either. Just throw me a bone here, Warren, that's all I'm asking!"

Gritting his teeth, the skinless Warren Mears tried to tune out his so-called girlfriend's ramblings. It had been like this for months, ever since Amy - who had been stalking Willow after the redhead had de-ratted her - had yanked him back from the brink of death when a vengeful Dark Willow had ripped off his skin in the woods outside Sunnydale.

Payback for putting a bullet in that stammering blonde chick that the little redheaded Wicca bitch was screwing, of course.

Whether they were gathering fruits in the woods or killing some stupid animal for food, and worse, when he was working on his latest weapon - an uphill chore without access to his lab supplies, which had been sold off by his landlord after Warren had mysteriously vanished for months - Amy was always there. Chewing his ear off about how big she owed him, when he knew damn well that she'd only saved him because they had something in common - they wanted Willow Rosenberg, Buffy Summers and the rest of their stupid little gang dead.

Once he found a way to finish his latest gadget, Warren figured he might actually find a way to get his revenge…

Which would definitely go a lot faster, if a certain witch would just SHUT UP ALREADY! Mears thought angrily to himself.

"Do. You. Mind?" Warren snapped at her, hunched over the unfinished weapon. "I'm trying to concentrate here!"

Amy groaned as she leaned against the wall of the cave. "Oh, God, I hate this place. I used to have an apartment, a life! Now, look at me - I'm shacked up in a cave, living off squirrels and berries with a boyfriend who has no face, and I'm sick and tired of taking a bath in that damned lake. Fish spawn in there! Stick a beard on me and I'm the frigging Unabomber, for Christ's sake!"

"Well, if you like your apartment so much - why don't we just go back there, honey?" Warren asked tersely. He hated to admit it, but he was getting sick of living off the land himself. Warren definitely missed the days when he'd had his toadies Andrew and Jonathan catering to his every whim, from within the comfort of his lab.

Off that crack, Amy scowled at him. "You know exactly why we can't go there, baby. Ever since word got out about that little prank I pulled on cute, sweet Willow, her damn Coven in England has been looking for me in order to take my powers away. My apartment is sure to be under surveillance! It's only because of the warding spell I cast in this cave that they haven't already found us. And if they strip me of my powers -"

"Then I end up dead as a dodo. As you've so often reminded me," Warren grimaced.

"Hey, don't blame me for that part, bucko," Amy threw her hands up. "I'm not the one who decided to make you go commando for keeps. That was Willow's doing, remember?"

Flashing back to that awful moment - when the black-haired witch had said 'Bored now,' before casually and effortlessly disfiguring him forever - Warren seethed, then he angrily grabbed his stolen tool kit and hurled it crashing against the other side of the cave, tools spilling everywhere.

Willow Rosenberg…the bitch had ruined his life. Nearly ended it. He used to love his own reflection - but now, Warren couldn't bear to look in the mirror anymore. Constantly seeing that nightmare would be enough to drive anyone (except Amy, apparently) nuts. That was part of why Warren was thankful there weren't any mirrors around here, save the ones he used as refractive lenses within the laser weapon.

But he'd get even. If it was the last thing he ever did, Warren swore the day would come when he'd peel Willow's pretty face off just like she'd done to him, and he'd ask if the bitch was bored now while she was screaming her head off.

Unexpectedly, Mears felt Amy's arms wrap around his neck, the magic preventing the cotton of her shirt from clinging to the sticky fluids of his exposed muscle tissue.

"Aww, don't get upset, sweetie," the Madison woman cooed, pressing closer to his face. "You'll get your thingamajig to work. And then…we'll kill them all."

Pressing an unsightly tendon-red hand to Amy's wrist -an oddly affectionate gesture, all things considered -Warren sighed as he stared at his weapon. "Uh-uh, baby. They'll wish they were dead long before we kill them. Personally, I plan on keeping Rosenberg alive for a few weeks, maybe doing some really painful experiments with her organs, before I put two in each of her eyeballs. Maybe I'll beat Harris to death and then rape Buffy in front of her a couple times, just for giggles -"

Suddenly, he yelped in pain as Amy's hand smacked the back of his head, painfully.

"Are you saying you think about that skinny bottle-blonde tramp like that instead of me?" Amy demanded, looking utterly furious.

"What?" Warren asked, bewildered, before he realized his transgression. "No, no, babe, of course not - I'd do that because I loathe her, not because she's hot -"

"Oh, so you think she's hot now?" Amy shouted. "You insensitive jerk! I've got half a mind to yank that spell off you right here, right now, and leave you twitching and dead in this stinking hellhole!"

"You always did have a way with women, didn't you, Warren?" a familiar voice came out of nowhere.

Surprised, Amy and Warren turned from their lovers spat to see the face of someone they'd heard had recently been declared dead…Jonathan Levinson.

"Jonathan?" Warren's skinless form recoiled in surprise. "I thought you were -"

"Dead? Yeah, I get that a lot," the diminutive form of the former Sunnydale High School graduate and ex-Trio member shrugged. "Mostly 'cause it's true, but whatever."

Amy, however, could sense something that Warren, while incredibly brilliant, was too much of a muggle to perceive. "No…you're not really Jonathan, are you? I can feel it, feel…something..."

'Jonathan' chuckled, amused. "You really are quite the little Wicked Witch of the East, aren't you? And she's definitely a keeper if you ask me, Warren."

"Who or what are you?" Warren demanded, he was in no mood for games.

"Something beyond your comprehension, 'bucko,'" the First Evil smirked. "Let me ask you both something - how'd you like the chance to dismember the witch that mutilated you for life…" he looked to Warren, "…and always left you standing in her shadow…" he gazed at Amy, "…as well as taking out the Slayer and her pals, while having a shot at gaining power unlike anything you've ever known before?"

Exchanging looks with Amy, who after a minute, smiled and nodded, Warren turned back to the ghostly imitation of his dead lackey with an eager smile of his own. "I'd say you're playing my song, Casper."

"Well, then, get your dancing shoes on, you crazy kids," the First/Jonathan grinned with an evil glint in its eyes. "Because we're going to dance all night long. On the Slayer's grave."


To Be Continued...


Next: Buffy and Darla finally come face-to-face with the Beastmaster and the mysterious Power. Can they revive the real Cordelia before the fallen PTB can finally bring about her dark plans? Or will they both die trying?

Angel and the gang reunite with Kate Lockley. But who - or what - is stalking them down there in the sewers, as they all head for the Hyperion? And what is its connection to the unborn Power?

And when Skip quits yapping and actually starts threatening the lives of everyone back at the hotel, the only one who can save the day is - Xander? God help all the good guys in there...


Well, that's all for now, kids. More coming on the way soon, so, stay tuned!

-Jean-theGuardian