A/N: Suki, I deleted your comment because I found it unnecessarily rude. I don't mind criticism, but if you're going to be nasty, then I don't want to hear it. If you lack the maturity to keep other people's feelings in consideration, then you don't deserve to leave a review. If you want to try again nicely, you are more than welcome.

Aside from that, hey there, people! Special shout out to Starway Man, holding it down in the Land Down Under; you're the man, Theo! And a special thanks to everyone who reviewed, including angelplusbuffyequals4ever, BloodyTink, Amanda, neoearthqueen30, Angellufy, valforeverrblue, Alkeni, Geoff, spyagent001, Dark Vizard447, BrucasBangelBrylan, EmeraldWings90, xxdawnbreakerxx, David Fishwick, and the lovely Ashes at Midnight. You guys rock!

Just saw the Avengers last week, from Joss Whedon. EPIC MOVIE! Well worth the 4-year wait. I highly recommend anyone who hasn't seen it to catch it in theatres. Don't be a Puny God! Lol

And there are a few funny Buffy-related things in that movie: for example, Jeremy Renner, who played Hawkeye, played the role of the vampire Penn in the Angel episode 'Somnambulist.' And, huge shocker, Alexis Denisoff, aka Wesley, plays one of the evil aliens that Loki conspired with. Didn't see that coming, huh? I anxiously await the sequel! Which was your favorite Avenger? Favorite moment in the movie?

Well, enough of that. Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Fanfiction Fight Night! In one corner, from London, England, weighing in at 165 pounds, the Ruler of Railroad Spikes, the London Mauler, the Big Bad himself, Spike! And in the other corner, from Galway, Ireland, weighing in at 180 pounds, the Champion of Los Angeles, the Hollywood Hammer, the Terror of Tinseltown…Angel!

So step right up, grab your seats, grab a tuna sandwich and place your bets, because once again, here comes the latest chapter of…


Bring Me To Life — A Buffy The Vampire Slayer Angel Crossover Event

Part 27 Grudge Match


Remington Estate London, England

May, 1880


"Frankly, Father, thine eyes offend me."

William couldn't help but to laugh at the tone of mirth, and the ironic choice of words, in the arrogant, crowing voice of Angelushis icy, leering vampire face in full view as the elder vampire stood at the center of the altar before the horrified groom, bride and nearly a hundred guests in the lavish banquet hall of the mansion, right in the middle of the wedding ceremony.

Within his powerful, vise-like grip, oozing like a putrid peach…or a rotted melon…was the bloody head of the elderly priest presiding over the ceremony, eyes dangling out of his sockets, tongue lolling grotesquely from his mouth as blood flowed freely from every cavity in the old man's cranium.

The two vampires had heard about the wedding the night before, some rich socialite named Warren Remington was to marry a well-to-do and attractive daughter of a duke in what was to be London's premiere event of the year. An event filled with happy guests, gay music, a marvelous banquet and a wonderful time for all. A truly happy day…

so naturally, Angelus couldn't help but to attend the festivities. To give the happy couple his 'best wishes...in his own special way, of course. He'd decided to take William with him as well. It'd be a good opportunity to see just what Dru's new Childe was really made of, and if he was worthy of becoming a member of the infamous Whirlwind.

The shocked priest's dying moans only served to further Angelus's amusement before he effortlessly tore the holy man's head off of his shoulders. Then, the vampire turned and hurled the bloody skull with deadly speed at one of the four armed guards. The sentry's head immediately fractured on impact as he slumped dead to the floor, his brain pierced by his own skull bone fragments.

As another frightened nearby guard fumbled for his rifle, William swiftly batted the gun away from the guard, sneering at the mortal's wide-eyed terror—which was due to the sight of his own, terrifying, demonic visage.

"Not exactly Queen Victoria's personal guard, are ya, mate?" William cruelly taunted, before he easily tore out the windpipe of the guard with glee, the victim's blood spraying out in a horrid jet of crimson.

As the warm, sticky, coppery blood covered his ridges while the women shrieked in sheer terror and the men stared aghast in disbelief, the young vampire, basking fully in the pure fear he had inspired as the room reeked of salty human fright, let out a wild, joyful laugh the howl of a lunatic before he grabbed the discarded rifle and eagerly, recklessly bludgeoned some of the nearby noblemen who dared to try and stop him.

As Angelus casually snapped the necks of the other two guards while the guests trampled over themselves to flee through the doors which they found, to their horror, were bolted shut from the outside, courtesy of their captors he had to pause for a moment as he gazed upon his newest "family member" in action. Seldom had it been during his 127 years as a vampire that the Scourge of Europe had seen a fledgling display such a cruel, sadistic nature the way that William was doing so.

The rage, the berserker-like wildness, the sheer delight in his savage brutishness. It was vile, it was perverse, it was barbaric, it was…

It's perfect, Angelus realized with a pleased grin.

Ever the twisted mastermind that he had evolved into over the past century, Angelus knew that he had mastered no, perfected the art of killing, the art of the complete destruction of a human being. Originally, he had not given any thought to the idea of taking in an apprentice or a protégé; the thought of anyone else taking the knowledge or sharing the legacy of evil that he had so proudly cultivated for himself had been an utterly abhorrent thought to him.

However, after his near brushes with final death as a result of Holtz's relentless pursuit of he and Darla decades before, Angelus had to admit that he had come painstakingly close to losing his life several times at the hands of that bothersome vampire hunter. And it would have been such a shame, too, to die before he could show the world the full extent of his cruelty, the true nature of what evil…true evil…really was. No, Angelus couldn't have that; he had to make sure that somehow, even in final death should it ever claim him the dark legend of the Scourge of Europe would live on forever.

With that mindset in place, Angelus had begun to seek a student, a willing disciple that he could mold, cull and groom into his own terrifying image someone whose malice, brutality and evil could almost match…though never surpass…his own.

He remembered Darla telling him that he was being silly, that no one could come close to matching the kind of fear Angelus inspired.

Such a creature doesn't exist, dear boy, Darla had told him appraisingly in bed after a night of passion in the Parisian home of a French Marquise they had murdered, along with his family and all their servants. No one could ever match your finesse, your skill, your terribly brilliant imagination. You're the cream of the crop, Angelus; you have no rival. You're one of a kind.

There was a time he'd thought so as well, but no longer. Angelus was determined to show her otherwise. That he could turn anything and anyone into a monster worthy of remembrance; that all it took to unleash the darkness within another was just the right push in all the right places.

For a while, he'd had high hopes for Penn, thinking that he had found a pupil and kindred spirit in a Puritan youth whose father had been as oppressive and overbearing as Liam's own father was. But while the younger vampire was eager, cruel and certainly vicious, a disappointed Angelus had found that his Childe simply lacked the imagination, that flair for the creative that separated being a mere vampire from being a true and definitive monster.

Much to Angelus's disgust, Penn had even taken to mimicking some of his Sire's own signature calling cards, such as carving crosses into the skin of his victims; completely lacking in originality, which was the exact opposite of what Angelus had been looking for in an heir. Plus, Darla found his first Childe irritating and rather boring, and the way she had caught him eyeing her lustily on occasion when they traveled together had gotten on both Angelus's and his Sire's nerves.

Either you send that little troll as far away from us as possible, or I'll personally send him to hell in the bat of an eyelash, Darla had warned one night back in 1799. This had made Angelus come to the decision to send Penn off on what he called a 'trial by fire commanding Penn to go off alone into the world, master his craft and find him a century later in Venice so that Angelus could determine what his pupil had learned.

Frankly, Angelus wasn't expecting Penn to last fifty years, and even that was being optimistic. But ever the obedient student, Penn had agreed to the orders without question, which only proved further to Angelus that the former Puritan was not the one he was looking for.

Angelus had discounted Drusilla as serving for that purpose, as well; Dru was less of a protégée and more of a personal trophy, his finest work ever in the complete and utter ruination of a human being: something to be displayed to the world like Michelangelo's 'David'. Besides, she lacked the mental faculties and focus to be a true heir to Angelus's legacy of evil.

But in this William, in what Angelus had thought was just a damned idiot when he had staggered into the undead coven's way a few months ago, he saw a spark of…something. It was dark and terrible and foul…small and faint for a fledgling, but still, the possibilities for something more were still there.

Sure, the boy was a little clumsy and lacked finesse, but Angelus was confident that he could overcome that. All William needed was time and a little work, and maybe...just maybe…Angelus would have the worthy heir to his legacy that he'd been looking for, all this time.

"I'd watch yer flank now, William," Angelus called out casually, as he saw the groom's best man rise to his feet. "I do believe the best man is trying to prove why he's fit for the title."

Sensing the man attempt to grab him from behind, William whirled around with a brutal backhand swipe, knocking the best man nearly senseless as he seized the human's head, bringing him face to face with his own ridged visage.

"What's a-matter, mate? Not feeling too good?" the blonde vampire taunted, a dark gleam in his blue eyes. "Not to worry: sooner or later, things just have a way of…turning right round—"

And with that, in one powerful motion, William actually twisted the best man's head around a full one hundred and eighty degrees, the eyes rolling back in the sockets of his surprised face, now visible for the horrified bride, groom and guests to see.

"...kinda like that," William finished, shoving the corpse away.

Another man tried his luck, picking up a sharp metallic objecta spike-shaped heirloom and he charged at William with a loud bellow. But the vampire merely laughed in amusement before he blocked the blow, wrenched the weapon out of the man's hand…

and, swiftly and violently, William thrust the spike upwards through the soft undertissue of the man's chin and through the top of his head, the bloody, pointy end protruding upwards in an obscene display of brutality. As the man dropped dead to the floor amid more screams, William shivered at the adrenaline pumping through his system as a result of his act, surprised at how good it felt.

How it felt sort of…right, somehow.

Even Angelus, an eyebrow cocked in surprise, had to admit that what William had just done was outright barbaric almost unthinkable. The older vampire was impressed…and suddenly, a little threatened as well. Angelus knew he couldn't just let some fledgling steal his thunder like this; he had a reputation to uphold, after all.

His devious eyes scanning the room quickly, he settled almost immediately on Warren Remington, bravely shielding his terrified bride behind him while he held out a cross to keep Angelus at bay.

"Back, you foul creature!" Remington shouted, though his arm was shaking in fear. "Get out of my house! You'll not harm my beloved!"

The cold, pitiless chuckle Angelus replied with made his cowering bride recoil further in fright.

"Now, that's just right rude of ye, Mr. Remington," Angelus smoothly answered in his thick, lilting Irish brogue as he slowly stalked towards the married couple, now backed into a corner. "We came a long way to wish you and yer…lovely bride…" His dark soulless eyes, devoid of any trace of compassion or mercy, turned and glinted lustily at the terrified woman. "…all the best on this happiest of days. But, frankly, friend, I find yer hospitality to be lacking, somewhat. Of course, if it's lessons in etiquette ye need"

With a sudden and predatory maneuver, Angelus batted the cross out of Remington's hands like a child with a toy, before grabbing his arm and yanking the man into a choke-hold, his arm gripped by Angelus's other hand.

All Remington could do was stare in utter helplessness at his teary-eyed bride, who then begged for Angelus to spare her husband.

"…I'd be more 'n happy to give ye a hand," Angelus hissed. "Or rather, just take it."

"No, noooaaaAAAHHH!" came the agonized scream of the wealthy socialite…while Angelus swiftly ripped Remington's arm off of his body, blood splashing all over the bride's white dress while she shrieked in terrified horror.

Taking a moment to drink from the severed arm as if it were a chalice of the finest wine, the dark-haired Irish vampire smirked wickedly as he threw the bleeding and screaming Warren Remington to the ground…just before he began savagely battering the groom over the head and face with his own bloody appendage.

Pausing midway through drinking the pretty maid of honor dry, William looked up and marveled at the sheer sadism that his Grandsire displayed. Beating the groom to death with his own arm right in front of his blushing bride…now that was sick, William admitted to himself, before he laughed in hysterics at the irony. He was really starting to like Angelus; sure, he was a tad too serious for William's newfound tastes, but he'd be damned if he didn't admit that he liked watching the old man at work.

In its own morbid way, it was beautiful to watch. If killing was an art form, then Angelus was the da Vinci of the underworld.

The rest of the massacre didn't last much longer; the rest of the guests were dead a few minutes later, the hall's walls splattered with blood, fingernails, body parts and other bodily wastes. Eventually, William eventually made his way over to the other side of the room, as Angelus had grown tired of whacking the bloody skull that belonged to the now-dead groom. Jovially, the young vampire patted his Grandsire on the back in approval.

"Well, now…I heard of beating some sense into people, but you take things right literally, don't ya, mate?" William laughed, shifting back into his human face. "Oh, God, I haven't had this much fun since…oh, who am I kidding? I've never had this much fun! I swear, you really are something, Angelus; a bloke could learn a thing or two from hanging with you."

With a chuckle, Angelus squeezed William's shoulder as he casually tossed the limb away. "Me? What about you, lad? Fresh out of the ground, and already raising hell. And here I had you Englishmen as nothing but a bunch o' daffodils, not a drop of fighting spirit in the lot of ya; but it hasn't been the first time I've been wrong. Loved the thing with that...spike thing...goin' right through that last one's head. Ingenious, really."

"Yeah? You really think so?" William beamed in unexpected pride, as if he was an aspiring pianist being told by Mozart that he had talent.

"Aye'twas amazing, lad," Angelus agreed, nodding in approval as his own features regressed back into human form. "Oughta think about holding onto that move. Could even be a signature for ye."

The whimpering of the grieving bride drew their attention.

Sarcastically, William gestured to her as he addressed Angelus. "Gee, wonder what ruffled this bird's feathers. You'd think her bloody best friend just died!"

"Well, if that weren't her dearly departed husband I sent ta sing with the angels, with all the people that came, I'm sure we probably got that one, too, at some point," Angelus joked, which drew cruel and jovial laughter from the two soulless demons while the traumatized woman began to slip into a state of shocked insanity.

William suddenly grew a touch serious, his smile still on his face. "Thanks for the invite, Angelus. I mean it." A pseudo-sigh fell from his undead lips. "You know growing up, when I was human, I never really had any friends. Always too busy doting on me dearly departed mother to have much of a life for myself. I was…kinda pathetic, to be honest."

Inwardly, Angelus rolled his eyes. He was actually having some fun with his new male partner before this sentimental slop had started spewing from William's mouth. If this kept up, fun or not, he might have to rip the boy's head off.

William looked down at his hand, which he squeezed tightly as he relished his newfound strength. "But that was before Dru. Before you. God, man, whoever thought in being dead I'd ever feel this much alive, ya know?"

Satisfied, Angelus clapped the younger vampire hard on the back. "Aye, and that's just the tip o' the iceberg, Willie."

"William," the British vampire indignantly corrected.

"Right," Angelus waved the protest off, continuing. "But, as I was sayin'... tip o' the iceberg. I've been around evil in my time, lad. Seen a few bad apples, and a few fake tough guys. At first, I thought ye were a mistake—but I can see what Dru saw in you now. Beneath that Victorian exterior and that flowery poet garbage…there's an animal in there. I can feel it. Pacing, restless, brutal, snarling, 'n just waiting to be unleashed."

Angelus's dark eyes glittered with evil anticipation. "And may God have mercy on the world when it is. Aye, I can't wait ta see what happens when the real you is finally unleashed, boy."

William's eyes widened, almost dreamily. For so long, he had dreamed about becoming more than what he was; proving that he was more than just a 'bloody awful' poet and a punchline to a joke for those hypocrites in London's high society. Showing the world his strength, his vision, his glory, as his sweet Dru had promised him the night he'd been reborn as a vampire. And he would show them; he'd show them all, in a rain of death, glory and mayhem that only he was capable of.

"The real me," William mused. "I kinda like the sound of that…"

"We'll get you there, lad," Angelus laughingly assured him as he playfully clapped the blond man's cheek. "It'll take a little work, o' course but if yer looking fer a teacher, a more apt professor o' the art of killing ye'll never find."

Looking to the twitching corpse of the groom, William smirked. "Not doubting that for a moment, mate."

"First lesson of the day, boy-o," Angelus said as he dragged the catatonic bride to her feet, the woman not even bothering to fight as she was too shell-shocked from the carnage around her. "Now here, we have us a wonderful specimen. Beautiful, terrified, completely helpless…but do we drink her now?"

"Uh, yes?" William guessed.

"No," Angelus shook his head. "Because as sweet a nectar as blood may be, there's something even more savory that she can still offer…"

William's eyes lit up as he got it. "Oh," he smiled darkly. "A good shag, ya mean?"

Angelus gave his protégée a slap over the head, annoyed. "What? No!" Then he paused, considering what he had done to Drusilla twenty years ago. "Actually? Good point, and so we'll get to that later. But I was thinkin' there's another thing this cow's still good for." Angelus lifted one of his large fingers to the bride's cheek, tracing the tracks of fluid rolling down her pale skin. "Tears, laddie. You want to see her tears."

"Tears?" William said, hesitating. He never was really much into that sort of thing. In fact, he hated it when women cried. Well, he did when he was human anyway. "I dunno, Angelus, that doesn't sound like my type of—"

"Think about it, William," the older vampire interrupted. "Dru told me about ye…a poet, right? And not a very well received one at that. Think back to all the times those English pizzles laughed at ye, turned their noses up at ye, looked down on ye. Women like this little darlin' here," Angelus roughly grabbed her chin, "wouldn't even give ye the time of day, would they?"

At once, William could see his once-beloved Cecily Underwood's features disdainfully looking down on him. Hear her soft-spoken words rip out his heart syllable by syllable—"You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me"—as they echoed in his head and in his heart. William could see the laughter on the faces of those smug, arrogant upper-class bastards as they ridiculed his poetry, his labors of love, and more importantly, himself…

William's blue eyes darkened in anger. "No," he replied, in a low, angry tone. "They bloody well wouldn't."

"And now, who's got the power, eh?" Angelus grinned. "Class 'n status 'n all that clap-trap mean nothin' anymore. We're hunters, Willie. You're a hunter now. She's food. Laws, innocence, justice, all those trivial rules they tied around yer throat like a leash…'tis all meaningless now. Ye don't play by their rules anymore; ye damn well make your own. Ye can take what ya want." Angelus tightened his grip around the bride's slender throat, not that she appeared to notice. "Have what ye want. The world's yer oyster now, boy. One big juicy oyster just waitin' for ye to suck it dry."

The younger vampire mused and let his Grandsire's words sink in. William Pratt would never allow himself to sink to such behavior, which was so unbecoming of a gentleman…but then William Pratt was gone now, may he never return. In his stead was…well, William wasn't exactly sure yet…but whoever and whatever he was now, William liked it. He enjoyed it. He reveled in it. And he was ready to sink his fangs into this oyster of a world and drink the very last drop.

"Well, when ya put it that way, mate…" William shifted back into his vampire face. "…let's have a drink, shall we? One with a little salty tang to top it off?"

Angelus laughed heartily as his own demon face returned. "That's me boy. Now have a taste, but don't kill her. Remember…nice 'n slow. Ye want her to cry."

"'Cause it wouldn't be worth it if she didn't cry, would it?" the future William the Bloody grinned maliciously.

"Now yer catchin' on," Angelus smiled in chilling fashion, shoving the woman towards his Grandchilde. "Here ye go, Willie. Never let it be said that a woman ever came between us."

William laughed out loud at the thought. "That'll be the day," he chuckled as he buried his fangs into the woman's throat…


Hyperion Hotel Library Los Angeles

Now


Spike's head rang from the force at which Angel had slammed into him, the elder vampire shoving him hard against one of the bookcases with his heavy forearm pinned against the blonde one's throat.

"OW! Bloody hell, ya clumsy sod, that hurt!" Spike rasped out, angrily. With the lousy mood he was in, he really wasn't willing to tolerate this sort of crap.

Up close and personal, a livid Angel merely snarled, his whole being shaking with fury.

"Uh, maybe I should..." Lorne started to say, slowly backing away. But neither vampire even seemed to notice the anagogic demon's presence anymore.

"Christ, who pissed in your prune juice, Gramps?" Spike ground out, annoyed.

"Gee, I don't know, Spike you tell me," Angel hissed out. "Could be that the Kings lost another hockey game. Could be that it's tax season. Could be that apocalypse coming in a few weeks, or the mess you made in my library…"

He pressed harder against Spike's throat, his dark brown eyes morphing into yellow as rage coursed through Angel's entire body. "Or it could be the fact that you tried to rape Buffy last year. Wanna guess which one it is?"

Spike's mouth fell open in surprise, completely caught off-guard by his Grandsire's knowledge of his actions during that much-regretted night when he had almost done something unforgivable to Buffy in her bathroom. "She told you?"

"Damn right, she did," Angel growled, Spike's confirmation only enraging him further. "Wanna guess how well I'm taking it?"

Blinded by his anger, Angel failed to see Spike's right hand slowly reaching for a nearby hardcover book behind him. "No thanks. Don't much care," Spike retorted as he swiftly cracked the book across Angel's face, sending him staggering backwards.

Instinctively, Spike lunged towards the elder vampire, fists balled for another attack. But having recovered quickly, Angel caught him with a side kick to the ribs, and then lashed out at the stunned Spike with a solid left hook that knocked him back and down to the floor.

Before Angel had the time to press his advantage, Spike agilely sprang to his feet, ready for more combat. "So, that's what this is about then, is it? You comin' to play judge and jury for something I did when I was evil, ya hypocritical ponce?"

"No, Spike. I already judged you," Angel replied icily, his once-again-dark eyes focused upon his Grandchilde like a hawk on a wounded rabbit. "I'm here to play the role I should have played a long time ago…executioner."

Spike snorted in response, which only made an already furious Angel even angrier. "Is that right? Better be careful what you wish for, gramps. Last time somebody dropped that line on me, it was that Wood git; only reason I didn't kill him was 'cause I felt kinda bad about offing his mum during the Disco Days. But you?" Spike's blue eyes narrowed hatefully. "You aren't going to be nearly as lucky, mate."

"So I heard…and read," Angel replied in disgust, as the two combatants circled each other, like two lions about to fight over a piece of meat. "You killed that girl without a single thought other than to add another Slayer notch on your belt. Was she afraid, Spike, huh? Like Buffy was, when you forced yourself on her inside her own home?"

Angel could hear Buffy's imagined screams echo in his head, which only served to feed the flames of his vengeful fury. "When she was bleeding, tired and hurt? Helpless? Did you get off on that, you lousy piece of crap? Did you?"

Guilt and anger consumed Spike as he unwantedly remembered that awful night, remembered the ripping and tearing of Buffy's robe, and the frantic and frightened squirming of the panicked blonde girl beneath him.

"What would you know about it, you bloody wanker? You think that hasn't haunted me since I got this damn soul shoved back down my throat? And why do you care, anyway? You damn well left her to go play Clue in this miserable town with the bimbo cheerleader and your little fan club. Meanwhile, I was the one who stuck around and helped her pick up the pieces...even after her boyfriend, G.I. Joke, buggered out of town. Even after she clawed her way out of her own damn grave!"

"And you think that gives you the right to do what you did to her?" Angel ground out in a feral tone. "To try and violate her like that?"

Spike smirked knowingly at Angel. "Time was, last year, that I didn't have to try. She came to me, Peaches. She practically begged me for it. And you wanna know why?"

Oh, that's it. He's going in an ashtray. "Yeah. I know exactly why," Angel snarled coldly…

….and then, in a blur of movement, he smashed Spike's face in a double ax-handle strike, drawing blood as the younger vampire's head jerked to the side.

"Because she was hurt!" He drove his knee directly into Spike's sternum. "Because she was lonely, and miserable, and needed someone!" Another fist slammed into Spike's chest. "Anyone who didn't drag her out of Heaven! Even you."

Another powerful punch snapped Spike's head backwards as the peroxide-blonde vampire fell backwards against a wall, Angel stalking towards him, methodically taking his time. "And once you realized that, you slipped in like the cockroach you are. You belong in the darkness with me—yeah, Buffy mentioned that. I taught you well, didn't I? You waited for her to let her guard down, waited until she was vulnerable, until she was at her lowest; then you made your move. And when she finally rejected you, you did something even Angelus didn't dare try...because you're a rabid animal, Spike. Always have been, always will be. And now? It's time for me to put you down."

Bloody git, he always did like the sound of his own voice too much... Alert to his surroundings, Spike spotted a nearby metal rod, having fallen from its place on one of the bookshelves. So picking his moment, Spike waited until Angel was close enough, and swiftly grabbed it and swung upwards, catching Angel right in the chin and sending him reeling to the side.

Spotting his opening, Spike followed up with another hard blow with the rod, catching Angel right in the mouth and drawing a sickening stream of saliva and blood flying from his foe's lips as he flew back onto the ground, dazed.

The peroxide-blonde vampire snorted cruelly as he stepped towards Angel, rod in hand. "Animal, am I? Then what the hell does that make you? You think because you got that gypsy curse rammed up your ass that you get a whitewash on what you did? What ya did to Drusilla and her family? Or that Holtz wanker? Or how ya left that chit Jenny Calendar's body as a gag gift for Giles, after you snapped her neck like a twig?"

"You can fool yer little posse, Gramps. You can fool the Nibblet, and you might even have Buffy and Faith fooled with that Champion act you put on. Hell, you might have nearly everyone around 'ere believing you're the tortured and righteous hero, SuperVamp, fighting for truth, justice and soccer moms." Spike laughed coldly, mockingly. "But we both know who you really are, Angel. And the kind of depraved, downright sick shit you're really capable of. Remember the Remington wedding? That massacred orphanage in Munich? The hospital fire you set in Brussels? The Scourge of Europe, the biggest, sickest, most rotten bastard in all vampiredom, you were…"

Spike smirked, remembering the words Angelus had said long ago.'A more apt professor o' the art of killing ye'll never find,' indeed, Papa Bear. Taught me all you know, remember? And now, you reckon just because you mope around like a moody old sot, pretending you're all deep and noble, that your shit smells better than mine? You think you're better than me?"

In spiteful rage, Spike buried his boot in the side of Angel's already-injured ribs, drawing a groan of pain from the Champion as he rolled over on the ground clutching his side. And if the truth were told, Spike relished the crunching of Angel's ribs to its fullest, seeing his one-time mentor so humbled. He remembered all the times during the last century that Angelus had looked down on him, humiliated and belittled him; that smug, shit-eating grin he'd flashed Spike the night he came home to find Drusilla and her Sire in the throes of passion.

Soul or no soul, he's always been a self-righteous old bastard. Like somehow, just by looking at me, he's thinks he's better than me, Spike thought bitterly as he stood over his Grandsire. Taking everything that belonged to me. Dru, my glory, my pride, anything he could get his hands on, he'd take. And now, the ponce thinks he can just waltz back into MY Slayer's life and take her away from me after everything I've done for her, everything I've put myself through for her? I'll rip out his bloody throat first!

"How do you think you look now, 'hero'?" Spike spat scornfully.

As he shook off the cobwebs, Angel saw his opening as Spike made the same mistake he had done, with regards to the speechifying. "A lot better than you'll feel after this!" the elder vampire retorted…

…just as his steel-tipped boot shot out and connected with Spike's groin.

Seeing stars, Spike was caught off-guard as his eyes started watering and he dropped the metal bar with a choked, wheezing sound. Quickly, Angel sprang to his feet and followed up with another solid kick that sent Spike flying over a nearby table.

Growling, Angel wiped the blood from his mouth, his red-caked teeth bared in fury as he regarded Spike, still struggling to get to his feet. Regarded one of his biggest regrets. The creature that he, during his soulless years, had regarded as close to him as a brother, perhaps even a worthy protégée, was now the embodiment of every single one of his accursed sins. Every mistake Angel had ever made. Thrown back in his face with proud, unrepentant eyes and a leering, taunting grin.

And not only Angel's sins, but Spike's as well. All the people his Grandchilde had killed, every death he was responsible for, like Nikki Wood and that Chinese Slayer Spike had murdered during the Boxer Rebellion. Deaths that Angel could have prevented, if he had only done what he should have done long ago…end Spike once and for all.

But he hadn't—why, only the Powers That Be knew—and others had paid for it; Buffy had almost paid for it. The one woman he had ever loved in all of his long, lonely life was nearly raped and murdered by this repulsive creature that he helped create…

How many times did Buffy come close to dying because of this son of a bitch? Angel mused angrily, his fists tightly balled. How many times did Spike come close to killing her, taking her away from the world, away from Dawn, Giles and the others…away from my life? How many others has he left without a father, or a mother or without sons or daughters? No, enough's enough. I might not be able to bring them back, but I can make sure of this muchhe'll never hurt Buffy or anyone else ever again. Spike dies tonight, by my hand...like it should have happened long ago…

It was not surprising how his promise to Buffy had totally flown out of Angel's head, by this point in time. There was only the lust for battle, his burning need to avenge the near-violation of his beloved and the yearning to have Spike's head on a silver platter. The single-minded idea that he had to do this, before Spike could have a chance to hurt anyone else again because of Angel's weakness in allowing him to live.

Someday, he told himself, Buffy would understand. She'd have to understand why he had to do this; why this was for the best…

Waiting until Spike got back to his feet, wanting this to be a fair fight, Angel growled as he let the demon take the driver's seat. "Enough of the warm-up, 'Willie.' It's showtime now." Effortlessly, Angel's bleeding, bruised face shifted into its enraged vampire form. His game face. "Let's finish this."

Clucking his tongue sarcastically as the blood flowed freely from his mouth and forehead, Spike sneered. "Took the words right outta my mouth, mate." Then his own demonic face emerged. "Now, I'm gonna tear the head right off of yer shoulders, like I shoulda done years ago!"

"Big talk, little man," Angel smiled in cold, feral fury. "Let's see if you can back it up."

"Be a pleasure," Spike snarled.

"Got that right," Angel growled.

And with Lorne no longer anywhere in sight, , with old grudges centered on jealousy, pride and dominance more than a century in the making and with one simultaneous lunge, Spike and Angel clashed once more. Dead set on finally ending this feud, once and for all.

Dead set on ending each other….once and for all…


Hyperion Hotel Library Third Floor

A few minutes earlier


Buffy sighed tiredly as she trudged down the hallway towards her room. Her temporary quarters, here in Angel's hotel the one sanctuary she had left to escape all the madness around her.

Buffy's head was spinning from the gravity of everything that had happened lately. The pending End of All Time, the growing list of enemies, the loss of both her job and a valuable ally, Dawn's new beau and, of course, the saga of Buffy-Angel-Spike that was a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode and unleash sheer destruction all over the place.

Unconsciousness, or even that fugue state she had lapsed into back when Glory had kidnapped Dawn, had never seemed more inviting to her than right now.

About halfway towards her room, Buffy caught sight of Faith turning the corner into the hallway, presumably heading for her own room.

Catching sight of her mystical sibling, the raven-haired Slayer gave her a laid-back smile. "Hey, B. What's shakin'?"

However, Buffy's incredulous reply was far less friendly. "What's shakin'? That's all you have to say to me?"

"Well, would ya prefer 'how's it hangin'?" Faith replied as she cocked an eyebrow at her sister Slayer, wondering exactly what had crawled up her butt and died.'Cause personally, I never thought you were into that whole 'penis envy' crap..."

"Why the hell were you away for so long?" Buffy demanded, her voice low and angry.

It didn't seem fair to her. Both of them had the same powers and responsibilities, so why should Faith be allowed to skirt her duties and go have fun while she was stuck carrying the heavy load, as usual?

Faith felt herself bristle at the petite blonde's assertive attitude. "Chill, 'mom.' You knew I was gonna go out tonight. Cleared it with Angel and everything, not that I actually needed to, so what's the big?"

"What you needed was to be here," Buffy replied sternly. "Damn it, Faith, this wasn't the time to go paint the town red with Spike; we needed you here tonight. I don't know if you've noticed or not, but we're in the middle of a frickin' apocalypse. And I know you don't have all that much experience with apocalypses, unless you count the time you nearly started one, but right now we need all hands on-deck to—"

"Oh, yeah, here we go," Faith cut her off as she rolled her eyes at the last part of Buffy's speech. "Newsflash, B, but it's not the '90s anymore. I put away my black hat for keeps a long time ago, remember?"

"Right," Buffy snarked. "A long time ago. It's been a whole three years without you killing anyone. It's like you're Mother Teresa now."

While the words easily rolled off her tongue, deep down, Buffy was a little surprised at herself. True, she and Faith had a very ugly history, and she'd been less than thrilled about the brunette's initial arrival at her home a few days ago; but Buffy had thought she was willing to put the past aside in the name of world save-age.

So, why was she so quick to bring up old grudges now?

Needless to say, Buffy's remark did not sit well with Faith. "Wow; this must be a new record for you, B. Not even ten sentences exchanged between us, and already you're pulling the skeletons out of my closet. Okay, fine, if ya insist...let's do this."

Faith pointed to herself. "Screw-up." Then she pointed back to Buffy. "Golden girl. That make you feel all nice and tingly in all your naughty places?"

"Okay, first off, gross; and second, this isn't about me. This is about you needing to keep your priorities straight," Buffy answered snappishly. "We're at war here! Sure, I'd love to take a night off and go live it up someplace like you did, but instead I'm right here in the foxholes while the bombs keep dropping. And I expect you to do the same if you're on my team. I mean, do you even care about what's going on?"

The words struck a bad chord in Faith, who felt the flickers of anger begin to rise at Buffy's insinuations. She had put herself in harm's way almost on an hourly basis since she broke out of prison to help restore Angel's soul weeks ago. Hell, she'd nearly died a couple of times. And yet Little Miss Priss was questioning her involvement? If everything she'd done lately wasn't enough to show her commitment to the current situation, she didn't know what was!

"Listen, blondie, you need to get a few things straight," Faith answered coldly. "First, just because I don't walk around like I have a stick rammed up my ass like you do, doesn't mean that I don't care. Second, I've got people on the line here as well, and no, I'm not talking about you and the Scoobies…well, not all of you, anyway. I'm talking about Angel. He's the only one who ever had my back when everyone else gave up giving a damn about me. And I'm not about to let him down when he needs my help."

Buffy wasn't willing to concede so easily. "Right, going out to do a few body shots with Spike at some dive bar. Great way of helping Angel out, Faith, you're a real team player!" The sarcasm was practically oozing out of her voice.

Faith studied Buffy for a moment, as something clicked in her brain after hearing the other woman's words. "Hang on; is that what this is about? Me spending some time with your latest Flavor of the Month?"

Through surprised, Buffy was nonetheless quick to defend herself. "What? No! This has nothing to do with—"

"Oh, you bet your bony little ass it does," Faith scoffed as she swiftly interrupted, not buying Buffy's protests for a second. "Yeah, I get it now. You're fine with me being here as long as I'm doing the heavy hitting, risking my neck and fighting off Bringers and vamps but you see your latest undead boy toy start looking my way, and all of a sudden you start ridin' my ass as payback? Is that it?"

Her temper starting to rise, Buffy folded her arms across her chest as she glared at Faith accusingly. "No. But while we're on the subject, that is your signature move, isn't it? What's yours is yours and what's mine is yours, too?"

Too much bad blood still existed between these two women, in no small part because of that part of their history. Angel, Scott Hope, Riley, and now Spike…to this day, it still royally pissed Buffy off to think that for some odd, stalker-ish reason, Faith always had to go after one of her men simply because Buffy'd gotten there first.

And while the situation with Spike was still somewhat confusing to Buffy—and the progress she had been making with Angel had given her hope that she could rekindle their former romance, which had never really burned out—she still wasn't sure if she was ready for Spike to start looking at other fish in the sea…particularly a barracuda like Faith.

The woman who had betrayed her, nearly killed her family, friends and Angel, stolen her body, slept with her boyfriend, tried to destroy the world, and had used her Slayer powers to hurt and kill innocents that Buffy was sworn to protect.

Buffy could forgive most faults that people close to her had but betrayal and the willing intent to hurt her and her loved ones was one thing that she had never learned how to let go of.

"Is that what Spike is to you, B? Is he yours?" Faith baited the Summers woman. "Or do you just like stringing him along like a good little puppy, while you're making goo-goo eyes at Angel?"

Faith knew that technically, she should mind her own business. That she should try to change the subject or something, if she knew what was good for her. The bad blood between Buffy and herself could make this get real ugly real fast if the tiny blonde completely lost her temper.

But Angel was her friend, damn it, and Spike…no matter what he'd done in the past as a soulless monster, Faith knew he seemed like a genuine good guy now. And if Buffy had no intention of embarking on something real with him, then it was completely goddamn wrong that Spike should spend all his time hung up on someone he could never have when he could move on to someone else that could make him happy.

Still, from the way Buffy's eyes narrowed and her nostrils furiously flared, Faith knew that her question just now had really struck a nerve.

"You know what, Faith? You know nothing about my personal life, you know nothing about what happened between me and Spike, and you don't know a damn thing about me and Angel," Buffy seethed, her fists clenching. "And since when do I have to justify anything to you? After everything you did, to me and the people I love, and all the people you hurt, that you killed?"

"Oh, right. Because it's not like you willingly humped two vamps with one hell of a body count between them, and one of them was a soulless killer while you were banging hips together. No, wait, it is like that," Faith replied, getting more irritated by the second at Buffy's holier-than-thou attitude. "It's kinda funny, ya know? 'Cause you've never had a problem giving Angel and Spike a free pass for everything they've done—and FYI, we both know they've murdered a lot of people—yet when it comes to me, you just can't let me live down my mistakes, can you?

"Doesn't matter that I did time in the slammer, reliving everything I did every single day for the last three years. Doesn't matter how much I try to help, try to show everyone that I've changed. Because to you, I'm crap stuck underneath your shoe; something you just can't get rid of fast enough. But God forbid other people should point out your mistakes, right? That girlfriend Giles had who Angelus killed, all because you couldn't stake him when you had the chance? That guy, Parker something, who treated you like shit after the one night stand, all because you couldn't tell how he was slime straightaway?

"Because, hey, Buffy Summers never screws up. Buffy Summers is perfect in every single way, she's the sun around which all our lives revolve around, and without her, there's just chaos," Faith said with an undisguised sneer. "That the way it is?"

"I'm not perfect, and I've never claimed otherwise," Buffy snapped. "But hey, you know what? At least I never killed anybody."

"Not for lack of trying, though, right?" Faith smiled knowingly, her hand reaching down and tracing the faint scar on her stomach that Buffy was responsible for years ago. "Or did you forget how you shoved that knife through my gut back in the day? And don't tell me you didn't intend for it to happen, B. Plus, if everything had gone to plan, you woulda fed my ass to Angel in order to cure him of that poison and if that wasn't pre-meditated murder, then what was it?"

Buffy felt the heat rise to her face at that memory, but indignantly tried to mask her guilt over that. "You were evil then, remember? You nearly killed Angel, and you helped the Mayor try to destroy the world; everything you got, you had it coming, as far as I was concerned."

Faith smirked. "Had it coming? Wow, B. Starting to sound like some of my old cellmates in Stockton. Not very hero-y talk, is it?"

"Like you'd know anything about being a hero," Buffy shot back, her hands beginning to ache from the need to smash her fists into Faith's face. "You're one of the most selfish people I ever met. When was the last time you ever had to put your life on the line for anyone but yourself? When have you ever had to throw yourself right on top of the bomb to prevent everyone from getting killed? That's not you, Faith. You don't have it in you."

On the one hand, even as the words left her mouth Buffy knew just how petty that statement was. After all, she knew how Faith had helped prevent the apocalypse the night those Sisterhood of Jhe demons had opened the Hellmouth, and that the Boston girl never had the chance to really throw herself into the firing line as often as she had.

But on the other hand, Buffy just couldn't help herself; the not quite healed wounds of old rivalry and the bad blood created by fresh jealousy over Faith's new 'thing' with Spike, mixing with the natural differences between them, had created a toxic, explosive mixture just waiting to blow up in both their faces.

They were always going to be two different sides of the same coin, in Buffy's eyes. Light and Dark. Day and Night. Responsibility and Irreverence. Plain and Crunchy.

"Well, I never took a swan dive into any portals or anything like that, but if we're gonna get into this…last week," Faith replied, voice filled with grit. "When it came time to save Angel. Coulda died from that Orpheus shit I injected into my body. OD'ed and went into a coma for the guy, in order for him to get his soul back. Just lucky I didn't croak, or wake up completely brain-damaged. But when the chips were down and it was all on the line, I went all in."

Despite a small part of her that was truly grateful for that sacrifice, the rest of Buffy was too angry to let Faith win this round. "Because you owed him, right?"

"Because Angel's my friend. Hell, maybe the only one I've got left. And because it was the right thing to do," the former rogue Slayer bit off. "Not everyone keeps score with these things, Blondie. Playing games is your deal, not mine."

At those words, Buffy was automatically up close in Faith's face, offended and seething. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Faith knew that she had yet to shoot her most poisonous arrow at Buffy, but she was hesitant about doing so. It just seemed…mean. Not to mention, it would have been too easy and after the night she'd had, all Faith really wanted to do was get some sleep, maybe even find a little time to figure out whatever these feelings she'd developed concerning Spike really meant.

But at the rate Buffy was pressing this issue, Faith was sorely tempted to reach for that quiver.

"You know exactly what I mean, B," Faith snorted, not backing down an inch.

"Then pretend I'm stupid, and I'll pretend I give a damn about what you think...F," Buffy icily parried.

Again, Faith smiled coldly. "Fine, you want the truth? Okay, hot stuff...this thing you got going between you and Spike. Now, we both know his head is so full of you, you're practically all he sees. All he thinks about. Everything he's done since he fell in love with you, it was all for you to love him back—to feel the same way about him that he does about you.

"But the question is, what's Spike to you? Way I see it, he's just a piece of ass you've got going on the side. Oh, sure, you make him think he's got a shot with you but even after all these months, you don't dare tell the guy that he doesn't have a prayer as long as Angel's still kicking around somewhere. So you keep screwing with Spike's head, but God forbid he starts looking at another filly in the stable, 'cuz then you'd throw a pissy fit."

"Same with Angel, in a way. He told me all about how you treated him the last time you were in LA on my account, rubbing your feelings for that Soldier Boy right in his face. But the second he starts looking at someone else, say, Cordelia? Look out, here come the Big Hurt Eyes. And you know that you ought to make a choice between 'em once and for all, that you should just lay your cards out on the table and stop playing 'Boggle' with their heads, but you don't. You can't. And not because you can't decide which of 'em you love more, or even who's better in the sack...it's because you kinda like being the center of attention, right? Batting your pretty little eyes and driving all the boys crazy? Deep down, you don't mind if those two studs rip each other apart to get a shot at tapping your little uptight ass—because in the end, it's all about you. You California chicks have always been hard-up for the dramatics. And girl friend, you're the biggest drama queen I know."

"Shut. Your. Mouth," Buffy ground out, dangerously. Her eyes, her whole body language screamed 'Fight!' and it was plain as day for Faith to read. "You don't know anything about what I've had to deal with, or how I feel about Angel or Spike!"

"Right, right, the whole 'Woe-Is-Me-I'm-the-Slayer-and-nobody-understands-what-I-have-to-deal-with' shtick; I remember it well. Been singin' that tune since high school, B; it's getting kinda old, don't ya think?" Faith shook her head. "But, hey, far as I'm concerned, you can keep doing what you've been doin'. Keep stringing Spike along. Keep messing with his head, and keeping him from looking at anyone else that might even have a smidge of a chance of making the guy happy. As long as you get your girly kinks out of it, it's all good, right? But just one question?"

"What?" Buffy snarled furiously.

Faith threw out her most poisonous barb yet. "What do you think Joyce would say right now, if your mom was still around to see everything you've been up to lately?"

Buffy went still with shock and horror; she was unable to believe that Faith, of all people, was willing to play that card at this late date. The blonde woman then tensed up, green eyes lit with rage, ready to punch Faith's lights out. No, screw that; I'm gonna do what I shoulda done years ago, and just kill her!

But somehow, somehow, Buffy managed to summon all of her will, all of her self-control to calm down, to quell the hot rage bubbling within her, not wanting Faith to have the satisfaction of knowing that her cheap shot had hit home. Oddly, it never occurred to Buffy how, had she lived, Joyce would almost certainly have gotten rid of Spike the same way she'd done with Angel. Despite their friendship, the Summers mom had known, from the moment her daughter had told her of Spike's romantic feelings, the peroxide-blonde vampire would never stop chasing off any and all of his human rivals.

As far as Joyce had been concerned, her firstborn needed someone who could give her a future which included marriage and children; which automatically precluded vampires from the equation.

Shaking off her instinct to snap, Buffy had a poison arrow of her own for Faith, and she had no reservations any longer about letting it fly.

"My mom?" Buffy laughed coldly in response to Faith's question. "My mother would say that she was proud of me, and that she loved me no matter what. And as for Spike finding someone else, who exactly did you have in mind? You? Sure, and just how long would that last, Faith? Because I know you. You'd just screw around with him until you got bored, and moved on to some dirtbag on a motorcycle. Or some guy who worked at the local Walmart. Or whoever else was convenient. Because you don't know what love, real love, is. You don't even know how to love. Which isn't a surprise, given that I doubt anyone's ever loved you back. Certainly not your old boyfriends…not even your parents, from what you told me way back when. Ever think that maybe there was a reason for that?

"You don't know what it's like to love someone so much that it feels like you're bursting inside, so much that it's all you can feel, all you can see. To give everything you have, everything you'll ever be, for him. To love a guy so much that when he's in danger, you're in danger, and at that moment, you know that no matter the cost, no matter what happens to you, that you'd give anything—everything—if it meant giving him just one more second of life…even if it's your own. And in between a couple of trips back and forth from the grave, if there's one thing I've learned, it's this; that love is the difference between living and existing, Faith. And maybe that's why you've always been jealous of what I've had. Because I've known that love, I've lived it…but you? You wouldn't know real love if it punched you right in the face. And that just eats away at you, doesn't it? I may have died twice, but damn it, I've lived. And you? You've just existed."

Faith had to force herself to put on an expressionless mask as she stifled the stinging feeling at the back of her eyes…as she tried to ignore the burning ache where a giant hole in her heart lay, the painful reminders and echoes of her past, the way that Spike's words had cut her deeply earlier tonight.

But as much as Faith tried to ignore it, there was still that small part of her, that dark part she had locked away deep down inside, that couldn't help but to agree that Buffy spoke the truth…that she didn't know love. Never had. Was never worthy of it. She was built to fight, built to screw, maybe…but not to love.

Because you don't deserve it, the voice cruelly jeered, the venom in those poisoned thoughts making her muscles clench, her eyes burn. Murderers don't deserve to be loved...

Still, the brunette Slayer gathered what was left of her resolve, and locked eyes with the blonde one determined not to have Buffy get the last word as she nocked one more arrow she could fire.

"You talking about Spike…or Angel?" Faith asked with a cocked eyebrow. "I'm guessin' we both know the answer to that one. Of course, if I'm wrong and you're one hundred percent done with your high school ex, I figure Cordelia will be real happy to hear that. 'Cause according to Fred, they're like 'meant to be' or whatever. The pom-pom queen's been in Angel's life for the past three years, but you haven't." She fought the urge to smirk as she twisted the knife further, tried not to savor the flickers of hurt and the smoldering, jealous heat in the green eyes of the tiny blonde. "In some ways...she knows him better than you ever did. Cuts deep, doesn't it?"

"Are you trying to piss me off?" Buffy growled out, looking like she was at the very end of her tether.

It was almost painful how hard it was not to gloat for Faith, even though she permitted herself a little smirk. "Depends. Is it working?"

"Yes," the blonde Slayer hissed out through clenched teeth.

"Actually, ya know what? I don't even care right now," Faith shrugged. "It's late, I'm tired and I don't feel like playing any more games with you, B. I'm going to get some shut-eye, and I suggest you do the same. You know...'priorities,' and all that jazz."

Just as she began walking around Buffy towards her room, the smaller Slayer's powerful hand closed firmly around Faith's arm.

"We're not done here yet," Buffy ground out through clenched teeth, determined not to be dismissed so abruptly.

Slowly, Faith's surprised and now-angry doe brown eyes trailed from the vise-like grip around her bicep to the simmering blue-green eyes of the older Slayer. Her voice was incredulous, yet edged with warning. "I'm only gonna say this once, B. Get your damn hand off of me."

A smile best described as just plain mean slowly formed on Buffy's face. "And if I don't? Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Faith's patience was vanishing, as quickly as the urge to take Buffy down a peg or three with a good kick to the mouth was rising. "Oh, you're starting to make me want you to find out, Drama Queen."

The challenge in Buffy's voice was perfectly clear. "Yeah? Is that right?"

"Yeah, that's right. It ain't like the last time. If we throw down, I don't see you having that knife this time to back up the delusions of grandeur," Faith's smile was gladiator-like as she knocked Buffy's hand away. "You think you could take me? It's been three years, and I'm more than ready to find out."

"Ditto," Buffy's tone was almost shark-like with bloodlust and anticipation.

But before things could get violent between them, Buffy and Faith were interrupted by Lorne's frantic footsteps as he turned the corner to find the mismatched pair.

"Oh, thank God…you gals…are here!" the Pylean demon panted. "Angel…Spike…fighting to death….library…have…to stop them…really…could use…some water…right now!"

Buffy's mouth fell open in dismay, groaning inwardly as she realized that it really had been too much to hope for that the two vampires she had feelings towards could coexist in the same hotel for long without killing each other.

Realizing that it would probably take more than just her to break those two up, and that nothing good would come out of a showdown with her opponent at the moment, Buffy reluctantly looked to Faith. "Another time?"

Nodding quickly as she realized the gravity of the situation, Faith uttered, "C'mon. Let's make sure those boys play nice."

And just like that, the two Slayers bolted for the library, Lorne groaning as he started wheezing and running behind them. "Oh, faboo. More running. Yay..."


Hyperion Hotel Library

Now


The walls of the library shook as the bodies of both Angel and Spike slammed into the walls, their blows bone-crunching, and their rage uncontrollable.

As Spike shook off one of Angel's punishing right hooks, the British vampire chuckled as he taunted his Grandsire. "Guess Hollywood's made ya go soft, old man. I remember you used to hit a lot harder than that."

Angel sneered in response. "Actually, it's just your head's gotten a lot thicker," he retorted as he tried to backhand-punch Spike, only for the younger vampire to duck under the blow and deliver a left hook of his own that made Angel sees stars for a moment.

"Really? I'll let you be the judge o' that," Spike grinned as he viciously head-butted Angel, before following up with a hard kick to the gut that knocked the older vampire against the wall.

Stunned, Angel barely had time to get his bearings before Spike moved in with several hard, crushing right hand blows to his face. To some degree, Angel could not help being impressed; Spike had definitely upped his game in the last few years. Angel figured that being limited to fighting only vampires and demons because of that chip in his head must have built up Spike's overall strength and stamina. It was certainly enabling him to take blows that would have leveled him during years past.

But Angel was no slouch, either. Since his arrival in LA years ago, he had done nothing but fight demons; and the worst of the worst, from vampires to fearsome creatures such as Vocah, Skip and the Beast. Through the fires of those deadly battles, Angel had emerged stronger, smarter and every bit worthy of the title of Champion that was bestowed on him by the Powers That Be.

Still, this was where the lines grew blurry. Angel was certainly stronger and faster, given his advanced age, and he had a superior skill set thanks to his learning of dozens of fighting styles from his travels around the world and the intense training under Whistler's guidance that had honed those skills. Nonetheless, Spike had done some traveling himself and had picked up his own formidable skill set. Couple that with his strength, agility and obscenely high tolerance for pain, and that easily made Spike one of Angel's deadliest opponents ever.

Bottom line? They were both too evenly matched and too equally determined to win on strength or skill alone. Like all such close contests, victory was going to come down to one thing—who would take advantage of the other's first mistake.

"Do you have any idea how long and how badly I've wanted to rip your pompous head off and take a piss on your ashes?" Spike snarled between punches in a cathartic release of aggression. "It was all I could stand to keep from bursting into flames, sometimes!" He rained down even more blows. "You've had this coming for too long, you stupid git. You're not gonna win…not this time!"

Through dazed and bloodied as Spike hauled him up by the lapels of his leather coat, Angel could still see opportunity when it came his way. "You were never really…a quick learner, Spike. But I thought…you'd have learned…by now…when it comes…to you…and me…"

With one swift burst of strength, Angel drove the heel of his boot directly into Spike's right foot, causing him to curse in pain. The opening was what Angel needed as he lashed out with a left uppercut that caught Spike in the jaw, driving him backwards before Angel grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and in one motion, heaved him through the air, Spike's fall broken by a shattering wooden table on the other side of the room.

"…I always win," Angel finished as he straightened himself up, left arm clutching his damaged ribs.

His head ringing and his pride hurt, Spike angrily stirred as he slowly staggered to his feet, brushing the wooden splinters off of him as he clutched one jagged piece of wood in his right hand.

Slowly positioning himself behind the last table that wasn't destroyed, Angel merely waited for his moment. That's it, Spike. Get mad. Mad and careless, like you usually do. And if I time the next move just right…

Right on cue Spike, his fangs bared and ridges curled in rage, roared in absolute fury before he charged at the elder vampire, makeshift stake in hand as he readied himself for the endgame move. In one motion…

"This."

…Angel reached out and twisted Spike's arm, while using the other vampire's momentum to lift him high overhead…

"Ends."

…and flip him into a devastating crash landing through the wooden table.

"Now!"

Disoriented, bleeding and barely able to move, Spike lay dazed on the ground, as vulnerable as he was ever going to be. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt and the discarded stake on the floor, Angel roared in feral rage as he reared back his hand back, ready to end this fight with one decisive stake right through the chest.

But then, for some reason he couldn't understand…he froze.

As Spike's face regressed back into its human mask, swollen and cut, dazed and almost completely out of it, something, some...unknown force...stilled Angel's hand. It was trembling so badly it was vibrating from the want, the need to see Spike explode into a cloud of ashes. To make him pay for Robin's mother, and everyone else…to make him pay for what he'd attempted to do to Buffy.

It would be so easy. Just one hard, swift plunge of his arm, a few solid pounds of pressure he could effortlessly summon to have the wooden shaft break through the skin and bone of Spike's sternum until the stake pierced the heart. It would be so damned easy

But damn it all, he couldn't do it. Couldn't finish it. Angel just couldn't.

But why not? It's what he deserves, isn't it? Sure, Spike had a soul now, and according to Buffy he'd changed from what he'd been back when he and Drusilla had first arrived in Sunnydale...but how much could someone like Spike really change? Just what sort of difference existed, pre- and post-soul?

Angel could remember seeing the handiwork of his Grandchilde first-hand, back in the old days. He'd killed everything in his path, and even things far out of his path at times; he'd bathed himself in blood and violence and wanton destruction. Aside from his evil alter ego and Darla's soulless self, Angel had never seen the kind of passion that murder and mayhem brought out in another being like it evoked in Spike.

And the cold harsh truth was that the presence of a soul didn't preclude someone from indulging their darker urges; Angel knew that better than anyone. Buffy might have deluded herself into thinking that a soul automatically made Spike one of the good guys but even with his own soul present, Angel had done quite a number of things he wished he could take back.

Without that chip in his head to keep him from hurting anyone, under the right circumstances Spike might seek Buffy out again, might try to force himself on her again and next time, he might not be willing to take no for an answer; even if it meant her death, or the deaths of her family and friends. So wasn't it Angel's duty to do what had to be done right now, while he had the chance?

Well, that's a little hypocritical, isn't it? argued one part of the elder vampire's mind. Buffy should have killed him years ago, but Angel had lived because she was the only one that saw beyond what he was and what he did…she saw what he could be; not as a demon, but as a man. A good man. And he had made the most of his second chance with every life that he'd saved since then.

To his chagrin, Angel simply could not drive one thought out of his mind: didn't Spike deserve the chance to do the same? To see if he could rectify his own blood-soaked past, like Angel was trying to do?

Didn't Angel owe it to him, in a sense? After all, he had played a large part in making Spike what he had become. Would he be wrong in not doing his part to allow Spike to repent and change? Angelus had helped make this wretch, after all; now that they both had a soul, shouldn't Angel mind him?

And beneath all of that, putting aside the jealousy and the clash of egos and personalities and terrible history between them…there was something else. Whether Angel liked it or not, he and Spike were…connected. They'd once traveled together, fought together, got drunk together. Both of their human families had been dead and gone for a very long time; and for better or worse, they were…in a way…family.

As the old adage went, you could choose your friends...but you couldn't choose your family.

All these thoughts and inner conflicts lasted for a few painfully long moments. Then Angel raised the stake over head, before he buried it deeply…into the floorboards next to Spike, just missing his head.

Spike stared dumbfounded at his Grandsire, who only ran a frustrated hand through his hair, disgusted with himself.

"Damn it, I can't," Angel muttered in quiet self-loathing as he stood up, turning away and taking his eyes away from Spike's prone form. "I should have…but God help me, I can't. I can't…"

Taking advantage of the unexpected opening, Spike's leg swiftly shot out and swept Angel's legs out from underneath him, the Irish-born vampire landing right on the back of his head; the unforgiving floor made his head bounce, and Angel immediately became dazed and woozy as all the injuries from his fights with both the Beast and Spike finally caught up with him.

His lips curled in a pitiless sneer, Spike grabbed a fistful of Angel's ripped and tattered shirt while his other hand retrieved the stake off the floor.

"Too bad for you, mate," Spike smiled in wild triumph as his hand reared back for the fatal blow through Angel's chest. "Because I bloody well can..."

But at the last moment, his hand was caught in a hard, crushing grip. Spike had only a fraction of a second to turn around before he got a fist full in the face that blasted him all the way to the other side of the library. Stunned, Spike looked in surprise at his assailant…

…a very pissed off-looking Buffy. Faith was only a few steps behind the older Slayer, followed by a panting and exhausted Lorne.

Ignoring the hurt look on Spike's face for the moment, Buffy reached down and helped a dazed Angel to his feet.

"You okay?" she asked, the concern in her eyes evident.

"Just...a little banged up," Angel groaned, though he tried to put on a brave face. "I'll be fine."

"Good," Buffy nodded…and then with one strong shove, she angrily sent Angel flying into the other side of the library, his battered frame colliding with the wall in a loud thud.

"OW! Ribs!" Angel grimaced as he clutched his sides in pain.

Moving quickly, Faith helped Spike up to his feet. "You alright?" she asked with genuine concern, allowing him to lean on her for support.

"Not…really, luv," Spike coughed as he draped his arm over her shoulder, though he couldn't take his eyes off of the livid blonde Slayer at the center of the room.

"All right, you two jerks. What part of 'cut the macho bullshit before I end up putting you both in an ashtray' was I not clear on?" Buffy demanded, looking utterly furious. "We've got the biggest apocalypse we've ever faced coming up in less than three weeks, and you two have to do this now?"

"Oy, he started it!" Spike pointed accusingly at Angel. "I was just in here mindin' me own business with a bit of reading, when this sanctimonious berk came stormin' in 'ere and started tearin' the place up!"

"Oh, sure, Spike," Angel laughed dryly, even though it hurt to do so. "This is all my fault? Who the hell gave you permission to come in here, and start throwing my books all over the place? Do you have any idea how hard most of these books were to come by?"

"Yeah, right, Peaches—'Prophecies for Dummies.' A right treasure that is, along with the Ark of the bloody Covenant and Atlantis," Spike spat.

"You really don't have any respect for anything or anyone but yourself, do you?" Angel shook his head angrily.

"Well, if it comes from you…no," Spike smartly retorted.

"Hopeless dumbass," Angel flung at him in disgust.

"Gourmless tit!" Spike shot back heatedly, starting towards the other vampire, which prompted Faith to hold him back while Buffy likewise restrained Angel with both arms.

"Hey! Both of you, knock it off!" Faith barked as she held a struggling Spike.

"Did you just call me a 'tit'?" Angel demanded in incredulous anger.

"That is kind of a weird insult," Lorne agreed hesitantly.

"Okay, everybody SHUT UP!" Buffy shouted authoritatively, as she tried to take command of the situation. "Look, I don't care who started it. Because this is the last time I'm putting up with this crap! I've got a million things to juggle right now, and playing referee in a grudge match between two of the oldest and biggest babies this side of the continental United States is NOT going to be on that list!"

"Buffy..." Angel and Spike said at the same time, with identical offended expressions on their faces.

"I said shut up! If you two want to rip each other to pieces, do it after the universe is safe from the First. But we are not going to do this every single time you two step into a room together between now and this 'Wake-Me-Up' Doomsday thing we're facing! So, you two get the hell over whatever this beef between you is, because if you don't? Then you won't have to worry about killing each other. Because I'll be more than happy to send you both on a one-way ticket to Dustville! Are. We. Clear?"

Unfortunately, it wasn't that simple, and both Angel and Spike knew it. It had all been said before, after all, and the speech was losing its power the more often Buffy reiterated it. Unless the Slayer did something drastic, Spike and Angel were on a collision course for destruction, and she knew it.

Spike certainly wasn't done yet, regarding Angel with angry, jealous eyes as he saw his proximity to Buffy, who was still forcefully restraining him. "Look at you, mate. You think you're so damn special, don't cha? With your damned prophecy and your gadgets and your little giggly gang o' morons followin' you about. And you think just because you got all that handed to ya on a silver platter, like everything else you've ever been given, that you can look down on me? Like your damned past is so much cleaner than mine?"

"I never claimed to have a cleaner past than you, Spike. But unlike you, I don't just ignore what I've done," an angry Angel shook his head. "All the deaths I'm responsible for, all the collateral damage, I choose to pay for it every single day. You? You've never taken responsibility for anything in your life. You killed that Slayer in New York, and even now you don't care how that ruined her son's life. Soul or no soul, you're no different now than you were five years ago."

"Well, that's the thing, Little Boy Brow; I am different. And you know it," Spike smirked, sensing a new opening in order to stick it to Angel once more. "See, here's the way I look at it. You had the soul forced on you—as a curse. To make you suffer for all the horrible things you'd done. You never asked for it; it was supposed to be a punishment. Karma's way of kicking you right in the family jewels. But me? I fought for my soul. Went through all those bloody trials. Almost did me in a dozen times over, but I kept fighting 'til I got what I went there for. 'Cause I knew it was the right thing to do. 'Cause it was my destiny."

Angel returned the smirk with one of his own. "Really? The way I heard it, it was all just to get into a girl's pants."

"Angel," Buffy tersely intervened, her eyes issuing a stern warning to the vampire in question. "Enough. Just stop, okay?"

But Angel refused to do that as he pushed away gently from her, standing up straight as his stony brown eyes bored into Spike's hardened blue orbs. If Spike wanted to play the verbal jousting game, then Angel was more than happy to oblige him.

"Let's look at what happened last year, shall we? You tried to rape Buffy, Spike. Whatever the circumstances, whatever she had let you do to her before, that time 'no' meant no. Afterwards, you knew that once Buffy felt better, that once she'd had some time to recover from what had happened, she would never let you near her again. So you went and got your soul back, acted crazy for a while and then a few weeks later...you were right back to your old self. Coincidence? You changed your wardrobe a little bit as well, from what I've seen. All black; gee, I wonder where that idea came from? What's next, Spike, adoption? Pick up a stray kid, try to make your own version of Connor to win those fatherly points in Buffy's eyes?

"But be all that as it may, Spike, here's the real difference between you and me; I give a damn about the people that I try to help. Whether they're my friends or whether I don't know them from Adam. Because that's the right thing to do. I know who I am, and who I want to be. You? You're the sort of guy who only cares about what the girl thinks so you can climb into her bed that much faster. And now you come at me all full of piss and testosterone, thinking you're a big man, but you know what I think?" Angel made sure he met Spike's simmering blue eyes as he hammered his point home. "I think…you're still that same scared, pathetic little boy you've always been, desperately trying to prove to everyone around him that he's a man."

Spike's temper finally hit boiling point as he tried to lunge for Angel yet again, only for Faith to hold him even tighter. "You fucking bloody tosser! I shoulda killed you years ago, when I had the chance!"

"Spike! Spike, c'mon, calm down," Faith urged him. "You need to get a grip!"

"Go on, then, hero. Tell me more," Spike bit out angrily. "Tell me what it means to be a great and noble Champion like you…and I'll tell you why you can't stand the bloody sight of me!"

"Tell it to your therapist, Spike," Angel waved him off, not interested in the least at whatever barb it was that the British vamp was going to conjure up now as he turned to head out of the library. "Far as I'm concerned, we're done here."

As Spike thrashed in Faith's grip, he called out to Angel's back in anger, "It's 'cause every time you look at me, you see all the dirty little things I've done, all the lives I've taken, and you know the reason why it happened... it's because of you!"

Buffy swallowed hard as she saw how the words made Angel go absolutely still as he reached the doorway.

"You taught me, you molded me, you made me what I am, O Great Savior," Spike railed furiously. "And then you cast me off like some bastard child you refused to take responsibility for! Trying to wash your hands of me because you couldn't have me soiling that shiny coat of armor everyone thinks you wear. But you know the truth, and it eats at you like a cancer deep down in that precious soul of yours—Drusilla may have sired me, but you…you made me a monster."

There was a long, eerily still moment before Angel whirled around and started towards Spike menacingly, only to be held back again by Buffy.

"Angel! Angel, damn it, get ahold of yourself!" Buffy insisted as she struggled to hold back his larger, powerful frame.

Ignoring her completely, Angel narrowed his eyes at Spike. It was one thing for him to privately admit his hand in his Grandchilde's actions, but to actually hear it from the peroxide-blonde vampire's mouth…that wasn't something he was willing to let slide. If Angel could take responsibility for his own sins, then it was long past time for Spike to do the same thing.

"I didn't make you into anything, Spike," Angel countered icily. "The demon just amplifies what was already there; you and I know that, better than anyone. The rage, the anger, the violence…it was all there, just waiting to spring out like a jack-in-the-box. All I did as Angelus was give a little direction to a loose cannon, teach a few tricks to a mad dog. It wasn't even that hard. Admit it, Spike; you liked being the animal you'd become after Dru turned you. All I had to do was open up the door...and let the real you out."

Despite his hateful focus on Angel, Spike could sense how Faith had uneasily loosened her grip on him just a fraction. Turning around, he could see the small slivers of fear in her eyes as the dark-haired Slayer pondered Angel's words. He then felt a stab of disappointment as he suspected that the Pouf had succeeded in turning her against him, too.

Disappointment…and rage.

"Nice speech, Peaches, but here's a shocker—you never knew the real me," Spike spat out angrily. "You were always too busy trying to see your own reflection in me...that's what you were looking for back then, wasn't it? Praying that there was someone as disgusting as you in the world, so you could stand to live with yourself. Well, take a good look, hero. I'm nothing like you!"

And after a short, but somehow eternal pause as his eyes regarded Spike, Angel shook his head.

"No. You're less." His voice was cold, taut with frankness. "And that's why Buffy never really loved you. That's why she'll never love you, Spike. No, because you're not me. And no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you imitate me…you never will be."

"Angel, knock it off!" Buffy ground out, feeling more and more uncomfortable the longer that this verbal stone-throwing contest dragged out.

Spike's right eye twitched in anger as he took in Angel's most biting, most venomous barb. Because even after two long years, there was still that annoying voice in the back of his head which, although greatly muted, refused to be completely silenced.

He's got a point, you know. As long as Captain Forehead is still walkin' the Earth somewhere, there's always going to be three of you in this twisted little relationship with Buffy you've got going. If he's around, in her eyes, he's her 'One True' and you're just a second-rate version of that clinically depressed ponce. Hell, you knew that back when you were busy trying to put her in the ground, long before you had her on her back and glistening with sweat. She doesn't love you…and even if one day she does, it'll never be more than she loves him.

But Spike knew he still had one last weapon in his locker, one thing he had over that smug git that he could hold high over his head.

"Oh, yeah? Is that right?" Spike bit out through tight, pursed lips, trying hard not to smile as he threw out his most cutting jab. "So, I suppose she was thinking about you…all those times that I was puttin' it to her!"

Lorne gulped nervously. "Oh, hell..."

As the words brought forth images of those two caught up in the throes of passion, mixed with horrifying visions of Buffy screaming in terror while Spike tried to violate her, a primal roar erupted from Angel's throat as the furious vampire, game face slipping back on, lunged once again for Spike's jugular. And it took all of Buffy's strength to keep him at bay, despite all of his injuries on account of the both the soul and the demon were utterly pissed.

Buffy turned angry eyes towards Spike, outraged at both his crass reference to their sexual relationship and the fact that he would so blatantly throw it in Angel's face—while she was present.

And, even worse, in front of Faith.

But at that moment, Spike's words made something click inside her mind. Buffy suddenly realized, with no absence of guilt, that Faith had been right all along. All this was her fault; Buffy now realized that she should have made things clear between her and Spike long before now. She should have clarified that while things had changed between them, while she had come to trust him, accept him and believe in him, while there was a clear place in her heart for him now…the place that Spike ultimately sought was occupied by someone else.

And while it hurt to know what the truth would do to him, Buffy knew that it was time to make that clear. And it was long past time for the games to end.

With a sense of terrible foreboding, she met Spike's eyes and told him the simple truth.

"Actually…I was."

The hurt and shock on Spike's face was such that it made Buffy's own heart break. The way his face fell, how he went slack against Faith, who, utterly shocked as well, managed to lose her grip on Spike at last.

Even Angel, surprised as all heck to hear those words coming from Buffy's mouth, temporarily forgot his anger as he took a step back.

"You…you don't mean that," Spike uttered quietly, desperately, his face a portrait of overwhelming pain as he felt his unbeating heart begin to crack apart inside his chest.

Emotion threatening to overwhelm her, Buffy bit hard on her lip as she tried to focus and not to pay attention to the agonizing ache that Spike's hurt blue eyes caused her deep in her soul. But it was so hard. Damn it, she hated that it was this hard!

"Yes I do," Buffy confessed softly. "When we were together, especially at the start…thinking about Angel was…it was the only thing that stopped me from completely losing my mind. The…the shame…sometimes it was just too much to deal with, and so I...I pretended..."

Faith turned sympathetic eyes towards the rapidly crumbling Spike, awash in a confusing mixture of pity and heartache over the way the peroxide-blonde vampire's posture slumped and the spark in his eyes dimmed…just the raw ache of heartbreak that was radiating from him…mixed with jealousy and a little hurt of her own as she saw him looking at Buffy with a longing that she had never seen directed in her direction, from anyone—not lust, not desire, but a genuine 'want-to-touch-the-deepest-part-of-you-and-hold-you-until-our-souls-are-one-and-our-hearts-are-melded-together' way.

He really does love her, Faith mused sadly. Poor guy. Came so damn close, ran his frickin' ass off...and he still ended up second at the finish line. Must suck to be him right now.

"Buffy…c'mon, luv, you know that there was more than that between us," Spike pleaded as he gestured between the air separating them. "It was real. It was more than just pretending I was someone else. You felt something for me…I know it. I felt it. I felt you…you can't tell me it wasn't real. Because it was real. Damn it, it was real!" He paused, before speaking again, much softer. "It was real."

"I'm sorry, Spike," Buffy uttered softly with pursed lips. "I know how you feel about me. And I care about you too, I really do…but Faith's right. This thing with you and Angel fighting over me, it has got to stop. And if this is what I have to do, since the talking thing obviously isn't enough…then so be it."

Spike's pleas fell from his lips in a strained, regret-filled voice. "Buffy, fer God's sake…" Please don't do this, Buffy…

"I'm sorry," the Slayer said in a bare whisper of a voice, feeling like all kinds of an evil bitch for doing this to the man who'd been there for her since Glory had gone on the warpath in Sunnydale. Nonetheless Buffy gestured to Angel. "But it's him, Spike. Deep down, it's always been him."

The Summers woman closed her eyes as she swallowed, before she met Spike's shattered blue eyes again. "And it always will be."

Angel felt his soul soar as he heard those words. Heard Buffy choose him. There were no more doubts. No more uncertainty about her feelings. No more questioning whether her love for him was as real as his was for her. Even after Graduation, and after the Soldier Boy, and her death and resurrection and Spike…she had chosen him.

But for all the joy her words had brought him, Angel could not relish seeing the raw agony on Spike's face, the forlorn vampire throwing his beloved one last, desperate plea. "Buffy, luv, just listen…"

But as he reached out and tried to desperately touch her face, Buffy stepped backwards as she shook her head sadly, moving out of his reach. The symbolism was unmistakable; it was all over between them. Forever.

A look of dejection briefly appearing on his handsome, angled features, Spike suddenly stared at Buffy like she was a complete stranger before he abruptly turned around and stormed out of the library.

Buffy's lips were drawn into a thin, narrow line as guilt and sadness consumed her. Faith, from her spot not far away, simply gave Buffy an accusatory glare that spoke volumes of what she now thought of the blonde girl before the brunette shook her head, and left the library without a word.

Stifling the urge to shed tears at the pain which she had caused her undead former lover, Buffy slowly and sadly shook her own head. Oh, God. Oh, Spike…I only hope you can forgive me someday…but you deserved the truth. You needed to hear it, no matter how much it hurt you...and me.

Lorne nervously cleared his throat. "Well, that was…uh, I think I'll be on my…yeah," the lounge demon awkwardly muttered before he exited the library.

Sensing the guilt and conflict that Buffy was feeling, Angel, somewhat guiltily, tried to console her as he drew closer. "Buffy…I—"

But he was cut off as Buffy held up her hand, without even turning towards him. "Don't, Angel," she tersely, quietly uttered, her tone sounding like a warning mixed with a mournful plea. "Please. I don't want to hear one word from you right now."

As she began walking out of the library, Angel's enhanced hearing caught Buffy angrily muttering, "Not one word."

For someone who had just won the heart of the woman he loved, Angel was sure he couldn't feel any lower than he did right at that moment. Twice in one night, he had inadvertently made life difficult for the love of his life. Gotten her fired. Made her break the heart of someone she cared for…even if it was Spike.

All he was trying to do was to help her…but instead, he'd only made things worse than ever before, Angel realized in shame.

And as he stood in the ruins of his library, nursing his own broken ribs and a guilty conscience, Angel found himself agreeing with Buffy on one thing. "Damn…this really is the worst night ever."


TBC…


Next: In the aftermath of the fight, what will Spike's state of mind be? And will the heartbroken vampire still stick around…or will he bail with the apocalypse looming on the horizon? And what part will Faith have in that decision?

Cordelia and Angel finally have a talk. Just where do Cordy's feelings lie?

And when a heated 'moment of passion' between Angel and Buffy gets out of control, will it spell disaster for their rekindling romance?


Well, that's a wrap. Update to come soon! And remember, every review is a chance to smash a puny god! Lol

Later!

-Jean-theGuardian