Bring Me To Life – A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event
Part 55
Cassandra
The Deeper Well—Deep in the Bowels of the Earth
Now
"Angel."
The way his name left her lips, so softly, so full of love, of compassion…it moved Angel to the deepest and darkest corners of his unbeaten heart.
Buffy.
His sweet, beautiful Buffy.
She should have been half a world away fighting to keep them all alive…yet here she was.
No, the part of his mind that managed to keep rational thought present reminded him. She's not here. She can't be here. It's impossible…
"Buffy?...H-how…?" his voice stumbled, unsure of what to say.
Her response was a small smile. "Hey…you know me. I've got a knack for getting into places I probably shouldn't be in."
Angel wanted to laugh at that, except…he knew at the very core of him that this wasn't Buffy. It couldn't be Buffy.
No matter how much this looked like her. Sounded like her. Smelled like her.
"You're not her," Angel said, trying to steady his conviction.
"I have her memories. Her feelings," she smiled patiently. "If that isn't what makes a person a person…what is? You'd know that better than anyone, Angel."
Angel shook his head. "I…I can't do this right now. I have to…"
"Die," Buffy interrupted him.
Angel blinked, stunned and hurt. "...What?"
"That's what you'll do if you try to jump through all that, Angel," she explained gravely. "You'll die."
Angel turned back to the seemingly impossible center where Hope's Dagger lay. Bathed in sunlight from practically every corner. With no way to safely retrieve it that he could see.
Breathlessly sighing, Angel sadly looked back at Buffy…or whatever it was that was taking Buffy's form. "Maybe," he nodded sadly.
She mirrored his mirthless smile with one of her own. "Seems like that's the story of our lives, isn't it?"
He gave her a rueful smile. "What, mortal peril on a weekly basis?"
She chuckled softly, though her eyes were tinged in sadness. "Well, that…and this is the only way we ever get to spend time together anymore."
He nodded sadly. "I know."
"I hate it." Her eyes shone, glistening with sadness. "It's not fair."
Boy, did he ever agree. Life hadn't been fair to him, and especially not to her, not in a very long time, Angel silently admitted. "No. It isn't."
She looked down in resentment, sighing. "You ever wonder why we put up with it?" Her beautiful eyes met Angel's again. "Why we can't just stop with this? All of this? The fighting, the death, the constant mission and to just be…happy? Together?"
Angel did more than just wonder. He dreamed about it.
He longed for it, yearned for it.
Sometimes the only thing that kept him going, that gave him even a moment's peace within the dark swirling of mayhem that his life had become since he came to L.A. to battle demons around and inside of him was the fantasy of a life with Buffy. The dream of being truly together with the woman he loved, as they were years ago when for one day, he was human.
Human and with Buffy…it was everything he had ever wanted.
Yet in the end, Angel knew what he wanted didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. As much as he hated this, all of this…it was what he had to do.
His voice was quiet as he beheld her sadly. "All the time."
She gave him a wry smirk. "Ever the conversationalist."
Now his mouth turned up in a sad half-smile of his own. "Always the optimist."
Now she chuckled, a sound that sent soothing waves down his soul. "Well, the broody pessimism shtick always worked better on you. Makes you all dark and sexy and stuff."
"I never did it to be sexy," Angel protested half-heartedly. "Though I guess it didn't hurt when you have my cheekbones."
She nodded, gave him a tiny teasing smile. "True. Those choppers could cut a hand."
For a moment, Angel welcomed the brief levity to the grim reality that lay only a few feet from him—that getting the weapon he needed to help save his friends and the universe, all universes, was seemingly impossible and would almost certainly lead to his death.
"Angel…you can't do this." Her voice quivered, fear etched in her soulful hazel-green orbs. " I…I don't want you to do this."
Angel felt his unbeating heart break at the sorrowful expression in the eyes of the woman he loved. An expression he had come to know too well over the years, sometimes because of his own doing.
"You know I have to." He said it quietly, as if he was trying to convince himself of that. Deny to himself that maybe, just maybe…there might be another way. "Everyone's counting on me."
"They're always counting on you," she protested, looking beautiful and hurt and angry. Looking every inch like the girl who had stolen Angel's heart, snatched his soul and claimed it as hers and hers alone. "On me, on us. But then we take the bullet, we jump into the giant glow-y vortex thing-y or get swallowed into hell or thrown into the ocean and they go on. And we're the ones left behind."
Despite all the logical arguments the intelligent, often pragmatic mind of the vampire detective laid out, in his heart, his soul, Angel knew she was right. How often did he and Buffy have to pay the price? Bear the heaviest burdens, pay the costliest tolls? Her mother, his son, their allies, their dreams, their happiness, their peace of mind…their love…all things they had lost along the way while doing their duty to protect a harsh, cruel world that often seemed to not care whether they lived or died.
Still, Angel tried to cling to the mission. Telling himself that it wasn't about him, or even her. It never was. It was about doing what was right. "Nobody ever said it would be easy," he muttered simply, his dark, mournful eyes looking away.
"What if it could be?"
He looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"
She gestured to the bright, glowing sword in the middle of the room bathed in sunlight. "I mean forget that stupid dagger. Angel, there's no way you can survive that! It's insane! And crazy! We don't need it. You don't have to do this!"
Angel gave her a sad look, pleading with her to understand. "Buffy…"
"What if we can find another way?" Her eyes grew desperate, and it ripped through Angel's soul to see her in so much pain, so much fear. "What if we don't need this thing to win?"
Angel shook his head. "There isn't any other way—"
"What if there is?" the blonde beauty asked, trembling. " What if we can find it? We always do. Because we can. Because we have to."
Doubt began to set into Angel's mind. God, how he wanted to believe her. Believe that there was another way. "We don't know that—"
"And you don't know if we can't! Angel, I'm so tired of this. Tired of losing you. And no matter what might have happened before you left me for this…I know you are, too." Buffy gave him a sad, yet hopeful smile, and that smile made a part of Angel want to give her anything she wanted, open any and every door to her, close any door she would ask of him. "So I'm asking you…what if you're wrong? What if you don't have to do this? What if we can win this...and we can be together again?"
Together you were powerful…alone, you are dead…
The words of the Morah demon he had killed years ago rang through his mind, reminding him of how deep, how…forever…their bond ran. Reminded him of how much stronger they were together, even when their lives' paths kept taking them far apart.
What if she was right? A treacherous part of his heart, his mind whispered to him. What if he didn't have to do this? What if there was another way? What if there was an ending to this that didn't involve his dying or leaving her and going back to L.A. and pretending to carry on with his mission, his endless, thankless, violent and tragic mission, without needing her, wanting her in his life? Pretending there wasn't a world-shaped hole in his heart where she once stood?
Yet his doubt, his mind tried weakly to speak for his aching heart. "We can't know that for sure."
She held out her hand.
Silently begging him to take it.
To come with her. To leave this place where only death awaited him.
Her smile was weak, yet full of hope, full of love. "Only one way to find out."
Sunnydale, California—Summers Residence
9:57 p.m.
Days Left Before the End of Days: 14
"Bed! We need a bed! NOW!"
Spike, cradling the wounded and unconscious Faith in his arms like the powerful Slayer was little more than a child, gingerly laid her down onto her bed as Giles, Wesley and Lorne were flying about the room in their haste to tend to her, the members of both Team Angel and the Scooby Gang filling the room while several Potentials were anxiously watching outside.
The Summers home was a flurry of activity since a bleeding and injured Faith had stumbled back into the house, fresh off her captivity in The First Evil's clutches.
"How's her pulse?" Wesley asked as he hurriedly prepared the healing herbs, looking to Giles as he checked the unconscious Faith's vital signs.
"Slow, but it's stable," Giles replied quickly as he rapidly began to dress a red, bloodied and infected-looking wound in Faith's side.
"He's right. I can hear her heartbeat still working," Spike added, his eyes not leaving Faith as he held her warm hand, relishing in the small sign of life. He managed a faint smile. "Girl's a tough one, that's fer sure."
In a haze of unconsciousness, Faith's head lolled from side to side as she briefly stirred. A slurred tumble of words rasped out quietly from her mouth, the dark-haired Slayer's mind somewhere between a nightmare and a dream. "Spike…Ssssspike…"
Squeezing her hand in comfort as she called out to him from her delirium, an increasingly worried Spike soothingly stroked her thumb. "I'm here, pet," he assured her quietly, fervently. "I'm here, and I'm not goin' anywhere."
Darla came back into the room with a cool washcloth, placing it over Faith's warming forehead. "Wesley, Giles, she's burning up," the ex-vampiress said warningly. "She might have a fever."
"Poison?" Lorne asked, his expression worried as he looked at Faith lying still in that bed.
"No. Definitely not poison. I would have smelled it on her by now," Spike replied, holding Faith's hand tighter.
"And she's not showing any signs of poisoning, far as I can tell," Giles added, his fingers checking Faith's sweat-matted forehead. "I-i-it could be a psychogenic fever."
"Psycho-what?" Buffy asked worriedly from the edge of the group, letting them do their work as they tended to Faith.
"Psychogenic. Stress-based fever, usually brought on by chronic stress or an emotional event," Wesley explained as he and Darla worked on crushing the vervain and rosemary pedals into a healing elixir whose formula was taken from a page in the Bysilline Codex.
"Guess being magically tortured for weeks on end will do that to ya," Spike bit out, aiming a cold, accusing look at Buffy, who fought the urge not to flinch at the silent, yet caustic accusation at her of leaving Faith in the hands of their enemies.
Finding her voice again, a confused Buffy asked, "Weeks? B-but she's only been there for—"
"Oh, that's right," Spike replied briskly, sarcastically. "Guess I forgot to tell you lot while I was chained up in the basement like a hunk of cattle in a freezer." He looked at Giles. "Seems your poncy old mate Ethan Rayne thought it'd be a laugh riot to put a whammy on Faith. Put her in some kind of time vortex prison thing. Gave them a lot more time to have their fun with her. It might have barely been a day here, but as far as Faith knows, it's been weeks since we left her down there."
Buffy blanched, a look of horror on her pretty face. The others in the room also stopped for a moment, looking at Spike and then Faith in shock.
"...weeks?" Buffy uttered quietly, in complete disbelief. Oh, God...
"Oh, my God," an equally shocked Fred said after she gasped. "Poor Faith…"
Gunn shook his head, anger simmering in his eyes. "I knew it," he said tersely. "I knew we shouldn't have left her there!"
From her corner of the room, Dawn gazed sadly at Faith, yet her words were for Buffy, and Buffy alone. "We tried to tell you," the teen heroine-in-training said, her words quiet, but accusing. "But you didn't listen."
Buffy's wide-eyed gaze darted from Dawn to Spike, a sense of guilt and failure overwhelming her. Yet another bad decision she had made in so short a time. If she had known this, she would have gone after Faith by herself, Buffy told herself. She could only imagine what kinds of horrors that twisted minds like Caleb, Drusilla and The First Evil must have subjected Faith to in that time.
"We need to clear the room," Giles said, trying to divert attention back to Faith's condition. "It's getting crowded in here. Wesley, Darla, I'll still need your assistance. Everyone else should wait outside. We'll alert you all when there's a change in Faith's condition."
Buffy nodded solemnly. "Okay. You all heard him. Everyone out."
At that, most of the people in the room began to shuffle out towards the door.
All...save Spike.
He sat there, as if he hadn't heard a word, his eyes fixed on Faith's sleeping form and his hands gently holding hers.
"Spike," Giles began, "You need to—"
"I bloody well know where I need to be, old man," Spike tersely cut Giles off. The stony blue eyes of the peroxide-blonde vampire left no room for discussion. "You couldn't pry me out of here. Just do yer damn jobs and fix her."
Seeing the steadfast look in her Great GrandChilde's eyes, Darla relented. "Let him stay," she said, replacing the washcloth on Faith's forehead. Off Wesley's questioning gaze, Darla replied, "He could be useful."
With some reluctance, Giles and Wesley hastily nodded and the three of them resumed trying to heal Faith.
As the battered and unconscious Slayer kept muttering words in her sleep, occasionally calling out for him, Spike gave Faith's hand a gentle squeeze as he worriedly eyed her bruised, yet beautiful face. Hang on, Faith. You're safe now, luv. Just hang on…
Sunnydale, California—Summers Residence
Dawn Summers's room
10:15 p.m.
"What could you possibly have been thinking?" Buffy demanded, angrily, her hands on her hips as she looked at Dawn, who sat on her bed looking up at her sister.
Yet the young brunette refused to cower down. "I was thinking that it's my life," Dawn shot back.
Buffy shook her head, pacing the floor. This was all just too much for her to process. "You have powers now. My sister...with super powers," she muttered. "How...when...why? And how could you not tell me?"
At that, Dawn scoffed. "As if you'd be understanding? All you've been doing since this whole mess started is grounding me and trying to put me in a bubble! Putting all these walls around me!"
"Dawn, this isn't about walls!" Buffy snapped with all the stern of an angry parent. "This is about protecting you from danger, okay? Do you realize what this means? It means you're a target now! It means The First is coming for you! It's Glory all over again. This isn't a game, Dawn, this—"
"Oh, don't even try to tell me you're trying to protect me!" a furious Dawn spat, her large blue eyes wide in anger and hurt. "You didn't sound like you gave a damn about my protection when you told Giles you were willing to let me die to save the world!"
Buffy froze at those words, the accusation fired at her for the second time tonight.
For a while, she didn't know what to say. What could she say?
Dawn stared at her older sister with unshed tears in her eyes. "I know what you told Giles. I know that you told him you'd let me die if you had to choose between me or the world this time." Dawn trembled, her fists balled into hard white knots. "Gee, glad it took you all of five seconds to decide you'd rather sacrifice me next time around!"
Buffy took in a deep breath. "Dawn...listen...when I told Giles that, I was—"
"Oh, please, try and come up with an excuse!" Dawn angrily cut her off. "Tell me that I didn't hear you right! Tell me that I was hearing things! Make up a lie to make me feel better about the fact that you'd let me die if you had the choice." Dawn stared angrily at Buffy, her glassy eyes threatening to spill. "TELL ME!"
Yet Buffy stood there.
Stood there for seemingly forever.
And after a long, pregnant pause, she finally spoke in a quiet voice. "I...I can't."
A teary-eyed Dawn stared at Buffy in disbelief. She shook her head, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. And she couldn't. The final confirmation of her sister's betrayal. From her sister herself.
Buffy's eyes began to mist. "I'm not going to lie to you. Yes...I did say that."
Swallowing hard, Buffy solemnly took in a breath and looked a wounded Dawn right in the eye. "I used to think I could save everyone, Dawn. That I could have my cake and eat it, too. But if there's one thing life taught me between two deaths, like a hundred apocalypses and a boyfriend I had to kill once, it's that I don't always get that choice. If I try, all I'll end up doing is get everyone killed. Including me. I don't know what's coming, but I know it's not just about me, or any one person. It's about everyone. I have a job to do. If I can't do it, nobody else will. Sometimes, that means making the hard decisions." Buffy looked down, a bitter look in her eyes. "Sometimes, that means losing people I love along the way. Friends. Family. Lovers. It might even mean I die. Again. But that's just how the cards are dealt sometimes. It's not a game I like playing, but if I have to play, then I have to play to win. Because losing isn't an option."
The Slayer sighed, the weight of the world reflected in her soulful hazel-green eyes. "It never is."
Buffy hated to be as frank about this as she was, but Dawn wasn't a kid anymore, she realized that now. So she had to talk to her like a grown-up. Hopefully make her see that the world Buffy walked at night was neither black nor white. The choices sometimes had a lot of grey in between.
Instead, when she looked up, Dawn's hurt eyes were unchanged. "Who are you?"
Buffy blinked, stunned at Dawn's words.
A single tear rolled down the teenage heroine-in-training's cheek, Dawn shaking her head in disappointment and disbelief. "I mean, you-you-you look like Buffy, you move like Buffy, but you can't be. You can't be my sister. My sister would never believe this load of crap you just said." Dawn's lips became a firm straight line. "My sister gives everything she's got to protect the people she loves because she knows they'd do the same for her. That's what family is all about. That's what love is all about. Yeah, people die in war, I get it, Buffy, I'm not an idiot. But that used to mean something to you!"
Buffy, hurt and indignant, tried to defend herself. "It does mean something—!"
"No," Dawn angrily interrupted. "No, the way you just said it, you make it sound like we're just-just-just...pieces on a chess board or something!" Dawn's teary eyes fixed on Buffy. "Is that how you see me? What piece am I, Buffy, huh? I'm guessing you're the queen, so what does that make me? Am I a rook? A bishop? A knight? God, I hope I'm a knight, I'd love to wear the shiny metal hat and the armor!"
The anger in Dawn's sarcastic comment made Buffy's insides flinch.
"No, no, I'm guessing you just think I'm a pawn, huh?" Dawn's voice was watery, hurt. "I mean, hey, not that much of a stretch, right? 'Pawn' rhymes with 'Dawn', I guess it's all the same to you these days, since you can't remember any of those Potentials' names anyway. Maybe that's why you never bothered to listen to what I've been saying. Or finished up my training. What the hell does a pawn need training for, right? After all, they're the first ones off the board usually!"
Buffy tried to make Dawn understand. "Dawnie, listen, I…"
But Dawn wasn't hearing it. "No! No, you listen, for once, Buffy! I get it, I learned a while ago that being the Slayer isn't easy for you. I know now how hard it is. How dangerous. I get that this isn't a game, that mistakes mean people we care about can die. I get that you wanted something different for your life. But the Buffy I know also taught me that every life matters. The Buffy I know showed me that we make our own fate, our own choices. And she wouldn't just think about putting the ones she loves in the crosshairs just to win some cosmic game of good and evil. And if you really think like that now, if that's how you really feel about us, about me…"
Dawn saved her harshest words for last, another tear rolling down her face. "...then maybe the Buffy I know never really came back at all. Maybe...maybe my sister really is dead."
Stunned, Buffy visibly recoiled. Her eyes went wide in shock.
And hurt.
And anguish.
Dawn's words, sharper than any stake or sword Buffy had ever held, twisted around in her mind and in her heart, cutting the latter to ribbons.
The two glassy-eyed Summers sisters stared at each other for the longest time, the longest silence stretching between them…
...when the sound of commotion from downstairs caught their attention.
Silently grateful for the distraction yet instinctively on alert, Buffy frowned. "What the hell is that?"
"Oh, my God" Fred breathed, aghast as she beheld the sight of Kate Lockley and Lindsey McDonald limping in, Connor not too far behind them. Lindsey, an ashen look on his face, leaned heavily on Kate, who had her arm wrapped around his waist to prop him up.
Behind them, Connor limped, clutching his side and holding his sore head with his other hand. The three were obviously worse for wear, Fred could see that.
"What the hell happened to you guys?" Gunn asked.
Looking to Lindsey for a moment before realizing he was still in too much shock to speak, Kate quickly replied, "Caleb. We bumped into him and his minions."
"What?"
That startled "What?" came from Buffy as she and Dawn quickly bounded down the stairs.
"Caleb was out there? What did he do?" she asked Kate with all her interest on her now.
Seeing how Lindsey was still shaken up, Kate quickly realized she'd have to do most of the talking. "Not a highlight of the evening, that's for damn sure. He...he was going to kill us if we didn't say anything about where Angel was."
Anya got it, a look of dread on her face. "You told him about The Deeper Well."
Kate sighed, a feeling that she had let them all down somehow enveloping her. "I didn't...but when Caleb was about to kill Connor and me, Lindsey…" she decided to cushion it as best as possible. After all, she did owe Lindsey her life. "...he did what he had to do to keep us alive." She gave Buffy an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Buffy."
Buffy did her best to process yet another bombshell. Caleb now knew where Angel had gone. That he was going after Hope's Dagger, maybe the one weapon that could kill The First Evil. That meant Angel's life, the life of the man she loved, was in even more danger now.
"Connor!" Dawn exclaimed in relief, quickly bounding down the stairs and throwing her arms around his neck. "I was so worried about you! You just left and you didn't say where you were going..."
To her surprise, her normally sweet boyfriend pried her off of him. "I'm fine," he muttered distantly, his face a dark scowl as he looked away. His humiliation at the hands of Caleb was still fresh in his mind.
Surprised by his attitude, Dawn didn't have time to dwell much on it before she noticed the cuts on his face from where he was smashed against the tree bark. "Connor, you're bleeding…"
As she reached for his cut, Connor flinched, batting away her hand gruffly. "Leave me alone, I'm fine!" he snapped angrily before he brushed past the crowd of people around him and bolted for his room upstairs.
"Connor!" a hurt Dawn cried out for him, but to no avail as he disappeared from her sight. Again.
Though also surprised at his outburst, Buffy couldn't dwell on it now. "I guess he needs some space right about now," Buffy muttered.
"Yeah...space," Lindsey muttered before he slowly trudged past the crowd in the living room and shuffled off slowly towards his room, his vacant eyes staring a thousand yards away.
Off this action, Buffy, growing more concerned, looked right at Kate. "Kate, what the hell happened out there?"
Kate hesitated, but knew she had to tell them. "When we were fighting Caleb…" She bitterly snorted at the words. "...'fighting', more like barely surviving against Caleb...the son of a bitch told Lindsey some pretty messed up stuff. Did you know that Lindsey and Caleb's father was killed in a tractor accident when they were teenagers?"
Buffy shook her head in a silent 'no'. Kate frowned. "Then I guess you wouldn't know that it was Caleb who set up that accident."
Buffy's eyes widened, as did that of all the heroes in the living room.
"What?" Fred quietly asked, horrified.
"Yeah," Kate said, folding her arms over her chest as her eyes fixed towards the door where Lindsey exited. "He was bragging about it, too. Lindsey never knew that. Not until tonight."
"Caleb…killed his own father?" Dawn asked in disbelief.
Gunn shook his head in disgust. "Man. I knew that Caleb guy was one sick asshole, but that's messed up, even for him."
"Agreed," Kate said, biting her lip as she looked in the direction where Lindsey had gone, her thoughts now consumed by the handsome ex-lawyer. "Lindsey's been shaken up about it ever since. He barely said a word on the way back. Just kept staring out into nowhere." She sighed, an understanding look on her face. After the way she lost her father, she of all people understood what Lindsey was going through now. "He...Lindsey blames himself for what Caleb did, or claimed he did. He didn't say it out loud, but...I can tell."
Buffy bit her lip in brief sympathy for Lindsey. Having lost a parent herself, Buffy figured he was probably reliving that horrible day all over again. But despite her sympathy, she knew she had to get her priorities straight. And right now, that priority was Angel and the imminent danger he was now in. If Caleb was so ruthless and psychotic as to have been willing to kill his own father, then that meant this new mystery Black Hat that Buffy was now dealing with was capable of absolutely anything. And that did not bode well for Angel when his mind was already preoccupied with surviving the trials to get Hope's Dagger.
"If Caleb knows where Angel is, then he's probably told the First by now," a troubled Buffy said, looking at Gunn and Fred.
"Which means Angel's a sitting duck out there if Evil Casper decides Angel getting that dagger thing isn't in its best interests and decides to get the drop on him before he can come back," Gunn realized grimly.
"Oh, my God. We have to warn Angel. Now," an alarmed Fred said with urgency.
Buffy nodded. "You're right. Can anyone try calling Angel or Whistler? Or that Alisdair guy?"
"We can't," Anya said. "Their phones aren't getting reception. My guess is that a magic cave in the middle of the Earth probably doesn't have great cell service."
Buffy cursed under her breath. "Fine. Keep trying to reach them. I'll talk to Giles, maybe there's a way we can send Angel and the others a message. I'm guessing the First won't wait too long before it makes a move on them."
Buffy frowned deeply as she thought of how pleased The First Evil would be at this development. "Knowing what we're up to now, that bastard's probably happy as a clam."
Sunnydale, California - Shadow Valley Vineyard, lair of The First Evil
Now
BAM!
Caleb's head rang with the force which The First/Jasmine used to slam him against the wall. Holding him by the scruff of his clerical shirt, the demonic entity looked anything but happy.
"Repeat what you just said," The First/Jasmine slowly, angrily demanded. "One. More. Time."
Coughing, Caleb repeated exactly what he just told his master. "I said...Angel's at the Deeper Well."
The irises of The First/Jasmine flared an angry, glowing red. "Are you telling me he's going after the dagger? Hope's Dagger?"
Feeling some of his normal confidence beginning to slip, Caleb tried to cover it up. "That...would be the popular theory, I reckon," he said smoothly as he felt the power of the ages-old creature at his throat.
"I'm disappointed in you, Caleb. First, you let that trailer park trash Slayer Faith escape, and now this? You said you could handle this," The First/Jasmine said, its voice ripe with accusation. "You said, and I quote, 'All they have to do is take one more step, and I'll kill them all.' If that were true, Caleb, then why haven't you and the Bringers dug out that accursed weapon lying not but a few feet in these same hallways yet, in my own damn lair? And how did Angel, one of my greatest enemies, the ex-lover of my sworn enemy The Slayer, take all those steps halfway across the world under your nose to find one of the only tools in this universe that has ever posed a threat to me?"
Clutching at the creature's iron-like hands, Caleb silently fought to keep his Southern laid back composure as he tried to appease his master. "Now, now…let's not panic just yet," he said in a soothing Texan twang. "If'n what y'all told me 'bout the lore is right, this Angel fella still has to pass all those trials. Hell, for all we know, he might be dead already."
That did little to sooth The First's nerves, however. Even a thousand years after it last faced that meddlesome bitch Cassandra Rayne, it remembered well the sting, the bite of that damned blade.
Hope's Dagger. Even its name brought back bad memories for the demonic force of nature-made-flesh. For the first time in a thousand years, it began to remember an emotion it thought it had banished from its being…fear.
"I didn't wait ages and ages and expend countless resources getting to this moment just to leave anything up to mere chance, Caleb," The First/Jasmine ground out tersely. "We're so close to The Awakening that I can almost taste it. Yet I now have to worry about keeping not one, but two mystical weapons hanging over me like a Damocles Sword out of the Slayer's and that bastard Angel's hands. I groomed you to be my right hand man so I can have peace of mind in these last crucial stages of this endeavor. If the Slayer's boy toy, coincidentally a Champion of those accursed Powers That Be, is running around trying to get something with my murder on his mind, my mind isn't feeling all that peaceful!"
"I'll fix it," Caleb assured the deadly entity, though his voice had a slightly impatient edge to it, not appreciating being manhandled by his benefactor while in a female form.
The First/Jasmine eyed him with a measured gaze. Then nodded. "Damn right you will."
Releasing its hold on Caleb, Jasmine/The First considered its options. Then it turned back to Caleb. "Send Pearl and Nash with as many Bringers as you can spare to England. Find Angel. Turn over every rock, look under every crevice, I don't give a damn if you have to search that entire miserable island. Just find him, kill him and if he has the sword, bring it back to me. I'll dispose of it the way I should have done it a thousand years ago."
A vicious smile crossed the features of the body of the fallen PTB. " Maybe I'll even make an ashtray out of it and send Angel's remains back to The Slayer to mourn."
Caleb frowned. "If it means that much to you, I can take out some pathetic vampire," he offered, not liking the idea of being benched on a crucial assignment. "Hell, it couldn't be any harder than beating up on that blonde one hanging with The Slayer and her pals when I mopped the floor with all of…"
"No," The First/Jasmine cut him off, suddenly looking tired as it leaned against a wall. "Your place is here. I need you…here…"
Beginning to breathe more heavily, it motioned for Caleb to assist it. Quickly, Caleb was by its side, helping the suddenly tired omniscient evil slowly make its way towards an ornate chair in the First's private chambers.
Caleb was troubled by the sudden weakness his employer was showing. "Um, not to sound unfaithful, but…is everything okay there? You're looking a little…pale."
Taking in slow, labored breaths, The First/Jasmine eyed him with a tired glance. "Getting angry doesn't seem to…agree with this new body. Not yet, anyway. The remnants of Jasmine's consciousness are still… fighting me. Like I was a bad flu…and they're the antibodies. Eventually, I'll have total control over my mother's body, but I need time to cement my…bond with it. That means I…need to be incorporeal every now and again to take breaks and gather enough…strength to override her defenses."
She/it looked at Caleb almost maternally. "That's why I need you here. I need someone to act out my will in the last days before the Awakening. For better or worse, you are my champion, Caleb."
For a moment, the mad preacher had a smile on his face, a proud one.
"You'll have plenty of time to redeem yourself for your mistakes later," the First/Jasmine coolly added, which wiped his smile clean off. "In the meantime, focus up, get it together and get it done."
His gaze stony, biting his tongue to keep from saying something foolish, Caleb finally nodded. "Of course. Thy will be done."
"It better be," The First/Jasmine said as it leaned back into its chair and closed its eyes, several Chaos stones around the throne glowing a crimson red as it began to assert its control over Jasmine's body again. "Now get out. Send Pearl and Nash to take care of business. I have to spend some…quality time with Mommy."
Frowning, Caleb pursed his lips together, nodded, and slowly made his way out of his master's chambers.
Then he walked.
And walked.
And walked some more.
And when he finally turned a corner and found no one around…
CRACK!
He slammed his powerful fist so hard into the wall that it left cracks in the stone. Seething, he composed himself, fixed his collar and stewed.
The way The First had belittled him, berated him…it reminded Caleb so much of how his drunken whore of a mother used to rail at him on nights where she had hit the bottle harder than usual, when he was just a weak little boy too dumb with confusion and hurt human emotions to put that pilled-up trollop in her place…
You're weak, Caleb…useless…it's your fault why Daddy left us…
If God had given me a normal kid, maybe things would have been different, but instead God gave me YOU to punish me for my sins…
Stupid, stupid boy!…
Even the thought of being made to feel so useless by a woman, that woman in particular, made his blood boil with murderous rage.
The Slayer's friends had made a fool out of him. Embarrassed him. And for that, Caleb vowed, he would make the Slayer pay.
A dark idea came to his mind. Oh yes, he mused, he knew exactly how to humble that filthy little tart in the most righteous of ways…
Sunnydale, California—Summers Residence
9:57 p.m.
Days Left Before the End of Days: 14
As he sat in the backyard, only the glow of the kitchen lights behind him and a full moon above him, the handsome, once-powerful, once-promising attorney-at-law Lindsey McDonald sat frozen on the porch steps. Stared at his red, bloodied hands.
So much blood on his hands, he mused. All those victims from his days at Wolfram and Hart that he put in harm's way. Mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, sisters…
…Dad…
His thoughts filled of his sweet late mother, Lisa McDonald, a woman beautiful both inside and out. He remembered when he came home at age 21 after graduating from University of California, Hastings College of the Law, so eager and excited that hotshot lawyer and powerful executive Holland Manners had offered him, HIM of all people, a chance to work at the high-powered law firm of Wolfram and Hart. Sure, it was just a mail room job, but Lindsey knew Mister Manners had seen his potential, his ability to be great one day and he intended to work his ass off and give his mom, his family, everything they deserved and more, to leave the squallor they had grown up in behind forever.
And it's been awhile
Since I could hold my head up high
And it's been awhile
Since I first saw you
He remembered hugging his mother, expecting her to be so proud, so happy for him. Yet she gave him a look of concern. Of doubt.
I want you to be happy, son…but just remember…money can't always buy happiness. I never met a man with more money than he could stand that could stand himself…
Yet he was so desperate to escape the poverty of his upbringing, the hunger, the wanting, the fear of never having enough to keep the sheriffs away from taking their home again, that he brushed her motherly advice off as foolishness, small-town myopia and eagerly signed on with the law firm.
And it's been awhile
Since I could stand on my own two feet again
And it's been awhile
Since I could call you
It dawned on him far too late how right his mother was. He hadn't smiled—truly smiled— in a very long time in the years since he had joined Wolfram and Hart. How could he? The blood-curling deals he had to work, the chilling cases he had to pour over, the kind of scum he had to defend at the behest of his employers…the lives he helped destroy simply by doing his job…it didn't leave anything to smile about.
Yet another life choice of his that didn't work out for him. Joining Wolfram and Hart, not leaving when he had the chance the first time, betraying Darla…and Caleb.
Always Caleb.
And everything I can't remember
As fucked up as it all may seem
The consequences that are rendered
I've stretched myself beyond my means
No matter how much he had tried to distance himself from it, Lindsey couldn't help but feel responsible for all of the evil, terrible things his repulsive half-sibling did. Each crime, each sin of his haunted Lindsey, almost as much as his own. But his father…
His own father…
"Hey."
So lost was Lindsey in his own tortured thoughts that he didn't hear the footsteps that heralded Kate's approach. Wordlessly, she sat next to him on the steps, a soft look of concern on her beautiful face.
Lindsey only kept staring into the distance, mired in regret and guilt and misery.
Kate bit her lip in concern, appraising Lindsey with her keen eyes. "I just wanted to check on how you were."
Yet Lindsey kept his stare straight and far away.
Kate sighed, looking down for a moment. He was probably in shock; she recognized the signs from all her years as a cop. "I…I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am. For Caleb. For…for your father."
For a moment, she remembered how her father's body felt in her arms when she found him, already cooling to the touch, murdered by vampires while Angel could only watch, unable to save him. She remembered the sound of her own lamenting screams and weeping…
'NOO! DADDY! No, dad, no, PLEASE no!'
She remembered how wet and warm the tears felt streaming down her face, the agony of grief and loss and disbelief wildly tearing her apart from the inside out…and the cold numbness that followed afterwards as she sat there staring at his body in his apartment, paralyzed in shock. Her father, stern, strong Police Captain Trevor Lockley, now just a body and a memory.
The emptiness, the hollow feeling in her core…Kate would never forget how that felt. Ever…
And it's been awhile
Since I can say that I wasn't addicted
And it's been awhile
Since I can say I love myself as well and
Somehow, Kate found her voice again. "Lindsey…I…know what you're going through. Your mind is probably filled with all sorts of things. Thoughts. 'What if?' is my least favorite part." Her eyes grew haunted as she remembered that awful night four years ago. "'What if I could have said something? Done something different? Anything different?' 'If I had just done this or not done that, would it have changed anything? Would I have saved him? Would he still be here?'"
He looked at her questioningly for a moment before it dawned on him. "Your father."
Lindsey had remembered the Wolfram and Hart files on decorated 62-year-old retired LAPD Captain Trevor Lockley, father of Kate, who was an associate of Angel's within the police department. How he had gotten in deep with The Blue Circle, a low-level cartel of local demon drug runners working for a demon named Kayt'onn and had ultimately paid the price for it with his life. The files said that Kate found her father only moments after he was killed by cartel vampires in his own home, a death Angel was unable to prevent despite being just outside the door when it happened.
Swallowing thickly, Kate's eyes began to mist for a moment before she nodded, taking a deep breath to calm herself.
With shame, Lindsey remembered using that information years ago to try to goad Kate into killing Angel back when Faith suffered her emotional breakdown and sought Angel's help in redeeming herself after her attempted assassination of him went wrong. An assassination attempt Lindsey personally arranged and oversaw. While he took some perverse pleasure in his clever ruthlessness back then, it mortified and revolted Lindsey now as he looked back on his actions. Who am I kidding? Lindsey grimly thought. Maybe I always have been a scumbag. Maybe I really am no better than Caleb...
"I'm sorry," he sincerely offered before his eyes drifted back into the darkness of the night.
Kate looked down, and she could see how Lindsey's hands trembled ever so slightly, still caked in blood and bark.
Absently, she let her hand drift towards his hands, laid it gently over them. They were so cold, she realized, but she offered what warmth she could…what comfort she could. "Lindsey, I get what you're going through, I really do. I asked myself all those questions after my dad was killed. But it's important for you to know that no matter what happened, no matter what Caleb did, what happened to your father wasn't—"
"My fault?"
Lindsey slowly turned his head towards Kate, and for a moment, Kate felt her breath hitch at just how blue, how piercing his cobalt-hued eyes were. The former lawyer had a haunted gaze in them. "We both know that isn't true, Kate."
She wanted to protest, but she let him continue.
"My whole life, I've spent it trying to help that crazy bastard. Or control him. And when that wasn't happening, I just wanted to run away from him altogether," Lindsey murmured quietly as he looked up towards the moon. "And it didn't help. Running doesn't substitute the fact that I should have said something sooner. I should have told Ma and Daddy what that sick asshole was doing with all those animals when I first saw him doing it. Should have told Dad about all the signs that there was something wrong with Caleb. But I ran from it. I hid from it. Because I didn't know what to do. I was scared, of Caleb, of the moment, too scared stupid to think, to see…"
"You can't put that on yourself, Lindsey. You were just a kid," Kate softly protested. "A little boy…"
"So was Matthew, and Caleb killed him anyway," Lindsey bitterly replied.
His eyes widened as he caught what he said.
He turned to look at the shock and flickers of hurt in Kate's wide, sea-blue eyes. There were flecks of green in them, and it occurred to him absently that he had never seen that shade of green before.
And it's been awhile
Since I've gone and fucked things up just like I always do
And it's been awhile
But all that shit seems to disappear when I'm with you
Shaking that thought from his head, Lindsey looked at her apologetically. "I-I'm sorry, Kate, I didn't mean—"
"No, it's…it's okay," Kate said, shakily, still understanding. "You don't need to…y'know. I get it."
Nodding gratefully, he took a deep breath. "My daddy, he…he never got why I wanted to be a lawyer. He never trusted them. Said it was dirty work. Not a real job. I just remember seeing this one guy when I was seven when they were taking the house from us. Just came right in and took it. He came in with this suped-up red corvette and this nice pressed suit and tie and expensive loafers. And he was holding the papers, making Daddy sign them and dot them. And the bastard just laughed and smiled while we signed our home away and he just got back into that fancy car and drove off into the sunset, like some bandit. His car was probably worth 3 times more than our entire house, and while we're looking for a place to stay the next night, he's going off to some fancy restaurant and laughing the whole thing off."
His lips turned up in a wry smirk. "I made up my mind right there. I said to myself, 'That's the kind of guy who has power in the world. That's the kind of guy I want to be.'"
Lindsey looked down at the wood sticking to his bloodied hands. "I think Daddy had other plans for me. He wanted me to be a baseball player. Or a singer. Or something like that, something that would make me happy, make others happy to see me. Hell, I think he would have been fine with me just being a plumber with a steady job." His lips twitched in a small smile as he remembered the kind, simple man his father was. "He didn't care if I was rich or not. He just wanted me to be happy. To be…good. Didn't want anything else for me but that."
For a moment, Kate found herself missing her father. She never wanted for anything financially like Lindsey did growing up, her mother Samantha Lockley being a doctor with a private practice and her father a tenured policeman that afforded them a nice little life in the suburbs of Chicago. However, after her mother left them when she was just 11 years old and her father sold the house and transferred them to L.A., her father became distant, sometimes cold and stern with Kate and he had a lot of trouble showing her any affection, not even telling her once that she was pretty even though a kind word from her father was the only thing in the world the sad little girl she was once needed to hear.
Yet while their relationship was complex, in Kate's heart, she knew her father loved her deeply in his own dysfunctional way.
"Yeah. Good parents are funny that way," Kate smiled warmly at him.
Lindsey's lips twitched in a half-smile. "Yeah. Funny." He sighed, growing serious again as he looked up at the moon. "I'm gonna kill that son-of-a-bitch. I don't know how yet, but I'm going to be there when he dies, and I'm gonna put him in the ground myself. Caleb's run up a long tab. It's long past time he pays what he owes."
Kate bit her lip, concerned. "No…Lindsey, we don't even know if that's possible! We barely survived Caleb tonight. If Buffy couldn't take him, and Faith couldn't, or Spike or Connor, how can you? You'll get hurt."
She took a sharp breath, her eyes boring into him in warning. "Lindsey…you'll die."
And for reasons that Kate was scared to place, that notion really, really, really scared the hell out of her.
Yet Lindsey turned to her, his blue eyes shining, a sad smile on his face. "Then maybe I'll go out the way my Ma and Daddy wanted me to…doing something good. I've done a lot of awful crap in my life, Kate. You've seen it. Hell, you sat in court for it. There's no way I can possibly balance those books, but…" He took a steady breath, full of resigned purpose. Certainty. "A guy's gotta start somewhere, right?"
And it's been awhile
Since I could look at myself straight
And it's been awhile
Since I said I'm sorry
It wasn't until now that the once-cynical ex-lawyer and the formerly jaded ex-police detective suddenly realized how close they were. How their hands were still touching, growing warmer.
And just how blue one another's eyes were…
For what felt like an eternity, neither of them dared to move, dared to blink, dared to even breathe. As if they had fallen under a spell and were too afraid to break it by moving even the slightest…
Yet through some unknown force, some out-of-body experience, somehow Lindsey's hand magically was at the top of Kate's head, slowly, softly, tenderly brushing back locks of her moonlit golden hair away from the smooth, perfect curve of her face. Kate felt her sensitive skin tingle at his strong, yet gentle touch, sending a shiver down her spine in all the right ways. Her eyes darted down at Lindsey's beckoning lips, and she felt herself tilt her head down ever so slightly.
As their heads moved together just a little more, Kate's hand quickly flew to his mouth, gently pressing her fingers to his lips, and she quietly marveled at how soft, how warm they were.
And it's been awhile
Since I've seen the way the candles light your face
"This…" Kate rasped out in a hushed, quiet voice. "There's so many reasons why this is…"
"...a bad idea?" Lindsey replied in an equally soft rasp, yet he leaned in ever so slightly. His fingers reached up and traced her own, and he marveled at how the moonlight made her rosy skin glow.
Feeling control slipping from her, Kate's eyelids fluttered, her heart beginning to beat like a drum in her chest. "A stupid idea," she chuckled for but a moment.
His thoughts in a haze, Lindsey gave her a ghost of a smile as they leaned in so close that he could smell the lilac scent of her hair. "So stupid," he nodded.
"We're idiots for even thinking about this," Kate murmured.
He let out a short chuckle. "Morons," Lindsey drawled quietly.
"Such morons," Kate breathed.
And it's been awhile
But I can still remember just the way you taste
And then their lips met.
Gently, at first.
Then slowly, more hungrily.
More wanting.
And everything I can't remember
As fucked up as it all may seem to be, and I know it's me
I cannot blame this on my father
He did the best he could for me
Her heart racing, skin tingling, Kate's hand drifted up towards Lindsey's handsome face, losing herself in the smell of his clean aftershave, the taste of him. Even now, so bruised and bloodied and heartbroken and solemn, Kate wondered at how he tasted better than she had imagined. And yes, she finally admitted to herself, she had imagined how Lindsey tasted for a good while now.
Lost in the haze of the gorgeous blonde, Lindsey let one hand slide down Kate's side, admiring the firm muscle he found there, the hard work of a protector honing her body as a weapon. His other hand brushed through the silken locks of her golden hair, pulling her in closer, Lindsey briefly forgetting his pain, his anger, his guilt just for a moment, forgetting all of existence itself for a moment…
Abruptly, Kate pulled away, panting deeply, leaving a breathless Lindsey confused.
"I…we...we can't," she shook her head, trying to reassert control of herself.
"What? Kate…" he protested, reaching up to touch her face again, only for her to push his hand down quickly.
"No…" Kate took a deep breath, trying to slow the racing blood in her veins. "Lindsey, a lot happened tonight. I shouldn't…you don't need…I'm not even sure you want…" She couldn't finish, the words escaped her. Kate gave him a deep, apologetic look, her pained blue eyes beginning to mist. "I-I-I just can't do this right now, I'm sorry."
"Kate, wait—!"
Steeling her nerves, Kate quickly got up and bolted back into the house, leaving Lindsey sitting on the porch. Confused. Bewildered.
And with thoughts of the brave, beautiful ex-cop swirling in his mind…
And it's been awhile
Since I could hold my head up high
And it's been awhile
Since I said I'm sorry
The Deeper Well—Deep in the Bowels of the Earth
Now
Angel stared at her in confusion. So many things ran through his mind as he eyed her beckoning, stretched out hand.
Confusion.
Love.
Temptation.
"You're asking me to come with you?" he asked, quietly.
She gave him a watery smile. "Look at that. Score one for the vampire."
Angel would have normally chuckled at how Buffy-like that sounded from her. Except there was nothing to laugh about. Not now.
"Buffy," he began. "We need that dagger. If I don't get it, The First will—"
"Still keep trying to kill us," she insisted. "It doesn't matter, Angel. We'll find another way. A better way."
"How?" he pressed her. Angel meant that. Of all the things he wanted to do when he woke up today, jumping into the sunlight and burning to ashes was not on his list.
She bit her lip, her big hazel-green eyes wide. " I don't know. Not yet. But we will. We always do. Angel, you and I can do anything. Together." She stepped closer to him, looking as beautiful and as radiant as ever, especially in that billowing white dress that accentuated every inch of her perfect body, made her gold-hued hair somehow glow, giving her the appearance almost as that of an angel.
He felt his knees getting weak with every step, felt his long-dead heart swell with love and desire as she closed the distance between them, bringing her closer to him with every moment. When it came to her, all his defenses were stripped bare. They always were.
"Come with me," she implored him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he was helpless to stop her. God help him, he didn't want to stop her. "Be with me."
As of their own volition, Angel's hands found their way to her tiny waist. It felt like forever since he had held her like this. Exactly like this. Like he had only ever dreamed of since he left for Los Angeles years ago.
"We can do it together, Angel," she said, her eyes wide and hopeful and full of so many emotions, and it all made Angel's heart and his soul ache in the most agonizing yet unreal ways possible. "You've given the world enough. We've given them enough. Our peace, our happiness…our lives…how much more do we have to give? Don't we deserve to get something back in return? Don't we deserve a little peace for once?"
She stroked his face lovingly, and Angel felt as though he was lost in her eyes. "Don't we deserve to be happy?"
For the longest time, Angel didn't know what to say. Everything he had ever wanted, the only thing he had ever truly wanted, was standing there, beautiful and just and loving, begging, begging him not to do this. Not to risk his life. Not to put her through more suffering. Begging him to give himself a chance…to give them a chance…
How much he wanted to…
How much he yearned to…
"Buffy..." Angel's voice went hoarse.
She gazed at him lovingly, pleading, her green eyes shining with unshed tears as she stood between him and the light that meant instant death for the souled vampire that had won her heart long ago.
"I love you." Her voice was a soft, heartbreaking plea. "Angel, please...please don't..."
Suddenly, the ground around them began to rumble, breaking them apart. Angel stared at her in confusion, and then turned back to the dagger.
The light was beginning to spread. Wider and wider. More deadly sunlight filled the chamber by the second. At this rate, death was imminent. Inevitable.
"Angel, there's no time!" She reached for him, grabbing his hand and tugging desperately at him to follow her into the door behind them, where it was safe. "Take my hand! We have to go!"
Yet Angel hesitated. "No! The dagger…"
"Forget the dagger! You can't, Angel, you'll die! Angel, please!" she begged, her beautiful eyes filling with frightened tears.
It was if the world suddenly slowed down. Angel's eyes darted his eyes between the love of his life, begging him to come with her to safety…and the fiery light of the sun, bringing him instant death with every second it approached.
His love, his life…or the world.
God, every part of him wanted to go with Buffy, screamed at him to let her pull him to safety, like she had all those years ago when she showed him what it meant to live, what it meant to love. He wanted it so much…
…but in his heart, Angel knew what he had to do.
What his friends needed him to do.
What his family needed him to be.
What the world called on him to be.
And deep down, what Angel knew in his soul was right.
It was hard. It might kill him.
But if there was a chance he could make a difference…do good…Angel knew he had to try.
Angel turned to back to the image of the woman he loved, gave her a look filled with all the love and passion and emotion he could muster. He reached for her, pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
Hard.
Passionate.
Wanting.
Desperately.
He poured all of his heart, all of his soul, every fibre of what he was into that kiss.
If it was one last time, then he wanted to take the memory of her taste, her scent, her being with him wherever the afterlife took him.
"I love you, Buffy," he whispered passionately, his eyes shining brightly in apology, begging her for understanding, but resolved in what he had to do. "No matter what…I'll always love you. Always."
"No, Angel! Angel, PLEASE!" she cried, tears streaming down her face.
Ignoring the pain, the agony of his heart breaking, the fear of what lay ahead for him, Angel tore his hand from her and ran. Ran headfirst towards the sunlight. Towards the dagger surrounded by white-hot sun.
Headfirst towards his doom.
And as he lept towards the dagger into the light, his hand managing to grasp the handle of the blade, but feeling the sunlight sear him, feeling his flesh instantly combust, the fire burning him, searing him, melting away all that he was, all he would ever be…
…he heard the woman he loved scream his name one last time…
"ANGEL!"
THUD!
Angel felt his body skid across the floor outside of the giant metal doorway from where he entered the trials.
He desperately batted at his arms trying to put out the fire around them…only to realize the fire wasn't there. His skin was un-scorched. Unblemished, save but for his battle wounds.
"Angel! Thank goodness," Alisdair blurted out as he and Whistler helped him to his feet.
"You okay, champ?" Whistler asked, concerned as he gave Angel the once-over.
Angel waved them off, trying to get his bearings. "I'm fine…geez, those life-or-death trials really have a way of messing up the lumbar area," he groaned, clutching his back.
Drogyn walked over to Angel, gave his longtime friend an impressed, though faint smile. "You're alive."
"As much as a dead guy can be," Angel muttered. "Don't sound so surprised."
"You'll have to forgive my skepticism, old friend," Drogyn shrugged. "I've never seen anyone survive the trials in my time here. It pleases me that you're the first."
Alisdair looked at what was in Angel's right hand, and his eyes widened. "Good Lord," he gasped. "Is that…?"
At that, Angel lifted what was in his hand to face-level.
Hope's Dagger.
The Weapon of the Champion.
It was a beautiful blade. Marvelous. Its hilt was made out of solid gold, magic runes carved into it. Engraved on the blade in Latin were the words of ancient times: "Pro Victor Et Unicus Victor". For The Champion And Only The Champion.
It was strange to Angel, but as he held the sword, he felt some kind of sense that it…had belonged to him.
And it had always belonged to him somehow.
The blade actually shone, glittered even, with a thrumming, almost pulsating light.
Almost as if it had a heartbeat, Angel realized.
As if it were…alive.
And then, the most unexpected thing happened that Angel would have never imagined, not even in his wildest dreams.
The sword spoke.
"Hello, Angel."
His eyes widened as big as saucers.
Its voice was warm, feminine, British-sounding. And it knew him.
"My name is Cassandra Rayne, a Champion of The Powers That Be. I've been waiting a long time for you. I hear we have work to do. I only hope we're not too late."
To Be Continued...
Next: Buffy struggles with getting her friends and allies to trust her as the End of Days draws near; The First Evil makes yet another move to rock Sunnydale to its core. And as Angel and his mysterious new weapon connect with each other, he finds himself facing his first real test at the hands of the First Evil's minions. Can Angel survive?
Note: The lyrics in the Lindsey and Kate scene are from the classic rock ballad "It's Been A While," by Staind.
More to come soon! Happy New Year! Please read and review!
Best,
Jean-theGuardian
