Bring Me To Life – A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event
Part 57
The Cold, Hard Truth
Sunnydale, California—Summers Residence
11:28 p.m.
Days Left Before the End of Days: 14
Buffy rubbed her arms together in self-comfort as she walked back through the upstairs hallway.
The Potentials and most of everyone else had gone back to their rooms for the night while some of the others tried to frantically contact Angel and the rest kept working on a badly injured Faith. The excitement of the last few developments had barely started to fade.
Buffy's own head was spinning still. She felt so many things.
Guilt, for not having realized what kind of torture Faith was enduring at the hands of The First. Fear, for Angel's safety as he fought for his life and theirs halfway across the world. And sorrow, such sorrow, as she replayed Dawn's words over and over again in her mind.
Maybe the Buffy I knew never really came back at all…maybe my sister really IS dead..
Buffy felt her heart and The Slayer within her fight over what those words meant. Had Dawn been right? Had she truly become so obsessed with winning that she had begun to lose the parts of her that made her…her?
No, she heard The Slayer snap back at her. Dawn is wrong. She's just a kid, she doesn't understand us. Doesn't understand you. She doesn't understand what you've sacrificed, what you've suffered, what hell you've been through. She'll thank us later when she lives. When she lives long enough to have the full happy life that we never got. This is WAR. This is about SURVIVAL. When it comes to war and survival, we all do what we have to so we can live. You know that. She doesn't see now. None of them do. But they will. They will because WE'RE the one that always clean up the mess. The one they always count on to fix everything. They're nothing without you. You don't need them, THEY need YOU. You know what they need better than they do. You always have. Because we're The Slayer. Stronger. Better.
Superior.
Yet as much as Buffy desperately wanted to believe that was true, deep down, she wasn't so sure. She had rejected the extra power the Shadow Men wanted to force upon her so she could hold on to her humanity.
But what if she was already beginning to lose it just by being so caught up in winning this war against The First?
Then was she really so different from The Shadow Men? Or the Watcher's Council? Or the First Slayer?
She didn't have time to muse too long on that before she caught sight of Spike exiting the room slowly, his hands rubbing his face tiredly. A stressed, concerned look creased his handsome features as he leaned on the wall.
He was clearly worried about Faith, Buffy realized.
Despite some hesitation, Buffy slowly approached him. She knew he must have been furious with her right now. After all, Buffy mused with deep guilt, if she had just listened to him, maybe Faith wouldn't have gone through hell to climb out of that hell she had just escaped from.
"Hey," she greeted him softly.
Not looking at her, Spike lowered his hands from his eyes. "Slayer," he greeted morosely.
Buffy had rarely seen him look this serious, this lost in troubled thought. "How…how is Faith?"
Tiredly, Spike shook his head. "It's been tough. They're trying to get the fever to break, but she's still burning up pretty hot. It's…it's hard seein' her like that."
His distress was evident in his tired eyes, and Buffy couldn't help but feel bad for Spike. She had seen that look of concern only a handful of times in his eyes before.
"She'll be okay, Spike," Buffy tried to encourage him. "Funny thing about us Slayers. We can take a lickin' and keep on tickin'. We heal fast. Faith is a lot of things…but one of those is that she's a survivor. She's tough. She'll pull through, you'll see."
Yet her words didn't seem to ease Spike much. "I hope you're right," Spike muttered, a troubled look in his eyes. "But some wounds take longer to heal than others. Some…might not ever heal…"
His words troubled Buffy, but she had a feeling that now wasn't the time to ask what exactly happened to Faith in that nightmarish place. So she decided to switch the topic.
"Spike…" she began, earnestly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have listened to you when you were trying to tell me that Faith was…"
He held up his hand, and for a moment, her heart began to ache as she took it as a sign of his rejection of her apology.
Yet his words surprised her. "No…I'm the one who should be sorry," he said, looking sincerely at her. "Buffy…when we were down there…I…I said some things."
You left Faith there to die, and all you have left now are your goddamn excuses. And I don't want to hear it. Any of it…
Buffy swallowed bitterly as she remembered Spike's caustic words. "Yeah," she sighed, looking down. "I, um..I remember."
Spike let out a breathless sigh. "Right…I was…I was wound up, and angry, and with what was happening with Faith, I wasn't thinking straight, and—"
"And you were right," Buffy replied simply, which earned her a look of surprise from the platinum blonde vampire. She rubbed her arms together, her eyes darting up as she forced herself to be honest. "The vineyard was a trap. It was practically screaming 'Trap!' in big Broadway lights. And you warned me. You all did. But between the First stealing the Keystone and trying to turn my back into a slinkie, and this thing with Angel and me, and time running out on this stupid apocalypse, I just needed a win so badly. I was desperate for a win."
Her hazel-green orbs filled with regret. "Caleb knew that. Hell, he was probably banking on that. And…I let some son-of-a-bitch with a preacher's collar sucker me in like I was a rookie."
Buffy shook her head, disgusted with herself. "Not a shining moment for me as team leader."
Spike gave her a surprisingly sympathetic look. "It's war, Ducks. It's always gonna be a crazy bag of starving cats. Mistakes are gonna be made. But we don't win wars by sittin' round blubberin' like babies over mistakes. We take our licks, shake 'em off and keep on swingin' 'till they drop…or 'till we do." He gave her a surprisingly sage smile, a bit of his century-old experience showing through. "Been through enough wars on this ball of dirt to know that's true. I'd wager even that dumb lummox Angel probably knows it."
Buffy gave him a faint smile, very much appreciating his colorful encouragement. "Thanks, Spike."
He shrugged it off, yet kept his eyes trained on her. "Don't mention it, pet."
His eyes drifted back towards the closed door where Faith was being treated, and the concern, the fear for her was so evident in Spike's eyes that Buffy felt compelled to ask.
"So…you and Faith, huh?" Buffy nervously shifted her weight from foot to foot. "That's…interesting."
Off those words, Spike eyed her with a weary expression. He really wasn't in the mood to discuss his…relationship? Bond? Weird attraction thing he couldn't explain?...between he and Faith with Buffy, of all people, especially now with Faith fighting for her life in the other room.
Buffy took the hint, raising her hands cautiously. "No, no, you're right, it's none of my business. I-I didn't mean to pry—"
"We're…I don't know," Spike relented, though he silently cursed himself. After the way things ended with Buffy, he was definitely not up for sharing what was happening between him and Faith with his ex-something…ex-girlfriend? Ex-flame? Ex-action on the side?...yet for whatever reason, part of him found it welcoming to discuss this with someone. "I don't know what we are. But I know I like her…a lot. And I know that I care about her. That she's different, in a good way. And that I haven't felt like this about anyone in a long time…"
Buffy took that in, silently ignoring the odd, yet dull sting at her pride and her heart. "Ouch. Okay, I guess I deserve that," Buffy muttered.
Now Spike looked at her in annoyance. "Yes, by all means, my girl's lyin' in there half-dead, let's make this about you, Buffy. Why not?"
Buffy raised an eyebrow at that slip. And judging by the surprised expression on Spike's face, she could see he caught it, too. "Your 'girl'?"
Spike, flustered, shook his head. "Well, I didn't mean it like that, I meant…" What did I mean? he wondered. Shaking his head, he regained his chain of thought. "It's nothing. Slip of the tongue, is all."
Off the faint flickers of wistfulness in Buffy's eyes, part of Spike, the insecure and petty side of him, wanted to rub it in Buffy's face. Stomp on her heart the way she did on his when she chose Angel over him and delight in it, show her what she missed out on when she made that mistake. He had the right to, didn't he? Hell, part of him felt it was almost demanded of him to do it…
But the other part simply didn't care. All that part of Spike cared about was Faith pulling out of this okay. That's all he wanted right now.
Sighing, Buffy closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again, giving Spike a warm look. She ended it with him, she told herself. It was the right decision, and it was mature, and it was for the best for both of us because we had no future together. But it doesn't mean I don't want him to be happy. Even if it's with someone else…even if that someone else is Faith. "No, I'm…I'm glad you're moving on. I know Faith and I haven't exactly been bestest friends in the last few years, but…if she makes you happy, then I'm all for it. You…you deserve to be happy, Spike."
The Slayer sighed wistfully. "At least one of us should be happy. Might as well be you."
Spike scrunched his eyes at that comment. "'One of us?' C'mon, Slayer, I figured you'd be happy as a clown with a pie in his hand now that you and Angel are back together snogging each other silly."
Buffy turned her gaze away, yet the pain in her soulful hazel-green eyes was evident.
Spike picked up on that immediately. "Bloody hell," he groaned. "You and Captain Forehead broke up again, didn't ya?"
Before Buffy could answer that, Spike let out a sardonic laugh as he groused, "Let me guess: Broody McGrumblePants gave you the 'I can't give you a normal life, yada-yada-yada' spiel and then gave you the heave-ho before he buggered off to get the magic letter opener, right?"
Buffy frowned, annoyed as she straightened up. "Actually, I was the one doing the hoeing this time…" Off Spike's raised eyebrow, Buffy's eyes widened and she blushed bright-red as she realized how that came out. "No wait, the heaving…no, whatever, the point is, this time I broke up with him. I ended it." She deflated as she thought back to that awful moment where they parted ways. "But…the rest of it you pretty much summed up, yeah."
Spike snorted. "Well, I'm not normally the type of guy that says 'I told ya so', but…"
"Then I'd really appreciate it if you don't be that guy right now," Buffy said with a soft pleading note in her voice. "I haven't told anyone outside of Willow…and Faith, for whatever reason. It's…"
She swallowed, trying to ignore the aching hollow hole in her heart that still felt like a healing gunshot wound that Angel had left behind. "It's still hard for me to talk about."
Spike gave her a pitying look. It wasn't too long ago where he was on the receiving end of that pain himself.
"Look, Buffy," he shrugged. "I know it might not mean much coming from me, but for what it's worth…you don't deserve that kind of pain."
Her eyes widened as she saw the sincerity in his clear blue eyes. Spike kept going, his voice quiet yet honest. "Five long years I've been watching you. I've seen all sorts of Slayers and bad-ass warrior blokes come and go. But you…you're different. I didn't really know why until I actually got to know you. Fight with you. Against you. And by your side. I've seen how you fight, how you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You're a hell of a woman, Buffy."
Buffy's eyes began to mist at the sincerity of his words. Buffy could tell that he meant them. Every word. And right now? She needed all the encouragement she could get. For Spike to say that to her, even after all that had happened between them…it meant so much to Buffy.
Yet because he was Spike, he couldn't resist. "And if Angel can't see that, then he's even more of a gormless ponce than I gave him credit for."
Buffy let out a chuckle at that. God, she needed a laugh tonight. She gave him a grateful look. "Thanks, Spike."
He gave her a warm grin himself. "Anytime, Slayer."
They said nothing else, but a silent, yet welcome understanding was said between them. As if a darkening door that was already closing from their past had finally been shut and locked.
And both of them were finally at peace with that.
The door suddenly opened, and Darla popped back out.
Spike's eyes immediately darted to her, Darla not noticing how Buffy's eyes darkened in a scowl upon seeing her.
"How is she?" Spike asked, his eyes full of concern.
Darla gave him a reassuring look. "Faith's fever finally broke," she said, which earned her a look of relief from Spike. "She's still not out of the woods yet, but…that's a big step. We'll treat the wounds, but the rest of it is up to her."
"Will she be okay?" Buffy asked.
Darla took a deep breath. "Nothing's for sure, but…I think she's got a really good shot now."
"Good," Buffy said, before a cold glare surfaced again on her pretty face. "Darla, we need to talk."
Darla looked surprised. "Um, of course, Buffy, what is it?"
"Oh, just the little matter of you giving my sister a super-powered makeover without telling me," Buffy replied sardonically.
Darla and Spike exchanged stunned, and somewhat guilty looks between themselves.
Buffy, ever quick to read body language, caught that quickly. "Wait…Spike, you knew about this? And you didn't tell me?" she asked accusingly, more than a little hurt.
Spike hesitated. "Well, 'knew' is such a strong word—" he began.
"He was right there when it happened," Darla relented, not willing to let Spike get off that easily.
Spike shot his Great Grandsire a glare. "Couldn't leave her one friend, could ya?"
Buffy shook her head, so angry she could barely process what she was hearing. "Who the hell gave you the right? What gave you the right? She's a kid, Darla—!"
"She's not a kid," Darla replied, her tone respectful but firm. "She's a growing young woman, and she has so much more power than you know. Buffy, I know it's hard to accept, but Dawn isn't like normal girls her age."
"Which is why she had to be made safe. That's my job. She's not your daughter, Darla, she's my sister. I'm her legal guardian, it's my job to protect her!" Buffy snapped.
"And I understand that, I do," Darla said, trying to placate the angry blonde Chosen One. "But coddling her and teaching her only a few basic moves isn't going to do that. Buffy, Dawn was already starting to show signs of her real power weeks ago."
"What? When?" Buffy demanded, startled at this revelation.
"Back when the Nibblet was helping us find Connor in the sewers," Spike offered sheepishly. "There was a whole thing where this giant green light shot outta her face and she lit up like a Christmas tree. Guess we forgot to mention that, huh?"
Buffy's lips formed a straight, hard line. "You should have told me! Both of you!"
"It wasn't our secret to tell," Darla replied patiently. "I asked Dawn. I gave her the choice of what she wanted to do, and she chose to embrace her power. And it's a good thing, Buffy, really, it is—"
"'Good thing?'" Buffy scoffed. "What's good, Darla? That she's a target now? That the same evil power that's been trying to kill me for months is coming after my kid sister? Or that she's got no shot at having a normal life now?"
The blonde-haired Slayer gave Darla an accusing look. "I trusted you, Darla. After what we've gone through, I thought for a second that maybe Angel was right about you. That you've changed. That maybe I shouldn't have doubted you. But I guess the joke was on Buffy, wasn't it? You're still the same, scheming Darla up to something just to mess with our heads."
Stung, Darla took that in, nodded as she did. She had grown to like Buffy over the course of the last few weeks, so to hear that Buffy had her doubts about her now despite everything they had gone through was disappointing to Darla.
"Okay, not going to pretend that didn't hurt a little…but you're wrong, Buffy. I have changed, and this isn't about me, or you. It's about Dawn." The former vampire's ancient, wise blue eyes gave Buffy an earnest look as she pleaded her case. "Protecting her like you have isn't working. And if it weren't for her already having powers, Dawn would have died when the Hyperion got sacked. She even saved some of the girls' lives. You've done a fine job raising her, Buffy. But she's growing up. She's becoming a hero in her own right. With the things coming at her that bump in the dark, she can either get eaten or she can bump them back and make them go away. And Dawn chose the latter. Sometimes, the best way to protect kids is teaching them how to protect themselves."
Unconvinced, Buffy folded her arms across her chest as her eyes fixed Darla with a knowing look. "Funny how you talk about defending kids so much, considering Angel tells me your first maternal instinct was to try and kill your own son when you were still pregnant with him."
Darla blanched, her mouth forming a stunned 'O' as she took a step back, the normally cool and prepared ex-vampire completely unprepared for Buffy's unexpected swipe.
Spike, surprised, looked at Darla in confusion. "Wait…you tried to kill the kid? When he was a…kid?"
Shaken, Darla looked away. For a moment, she wasn't able to say anything.
She could still remember that awful trek to the Yoro Mountains in Honduras to find that grubby shaman to perform that ritual to rid the growing life within her from her womb. She remembered her soulless self trying everything for weeks and months, desperately trying to do what she had centuries of practice doing—kill a child. Her own child.
Off seeing the pain in Darla's haunted sky-blue eyes, Buffy softened a bit. Her temper had gotten the best of her yet again, just like it had with Wesley. Just like it had when she rushed off to meet Caleb in that awful vineyard place. "Oh, God. Darla…" she began, her eyes filled with apology. "No, that was…Darla, I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry, I—"
"No, that's…you're right," Darla said softly, drawing in a shaky breath as she met Buffy's gaze with a look that showed she was still haunted by that past. "I did try to kill Connor before he was born. I was evil, and his soul was driving me crazy. I was feeling all these…things…and I panicked, and I handled it badly. And that's something I will never forgive myself for." She took another deep breath to steady herself as she made her case again to Buffy. "But just because I made that mistake doesn't mean I'm wrong about Dawn. She has to be able to take care of herself, Buffy. She has to know the…truth…"
Off Darla's shocked gaze, Buffy and Spike turned to the other side of the hallway.
Connor.
There he stood.
Rooted in place. Wide-eyed, a hurt and betrayed expression on his face.
"Oh, my God," a shocked Buffy muttered, realizing Connor must have heard everything.
Every heartbreaking word.
From around the corner, unseen and unheard to anyone but Connor…
…the late Daniel Holtz, whose image was occupied by The First Evil, smiled knowingly at Connor.
"Told you," Holtz/The First said softly. Smugly.
And then he/it vanished. Leaving the young warrior to deal with his heartbreak on his own.
For what felt like forever, Connor stared at his mother, tears brimming in his eyes.
His heart, so often battered and bruised, now sympathized with all the vampires he had staked. For he felt it crumbling to ashes within his own chest, leaving him feeling cold. Empty.
"So, it's true, isn't it?" he asked, his grief-strangled voice barely above a whisper, his eyes fixed on Darla. "You said I brought light to you shadow. Filled your heart with joy and love. That you'd never felt so close to any living thing as you did to me…" He bitterly scoffed as he remembered the words Darla used the night she first appeared to him, when he was about to sacrifice Anna for the fake Cordelia's 'baby'. "Your 'beautiful boy.'"
Oh, God, no. Not like this…please, don't let him find out like this…Darla, her eyes brimming with tears, shook her head as she pleaded with her son. "No…Connor…baby, please, you don't understand, I was—"
"I should have known it was just another lie. It's fine, Mom, I've heard them my whole life," Connor said through gritted teeth, his vision blurry with unshed tears. "But thanks for making this one prettier than most. I appreciate that. And you know something, Mom? When you tried to kill me while I was inside you…"
A lone tear fell down his cheek. "...I kinda wish you had."
Her own heart breaking at the sight of her son's anguished gaze, Darla reached out her trembling hand to him. "Connor, honey, please, listen to me, when that happened, I wasn't myse—"
But Connor turned and ran, disappearing around the corner.
"Connor! CONNOR! Baby, please, LISTEN TO ME! CONNOR!" Darla desperately cried out, her heart hammering in her chest as she bolted after him, Buffy and Spike joining her as they tried to follow the angst-ridden teenage warrior into his room…
…only to find his room now empty.
His duffel bag was gone.
The window was wide open.
And not a trace of him could be found anywhere.
At that moment, Darla's hand flew to her mouth, anguished motherly tears running down her face as she broke down. Spike, a troubled look on his own face as he felt sympathy for the poor kid, unconsciously moved to her, gathered her into his arms as she sobbed heartbreakingly, and offered her what little comfort he could provide.
Pained, Buffy looked up at the ceiling and down on the floor again, guilt and regret flooding her heart. Yet another mistake she had made, and this time, she had broken the heart of Angel's son. Darla's son. Dawn's boyfriend. A good, but troubled kid.
And she failed him.
She failed Darla.
She failed Dawn.
And maybe worst of all, she failed Angel.
The man she loved was risking his life, and she was supposed to protect his son, like he had protected her long ago when she needed him.
And instead, she let him down.
Oh, God, Buffy thought in grief as she stared at the empty window where a breeze flapped back the curtains, looking out into the dark, empty night streets where Connor had lost himself in. What have I done?
The Deeper Well—Deep in the Bowels of the Earth
Now
For the longest time, Angel stared at the shimmering sword Hope's Dagger in his grasp.
"You…you just…" Angel stammered, the words escaping him.
He looked back at Whistler, Drogyn and Alisdair Coames, trying to make sure he wasn't going crazy, or that he didn't get too concussed from all the Trial battles. "Wait, am I the only one who heard the sword talking to me?"
"I assure you, Angel, you have not taken leave of your senses," the sword spoke back in a rich female British accent. "Cassandra Rayne. Born in London, England over a thousand years ago. Champion of light, Knight of the Powers That Be, at your service."
Angel had no idea what to say.
He turned to Drogyn and Whistler. "You guys could have told me I'd be fighting for my life for a talking sword," he groused. "Didn't anyone think that'd be an important little detail?"
"Guess I should have given you the brochure," Whistler quipped, though lacking the same sardonic tone he was famous for.
His eyes softened as he removed his hat, revealing sandy blond, yet thinning head of hair. He stepped closer to the blade, a small ghost of a smile on his lips. "Cassie."
"Whistler?" the sword affectionately called to him. "My love…can it really be you?"
Angel looked at Whistler in surprise. "'My love?'" he asked his mentor.
Ignoring Angel and pretty much everything else in existence at the moment, the Agent of The Powers smiled sadly at the mystical sword that held the spirit of his long lost love. "It's me, baby," he grinned, his eyes full of long-forgotten longing. "I've missed you."
The sword seemed to glow brighter in Angel's grasp, pulsating like the excited heartbeat of a young woman lost in love.
"I'd give you a kiss if I still had lips," the sword…Cassandra, Angel silently corrected himself…said with a wistful tone.
Whistler chuckled. Be it as a sword or in the smoking hot body the once-beautiful blonde warrior had long ago, his Cassandra always knew how to make him smile. "If you still had a body, I'd be doing a lot more than just settle for a kiss," he winked.
"You can't see it…but I'm blushing," Cassandra replied, a hint of a smile in her tone.
For a moment, all the flirting made Angel long to see Buffy again. He missed her more than he could stand. The image of her in the final trial only further fanned the longing in his heart, the ache in his soul for her…
From the side, Drogyn smiled sadly, yet gratefully. He bowed his head in respect. "Cassandra," he greeted. "It has been too long since I last heard your voice."
"Much too long, Drogyn, my old friend," Cassandra greeted the legendary warrior warmly.
Now Angel looked annoyed as he turned to his allies. "Okay, so is everyone else friends with the talking sword but me? Better yet, did everyone else know about the talking sword but me?"
Alisdair shrugged. "Well, the Bisylline Codex had a chapter about Hope's Dagger I read once before I sold it to The Watchers Council. It said it was believed that the soul of its last wielder, Cassandra Rayne, was somehow transferred into the sword before she could vanquish The Avatar of The First Evil during The Battle of The Cliffs of Moher a millennium ago. That the mystical properties of the sword must have changed her somehow before The First Evil's Avatar could—"
"Not the point, Alasdair," Angel snapped. He turned to Whistler, Angel's dark brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Care to fill me in on why you kept this a secret from me? Again?"
Whistler shrugged, yet his posture became slightly defensive. "You didn't need to know about it then. Now you know. Wasn't a very critical detail at that time."
"Like the detail that apparently you and this…Cassandra…are old flames?" Angel pressed him, annoyed that Whistler was still keeping him in the dark. "Anything else you're keeping from me, Whistler?"
"Angel. I'm only going to say this once. Leave it alone," Whistler replied sternly, one of the rare times the souled vampire detective had ever seen his wisecracking mentor this serious. "This one was personal."
That wasn't nearly good enough for Angel. "Yeah? Well it was my personal ass that I just risked going into those damn trials to get this thing so we can save the world and reality as we know it. I'm starting to get a little tired of you not telling me everything you know, old man—"
"Hey," Whistler barked, stepping up close to the much taller vampire.
The wise hazel eyes of the ages-old half-demon were filled with emotion that Angel had rarely seen in them. Resentment. Heartache. The eyes of a man who knew what it was like to lose someone he loved, Angel realized.
"You know what you need to know, and so do I, kid," Whistler gritted out. "Those are the rules. Doesn't mean I like 'em, but I have to play by them, same as you and Buffy. We all have our jobs. I have mine and you have yours. Drop it."
Both men glared hard at each other, the air practically rippling with tension between them.
"Angel," Cassandra's voice broke the tense silence. "I do regret that you were kept in the dark so long about my…presence…but Whistler is right. That isn't important now. What matters is the lives we have to save. We can't waste any more time debating the 'why' and 'wherefore'. Now is the time for action."
Reluctantly, Angel silently agreed. All that mattered was getting back home. Back to those scared Potentials that needed his help. Back to his family. Back to his friends. Back to his son.
Back to Buffy, he silently thought, his long-dead heart aching in longing for his soulmate.
So shelving his anger at Whistler's secrecy in favor of his duty, for now, Angel held up his new weapon. "Well, then," he sighed without breath. "Saddle up. We've got work to do."
The four men made their way past the caverns and eventually back up to the entrance of the Deeper Well.
The dark forest was still cloaked under the cover of darkness, though the first light of dawn wasn't far off, according to Angel's keen senses.
Angel turned to Drogyn, the two old friends nodding at one another.
"It was good seeing you again, Drogyn," Angel nodded sincerely at him.
The often-grim warrior of light nodded back. "Likewise, old friend. You should be proud. Less than a handful of beings have ever been worthy enough to wield what you possess now. It's a deed worthy of legend."
"Legends are usually overrated," Angel shrugged. He was never one to care for lore. Besides, the legend he had created for himself in his past wasn't one he was proud of. It was one he would spend an eternity trying to make amends for.
Drogyn chuckled. "You haven't changed at all. I like that." He looked down at the legendary sword in Angel's hand. "Take care of her, Angel. Cassandra is…a very dear friend of mine. She's one of the only ones left in the world who remembers the face of the only woman I've ever loved."
Angel blinked in surprise. "She knew Catherine?" Drogyn had told Angel long ago during their adventures in wartime Lviv about the scarlet-haired princess / Slayer who had won his heart.
"We all did," Whistler told Angel, guardedly sharing a little more of his past. "Like Cassie, Catherine was…a hell of a woman."
"The best," Cassandra said, another wistful tone in her voice as she remembered her soul sister.
"She was…unforgettable," Drogyn sighed, his serious eyes softening for a moment as he remembered his lost love, her dancing green eyes, her dazzling smile, the sweet taste of her full pink lips. "You would have liked her, Angel."
All this talk of Catherine further made Angel's heart long for the only woman he knew of that could ever fit that description, and more. Buffy…
"I think I would," Angel offered sincerely. "You sure you can't spare a few days in California, Drogyn? We could use all the help we can get."
Drogyn smiled, but shook his head. "I cannot, old friend. My watch must forever be at the Well unless The Powers That Be relieve me of my duties."
ZZRACK!
A powerful blast of hot green plasma energy buckled and broke the ground beneath them, sending them all sprawling.
Groaning, Angel quickly got to his feet, Hope's Dagger humming angrily in his hand as he raised his new weapon for battle.
Above him, he saw the source of the nearly-lethal energy…
Pearl and Nash.
Smiling darkly as they hovered above them like vultures eyeing their prey, both half-demon siblings all sharp teeth, pointed ears and snub noses, their bright azure eyes now glowing with deadly jade green energy.
"Oh, if you need a break, Drogyn, old boy, we'll be more than happy to relieve you of your burden," Nash grinned. "Permanently."
"Angel," Pearl smiled sinisterly, her eyes lit up in recognition as they landed on the souled vampire.
Great. Just what I needed after fighting for my life in nearly-unwinnable Trials to the death. These jackasses, Angel silently griped as he beheld his old foes from Las Vegas.
"Pearl. Nash," Angel greeted through clenched teeth. "What's it been, 5, 6 decades?"
"At least," Pearl smirked, a throaty chuckle leaving her frost-hued lips. "Your hair hasn't changed at all. Pity."
Her eyes narrowed in rage as she suddenly noticed the elderly archmage just behind him. "You. Alasdair Coames," she hissed hatefully. "MURDERER!"
The old archmage's eyes narrowed balefully as well as he looked up at the half-demons. "Pearl and Nash Finney. I thought I'd seen the last of you in Oklahoma. A shame you didn't follow your revolting crazed crone of a mother to the grave I sent her to."
Furious, the half-demon twins glowed an even hotter shade of green.
Angel looked at Alasdair in surprise. "Wait. You know these clowns?"
Alasdair didn't break his stony gaze from his old enemies as his blue lantern began to magically charge up for battle. "Oklahoma, 1970. I may have…infiltrated their home with several of my colleagues, killed dozens of their demon hellspawn children and charred their crazed mother Susan Finney to ashes."
Angel fought the urge to groan. Emotion-powered demons now given the need for revenge…never a good combination, he realized grimly.
"A shame Spike isn't with you to complete the hat trick," Nash said, his infuriating grin still on his face. "But to get payback on the child-killer scum who killed our children and get in the First's good graces by taking the vaunted Champion of the Powers off the board? What a lovely bonus."
As he saw Whistler and Drogyn get back on their feet, both ready for action, Angel gave the demonic twins a look of contempt. "You two idiots get one warning," he growled at them, feeling his game face dangerously close to slipping on, raising Hope's Dagger warningly. "Go back to your boss if you want to keep breathing. I'm in no mood to play."
Pearl's grin somehow grew darker. "How unfortunate for you."
From the shadows, Bringers—dozens of them—emerged, all wielding knives and axes and sharp pointy things.
Alongside them…Ethan Rayne.
His hands glowing red in pure Chaos energy as he held an ominous-looking black book with a blood-and-gold-shaped pentagram with the head of a goat with its tongue out.
The symbol of The Seal of Danzalthar.
The symbol of The First Evil.
"Because we came to play our favorite part of the game," Ethan smirked wickedly as his eyes fell on Angel. "Sudden death."
They were outmanned, and possibly outgunned, Angel could see that.
And he had barely recovered from his grueling trials.
It wasn't looking good, and he knew that.
As he looked around at the deadly odds against him and his allies, he turned for a moment to Drogyn. "Is it too late to go back and do those Trials again?"
To Be Continued…
Next: Empty Places- Part 1…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?
More to come soon! Please read and review!
Later!
Best,
Jean-theGuardian
