Bring Me To Life – A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event

Part 62

Empty Places, Part 4


Sunnydale, California

Main Street

1:23 p.m.

Days Left Before the End of Days: 10


Panic continued to race through the streets of Sunnydale, people smashing windows and looting stores, some running through the streets, others stuffed in their cars and honking madly as they pushed to get out of the traffic jam backing the roads up for miles to get to safety.

And in the midst of the chaos, a crestfallen Connor walked through the streets alone.

He ignored the sirens blaring around him. He paid no mind to the mayhem in the streets surrounding him.

He was numb to it. He was numb to…everything.

How else was he supposed to feel after everything that had happened? The death of Matthew, something that was his fault. The visions of Holtz, his dead fake 'father', plaguing him. And now, the bombshell of hearing the truth about his birth. How his own mother Darla didn't want him when he was still inside her. How she had wanted to kill him before he was born.

Like he was just a parasite.

Like he was worth nothing.

And what was worse…how a little part of his fracturing psyche wished that she had done it.

So he would be spared the pain, the horror of this harsh life.

It's chaotic today, he absently noted, unlike how things were before Jasmine/ The First cast that horrifying telecast nights before that sent the town up in a frenzy. Even homeless and on the street, he had managed to see the broadcast, watched in horror as Jasmine unleashed those quick series of plagues, just like in the Bible that Holtz had fanatically read to him in Quor'toth.

Connor remembered watching as people began dying around him during those mini-disasters. How he desperately tried to save some of them, only to fail, having to watch them die. Yet more people that he had failed, that he had let down. He had only barely survived himself by seeking shelter in a now-vacant store, waiting for the worst to pass.

It was bad out here now, the former Destroyer noted, even by Quor'toth standards. And lonely.

He missed being home at the Summers house, he mused sadly, his tortured thoughts enveloping his heart and mind. He missed his mom. He missed sleeping in a bed. He missed Vi, Amanda, and Molly. He missed Gunn and Fred. He missed Faith. He kinda missed his da…Angel, he mentally corrected himself. Hell, he almost even missed Spike. Most of all, he missed Dawn.

God, how he missed Dawn. Her warm eyes, her beautiful smile, her infectious laughter, her soft arms around him…

Part of him wanted to turn around and go back. To be welcome back home. But another part of him, the dark half, whispered to him what he feared to be true…he didn't have a home.

He never did.

Because he didn't belong here. He never belonged here to begin with.

And you never will, the dark part of him whispered cruelly from the darkest parts of his heart, his soul. You're a freak. You've always been a freak. And you always will be, Connor. You don't belong here. You don't belong anywhere…

His eyes misting, he angrily swatted that thought away, wishing for it to just go away and leave him alone.

Alone like he always was…

"Penny for your thoughts?" a familiar voice asked him.

Surprised, Connor turned, and found himself face to face with one of the voices he was trying to avoid: Holtz.

Or rather, not-Holtz. The First, Connor realized with a scowl.

"Fuck you," Connor angrily spat out, turning and walking onwards, trying to ignore him.

Holtz/ The First only followed. "What did I tell you about language, boy? That's unbecoming of you."

"Leave. Me. Alone," Connor shot back, his voice a low, warning growl.

"I thought you would have realized it by now, Connor," 'Holtz' shook his head in disappointment. "You are alone."

Ignoring the ache in his heart from the cruel taunt, Connor said nothing, kept walking.

"Did you like my little telecast?" Holtz/The First smiled darkly. "The chaos, the bedlam, all these sheep you still desperately need to save scurrying around like chickens…I haven't seen this kind of mass hysteria since the Salem Witch Trials. Something your fake father would have appreciated, I'm sure, religious zealot that he was. I'm sure your real father Angelus would have appreciated it, too. He burned a witch once, you know. Slowly. She screamed all day and night before he killed her."

Having had enough of the ghostly apparition's prattling, Connor angrily turned on his heels. "Look, I'm sure I can't rank high on your 'List of Evil Things to Do' right now. So do me a favor? Either turn corporeal so I can kick your ass, or go find some children to scare. I don't really a crap, so long as you leave me the hell alone!"

"Why do you bother to save these people?" Holtz/The First asked, curiously.

That, Connor was not expecting. "...What?"

"These people," The First clarified, gesturing to the panicking masses around them. "I know about how you tried to save a few of them last night. That little girl trapped in that building, for example. How she was screaming for help, her little arms reaching out desperately for you. How you tried so hard to be the hero she needed you to be before the burning beams collapsed on you both—"

"Shut up," Connor bit out, his voice hard in warning. He did not want to think about that. That poor little girl's face haunted him all night.

"You realize it's all for nothing, don't you?" Holtz/The First asked him. "The human condition is rather pointless. They're born. They suffer. They die. It's what they do. Their lives mean absolutely nothing in the bigger picture. Less than a grain of sand in the desert. They shouldn't mean anything to those like you and I, Connor. We're different. Above them. Better than them."

Connor scowled, looking disgusted by the comparison. "I'm nothing like you."

Holtz/ The First only smirked knowingly. "Aren't you? We're both powerful. Driven. Relentless. And like you…I also know what it's like to be born to parents…who didn't want you."

The words struck Connor hard, making his scowl falter, revealing the hurt young boy the hardened warrior had fought so hard to shield from the world so intent on hurting him.

Yes…I did try to kill Connor, rang the voice of his own mother in his head.

"All your life, you've been pushed and pulled by people who seek to want to mold you, change you forcibly into what they want you to be. Angel. Holtz. Wolfram & Hart. My worthless minion that possessed Miss Chase's body and manipulated you for months. Even your lovely new girlfriend."

Connor looked at him/it in a mix of horror and anger. "Don't you dare bring Dawn into this."

Holtz/ The First held up a hand placatingly. "This isn't about her. This is about you now, young warrior. But unlike them, I have no intention of pulling you this way or that. That wouldn't do much good now, would it? No. Instead of telling you how you should fit into the world, I'll do you one better. Something that your father Angel would never do."

Everything in Connor told him that he should run. That he shouldn't listen to this creature. That every word out of its mouth was a lie.

And yet…part of him couldn't help but be curious. "And what's that?" the conflicted young hero cautiously asked.

Holtz/ The First smiled. "I'll show you the world. The real world. Give you a real look at how these people you so desperately want to help truly are. Without the mask."

At that, the image of his false father looked upwards. Confused for a moment, Connor stopped and looked up to follow his gaze. What he saw puzzled him: he saw a man pacing on the roof of a tall building beside him.

Looking quite distressed.

Looking like he needed help.


Within a few moments, Connor was on the roof as he approached the man pacing near the edge of the roof. The man was muttering to himself. He's some kind of police or security officer, Connor realized from the ugly navy blue uniform and badge.

In his hands, he held a gun. And Connor instantly went on alert. He was super-strong, super-durable…but even he was not bulletproof.

Connor cautiously approached the man. "Hey. You okay?"

For a moment, the officer said nothing, only babbling to himself quietly, holding his gun like it was a teddy bear while pacing frantically.

The sweating officer babbled profusely. "This is it. This is the end. The end of the world. We're all gonna die." He suddenly shouted in hysteria, "We're all gonna die!"

Connor realized that the man was probably in the thick of things when the plagues were unleashed in Sunnydale. He had probably seen his share of madness these last few days.

I know how that feels, the young warrior tiredly thought.

Connor sighed, taking some pity on the man. "Look…it's okay. It's okay. We're going to get through this, alright, buddy?"

Yet Connor could see that his words weren't having any effect on the increasingly erratic man.

All the once-Miracle Child could do was watch as the man looked at his gun as he held it in both hands…

…then raise it up as he started to point it at himself.

Reacting on instinct, Connor swiftly moved up to him and stopped him.

"Hey! Hey. Easy, pal. You don't want to do that," Connor said, reaching out to push the gun down and away from the officer's face. Part of him found it ironic that as angry and conflicted as he was right now, it was he who had to be the voice of reason with this older man. He would have laughed if the situation wasn't so dire. "What you're feeling right now won't last. Let's just put this away, okay? That's right."

Slowly, Connor reached down and took the weapon away from the man, helped him push it into his holster. Weakly, the man nodded.

Gently, Connor nudged him along, tried to get him walking towards the exit of the roof. Where he would hopefully walk off his suicidal chain of thought, Connor hoped. "There you go. Listen. You're gonna go home, and you're not gonna do anything stupid, okay?"

Holtz/The First, seen only by Connor, leaned against the exit, a wry smile on his/its face. "How very noble."

"Shut up," Connor growled at it.

The officer looked up, confused. "Excuse me?"

Connor turned back to the man, realizing that he wasn't seeing what the young warrior was. The First only revealed itself to those it wished to speak to, he remembered. To the despondent officer, Connor might as well have been talking to a ghost.

"Um…nothing," Connor quickly shook his head. "Just go home, okay?"

The officer looked up at the teenager in confusion. "Home?"

Starting to lose his patience a little, an annoyed Connor quickly patted the man on the back as he tried to move him along. "Yeah, you got one, don't you?"

As if coming out of a trance, the officer's eyes lit up in recognition. "Yeah…yeah! I-I-I got one."

Holtz/The First smiled knowingly at Connor. "Watch what's in his wallet."

Suspicious, but intrigued, Connor watched what the man did next…and what he did shocked Connor to his core.

With that, the officer took out his wallet, showing pictures to Connor. Pictures of a woman. His wife, Connor realized with a chill. And a little baby girl, which was unmistakably their daughter.

Connor's jaw dropped in horror. His family…

"Look. That's Sarah, and that's Jill. That's my home right there, right there," the man babbled, smiling in relief as he seemed to remember who he was…and what he stood to lose.

Yet for Connor, whose eyes widened with anger…that 'happy ending' was anything but for him.

"That's your family?" Connor demanded, irritated. No. Angry. "That's your family, and you were just gonna leave them like that? How were they gonna feel if you didn't come back? Huh?"

The cop stammered, not sure of what to say. "I-I-I don't know."

Something in Connor snapped.

"You don't know?" He grabbed the man hard, shaking him by his uniform. His voice raised to an angry shout. "You have to know that!"

The cop shook his head, eyes wide in fear. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

Disgusted, Connor released his grip and began to walk away…

…until The First's words stopped him.

"You see, Connor?," Holtz/The First shook his head, like a teacher finally drilling in a lesson to a lazy student. "What is life worth? It's not even worth anything to them. This man is supposed to protect the innocent, he took a vow. Yet he thought nothing about leaving his wife a widow and his child without a father. Taking that child's family from her. As yours was."

The cold reality of the being's words washed over Connor like an icy wave. Felt it cracking and freezing the few shreds of decency and sanity that he had left.

"The truth is this, Connor. If we live in a world where the wicked don't face justice after they destroy people's lives, like Wolfram & Hart, like Holtz, like Angelus, then there is no justice. If we can live in a world where a child's innocence can be destroyed, like yours was, like young Anna's, or Matthew's, or like this child's could have been, then there is no innocence. You fight so hard to protect life, like Angel does. Yet to these people, life…is a joke."

The rumpled face of the man who raised him gave Connor a tired look. "Aren't you tired of having to clean up after their messes? Aren't you tired of being the punchline?"

What little remained of the hero inside of Connor, the hero his lovely Dawn desperately wanted him to be, tried to push those words away, block them out.

Yet the other part, the dark, violent part—the Destroyer—felt his confusion, his anger over his life, everything that was taken from him…suddenly give way to rage.

Dark. Angry. Violent.

RAGE.

Spinning quickly on his heels, Connor walked back towards the dazed officer…and violently rocketed his fist at the man's head, knocking him down and practically out.

A menacing scowl on his face, tears forming in his cobalt blue eyes, the supernatural teenage warrior towered over the man, fists balled into deadly knots.

"So you were gonna leave 'em, huh?" He hauled back and began punching the man. Again. And again. And again. And again. "You weren't thinking? Think about this!" POW! "Think about this!" POW! "Huh?" POW! "Huh?"

Each punch felt frighteningly cathartic to Connor, angry tears streaming down his face. Letting out all his rage. His pain. His anguish.

His pain over the loss of his childhood.

His hatred and resentment of Holtz, of Angel.

His rage over his supernatural nature that his parents foisted upon him.

His anguish over losing Matthew. Losing Anna. His mother.

Dawn…

He grew tired of holding his pain, his rage back. So he gave into it. Surrendered to it. Embraced it.

And, a part of him was ashamed to admit, while another part eagerly relented...it felt pretty damn good.

And all the while, The First/ Holtz ominously smiled. "Good boy. You're learning."


Sunnydale, California

Summers Residence, 1630 Revello Drive - Basement

2:34 p.m.

Days Left Before the End of Days: 10


Giles, Wesley, Darla, Kate and Dawn were working on the island in the center of the kitchen, file pages spread everywhere, reports, press clippings and photographs littering the place. A combination of the files Willow obtained from the police, the records that Lindsey had procured from Wolfram and Hart's databases, reports Kate was able to obtain from her law enforcement contacts and the combined research that both the Scoobies and Angel Investigations had been able to wrangle together.

All of them which they hoped would be able to lead them to something on Caleb, something on what The First was up to.

Giles slowly approached Dawn. He and the volatile younger Summers sister had not spoken much since Dawn found out about Giles's urging of Buffy to let her die during the Glory debacle years ago. To say things between them were tense was an understatement. Still, the older man hoped to start making amends with the blossoming young heroine.

"Show me what you have," Giles told Dawn, gently, like a parent would ask a child to show them what they made in preschool.

"Not much," Dawn replied, somewhat discouraged. "Most of these places were hit by run-of-the-mill vandalism. Basic B and E, money stolen, sometimes colorful language painted on the doors." She looked up at Kate. "Did you notice how I just kind of threw 'B and E' in there? It's a law enforcement term."

Despite herself, Kate smiled at Dawn, appreciating the effort. "That's right. Not bad, kid. We'll make a cop out of you yet," the former cop said, earning a beaming smile from Dawn.

"Yes," Giles placated her. "Yes, excellent work. Very proud."

Shaking off the glow of the praise, Dawn got back to business. "Here's the one that stood out. It's a mission place up north in Gilroy."

She slid a photo to Giles and Kate as Andrew entered.

Then Andrew came into the kitchen, much with the pissed-off hangdog, as he put forth his complaint. "Um, Mr. Giles? Faith stole the last meatball-and-mozzarella-flavored Hot Pocket out of the freezer even though I had called dibs on it."

Ignoring Andrew, Giles kept his eyes focused on the picture. "I don't see anything."

"Neither do I," a confused Kate agreed with the Watcher.

"Exactly," Dawn concurred. "No vandalism at all."

"Then why is it in the file?" Wesley asked, puzzled.

"Place was abandoned," Kate explained, putting another file down on the table in front of them with the full report, reading off of it. "Locals started realizing after a few days that no one was going in or out. Six members of the order lived there. When the cops showed up, all gone. Unsolved."

Doggedly, Andrew opened the freezer, whining like a puppy. "Yup. See? The Post-it's still there: 'Andrew's, please do not eat,' but the box is empty now."

Also ignoring the yammering boy, Darla's sharp eyes perused the photo, not noticing anything special at first...and then she saw it.

"Giles, Wesley...look at this," a wide-eyed Darla motioned, drawing the Watchers' eyes to what drew her attention in the photograph.

Studying the photo, the significance of what he was looking at suddenly dawned on Giles. "I'm not seeing any…Oh."

"Oh," Wesley echoed, getting it as well.

"Oh!" Kate said with realization.

"'Oh?'" Dawn was excited. "Oh, good? Or...Oh, bad?"

"Not sure. Here . . ." The other followed Giles as he carried the photo into the living room, where about seven or eight Potentials were sitting around the room, quiet and depressed.

Oblivious as usual, Andrew followed them with his complaint, saying in almost a petulant whine, "I mean, I was really looking forward to having that Hot Pocket!"

Sitting down as he continued to ignore Andrew the way one would an ant, Giles opened the desk drawer, pulled out a magnifying glass, and closely examined the police photo.

It took him a moment before his suspicions were realized about the seemingly insignificant spot that might in fact have turned out to be a major clue in the mystery around The First's new lieutenant.

"My God. This could be very big, if it turns out to be what I think it is," Giles murmured aloud.

"See, it's not the hot pocket itself— even though it did have that new-and-improved thicker tomato sauce— it's just the fundamental lack of respect," Andrew whined as he continued his rant.

Barely sparing him a glance, Giles pointed to Andrew and said calmly, yet pointedly, "You. Shut up. Pay attention."

To the relief of all, the nerdling immediately turtled up, ceasing his rant and staying quiet for fear of angering the Watcher once known as "Ripper".

Standing he handed the magnifying glass to Dawn. "Do you see that knothole in the back wall? What does that look like?"

Dawn bent in closer, examining the photo. She then got it. "It's not a knothole," she realized.

"No...it's Caleb's mark," Wesley elaborated.

"Seems like this 'man of God' doesn't differ from most other serial killers. They always like to leave a mark," Darla frowned, folding her arms across her shoulders. I remember what that was like, Darla morosely remembered, barely repressing a shiver as she remembered the days of carnage alongside Angelus in Europe. Once a happy memory for her soulless self, it now made Darla sick with horror and shame.

Off that, Dawn's eyes widened as she realized what it meant. Wherever this place was, Caleb had been there. Finally, they seemed to have caught a break in figuring out who this Caleb creep is. And maybe find out what he was doing there.

"Amanda, " Giles said, keeping his voice even, "would you go down to the basement and get Spike?"

Amanda slowly got up, nodding, and left the room.

Giles and Dawn looked around.

"These poor girls," Giles murmured. They were poor indeed, thoroughly demoralized, caught and sinking in a quagmire of depression. Staring out the window, speaking in hushed voices and sad whispers—it was pervasive, relentless hopelessness.

"Maybe this will help," Dawn said encouragingly to Giles. "If this does get us closer to Caleb."

Gunn and Fred came in from the kitchen, each of them finishing up on two more Hot Pockets that were somehow undetected to the hungry household. Silently, a stunned Andrew stewed, knowing there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gunn could see Rona, Caridad and a few of the other Potentials giving him an appreciative look, some of them giggling and whispering among themselves at the sight of the handsome, muscular demon hunter. Fred, amused, turned a teasing look at Gunn, as if to poke fun at him for amassing his little fan club of groupies. Smirking, Gunn rolled his eyes at her in fake exasperation. He admitted silently that part of him did enjoy being ogled by a group of attractive young teen females, but he paid them no mind.

Besides, he knew deep in his heart that Fred was the only one for him. Something that they had yet to talk about. Yet, being the keyword.

"Yo," Gunn greeted the group in his laidback tone, which drew a few audible sighs from the Potentials. Ignoring that, he looked at Giles. "Has anyone heard from Buffy yet? Fred and I tried calling her a little while ago. No answer."

Giles and Dawn gave each other concerned looks. "Not yet. Uh, have you tried texting her?" Dawn asked, concerned but trying not to sound too concerned. She was still furious with her sister, after all. But still…it was her sister, after all.

"No luck," Fred shook her head, looking worried herself. "I've sent her like a hundred messages so far. Nothing."

Giles furrowed his brow. Not checking in was very unlike Buffy, he realized. And he didn't like the idea of her still being out and about with the town in a state of chaos, even if she was The Slayer.

"Oh, my. Um, I-I-I would wager she's running some errands. She might have needed a bit of a…distraction from the recent events," Giles mused.

Darla shook her head. "No, that doesn't sound like Buffy, either. She might be the shopping type, but I doubt she'd use the apocalypse as a time to go find a nearby shoe sale."

"Darla's right. Doesn't seem like it's Buffy's style," Kate added.

"It's not," Dawn said, a little defensively, protecting her sister more out of instinct than anything else at the moment. She looked anxiously at Giles. "Maybe…maybe someone should go check on her. Just in case?"

Giles thought it over for a moment. At last, he nodded. "Let's give her until 5 p.m. If she doesn't check in by then, we should go look for her. Mister Gunn, Winifred, would you, um, mind heading out to find her in that instance?"

"No problem," Gunn nodded, understanding.

"Of course we will," Fred nodded, giving Giles a warm smile.

"Good, thank you," Giles nodded in kind. He turned to Dawn, who was trying to hide the worry in her eyes. "Let's not panic. This is Buffy, after all. I'm sure she'll be quite all right."


Sunnydale, California

Sunnydale High School - Auditorium

A few minutes later


Buffy was, in fact, not all right.

Not at all.

Her body swaying almost bonelessly, the unconscious Buffy dangled in Caleb's arms as he carried her bridal-style into the dark, empty auditorium.

A parody of a sleeping princess being rescued by some handsome brave knight.

Only Buffy was not a princess, and Caleb was certainly no knight in shining armor.

More akin to a demon in man's flesh with unsuspecting prey in his captivity.

And all in all, the entire thing made Caleb harden in excitement.

With his mighty hands, the servant of The First had humbled the 'mighty' Slayer. Reduced her to just another dirty girl fallen at his feet, like so many others.

Caleb couldn't give a piss about that dark-haired whore Slayer that slipped through his fingers nights ago now. Once his master saw what he did to the real Slayer, the true Slayer, any of his failures would be washed away. Cleansed.

Like being reborn, he mused.

After walking down the rampway, Caleb placed the slumbering Buffy's body onto the stage.

"You know, my daddy once said he should have been an actor as his profession," he confided to the unconscious Slayer as he hopped onto the stage. "Said he would have loved to have been in the limelight. Be a big star. Though frankly, he probably would have sucked at that, too."

He took a look around at his surroundings. The student-made props and acting tools that the Sunnydale Drama Club had left behind in their wake following the cancellation of school. Apparently, their last play was supposed to be "Jesus Christ Superstar", from what the flier said.

Figures, Caleb mused in disgust. Leave it to the heathens to make a profit off of religion.

He wanted something to make a statement. Do something big.

But what?

And then he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye.

The perfect prop.

Exactly what he needed.

And he smiled like he had seen the coming of The Lord.

He went to work tying the helpless Buffy's limbs not soon afterwards to the prop.

"You know, I want you to know, I consider this an honor," Caleb grinned in canine-like fashion at the unconscious Slayer. "Yes, sir, most men spend their whole lives looking for their calling. But me? I already found it. It gives a man a whole new outlook on life when he discovers why he's put on this earth. What he's supposed to do. Me? I already know it."

Caleb smirked as he tied a knot around Buffy's left ankle, binding it tightly. "It's about power."

Buffy could offer no response, lying helpless and prone, her mind lost in the quicksand of unconsciousness.

Caleb began working on her wrists next. He tied each delicate wrist as tightly as he could, and would no doubt leave bruises on Buffy's delicate skin. "But that's where we differ. You? You think that you are power. That the demon in your veins somehow gave you the right to act all high and mighty and noble. You really think you're that special, don't you? Until a real man comes along and shows you what true power really is. Yet unlike you…I know what I am. I know that I'm not Power. Not by myself, how could I be? Without the great Host, all I am is just a worthless bag of bones and blood and all them foul things. No. I have no illusions about my purpose. My destiny."

He leaned in close to the sleeping Buffy, smirking. "I live to serve. Serve the real power in this world. In all worlds. And their day is coming. The day when women like you…women just like my overbearing whore of a mother…will know your place and fall at the feet of the great power. And the new world order they're bringing. It'll be…"

He paused, thinking of a word. Smiling as it came to him. "...glorious."

As he finished the last of his work tying the Slayer down and effectively immobilizing her, he was about to turn away when he turned back to her and paused for a moment.

Taking in the sight of her.

Buffy Summers.

The legendary Slayer.

The most feared warrior in the underworld, the boogeyman for monsters. God-killer. Monster hunter. The undefeatable Chosen One.

Yet for all of her power and all of her hyperbole, all she was in the end was just another little girl at his mercy.

Though, he had to admit…she was a very beautiful one.

His eyes drunk her in.

Her skin glowed, no…she was practically golden. Almost as golden as that sun-kissed hair of hers, all tied up in a ponytail, revealing more of the curves of her beautiful face. Her pink, full lips called to him sinfully, beckoned him…

Beckoned them to grace hers with a touch of his own.

Staring at her as if mesmerized, his mouth open in slight awe at the beauty in front of him, he slowly reached up and let his fingers gently, ever so gently touch her. Approaching her as if touching her would somehow set his fingers ablaze with hellfire.

His fingers grazed the slim, toned belly of the perfectly-toned Slayer, skimming over the fabric of her shirt. Then they slowly slid upwards, up her tiny waist, traveling past her tight stomach and gilded up until his fingers found their way to the Slayer's perfect breasts.

Caleb looked at her in confusion, in awe. He had never much given attention to any of the carnal pursuits that most weak-willed men had. He always fancied himself as above such base desires. After all, it was women like his mother, like Lindsey's whore mother, that ruined his life. Stole his childhood. Ripped his family life and innocence away. Left him scarred and broken and alone and at the mercy of a woman who gave more attention to the bottle of Jack Daniels she downed every day than she did her own son.

Women, he decided long ago, were beneath him.

And yet…something about this temptress, this…Buffy Summers…was sucking him in, and he was damned if he could figure it out.

He let a thumb circle around one nipple, and for a moment, a dark thought entered his mind…a thought wondering what this feared Slayer would taste like in his mouth.

His hands drifted further up, thumb brushing against her soft lips. Fingers probing, exploring, caressing. Brushing back a stray lock of golden blonde hair from her face.

Of their own volition, Caleb began to lean in, his lips slowly hovering above hers, only a few slivers of air separating their lips from contact…

Then, as if splashed by cold water, he recoiled, horrified. Jumping back from her as if he had seen the devil himself.

He had been warned by his master about this Slayer. That her charms were dangerous. After all, she had changed the hearts and minds of the legendary Angelus and William the Bloody, and they were once among the most terrifying, most ruthless creatures on the planet. And she had even swayed Anyanka to her side, an acclaimed Vengeance Demon once completely devoted to nothing else but her mission, her purpose.

This is what she does, Caleb realized in horror and anger. Corrupts people. Sways them from their true path. Tempts them from The Way with her damnable charms, that sinful body…

In his anger, Caleb lashed out, the back of his hand connecting with her delicate cheek in a vicious slap. It did nothing to rouse Buffy from her unconsciousness, but it did draw a small trickle of blood from the corner of her pretty mouth.

Enraged, Caleb wrapped his hand around her throat, squeezing. "You will not tempt me. You hear me? You WILL! NOT! TEMPT! ME! I know my purpose!" he bellowed in hot fury in her face. "My aim is true! And I know…"

He stopped, drawing his hand back, composing himself. And the mad preacher smiled at his captive.

"And I know what I have to do."

With that, he picked up a camera. Smiled again at the unaware Buffy.

"Now isn't this a pretty picture," the psychotic servant of The First drawled cruelly. He took aim at her. "Smile."

FLASH!

FLASH!

And as he took disturbing picture after disturbing picture, there was nothing Buffy, the mighty Slayer, could do about it…

Except lay there…

…and bleed…


Sunnydale, California

Summers Residence, 1630 Revello Drive - Basement

4:58 p.m.

Days Left Before the End of Days: 10


Some time later, Faith entered, popping the last bit of a Hot Pocket into her mouth.

From the corner of the room, eying the last of his beloved snack food being devoured, Andrew seethed; yet the angry nerd barely registered to her as the brunette Slayer said to the others, "Sounded like there was news."

Then Spike came in from the kitchen with Amanda.

He briefly locked eyes with Faith. For a moment, she looked at him in surprise, not expecting him to be there. For a moment, the way her eyes briefly held a spark, a…something…for him, Spike's own eyes lit up in hope…

…only to lower them in disappointment after she just as suddenly looked away.

To his dismay, Faith had completely closed herself off from him since her escape from The First and return home. She wouldn't look him in the eye. Any attempt at conversation he made with her was met with an instant wall of solitude, indifference and cool brusqueness.

Spike suspected he knew in part why. During her time in captivity, while he had spent as much time talking to her, encouraging her, buoying her spirits as best he could, the link between them was suddenly severed for a time. He had lost contact with Faith, couldn't hear her thoughts, feel her emotions, see what she was going through anymore. He knew Drusilla had a hand in it, yet without meaning to…he had abandoned Faith. Broken his promise to her to be with her until the end. It was maybe no more than an hour, but for Faith, it must have been days, weeks. And the thought of her being left alone to those jackals made his heart crack with hurt, his blood boil with rage.

And now, where they once had a spark between them, a heat, a…sizzle…there was now an icy space between them that seemed to be growing each day. And it hurt and frustrated Spike to no end. All he wanted was for her to let her in. Talk to her. Tell him what had happened.

Let me in, Faith, he silently pleaded with his lightning-blue eyes as he looked at her. C'mon, baby, please, just let me in…

But she looked away. As if she was too hurt to meet his gaze. Too scared…

Swallowing hard, he let out an airless sigh as he gave up…for the moment. He would get through to her, though, that much he swore. For now, he relented and let her be.

The peroxide-blonde vampire then eyed Giles coolly. Spike hadn't forgotten the part Giles played in setting him up for Robin's attempted revenge killing a few weeks back. Robin he could excuse to some extent, after all, Spike did kill his mother; that man had a reason, at least. Giles, however, was another story. He thought after all this time that he would have earned Giles's trust by now, but it was clear that Spike was wrong. He didn't trust Spike anymore than Angel did, but at least Angel would try to kill him to his face, not sneak around and plot behind his back.

"What's up, Rupert?" Spike drawled, flippantly.

"We have a mission for you," Giles informed him.

Spike had to chuckle at that. "Really?" Spike mock-considered that information. "Because, you know, sometimes our missions end up with you trying to kill me. Can't say I'm fond of those."

"This is serious," Giles replied. "With real…" His gaze took in the room. "...ramifications. Have a look."

He showed the photo to Spike, who scrutinized it for a moment before he caught sight of Caleb's mark. Spike got it now, replying, "Ah. Looks like our boy was here."

He then looked up at Giles, his eyebrows raised in suspicion. "You want me to go check it out?"

Giles said neutrally, "I need someone who can handle himself in case Caleb left any . . . souvenirs."

"You want me to just go walking in there alone," a distrustful Spike stated, squaring off a bit.

"We're short-handed on muscle to keep the girls safe in case The First decides to stage an attack on the house. You'll be fine, I'm sure," Giles shot back, coolly.

Spike still didn't trust him, but relented. They needed whatever they could find on this Caleb wanker. "Fine. I'll head out a little before midnight."

Andrew whined forward, "Are we going to get to the food-stealing issue soon?"

An increasingly annoyed Giles was about to lash out at Andrew for his irritating whining over stolen junk food, but then he saw an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

"Take Andrew," Giles concluded.

Simultaneously, Andrew, Faith and Spike loudly blurted out, "What?!"

Off Faith's sudden, concerned exclamation, Spike turned to her, his eyes hopeful yet again. Yet Faith, as if catching herself, suddenly chilled her gaze, looking away from Spike again. His undead heart sunk. Why won't you look at me, luv?

"Well...you're always saying you want to get out of the house more," Dawn pointed out to Andrew, biting back a smile. She knew Andrew was probably a really bad choice to take along in this mission, but he was starting to become more trouble than was worth keeping him around.

"Yeah, but…" Andrew said anxiously.

"There might be demons," Giles pointed out. "Lurking about. You never know. He's a demon expert, he can help."

Spike was disgusted. He rolled his eyes and said, "Oh, please . . ."

"He can bring that...pan-flute thing of his," Wesley reasoned, having heard of that device during one of Andrew's many rants over the last few days in between preparing dinner. Frankly, he wouldn't mind being rid of the annoying man-child for a little while himself.

Giles loved it. "Excellent. Off you go."

Without looking, Giles gave Andrew a small shove towards Spike, who glowered at Giles in anger. Oh, was Spike ever going to make that washed-up old librarian pay for this…

A few seconds later, Gunn and Fred re-entered the room, the two of them on unofficial 'Buffy Watch'.

"Okay, it's officially past five o'clock. No sign of Buffy," Gunn declared.

"We just tried calling her another 10, 15 times. No response, and her voicemails are full," Fred said, a hint of worry in her pretty dark brown eyes.

Dawn's eyes betrayed a hint of worry. Giles, who saw it, decided that enough time had passed.

"Alright, we need to go and check on her," Giles said, his own voice indicating his concern for his Slayer.

A surprised Faith was now concerned. "Wait…something happened to Buffy?"

At that, Spike grew alarmed, as well. "What? What do you mean? Giles, where's Buffy?"

Giles sighed. "We…we don't exactly know. She was last seen headed towards the high school to, um, pick up her belongings."

Spike, nonplussed, folded his arms across his chest. "The high school? The abandoned, now-shuttered high school with the Hellmouth and the evil seal that opens up and can spit out another one of those Cave Vamps from Hell? That high school? And you lot thought it would be a good idea to let her go alone? Brilliant! I can see why the Council paid you the medium bucks, there, Rup."

The Watcher ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He did not feel like debating this with Spike, of all people. "It's Buffy. She's frankly better equipped than 90 percent of the people in this house to take care of herself in that situation, you included, Spike," he zinged back.

"Then why the hell isn't she back yet?" Spike demanded, feeling his temper rise.

"I don't know!" Giles shot back, just as heatedly.

"Guys, stop it!" Dawn shouted, already stressed enough about her sister and Connor both missing without this happening.

Sick of the yelling, Faith finally had enough. "Okay, enough! Both of you!" She looked between both Spike and Giles, each almost at each other's throats. At her outburst, both the Watcher and vampire had the good sense to back down, though each glared daggers at one another.

"Look," she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying her best to be the voice of reason, a role she had very little experience in. "Giles is right. If anyone knows their way around this hellhole of a town, it's B. She'll be alright. But just in case, we should start searching for her. Gunn, Fred, head to the high school." To Dawn, she flashed a reassuring half-smile. "Maybe she just got held up."

Appreciating the sentiment, a hopeful Dawn gratefully nodded.

Ignoring what he considered to be yet another temper tantrum from Spike, Gunn also nodded at Faith, having no problem taking orders from this Slayer. "No prob. We'll hit the school, start there."

"Yeah, um, we'll check in when we find something," Fred also nodded. She was eager to get the search started for Buffy. She had seen the school once during her time here. Frankly, that place being all shuttered and dark gave the brilliant physics whiz the heebie-jeebies.

Satisfied, Faith nodded back. "Good. If you haven't heard from her by dark at 8 p.m., text me. Spike and I can take patrol then." Off the hopeful look he darted her way, she froze, then quickly added, "Separately. I'll take Wesley."

The ex-Watcher looked surprised at Faith's request, but off the Boston-born beauty throwing him a look that silently asked him to come, Wesley couldn't help but nod in agreement.

Disappointed, Spike bobbed his head in acknowledgement. For now, his suddenly-flailing romance with Faith could wait. Buffy's safety took top priority.

Faith turned back to Gunn and Fred. "Guys? Go armed. The weird hobo hubcap ax, crossbows, knives, stakes, whatever. That school was dangerous even before it got closed down. Expect anything, and be prepared for it." Faith suddenly caught how she was sounding, and made a disgusted face. "And my God, when did I start sounding like a Watcher?"

Giles and Wesley couldn't help but to crack a small smile at that. Faith had come a long way from that unruly, wild-eyed girl she was in the senior year of high school. Well…somewhat.

Gunn and Fred, appreciating her impromptu joke, smiled as well. "Okay," Gunn clasped his hands, turning to the duffel bag with the weapons. "Let's bring us home a Slayer."


Sneaking away for a moment, Kate took a break from the madness inside of Summers Central.

It had all been so much to deal with in the last few days. A looming apocalypse, a mysterious killer in black, all the dead allies starting to pile up around them…it was almost more than she could take.

Part of her almost wished that she could have just gone back to the simpler days when all she had to worry about was your regular run-of-the-mill whack jobs, mobsters and killers as a detective in the LAPD. Compared to saving the world, busting perps with bodies on their rap sheet was child's play.

She found the backyard empty, and was thankful for that. For a moment, she fumbled in her pocket, and found a carton of cigarettes and her lighter. She had sworn off the smoking for a while now. Wasn't good for the lungs. Or anything, really. But after everything that was happening, God, how she could use a drag right now.

She eyed the cigarette, tempted…

"Those things'll kill ya, you know," a familiar voice said from the dimming light.

Alert, Kate's hand drifted to her sidearm. Ready to shoot first, if necessary.

"Whoa! Easy there, cowgirl," said a faintly smiling Lindsey, emerging from the backyard entrance.

At the sight of him, looking all lean and relaxed and handsome, Kate cursed her heart for fluttering just a little.

Neither she nor Lindsey had spoken since their abrupt kiss days ago. Not for Lindsey's lack of trying. He had been trying to find ways to get her alone, only for Kate to agily duck every one of them. The truth is, Kate herself didn't know what to say. That kiss had been completely unplanned. The both of them were brought together sharing the pain of losing their fathers to violence, Kate to vampires and Lindsey to a demon of a different kind: his own brother, Caleb.

But beyond that, the implications of that kiss, how it happened…how good it felt…scared Kate too much for her to think about now. Especially with everything going on around them.

"I could have shot you, idiot," an annoyed Kate reprimanded him, re-holstering her gun.

"Yup. Right though the heart, and you'd be to blame," Lindsey drawled, somewhat flirtatiously, "because you give lo–"

"Don't…even think about using Bon Jovi to sweet talk me, thanks," Kate said in warning.

Lindsey shook his head. "Fair enough." He motioned inside. "Went for a walk. Wanted to clear my head, maybe hit the local demon bars to see if anyone had any info on Caleb."

That caught her attention. As did now in-focus appearance. There was dirt and blood smatters all over his jeans and black flannel shirt. Not all of it human, Kate suspected. "Are you okay?" she asked with more concern than she meant to give. Off his smile at her question, Kate quickly backpeddaled. "And…did you find anything?"

Lindsey's smile faded, frowning as he rubbed his bruised hand while thinking of his bastard half-brother. "Nothing," he sighed. "A few whispers here and there, but mum's the word on Caleb. Might have to expand the search." He met her pretty blue eyes, saw the concern in them, and then the former lawyer's smile returned. "And to you other question, yeah. I'm good. Gonna be a couple demons less hanging 'round these parts, though."

Kate gave him a half-smile. "I'm…almost impressed."

"Almost?" He put his hand mockingly to his heart. "You wound me, Miss Lockley."

At that she let out a small laugh despite herself. Damn him for making me laugh, she ruefully thought.

It suddenly got serious between them as the laughter stopped.

"So…why've you been ignoring me?" Lindsey pressed her, cautious, yet firm.

Flustered, Kate looked around. "I…haven't been ignoring you."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "You won't talk to me whenever we cross paths…" He came in closer, gently raised her chin so that their eyes met. "You never look at me."

Kate let out a frustrated sigh. "What do you want me to say?"

"Anything," Lindsey replied, then gave her a smoldering look that made Kate thankful that she was sitting down, lest her knees buckle. "Everything."

On instinct, Kate held out her hand to his chest, putting a little distance between them. "Look, Lindsey, I…I won't lie. It was a good kiss. Hell, it was even great. But there's a lot on my plate right now, and to be perfectly honest, I really don't feel like going after Darla's leftovers, okay?"

So that's it, Lindsey realized. "Is that what's bothering you? You're worried I still have feelings for Darla?"

Kate gave him a knowing look. "Considering you drove cross country to help your old flame —"

"She's not my old flame," Lindsey replied, a little defensively.

"Fine, unrequited crush, whatever," Kate replied snappishly, and, Lindsey noted…a little jealously. "Then yeah, I'd say that a girl would have second thoughts about getting involved with a guy with dirty laundry still in the hamper."

Lindsey sighed, reaching down and taking her soft hand in his palm. And Kate would be a liar if she said she couldn't feel a spark at their skin making contact.

"Kate…" he said sincerely, earnestly. "...my hamper's clean. Honest. I don't have any baggage. I don't have any hangups."

He was saying the right things, Kate had to give him that much. Yet still, she hesitated. She wasn't good at this relationship and romance stuff. She never had been. It's like she told Angel once when they had first met: she'd given up on the knight in shining armor concept a long time ago. Of course, that was after she called herself a 'a self-flagellating-hypocrite-slut' in front of him, but that was another awkward story.

"Look," he said, closing the distance between them, holding her hand in his. "I'm not saying I'm 'Catch of the Year' or anything. And I'm not proposing undying devotion. But what I do know is this…there's something between us. And you know it." His eyes met hers, his steady blue orbs meeting her unsure azure ones. "And if you just let me…give me a chance and strap on in…who knows? You might be in for the ride of a lifetime."

Still, Lindsey was…different, Kate admitted. Sure, he was cocky, and a little full of himself. And he had more than his share of issues. But, as she had learned over the last few days, he could also be kind. Brave. Selfless when he had to be. And when nobody was looking, she realized, he could be very, very tender…like there was a side of himself that was reserved for her. And her alone…

"Lindsey…I…" she began, unsure, their faces so close, close enough to hear the beating of each other's hearts…

Suddenly, Kate's cell phone rang, and she wasn't sure whether to be frustrated or relieved.

The caller ID read "ANGEL", which made her eyes widen as she instantly picked it up, turning away from a frustrated Lindsey.

"Angel?" she said, putting the call on speaker.


London, England - Smithfield Market, meatpacking district

Same Time


"Kate. It's me," Angel said as he prowled the rooftops of London, making his way towards the location where Walter Kindel was supposed to holed up.


Relieved and frustrated at the same time, Kate practically shouted into the phone. "Where the hell have you been? Things have been going crazy here in the last few days! Why haven't you come back yet? Did you find that magic sword thing?"


"Yeah, I did," Angel said, more breathless than normal as he leapt off another rooftop and scaled the fire escape of yet another. "Unfortunately, I've run into a complication. Where are the others?"


Kate sighed, wondering if she should tell him before she relented. "Researching. And…well, some of the others went out to look for Buffy. She hasn't come home yet."


At that, Angel froze, practically all other thoughts emptying from his mind. "What? Something's happened to Buffy?"


The alarm in his voice was evident, Kate could tell. "We…we're not sure yet. She was supposed to be home a few hours ago. She went to pick up some things at the high school. Hasn't been back since."

"You let her go alone to the high school? Why?" Angel was both frustrated now and worried for Buffy. "That place is abandoned, and it's on the Hellmouth. It practically has 'Trap' written over it in big neon letters! You shouldn't have let her go there alone. Is she okay? Where is she?"

"That's what Gunn and Fred are going to find out," Kate assured him. "They're going out to look for her, I'm sure she'll be fine. I mean, she's the Slayer, right? And from what I've seen, she's pretty good at it." Kate's tone took on a more assuring, softer tone. "She'll be fine, Angel. Trust me."

Angel wasn't that assured, wishing now more than ever that he was back home. He could be finding Buffy himself. He would tear Sunnydale apart brick-by-brick if he had to. Hell, he would have made sure that she didn't go out there alone in the first damn place. But he had to focus for now. He forced himself to calm down, summoning the ice in his un-beating veins.

He couldn't help Buffy or his friends if he lost his head now, Angel decided. For now, he had to play it cool, so he could get back home. Home to her. To Buffy.

Letting out an airless sigh, Angel returned his attention to Kate. "Fine. Are you alone?"

Kate sighed. "No. No, Lindsey's here. The others are busy. I have you on speaker, FYI, so he can hear us."

"Hiya, Soul Boy," Lindsey said, gilbly. He couldn't help himself at taking that dig at Angel.

Annoyed at the presence of his former foil from Wolfram & Hart, Angel rolled his eyes. "Great. The world's shortest lawyer is here."

"Boys, play nice," Kate warned, not in the mood for yet another testosterone-fueled ego war. She'd had her fill of that since this mess started. "Angel, what is it? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"As usual," Angel replied wryly. "I'm actually on a … well…I'm on a case right now."

Kate and Lindsey exchanged surprised glances, clearly not expecting that. "Excuse me?" Kate asked, not quite believing what she had heard. "Did you say you're working a case? Now?"

"Yeah. it's a long story," Angel shortly replied.

"Yeah, Angel? I'm not the one to tell you how to run your business, and I'm all for people finding a side hustle, but we have this little tiny thing happening back here called a freaking apocalypse!" Kate bit out, harshly. "How the hell do you think you have time to play Sherlock over in England?"

"I didn't really have much of a choice," Angel explained, frowning as he thought back to how this all started. "Kate, I need your help. What do you know about The Home Wrecker Killer?"

At that, Kate's eyes widened. "The Home Wrecker Killer?"

The former LAPD Detective scrunched her brow, recalling bits and pieces of what she could recall of the aforementioned psychopath. "Um…not much. Serial killer, real sicko. Child-killer and pedophile who also killed the parents, nationwide manhunt, hit the L.A. area a handful of times then kept moving. No name, no mug shots, no positive ID, kept popping up and disappearing over 20 years. Beyond that, nothing useful. He's been even harder to find than the Zodiac Killer. Why?"

"What if I told you that I was on the verge of catching this guy?" Angel asked.

Kate was stunned. "Uh…I'd say that I wish I was still on the force and with you, because that would be the kind of career collar that could put me in the Chief of Police's office. Angel, are you sure? And why haven't you alerted the police? Or Scotland Yard?"

"Positive," Angel said. "And…I can't. I was asked to catch him by a guy who says he's some kind of wizard."

"Wizard? As in the Harry Potter, wand-waving kind?" Kate asked, incredulously. Even if she had slowly become accepting of the existence of the supernatural world, there were still things that he had a hard time coming to terms with.

"More like the ruthless, can-kill-you-with-a-wave-of-his-hand kind," Angel said, recalling the power he felt off his 'client'. "He's very powerful. Says his name is Markus Fray."

Now Lindsey chimed in, his eyes wide in recognition. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up. Did you say 'Fray?' As in, Markus freaking Fray? ?"

Angel paused, realizing that Lindsey had heard the name. "You know him."

"Not personally, but I know of him. Angel, he's not just a wizard. He's THE wizard. Markus Fray is easily the most powerful wizard on the planet, hell, on this plane of existence. The guy could destroy a planet if he wanted to. Real black magick guru. And a multi-billionaire. He's one of the richest men in the world," Lindsey replied, stunned as he recalled Fray's background. "He founded Fray International, a hedge fund that has its hands in just about everything. Software, electronics, pharmaceuticals, hair gel, bath products, magick, black market magick, you name it, they've got it."

A suspicious Kate stiffened as she looked at Lindsey. "Let me guess…one of Wolfram & Hart's clients?"

"Surprisingly, no," Lindsey shook his head at the mention of his former employers. "They tried to recruit him a bunch of times over the years, but he kept turning down all offers. They tried forcing the issue once, but they quickly realized that Fray wasn't the kind of man you risked pissing off. They just left him alone ever since."

"Yeah. I had a feeling that money isn't exactly a problem for this guy," Angel replied, almost bored. "I'm not looking for his Fortune 500 highlights, Lindsey. He has a personal stake in this. Seems like The Home Wrecker Killer murdered his daughter 15 years ago, a Lisa Fray Everson, and possibly his granddaughter, too. He offered me a job to take the killer down for good, but I refused."

"Refused?" an incredulous Lindsey clapped his hand over his forehead, as if Angel had just blown a huge bet at the gambling table. "Oh, no. Angel, you do not say no to a guy like Markus Fray! He always gets what he wants, no matter what."

"Seems that way," Angel gritted his teeth, thinking about the impending deadline he was now facing, with an emphasis on "dead." "He's taken Whistler and the others captive. And the killer's taken another girl hostage. I have 48 hours to find the killer and bring him to Fray alive, or he'll kill the others. And the little girl will die, too."

Kate and Lindsey exchanged concerned looks. This just got a lot more serious than they realized. Lindsey, in particular, was very concerned. He had grown to respect, even kinda like Whistler in these last few days. He knew Fray was powerful, but to be strong enough to be able to take down Whistler was something else entirely.

"Oh, God. Angel, how can we help?" Kate asked, sincerely. "What do you need us to do?"

"I need anything you can find on a guy named Walter Kindel. Kate, he's the Home Wrecker Killer. I have a few files on the guy, but I need more intel. Family history, known associates, anything you can find." Angel paused as he overlooked the sprawling expanse of the nighttime London city above a rooftop flat. "Anything you get, get it to me fast, and get it now. If I can get one step closer to Kindel, I can get closer to freeing the others and getting back home to fight the real threat."

Kate nodded instantly. "Sure, yeah, I'll make a few calls to my law enforcement contacts, see if they can run a search on this Kindel creep."

"I'll check Wolfram & Hart's database through the backdoor program," Lindsey added. "They made it their business to keep tabs on these serial killer freaks like Kindel. If there's anything at all on him anywhere, they'll have it."

"Good. Thanks," Angel curtly replied. "And keep this just between us for now. I don't want to worry the others…not yet."

Kate knew what that meant. He didn't want to worry Buffy yet. Or Cordelia and his crew. While she didn't necessarily agree with it, the former policewoman decided to respect Angel's wishes for now.

"Is there anything else we can do?" Kate asked.

"Yeah…stay ready. I might need to get some extra help with this one," Angel said. "In case things go sideways, I might need you both to get over here."

Now it was Lindsey's turn to gape in shock. "Yeah, in case you haven't noticed, Angel, we've got a little bit of distance in between us to help. Like a few thousand miles."

"I can take care of that," Angel replied. "Just stay ready. I only have 48 hours to close this case and get back home."

Kate sighed. "Sure…of course, we'll be ready to help."

"Good," Angel said with a sigh as he peered over the rooftop and overlooked the massive city of London. Where a deadly madman holding more lives in his hands than even he knew lay hiding, and time not on the immortal detective's side.

"I don't know why," Angel grimly said, "...but I have a feeling I'm gonna need it."


To Be Continued…


Next: Angel is hot on the trail of a serial killer, with lives in the balance. Gunn and Fred's search for Buffy leads them to a perilous search at Sunnydale High…and a sight they are completely unprepared for. What does Caleb have planned for our brave heroine Buffy? Slipping further and further into despair and madness, Connor desperately tries to reach out to Dawn, but can Dawn pull him back from the brink? And what mayhem do The First and its minions have in store with the Awakening still days away?


A/N: I can't remember the last time I uploaded this many chapters so quickly! Lol Thanks to everyone for sticking to this story. Please read, follow and review!

Peace!

-Jean-theGuardian