BRING ME TO LIFE

A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event

Part 73

Touched, Part 1

London, England

8:47 a.m

Days Left before the End of Days: 8

"I wake up in the morning

And I raise my weary head I got an old coat for a pillow

And the earth was last night's bed"

After swimming in a haze of darkness and pain, the softly-sung words caused Kate Lockley to stir ever-so-slowly.

The words served as a beacon, a line for her to follow out of the dark and swim back up to the surface, where the light was waiting.

"I don't know where I'm goin'

Only God knows where I've been

I'm a devil on the run

A six gun lover

A candle in the wind, yeah"

As she slowly opened her eyes, there she found the source of those lyrics…

Lindsey.

Staring at her with those concerned, worried, perfect baby-blue eyes of his. His hand on her cheek resting softly.

Looking at her like she was the only thing in existence.

The only thing that mattered.

Slowly, Kate blinked.

Once.

Twice.

"I'm goin' down in a blaze of glory

Take me now but know the truth

I'm goin' down in a blaze of glory

Lord I never drew first

But I drew first blood

I'm no one's son

Call me young gun"

As she heard Lindsey finish his lyrics, Kate slowly felt a shaky smile spread across her lips. "Bon Jovi," she said raspily. "Nice."

Lindsey finally allowed himself a smile. "Had a feeling you might like it."

Kate winced, her throat feeling dry. Her head throbbed dully. "What…what happened?" She closed her eyes for a second, trying to recall how she ended up like this, but her brain fogged, her thoughts jumbled. "And why…why do I feel like I got smacked by a truck?"

Lindsey sighed, his smile fading. "You're lucky to be feeling anything at all. Kindel tried one last gasp at getting rid of us."

At the name, Kate became a little more alert. Concerned. "Kindel?"

"Yeah," Lindsey nodded. "He tried stabbing me with one of those weird shadow tentacle things. You…" he smiled gratefully at her. "You knocked me out of the way. Probably saved my life."

Kate flushed as she began to remember that instant. The fear she felt as she saw that shadow bolt hurl towards Lindsey. Not even thinking twice as she leapt in its path, taking the blow meant for him. The fiery pain…and then a web of black engulfing her…

It was then that she looked around at her surroundings. "So…where the hell are we now?"

"Safe," Lindsey replied, assuringly.

Kate frowned. "Gonna need a little more than that, counselor."

"This is Markus Fray's home," Lindsey elaborated. "Angel made a call after you went down. Fray teleported us here."

"Fray? The wizard?" Kate asked, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion, slowly getting to her elbows as she rose slightly from the bed where she was treated.

"Yeah." Lindsey motioned for her to take it easy. "Lucky he did. That poison had spread pretty quickly across your body. It was about to reach your heart before Fray finished the antidote process. He says if we had made it only a few minutes later, you'd probably already be dead."

Kate processed that for a moment.

"Wow," she said with a sigh. "Remind me to thank Angel for the quick getaway."

"Yeah, well…he's not the only one who's owed a thank-you 'round here," he said softly with a twitch of his lips. Off her confused stare, he explained. "Kate…you risked your life to save mine."

Reminded of that, Kate smiled, shook her head. "Don't make a thing of it, Lindsey."

"Can't help it," Lindsey replied. "It's a pretty big thing. You almost died to stop me from dying. Nobody's ever done that for me before."

Kate's eyes softened as she looked up at him. His eyes were so, so blue, she noted silently. Earnest. Honest. For years, she had never seen his eyes look at her like that before, not in court, not in a police station, not on the supernatural battlefield that Los Angeles had become. In those times, he only looked at her with smugness, hubris, and maybe a hint of mild attraction. Yet now…now he was looking at her like he was the only boy in the world and she was the only girl.

"I…I just…" Kate struggled to find the words. "I…"

"You what?" he gently prodded.

"...I…I just couldn't let him hurt you," she confessed, her cheeks turning a becoming pink. "I don't know why, but…nothing else mattered."

Moved, touched more than he had ever been in his life, Lindsey subtly reached out, brushed a lock of hair behind her ear away from Kate's pretty face.

The air seemed to heat up between them, time standing still…

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," drawled a familiar Queens accent.

Both sets of eyes turned to the doorway. There stood Whistler, leaning against the open door, a knowing smirk on his face.

Lindsey threw him an annoyed glance. "Whistler. Anyone ever tell you that you have all the welcome timing of an alarm clock on a hangover morning?"

The demon chuckles. " I guess you'll have to get your game on another time, McDonald. We have places to be, business to take care of soon."

At that, Kate became a little more aware. " Angel?"

Whistler nodded. "Bingo. He's having a little powwow with Fray and Alasdair. Something about a finder's fee for taking that crazy serial killer douche off the board."

"It better be one heck of a jackpot," Lindsey groused, turning a momentarily concerned look at Kate before his eyes returned to Whistler. "We nearly got killed catching that creepy scumbag."

At that, Drogyn entered the room, heavy lumbering footsteps heralding his entrance. "If it's not worth the trouble, I've got half-a-mind to turn that old wizard's head into puree."

Kate gave the muscular, handsome stranger a brief once-over. The ex-policewoman turned her eyes back to Whistler. "The Incredible Hunk here a friend of yours?"

At her remark about Drogyn being a "hunk", Lindsey's lips twisted slightly, jealously.

"In a way," Whistler shrugged. "Kate, McDonald, meet Drogyn the Battlebrand. Ancient warrior of light, Keeper of the Deeper Well, all-around badass, yada-yada-yada."

Off Drogyn's nod, Lindsey looked at both Drogyn and Whistler in stunned surprise. "Wait a minute…Drogyn the Battlebrand? That's impossible, the legends say that Drogyn the Battlebrand is forever destined to guard the gates of the Deeper Well. How can he be—?"

"DON'T ask me a question!" Drogyn barked at Lindsey suddenly, hotly, his face suddenly twisting in anger. "Ever. Understand?"

Kate and Lindsey looked at each other in confusion, then at Whistler for answers. Off their expressions, the Balance Demon sighed. "He can't lie. So it's probably better that you stick to straight-up statements. As for why he's here, it's a long story. Let's just say we hit the motherload when looking for Hope's Dagger. But seriously, guys, don't piss him off. He hits like a Mack Truck and he could take your head off without breaking a sweat."

"Good to know," Kate said dryly, turning to Whistler. "So how long is Angel going to take? We're on a schedule here. The Awakening isn't going to take a pause for us to do sightseeing here in jolly ol' England."

"The attractive blonde woman is right," Drogyn said to the room, his "attractive" remark making Kate blush somewhat and Lindsey cough in surprise. "If what you have told me is true, if The Awakening is indeed upon us, and The First Evil has The Keystone, then the entire world…nay, all of existence itself…is in grave danger. We cannot afford to waste any more time here. I need to see if I can summon reinforcements to your side."

Lindsey put it together quickly. "The Brotherhood of the Chosen. That's what you mean."

Kate's brow knitted together in thought at Lindsey as she sat up a little further on her elbows. "You mean that posse of warriors for good that live undercover?"

"The same," Drogyn replied. "They've prepared their entire lives for a moment such as this. I'll have to send a distress call. It will take time, but I may be able to rally enough of them to this Sunnydale of which you speak."

"Time is something we don't exactly have a lot to spare right now, Ren Fair," Lindsey replied, the snark in his voice easily evident, causing Drogyn to narrow his eyes in annoyance at the former lawyer. "We got maybe a week and change before Doomsday hits. We need to start sending out the S.O.S. pronto."

"Rallying together warriors takes time, little man," Drogyn replied sharply. "I wouldn't expect you to know anything about that."

Lindsey scowled at the immortal warrior's jab. "What'd you call me, you lowrent Conan wannabe?"

Drogyn's eyes lit up in rage. "I warned you not to ask me a question, you little…!"

"Guys, cool it!" Kate snapped, annoyed. "Save it for The First's army, alright? We need to keep focused." To Drogyn. "Lindsey's right, though. If there's anything you can do to get us reinforcements ASAP, do it. We don't have any time to waste. We could use all the help we can get."

Drogyn gave her a brief nod. "Consider it done. I'll put in an urgent call when I have the means to do so."

"These warriors…are they going to be enough to help us change the tide? To help us win?" Kate asked, her voice a tad anxious.

Drogyn sighed at her question, and ignored the fact that she was asking in the form of a question out of respect for her civility…and appreciation for her beauty. "I wish I could offer assurances, Fair One, but I cannot. The Brotherhood is among the finest warriors to walk the earth. But against evil of the kind you are describing and of the magnitude you speak of…and with our numbers having diminished over time…I can offer no such guarantees."

Lindsey groaned at the news. "Great. So we're going to need a miracle, basically."

Whistler looked at the chamber doors of the apartment where Angel, Fray and Alasdair were locked in some kind of secret meeting. "Looks like, unfortunately. Whatever Dumbledore and Angel are discussing in there, we better hope it's a game-changer."

The Core of the Earth

Now

Angel had figured that someone as powerful as Markus Fray would be pretty well connected.

But as he stood in the bowels of the earth, even he was surprised to see exactly how far this eccentric wizard's powers extended.

"Are you familiar with Norse mythology, Mister Angel?" Fray asked the souled vampire.

Angel's eyes furrowed in thought. "Like Thor and Odin? I've heard the legends."

"Yes, but like most legends, some of them are rooted in truth," Fray smirked, following Angel's gaze to what he, Fray and Alasdair were seeing…

A gigantic ash tree. Springing from the ground and its branches spreading everywhere through the vast cavern.

Angel stared in awe at the silver-barked ash tree. Its leaves were a bluish shade of black and oval shaped and its rough bark resembled flaking gray clay.

In his 247 years of life—347, if he counted the time he had spent in Hell after Acathla swallowed him years ago—Angel had seen a great deal of wonders that this and other worlds had to offer. Yet few could compare to this sight.

I wish Buffy could see this, he thought wistfully. She'd love it…

"Ah. 'Roots'. A tree joke. Funny," Angel replied flatly, quietly, to Fray's pun.

"Yes, I'm quite hilarious, I'm told," Fray replied equally toneless.

Alasdair stared in wonder at the sight of the silver ash tree. "Wait a minute…Markus…is this…is this what I think it is…?"

Fray smiled, gesturing to the tree. "Indeed, old friend. Mister Angel, Alasdair…behold Yggdrasil. The Tree of the World. According to the true legend, not the Norse ones, this tree was the first living thing that grew on the Earth. It was said the Powers That Be gave this tree life through the Eye of Creation itself."

Angel could sense the enormous amount of magick around this magnificent, enormous ash tree. Its silver-white bark smelled deeply of power; old and extraordinary power, the Champion could tell.

"This tree must be billions of years old," Angel surmised quietly, his amazed eyes beholding it as he stepped a little closer to the tree.

"Older than that," Fray replied. "The tree was once worshiped by early civilizations, growing out in the open, bearing food and shelter for those in need. But as time wore on, man became more industrialized. They lost their respect for nature and its power and balance. They began to take more from the tree, and some even sought to tear it down and use it for their own gains." Alasdair's eyes grew in contempt as he recalled the legend. "Fearing for the tree's future, and the world's, a group of powerful women known only as 'Guardians' cast a powerful spell to sink the tree deep underground in the core of the Earth. Where it would be protected from the vices and destruction of man's world. Here it has grown for millenia, its magic helping to give the planet life. It was also the tree that gave birth to The Seed of Wonder, in fact."

Angel's eyebrow raised at that. "Seed of Wonder?"

Alasdair blinked in surprise. "Goodness! According to legend, Angel, the-the-The Seed of Wonder was supposed to be the source of all magic on Earth. Allegedly, it predates humans and quite possibly the First Evil itself. But I thought it was only a myth."

Fray gave a knowing smile. "I assure you it is not. But that is a story for another time."

"Then let's get to the story here and now," Angel replied frankly. "I appreciate a cool mystical wonder as much as the next guy, but you said there's something you would provide me that could help us back in Sunnydale with our little apocalypse problem?"

Fray shook his head. "And here I thought that patience was something you vampires had learned over the years."

"Not when I have an apocalypse to stop and friends to save," Angel replied, irritated. "If you brought us here to show us something, get to it, Fray. I'm on a schedule."

Rolling his eyes, the old wizard relented. "Fair enough. It was my understanding after speaking with your friends that The First Evil has amassed itself an army of Turok-Han vampires, correct?"

Angel nodded grimly. "Yeah. A lot of them, from what Buffy tells me. Probably thousands. Maybe even hundreds of thousands. The First has probably been breeding them for a few millennia."

Alasdair looked shocked. "Hundreds of thousands? This is terrible. I've faced a Turok-Han before in my lifetime. I barely survived. It was a ferocious and tenacious predator, one of the worst I've ever encountered. And you're saying there are thousands of them readying for war?"

Angel frowned, mulling over the odds against him and his allies. "Unfortunately, yes. Buffy had a vision about them not long ago. I came across a Turok-Han myself once. At a Hellmouth west of Vienna in 1829, when I was still Angelus. Some idiot sorcerer who had a grudge against me raised one of those things from the Hellmouth to kill me. It ambushed me one night at a bar during a card game I had won. It killed almost everyone in the room. We fought the whole night. I managed to behead it, but I barely won that fight. That thing was nearly unstoppable, like…a killing machine."

Angel barely repressed a shudder at the memory. That beast he fought was relentless, unyielding, at times seemingly unstoppable. He had staked the Turok-han, yet it didn't die. He had hit it, yet it did not go down or even slow down. Its punches were like stone against his head and body, its stamina tireless, its speed deadly and blinding. The creature would have surely killed him if he hadn't stumbled onto a sword discarded by a soldier his soulless alter ego had killed during the card game for accusing him of cheating. He had taken advantage and decapitated the demon, but he had only barely survived their brutal encounter.

The thought of facing thousands of creatures just like that one was not something Angel was looking forward to at all.

"Yes, they are remarkably hard to kill," Fray noted. "They're fast, strong, agile, relentless and their thick sternums make conventional staking by an ordinary piece of wood impossible."

At that, Fray glanced at his two guests with an indecipherable look on his face. "As now demonstrated."

WHOOSH!

With a wave of a hand, a blackish-blue portal appeared not 30 feet from them…

…and a raging, snarling Turok-Han vampire emerged from the depths.

Surprised, Angel's preternatural senses went berserk, screaming 'DANGER!' at him in hot pink neon letters.

Alert, a scowling Angel barely had a chance to draw Hope's Dagger from his jacket when the primordial vampire began charging headfirst at him.

"Alasdair, get back!" he shouted as he stepped in front of the archmage while the feral demon barrelled at them at full speed like a tiger eying its meal. "I've got—!"

PFAAFT!

A white stake suddenly thrust from the chest of the stunned monstrosity, its baleful yellow eyes wide in surprise.

Suddenly, as quickly as the ancient vampire appeared, it had vanished in a cloud of dust.

Behind it stood Fray, holding a simple carved white wooden stake.

Angel's wide eyes beheld the old wizard in surprise. "How…?"

"Ordinary wood is not powerful enough to pierce the sternums of these creatures," Fray explained, walking closer to Angel. "However, this stake is made from a piece of the World Tree which you see here. Its bark is enchanted, stronger than any ordinary wood that grows on Earth. One thrust from a stake such as this is all you need to kill these abominations."

Angel mulled over the implications. This…this could be a game-changer. Un-stakable super vampires, or Ubervamps, as he had heard the Scoobies refer to the Turok-han, posed a lethal, losing proposition to them when it was time to finally face off against The First's army. Especially for the untrained Potentials, many of whom were barely trained. But with a simple thrust from a stake such as this, it leveled the odds…somewhat. There was still the strength, speed and brutal ferocity of the primordial vampires to consider. But at least now they were only as invincible as one magic stake through the heart, like any other vampire.

"You wouldn't happen to have a few hundred of those, would you?" Angel asked.

Fray shook his head. "I don't. But I don't need to."

Uttering a few ancient words from a dead language, Fray extended his hand towards the tree and suddenly one of the white roots floated upwards. Pulling apart easily from the legendary tree Yggdrasil as if it were made of taffy or chewing gum, Fray floated a piece of white bark the size of a leg towards Angel.

"Here, Mister Angel," Fray offered. "I believe this should help take care of those primordial vermin when the time comes."

Angel looked at the bark, nonplussed, before he took it in his hands. "Uh, yeah, thanks, but we're gonna need a lot more than just one piece of bark for what's coming."

Fray smirked. "You really have to work on that intuition of yours if you want to be a detective, Mister Angel." Taking a nearby sword, Fray swiped at and cut off the tip of the bark…only for the mystical wood to regrow and regenerate seconds later, as if nothing had happened.

Alasdair raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Goodness…!"

"That one piece should be able to supply your friends with as many stakes as you need for this war," Fray said to Angel. "Do put it to good use, won't you?"

Angel stared at the wooden bark in silent awe. This really was a game changer, after all. A piece of enchanted wood that not only had the power to kill Ubervamps, but could provide their allies with all the stakes they need for the upcoming battle? This could be a major weapon for them if used correctly.

"Yeah…this could do very nicely," Angel murmured quietly.

"Indeed," Fray replied. "And as promised, here's a fee for your troubles in catching Walter Kindel." Fray presented Angel a check. "Three million, American. I trust that makes us even, yes?"

Angel turned his gaze to Fray. He was reluctant to give this man much gratitude after he blackmailed him and took time off the clock for him to get back home, and put his friends in danger. And yet, this man had not only saved his life, but he had also saved Kate's life, given him a valuable weapon to use against their enemies and provided him with a multi-million dollar check.

To say Angel was torn was an understatement. Still, he sided with manners for now.

"Thank you," Angel said simply. He left it at that. Nothing too friendly, just enough to consider them even.

Fray nodded in reply.

"Markus?" Alasdair said, deep frown on his face. "The next time you need help? Try it without kidnapping. You'll find you get…and keep…more friends that way."

Fray turned to the aging Archmage, a hint of regret on his regal, yet aged features. "Shall I take it, then, that we are no longer on speaking terms, old friend?"

Alasdair's frown did not leave, yet softened just a little. "We'll always be on speaking terms. But…this will take a little time to forgive."

Fray sighed in resignation. "I understand. Though I do hope we can put this behind us eventually. I…" The old man paused, wistfully. "I don't have many friends."

Alasdair's frown melted, a pitying look taking over his features. "I know," he said sympathetically.

Despite his own anger with Fray, Angel couldn't help but to pity him in that moment, as well. Fray was one of the richest, most powerful people in the world. Rich beyond comprehension, a mystical powerhouse, he had everything that many men would want. And yet, it seemed, his life was empty. Wife dead. Daughter dead. Granddaughter likely dead. Few friends.

The man who has everything, and yet nothing, Angel mused silently. He knew what that was like, too.

While he was immortal, something that many people would dream to have, Angel had learned the hard way over his many years of life once he had his soul back that never worrying about aging or dying had the one drawback of getting to watch everyone else he ever cared for dying around him through the long, bitter years. Including Buffy. By some miracle, she had come back to him twice from beyond the grave. Yet he suspected that luck would eventually run out. Even if the prospect of the Shanshu prophecy could be believed anymore, Angel realized, it might not come true until long after Buffy was truly gone, and the thought made his heart break.

Still, if there was anything he had learned from this trip, it was that life was indeed too short to waste. Buffy deserved more from him, deserved to not have her heart be broken again and again by him because of what he was, because of his doubts. And Angel was resolved to do that, this time. To do right by her. If he could only have Buffy for but a few moments in his unending life, then those few moments would more than suffice, Angel decided. And he would make them count, he would treasure them, cherish them, this he silently vowed.

"If you have any other useful trinkets, I'm all ears," Angel said, his tone stern, serious. "Otherwise, if this concludes our arrangement, I have a girl waiting for me back home, a son who needs me and an apocalypse that needs stopping."

"Well, I might not have a Hope's Dagger, The Reaper Blade of the Tigris or the Blade of Tarnoth in my collection, but I might have one last parting gift," Fray replied.

"Blade of Tarnoth?" Angel raised an eyebrow.

"Ancient sword," Alasdair explained to the heroic vampire. "Very powerful, said to have been forged in the 12th century B.C. and tampered in the blood of a thousand holy men, delivers death to demons upon the first cut. It was lost hundreds of years ago in The First LeyLine War that nearly destroyed the world."

Angel shook his head, annoyed. "These ancient legendary weapons and books sure have a nasty habit of getting lost. You'd figure people would take better care of their stuff."

Fray chuckled dryly at that. "Perhaps."

At that, he handed Angel a silver orb.

Angel's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Never been much for souvenirs, Fray," he said, unimpressed.

"Do I look like an airport merchant?" Fray scoffed. "This is called a Spatial Stone. Inside of it…is a portion of the Rune of Shadows."

Angel eyed the orb in suspicion at that revelation.

Fray chuckled. "Relax. The real Rune of Shadows is locked away in my mystical vault under the safest protection measures. The stone's protective coating seals off the dark energy within it, making it safe for use. All you need to do is think of a person, place or thing, and if you're holding the stone, you can send yourself or an object to that person, place or thing."

"Teleportation!" Alasdair deduced. "Splendid idea."

Fray gave a thin, yet proud smile at his old friend. "I had some of the orb's energy analyzed by my mystical division in between my treatment of Miss Lockley. My company has a patent pending on the dark market. Should net me several million, easily. This stone just got out of development. I wouldn't consider parting with it, but considering all you've done for me and the task that awaits you and your friends, I suppose we can call it an even trade. It only has enough charge for three uses. So use it wisely."

Angel stared grimly at the tiny orb. Teleportation…he had to admit, that was something that could come in handy when The Awakening was here.

When the time came, something told Angel that he was going to need it…

Not long after, the doors to Fray's study opened, and out came Angel, followed by Alasdair and Fray.

The three walked into the bedroom where Kate was recovering.

The remaining heroes stared at Angel in surprise.

Kate, in particular, eyed him with grateful awe. "Angel," she breathed.

Seeing the ex-cop now awake and alive with a healthy pink glow to her tanned skin, a welcome contrast to the sickly pale color she had when Kindel's deadly dark magick had infected her, Angel gave her a faint smile.

"Hey," the broody immortal said quietly. "How're you feeling?"

Kate shook her head, smiling wearily. "Like I just woke up from the dead."

"Not quite," Angel smirked. "But you came pretty close. Gave us a scare for a little while."

"Not close enough, though," Kate replied, a grateful look in her blue eyes. "Thanks to you."

Seeing a jealous look in Lindsey's eyes at their heartfelt exchange, Angel, for some reason he couldn't explain, felt the urge to say the next words that came out of his mouth. "Well, don't thank me entirely. Lindsey was pretty helpful, too. Never left your side the whole time you were out."

At that, Kate turned to Lindsey, giving him a soft, tender look. Silently thanking the former lawyer for that.

Lindsey smiled back at her softly, before giving Angel a subtle look that said only one thing: Thanks...I guess.

Angel merely smirked. You owe me, little man.

Lindsey smirked back silently. Don't push it, Count Chocula.

Lindsey turned to the white bark in Angel's hands curiously. "You looking to plant a garden or build a coffee table?"

Angel didn't show much expression at his old foil's quip. "Neither. Seems this thing might be the answer to our Turok-han problem."

"You mean those…Ubervamp things I heard the Scoobies talk about?" Kate asked, surprised.

"The same," Angel replied, shortly.

"That bark…it reeks of ancient magick," Drogyn uttered in awe as he stepped closer to Angel. "Is this…the tree of Yggdrasil?"

Angel nodded. "Yeah. Seems Fray is more connected than we realized."

Lindsey's eyes widened at that. "Wait, wait, wait…did you say 'Yggdrasil?' As in the sacred Tree of Life? The first living tree on Earth? That Yggdrasil?"

Angel merely nodded again, saying nothing else.

Whistler looked at Fray suspiciously. "Yggdrasil is one of the most sacred objects on this plane of existence. How the heck did a mere human gain access to it?"

Fray merely smirked cryptically. "You're not the only one who has ancient connections, Messenger. You don't get to the position I have without knowing a few friends in both high places…and some low ones."

Whistler frowned in suspicion at the old wizard, yet said nothing more.

Alasdair looked to Angel. "This is most fortuitous. But if we have everything we came for, Angel, then we need to go back. Quickly. The Awakening is drawing closer every day. We must make haste."

Angel knew Alasdair was right. The sooner he could get back, the sooner he could help Buffy. And Connor. And his friends. All of whom needed him.

"You're right. But first, we need to make a quick stop in L.A.," Angel replied. "I need to check on how the repairs are going at the Hyperion."

Kate frowned. "Angel, I don't know much about your dwarf buddies, but even if they are as good at building and repairing things as you say, I don't think they're going to be as quick to bring the hotel back to normal. The First turned it into a demolition heap, remember?"

Angel gave Kate a knowing look. "Trust me, Kate. You've never seen dwarves build. They work fast and they work great. Craftsmanship and building is in their blood. Knowing them, they're probably nearly done by now."

"But why is that so important?" Lindsey asked, a bit impatiently. "The fight's in Sunnydale, not in L.A. Can't you wait until later to check on home repairs?"

"This isn't about home repairs, Lindsey," Angel replied frankly. "This is about battle strategy. If the First's armies make it past us, past Sunnydale, how long before the rest of the Western Hemisphere falls? Weeks? Days? Hours? Will it be that long? We'll need a second front to make sure the war doesn't extend past Los Angeles. To hold the line and make sure other cities are spared."

The ancient warrior Drogyn got it now. "And this…Hyperion…would serve as a base of operations for the second front. A stronghold. Excellent plan, Angel."

Kate, however, looked grim. "Angel…if the First's army makes it past us…that means we die. We won't make it out of Sunnydale alive."

Lindsey looked at Angel, carefully. Then he realized something as he saw the grim look in Angel's eyes.

"You don't think we're going to make it," Lindsey uttered softly. "Do you?"

Angel's eyes looked at Lindsey, yet he said nothing. He didn't have to. The resigned look in his eyes said it all.

Impossible odds. Only days left to prepare for the biggest battle of their lives, for the fate of all of existence.

Just handfuls of people, many of them young, against the vast armies of the force behind the forces of darkness.

To expect survival was folly.

Death was inevitable. And deep down, they all knew it.

A hushed silence fell over the room.

Angel pondered those words.

Pondered them long and hard.

Then he shrugged. His voice was quiet, yet his dark, soulful brown eyes were hardened with determination. It was the look of a hero. One willing to fight for, and die for, what he believed was right. Like a Champion. "If nothing that we do matters…then all that matters…"

"...is what we do," Kate finished, just as quietly, as she finished the words the broody hero spoke to her years ago. A look of silent resolve on her face. "Because that's all there is." And I will. I'll do this. For Matthew. For Tommy. For Dad. For everyone we've lost…I'll do this.

Angel's eyes met Kate's. A look of understanding passed between them. A look of resolve.

A call to arms.

The stoic Drogyn clasped Angel's shoulder. "Angel…you've been a brother to me for years. It would be an honor to fight, and die, at your side."

Angel gave Drogyn a silent, yet grateful look. "Thank you, old friend."

Alasdair stood upright, eyes fixed in resolve. "The world needs us. And I've been on the sidelines far too long. I will fight with you…and if I must…I will die with you, as well."

Angel gave the aging Archmage a wane, but appreciative smile.

Whistler came next. He had the look of a proud father on his face as he beheld his old student.

"We're with you, kid," Whistler nodded. "To the end."

Angel gave his old mentor a half-smile. "To the end."

All eyes turned to Lindsey. The last one.

Lindsey finally sighed. My whole life, I've lived for nothing but myself, he thought grimly. Might as well die fighting for someone else. Standing for something else…something good. "Oh, what the hell? Who wants to live forever, anyway, right?"

Angel and Kate chuckled at that, and even Drogyn managed a smile.

Markus Fray took it all in…

…and sighed. "Yes, noble, indeed. Very Henry the Fifth on Saint Crispin's Day."

Fray led them all to the large red hall near the main door. "I will summon a portal for you. It will take you anywhere you'd like. I wish you all the best of luck in the coming battle. Something tells me you're going to need it."

"Wait a minute," Kate said, frowning at Fray. "One last thing…Kindel. What's going to happen to him?"

"Kate…" Angel said warningly. He really didn't want to get into this now, not with more important things at stake.

Yet the stubborn look in Kate's eyes told him that the ex-policewoman was not going to let it go.

Fray scowled at the mention of the captive psychopath. "Ahh, yes. Him."

"Yeah. Him," Kate said sternly. "He's wanted for multiple murders in the United States. You need to turn him in to the authorities, Fray. Turn him in to stand trial for his crimes. It's the right thing to do."

Fray's pale eyes grew cold as he turned to eye the beautiful ex-detective. "What I do with a psychopath who nearly took your life…and took the lives of the ones I loved most in this world…does not concern you, Miss Lockley."

But Kate wouldn't let it go. "Like hell it doesn't," she scowled. "Look, thanks for saving my life, but that doesn't make what you're doing right, Fray. Where is he?"

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" he said in regal annoyance, never breaking his eye contact with Kate.

"Not on your life, buddy," Kate shook her head, unflinching in her eye contact. "Once a cop, always a cop. Now where is he?"

Fray finally sighed in exasperation. "Very well."

With a wave of his hand, a flash of purple appeared…revealing a very bruised, very bloodied, half-naked and bound and chained Walter Kindel. He was sagging, on his knees, whimpering like a caged animal.

The heroes recoiled at the sight of the obviously-tortured sociopathic killer.

Angel's eyes swiftly scanned the man he had defeated and handed over to the powerful wizard. Kindle was missing his right index finger and thumb. Jagged cuts and bruises were all over his face and body. A gag was over his mouth, slick with drool. Burn marks were on his chest and shoulder. A nearby mirror showed various lacerations and burns all over his back. His already-pale skin was blotching with the yellow stains of infection from his wounds. And he vaguely smelled of urine and other bodily fluids and discharges. He looked like he had been tortured for weeks, maybe even months, Angel suspected, and yet they hadn't been here more than a day.

"My God…" Kate breathed in horror.

"Jesus," Lindsey uttered quietly at Kindel's mangled state.

Angel repressed a shudder. Torture of this level of barbarism would have earned a dose of healthy applause and laughter from his evil alter ego, Angelus.

"How the hell did you do this much damage in the time I've been here?" Angel demanded of Fray.

"Temporal spell," Fray replied, rather coldly, slowly drawing out a pocket knife from his gray vest. "I altered the speed of time in his room so that one minute out in the real world would equate to a day in his room. It gave me ample time to save your policewoman friend while I became…" He smiled murderously at the quivering Kindel. "...acquainted with Mister Kindel. Multitasking at its finest."

Angel now grimly realized why Fray would come back smelling of blood after disappearing for minutes at a time while operating on Kate. Part of Angel suspected as much, but he didn't ask questions, and part of him didn't really want to know.

"You've been torturing him for weeks all this time while we were waiting on you to save Kate?" Alasdair asked, angrily, as the realization dawned on him.

"Again, old friend, multitasking," Fray replied, his flat tone implying he regretted nothing. "I only started to torture Kindel once I was relatively sure that Miss Lockley was out of mortal danger. Once it became apparent that she would survive, I simply allowed myself a few…breaks, in between her treatment."

Kate scowled angrily, beginning to walk towards Fray. "You sick son-of-a…!"

"Kate," Lindsey said in caution, holding her back. He didn't like the deadly look in Fray's eyes one bit. He was hellbent on revenge, and he wasn't about to let Kate get in his crossfires just to save a scumbag like the Homewrecker Killer. "Not now. This ain't the time."

Angel looked at Kate in similar warning. "Lindsey's right, Kate," he cautioned quietly. "This isn't a fight you can win. Trust me. I've tried."

That wasn't good enough for Kate. "So we're going to just let him do this? Let him murder a man?" Her eyes looked at Angel urgently. "Angel…you know this is wrong."

Angel's gaze veered between Fray, a grieving man who had just given him help to fight an apocalypse, and the battered body of Walter Kindel, a serial murdering scumbag who had spent years torturing and killing men, women and children.

"Maybe," Angel uttered, quietly.

Fray stood towering over the kneeling form of Kindel, whose teary eyes beheld Fray with a mix of hate, fury and unparalleled fear and dread.

The wizard stared coldly at the man who took his only daughter and granddaughter from him. He reached quietly into his pocket as he thought of his next words.

"You left me an absolute shambles of a man," Fray said in a gravelly voice just barely above a whisper. "So it has been only too kind that after years of hunting for you…looking for you…of strangling you in my dreams night after night…that I have the privilege of doing the same to you."

At that, he drew out a blue syringe. Angel recognized it instantly. It was the same syringe that Kindel had cruelly used on Fray's beautiful, innocent little granddaughter years ago.

"What was it you said to my granddaughter once? During the weeks you spent inflicting horror after horror upon her? A little girl? With long, brown hair? Innocent brown eyes that could make you feel like you wanted to do anything for her?" Fray's lips trembled in emotion, his eyes briefly misting, mourning his beloved granddaughter. "The most beautiful thing in the world? Before you took everything from her? Before you took her from her family? From everything good in this world?" Fray spat coldly, his pale blue eyes now lit in murderous rage. "Ah…yes, that's right…"

With that, he suddenly jabbed the needle right into Kindel's left eye, drawing a river of crimson blood running down the fiend's face like a macabre waterfall, earning muffled screams of pain, terror and agony from the captured serial killer. "MUN-FFFFFF! RRRRRR-EERRRRRRR!"

" 'Let's see what the blue one does this time,'" Fray sneered as he jabbed and pressed the unforgiving metal tip into soft tissue, almost in a hiss, hatred and vengeance boiling over in his eyes.

"Fray, that's enough!" Angel finally snapped, moving to lunge for Fray…

…when he was suddenly pushed backwards by an invisible force.

Angel barely had time to plant his feet and avoid falling to the ground.

"Angel!" Kate cried, the others racing to him.

Fray drew out a long, jagged knife from inside of his vest. He turned back to the others as he grabbed a fistful of the quivering and shocked Kindel's hair and yanked him close to the deadly blade.

"Do NOT interfere, any of you!" Fray shouted angrily, a wall of yellow energy suddenly separating them from the vengeful wizard and his prey Kindel.

"Fray, wait," Angel said, regaining his balance.

"Do not attempt to save him, Angel," Fray said stormily. "This piece of human garbage died the moment he laid eyes upon my Lisa. Upon my granddaughter. He died long ago. I'm just here for the body. That's all."

Angel shook his head. "I know how you feel," he said quietly. "When Connor was lost to me, I wanted to do everything you've done to Kindel to Holtz. Worse. I wanted to rip him apart, kill him, bring him back to life and kill him all over again. But trust me…vengeance is never the way."

He scowled at Walter Kindel. "Kindel is probably one of the most disgusting excuses for a human being I've ever met. He's a child-killer. It doesn't get any lower than that."

As he faced Fray, Angel's face softened slightly, becoming more earnest. "But he's still a human being. You don't need the stain on your soul. Killing him won't bring you peace. It won't bring you the justice your family deserves."

Angel's eyes stared hard into Fray's, steadfast and forthright. As it appeared his words were reaching the wizard, Angel's voice became more impassioned. "This is a crossroads for you. You don't have to have blood on your hands. You don't have to have your soul weighing that burden. Turn him in. Let the police handle him. Drag this trash into the light of day, make the world see him as the monster he is and then watch them throw him into a hole for good. That's what's right. That's the choice we face when we do this. To not give into those instincts. To rise above. To be better. You can be the better man, Markus. A man better than him. The kind of man your daughter, your granddaughter would have wanted you to—"

SNIKT!

Blood sprayed like a geyser from the freshly torn-open wound in Kindel's throat. Followed quickly by the vicious sound of a trachea snapping as Fray twisted the Homewrecker Killer's neck around in a gruesome manner before he let the corpse topple over onto the floor.

Amid the stunned looks and the satisfied stare in Fray's eyes, Angel shook his head at the old wizard, annoyed. "Were you even listening?"

Fray gave him a most unimpressed, unapologetic glance. "Honestly, I tuned out mostly after you said 'I know you feel'." He discarded the blade disdainfully as he glared down at Kindel's dead body. "If I have to bear a stain on my soul to send this filth into the blackest hell imaginable, then fine. My soul wasn't worth much, anyway."

Kate glared at Fray in disgust. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't call the cops and have you arrested for murder?"

Fray merely smirked. "What murder?"

With a wave of his hand, suddenly Kindel's wounds began to heal. Holding out a green amulet, Fray uttered a simple Latin word. "Animare." (Re-animate.)

Kindel suddenly began coughing, the spark of life returning to his bewildered, frightened eyes as he pathetically coughed and wheezed for air on the floor, writhing in agony.

Fray then snapped his fingers, and a screaming Kindel suddenly disappeared in a flash of purple light and smoke.

Lindsey blanched a little. "Okay, I think I'm gonna throw up a little."

Angel stared in shock at what he had seen.

"What did you do to him?" Kate demanded.

Fray shrugged. "Oh. I merely healed his wounds, reanimated him before his soul had a chance to leave his body and teleported him back to the dungeon dimension where I was torturing him." To Angel. "You had a point about the whole 'bringing him back to life and killing him over and over' thing. I think I'll try that for a while. Then when I get bored, I'll just kill him one last time and be done with it."

Angel scowled. "Great. Glad that'll make you feel better," he said sarcastically. "I mean, sure, the families of all of his victims will never get their justice now, but hey, as long as you get yours, what are their feelings, right?"

Fray sighed. "Now, now. I'm sympathetic to them. In some time after I'm done making him wish he was ever born before killing him for the last time, I'll reanimate Kindel. He'll be caught doing something mundane, probably a robbery at a convenience store or a wines and spirits merchant somewhere back in the states. And I'll have him do just enough to be shot dead by some brave, enterprising policeman. Or woman." He glanced at Kate, winking. "Justice served, my revenge wrought, everyone wins."

Kate shook her head at him, disgusted. "How do you sleep at night?"

Fray's eyes grew a bit haunted. "Since I lost my family? Not well."

Having had enough, Kate looked at Angel. "Let's just get the hell out of here, Angel. We've got what we came here for."

Angel couldn't agree more. He stared hard at Fray. "Portal. Now."

Fray merely sighed. "Of course."

He waved his hand, and a blue portal appeared. "Save travels to you all."

Grabbing the piece of white bark from Yggdrasil, Angel and his allies took several steps towards the portal.

But the Champion stopped just short.

Turning to the old wizard, Angel gave him an icy glare.

"Do yourself a favor, Fray," Angel said in a warning tone. "Lose my number. Don't contact me or mine ever again. For any reason. Got it?"

Fray sighed in resignation. "If that is your wish…"

"No. That's my warning," Angel said with finality. "And believe me…you only get one."

And then he stepped through the portal.

One by one, the other heroes followed Angel, Kate in particular throwing Fray a look of pure disgust and contempt before she followed through the portal.

Leaving only Alasdair as the last one.

The two old friends stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

Alasdair gave him a look of disappointment. "You've changed, Markus. And I don't think it was for the better."

A flicker of sadness flashed in Fray's eyes before he became more resolute. "I did what I felt was right, Alasdair."

"Right for who, Markus?" Alasdair replied, sternly. "For your family? For those victims? For the people we're trying to save before you delayed us on our quest? Or for yourself?"

Fray said nothing.

Alasdair sighed. "Markus…you're one of the few friends I have left, too. But what you've done since I came to your doorstep for help…this will take me a long time to forgive. And I'm not sure if I can."

"If you do…" Fray said. "Meet me on my birthday. At the Dancing Lion, the pub we always go to celebrate every year. I'll be at our booth. If you're there, I'll know all is forgiven."

"And if I'm not?" Alasdair asked, eyebrow raised.

Fray looked down sadly. "Then I'll understand."

Alasdair said nothing else, giving his old friend one last sad look, before he disappeared into the portal…

…leaving Fray standing in his empty apartment.

His shirt and fingers still stained with Kindel's blood.

Alone. Again.

Sighing, he snapped his fingers and opened up a portal…

Los Angeles, California, USA – Horizon Psychiatric Center

Moments Later

…which led him to a small room inside of a psychiatric center.

Where a young girl in her 20s was sleeping in her bed.

Her long dark hair was wild, unkept.

Her eyes had bags under them, yet she slept like the dead.

The old man smiled at her, warmly.

Fatherly, even.

"You're sleeping," he sighed. "Good. Rest. You deserve rest. You deserve…" he paused, grief welling up in his throat. "...you deserve the world. I wish I could give you the world. I wish I could…could take away your pain. Take your tears. Take away every horrible thing that that animal did to you."

He forced a watery smile on his lips lips. "He's gone, you know," he assured her. "I got him. I'm making sure now that he'll never hurt anyone else the way he hurt you. Or your mother. My…my Lisa," he choked, tears forming in his eyes as he softly uttered the words.

He then paused. Smiled. "But I'll find a way to help you, as well. I won't rest until I do…" he reached out and lovingly stroked the young sleeping woman's hair, who slept unaware that he was even in the room.

"I'll make you whole again…my granddaughter," he whispered softly, "...my beautiful Dana."

Sunnydale, California,

The Summers Home - 1630 Revello Drive

12:17 a.m.

Days left before the End of Days: 8

The Summers home stood as a house divided…barely.

It had been less than a handful of hours since Buffy's warriors, her allies, her most trusted friends and family, had all turned her backs on her.

Cast her out of her own home into the dark streets of an abandoned Sunnydale. The price she paid for daring to suggest that they return to the vineyard, the place where so many of them had suffered and died at the hands of the First's minions, its growing army of darkness. The price she paid for daring to try and lead this makeshift army herself.

Yet instead of coalescing as one, pure chaos had erupted, with everyone talking all at once, some calling for order, others banting about ideas, and some trying to take the mantle of leadership.

Members of the Scooby Gang tried calming the antsy and eager Potential Slayers, parts of Team Angel argued for a plan, Giles and Gunn argued heatedly with a pushier-than-normal Kennedy, Willow tried throwing around suggestions, Fred and Lorne calling fo peace, Anya making less-than-helpful snarky comments…

…and Faith, the newly-minted, newly-crowned leader of the White Hats Army, the new last hope for the world, the newly-chosen Chosen One, the new Queen of the Slayers, looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here as everyone kept talking over everyone else.

"This is our opportunity to really make a change!" Kennedy insisted. "No more of Buffy's 'my way or the highway' crap. We showed her the highway, now it's about us having a voice in this fight!"

"Bingo," Rona said, wholeheartedly. "If we're going to be risking our lives to save the world, maybe it's about time we have a say in how we're gonna do it instead of just asking 'How high?' every time Buffy asks us to jump."

"Exactly!" Kennedy said, gesturing to Rona. "It's our time now. Power to the people!"

Giles looked at the impetuous Potential with a weary expression of an adult looking at a child that thought they could wear the adult pants.

"'Power to the people?'" The Watcher sighed, rubbing his tired eyes in exasperation. "You sound like a child of the seventies."

"Exactly," Gunn added, nonplussed at growing tired of Kennedy's scrappy attitude. "What's next, you calling for The First, The Beast and Caleb to 'Make Love, Not War'?"

Kennedy glared at both men before she tried making her point again. "What I'm saying is now we can be in charge of ourselves. Make the decisions for once."

"Isn't that what we're doing now?" Wesley asked, arms folded, patience thinning at Kennedy's attitude. "I don't understand what you're getting at."

Kennedy growled in frustration. "What I'm getting at is…!"

Faith sighed tiredly, tuning Kennedy's ranting out.

This had been going on ever since Buffy walked out the door. Or was kicked out of it, a guilty part of Faith thought. But she couldn't dwell on it. She made a promise to Buffy that she would take care of these people. Lead them. And as much as she felt like a fish out of water, that was what she would try to do.

"Okay, you guys," the dark-haired Boston beauty tried, her tone diplomatic. "I hear you. But one at a time. We're all on the same side here. Let's just try not to freak out."

Yet scrappy as always, Kennedy, undeterred, pressed on. "I'm not freaking out," she huffed impatiently. "All I'm saying is that now that Buffy's not here, we finally have some say in how and when we lose our necks." She looked at Faith, beseeching approval. "You get that, right, Faith?"

Faith said nothing, merely continued to listen to all the arguments.

A ripple of fear ran through the Potentials at Kennedy's 'lose our necks' remark, and some of the others in the house, at Kennedy's crass phrasing of the life-or-death battle they now faced without the true Slayer.

Robin looked at Kennedy wryly. "Maybe you don't have to be so blunt about…" he slashed with a cutting motion with his hand in front of his neck for emphasis, "...the losing of the necks bit?"

Anya emphatically waved her hand, 'helpfully'. "No, no…let the girl speak the truth! Let's not kid ourselves. We're all on death's door repeatedly ringing the doorbell like maniacal girl scouts trying to make quota."

A frowning Cordelia, sitting across the room and already growing tired of Anya's lack of social grace and her dire comments, finally snapped. "You're about as useful as a submarine with screen doors right now, you know that, Anya?"

Anya scowled. "Or maybe I'm about as useful as a Seer without visions." Off Cordelia's narrowed eyes, the former Vengeance Demon poured it on, undeterred. "I haven't exactly seen you have many of those since you woke up from Pregnant Demon Possession Land, have you, Chase?"

Stung, the Seer's beautiful hazel-brown eyes lit in fury. "You want a vision, Demon Gal? Fine," she promptly held up her middle finger at Anya. "Here's a vision for you!"

Fred sighed, tiredly. "Guys, come on, don't do this. Not now," she pleaded in exhaustion. She had already been through enough of the emotional wringer for one night. She didn't need to hear any more bickering.

Ignoring the physics wiz, Anya stood up, furious, as she glared icily at Cordelia. "Oh, that's real classy!"

Her eyes narrowed, Cordelia shot to her feet, not backing down. "You want class? Bring your narrow ass over here, bitch, let me show you how we do it in Los Angeles!" the stunning Seer spat venomously.

"Narrow ass?" the pretty Anya all but screeched, offended and furious.

An annoyed and exhausted Xander stood up, tired of their fighting. "Okay, stop it! Both of you! This isn't the time. We've got an apocalypse to stop."

Seeing neither woman backing down, Giles tried gently. "Cordelia. Anya. Please. This is the last thing we need."

Cordelia and Anya glared daggers at each other, yet for the sake of the team, the two spitfires slowly sat down, silently agreeing to sheath their little rivalry…for now.

Xander uncomfortably shifted in his seat, knowing in part that some of their fighting was in no small part because of him. He also silently breathed a little relief, knowing that Cordelia with her newly acquired fighting skills would have most likely wiped the floor with Anya, and breaking up a smackdown between his semi-ex girlfriend and his ex-fiancee was not something he was looking forward to getting in the middle of.

"You know, I'm thinking that maybe everyone here shouldn't have a say," the one-eyed young man quipped regarding Anya's previous remarks, trying to lighten the mood, but to no avail.

His head already hurting from the overwhelming emotions simmering all night, Lorne gave Xander a tired look. "Look, Slim, I'm all for your Deadpool-esque sense of humor, but maybe we could save the jokes for 'Talent Night at the Bronze', yeah?"

"Here-here," Faith sighed in agreement. Honestly, Xander's weird sense of humor was the last thing she needed to put up with right about now.

Surprisingly, Xander did just that, immediately getting quiet at Faith's suggestion…which, Faith silently admitted, kinda weirded her out. Xander never had any problem shooting his mouth off, yet a simple phrase from her and now he was finally clamming up and listening for once. Faith noticed…and she wasn't so sure she was comfortable with it.

Giles sighed. This was getting them nowhere, and he knew it. He himself was at wit's end. The discussion with Buffy, his Slayer, his surrogate daughter, had all but drained the last bit of life out of him. Frankly, he wanted to just tell them to bugger off and call it a night, but there had to be at least some semblance of a plan before they could sleep and figure out tomorrow how to proceed in several days in a war that would determine the fate of the world…all worlds.

Tiredly, Giles rubbed his eyes, trying to be the adult in the room, the Wise Man. "We-we-we just have to find some way of having constructive dialogue without going completely mad. Faith, what do you suggest?"

There it was again, Faith realized in silent surprise. When was the last time that Giles ever asked her what she thought of to proceed? Never, by her last count. And this was Giles. He was the one who usually was giving Buffy advice, the wise special counsel to their fearless leader. Yet now, he was looking to her for ideas. Yet Faith kept her eyes neutral, no-selling her thoughts and emotions amid the chatter.

Gunn nodded in agreement with the Watcher before Faith had a chance to reply, equally tired himself. "Yeah. Whatever this is," the street fighter gestured around to all the voices around still talking, "it ain't working."

Amanda shyly raised her hand. "Do you know the parliamentary procedure, Faith?" she offered sweetly. "'Cause that's a convenient way of organizing verbal—"

But her sentence was quickly interrupted by an impatient Kennedy and a somewhat more patient Robin.

"Maybe we should break down into small groups so it wouldn't be so chaotic," Robin offered. Then he looked to their new 'leader'. "Faith, what do you think?"

Yet the charismatic brunette beauty continued to remain uncharacteristically silent, taking in every word, every suggestion. Her poker face was on, giving nothing away.

From his spot not so far away, Wesley watched her. Took in her emotions. Even if she wasn't saying anything, wasn't giving much away, he could sense much confusion in Faith. He had become surprisingly good at reading her better in the last few weeks and days than he had in the years he had first tried to train her.

"Maybe we should all keep quiet first and raise hands instead of voices," the ex-Watcher tiredly suggested, trying to give Faith enough space to think. To breath. It had been a long night, and he suspected Faith would be better off with sleep first before they delved deeper into how they would fight this battle without the legendary Buffy Summers.

"I just wonder if those of us who have been here longer should have more of a say," Kennedy blurted, subtly gesturing to herself.

Oz narrowed his eyes at that. Her words and actions were not lost on him. He had suspected that Kennedy had been making a power play for leadership in this alliance, which he found ridiculous. Kennedy may have had the foolish confidence of youth, but she didn't have the experience or the skill.

His gaze subtly ticked to Willow, who gave him a worried glance as she appeared to be thinking something of the same thing. Then his sharp blue eyes ticked questioningly to Faith, the dark-haired Slayer subtly nodding at him. Yeah, she clocked that, too, her wordless expression told the handsome young werewolf that much.

The three of them silently agreed on one thing: No way in Hellmouth was Kennedy ready to be leading anything around here.

Taking it upon himself, Oz eyed the mouthy Potential. "Well, if we're going by seniority, then there's a bunch of people here who pull more rank than you," Oz smoothly said. "Me included."

Kennedy's eyes narrowed angrily at the taciturn musician as she stood up. "You? Excuse me, but didn't you hop in your little Mystery Machine van and go off to find yourself for years before you came back here, what, a hot minute ago?"

Oz's calm expression never changed. "Didn't you arrive here a hot second ago?" he retorted, simply.

Furious, Kennedy's ears were turning red, scowling dangerously at him. Keep it up, furball, she thought angrily, and I'll turn you into a throw rug…

"Ken. Enough," an annoyed Willow warned her, as if she heard her thoughts (and likely did). "We're getting way off-base here."

Faith, already annoyed by Kennedy's behavior herself, weighed in. "Kennedy. Sit. Down." She said those words quietly, yet with enough force behind them to convey that she meant business.

Kennedy frowned deeply, but said nothing further, folding her arms in a huff as she sat down. Her eyes became angry slits as she saw the werewolf and her witch-possibly-not-anymore-girlfriend sit close to each other.

Chao-Ahn, the Chinese Potential, merely bobbed her head back and forth between all the conversations, furrowing her head in frustration as she couldn't understand a single word anyone was saying.

Amanda continued her point, doggedly. "When I was involved with the Model U.N., we found the parliamentary procedure to be a total lifesaver."

As Amanda kept talking, Dawn caught Giles's eye. Seeing the stricken look on the face of the youngest Summers girl, her tears barely dried from making her impossibly hard and heartbreaking decision to ask Buffy to leave their house, the older man took pity on her.

Slowly, he leaned over to her as the debate raged on around them.

"She's going to be fine," the kindly Watcher assured the morose teen brunette in a fatherly, hushed tone out of earshot. "Really, it's for the best."

"Yeah?" Dawn asked sadly, wretchedly. Feeling like a traitor. Like pond scum. Like the lowest of the low. "Then why do I feel so shitty, Giles? Why do I feel like…this?"

Sighing, Giles instinctively leaned over and pulled her in for a sympathetic hug, which Dawn found she was really, really needing. In typical Giles fashion, the hug was short and mostly British, though tinged with some warmth.

He brought a finger up to the girl's soft chin, raising it until their eyes met. "Everything's going to be alright, Dawn," he promised her. "Buffy will be alright. And so will Connor."

Pain knifed through Dawn's young heart at the mention of both her banished older sister and her beloved, missing boyfriend. Two of the people she loved most in this world. They weren't here, and they should be. So it was left to Dawn to figure out how to carry on without them. She just hoped she could be strong enough.

"I…I hope so," Dawn murmured quietly.

Yet Her Keyness found that hard to believe, especially with the out of control argument swirling around them. An argument that Buffy would have already shut down by now, she silently noted. She had to admit, she was missing her big sister already. And Angel. Her surrogate, brooding big brother. Whenever the world was coming to an end, whenever things seemed most dire, the brave Slayer and the noble vampire-with-a-soul had always been there. They would know exactly what to do, what to say. How to make it seem like everything would turn out alright, no matter the odds. God, how Dawn wished they were here right now…

But they're not here, Dawn reminded herself silently. So it's up to you to do right by them, Dawn. It's up to you to make them proud. To be strong…

Dawn's thoughts were interrupted as Amanda kept talking, yet the side chatter kept going, many talking amongst themselves as they ignored the band geek.

Annoyed, and a little hurt, Amanda kept making her point, "For example, once when I was Uruguay—anyway, one of those "U" countries—it was like here, only we had this system which allowed us to organize our conversation…"

Amid her droning, Fred found herself starting to nod off, only for Gunn to helpfully nudge her from his seat next to her. Waking up, she gave the street fighter and her ex-boyfriend a grateful, warm look that he returned in kind.

Getting tired of hearing this, and not entirely sure what Amanda was droning on about, Faith tiredly waved for her to be silent for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. "Look, I hear what you're saying, but—"

She was cut off as Kennedy impatiently half-shouted, "Shouldn't we get down to business? Think of a plan? Strategy? Battle preparations, something?"

Cordelia gave the annoying upstart a withering look. "It's past midnight, and you want to go all 'Fight Club' now? I'm way too zonked for that. And so is everyone else." She looked to Faith for support. "I'm not wrong, am I, Faith?"

Okay, now Faith was surprised. When the hell did Cordelia ever look to her for approval on something she said? Like, ever? They weren't exactly bestest buds, even in the best of times. In fact, Faith was reasonably sure Cordelia held a grudge against her for giving her a black eye, torturing Wesley and trying to kill Angel years ago…as she probably should, Faith admitted to herself. Yet here she was, Cordelia Chase, asking for Faith's opinion on something.

Funny how things change when you become the leader, Faith silently mused.

Gunn found a yawn escaping his lips. "Cordy's right. Ain't no way we can be mapping out strategy as tired as we are."

"I hear that," Fred agreed, more than eager for this night to be over.

"I wouldn't mind a nap myself," Molly added, yawning.

"The only nap we're going to be taking is a dirt nap if we don't start putting together a plan!" an irritated Kennedy snapped. Why aren't these so-called heroes taking this seriously? The end of the world is coming and you idiots want to take a nap?

Already tired of Kennedy's antics, Gunn threw an intimidating scowl at her. "Hey…take it down a notch, rookie," he said, his tone tinged with none-too-subtle warning. "I've been killing demons and vampires on the streets since back when you were still playing with Barbies, I think I know a little bit more about battle prep than you."

Kennedy scowled at the seasoned vampire hunter. "Yeah? And how'd that work out for you, Thug Life?" she asked sarcastically, acidly.

Gunn fixed her with an Arctic stare. "I'm still alive, aren't I, Miss Uncongeniality?"

Now Fred, suddenly awake, and angry, gave the mouthy Potential a withering glare. "He's alive enough to have saved your little stuck-up ungrateful ass a few times since we all joined up, didn't he? Now do what Cordelia told you earlier and Shut. Up."

Frozen, Kennedy was suddenly at a loss for words at Fred's unexpectedly vicious swipe.

Surprised, Gunn looked at her incredulously, amazed, and moved by her unexpected defense of him. Suddenly a little more shy, and self-conscious, a blushing Fred gave him a warm glance.

And the hardened street fighter found himself smiling for what seemed like the very first time to him.

Watching them, Cordelia smiled, pleased at both Fred's well-done put-down of the increasingly annoying Kennedy and the body language between the former lovers.

What the hell? At least somebody around here should get to have a happy ending, the sexy Seer thought wistfully as she turned her eyes and briefly caught a vision of Xander talking quietly with Willow. Suppressing the ache in her heart, Cordelia shook it off and focused back on the larger conversation.

Willow rolled her eyes before she earnestly called for their attention. "You guys, I think we're wasting time arguing about how to argue," the redheaded Witch argued.

Amanda tried one last time. "Well, why don't we—?"

Caridad, the pretty Latina Potential, glared at the shy band geek in warning. "Girl, don't you mention parliamentary procedure again."

Dawn, under her breath, muttered sarcastically "I second that."

Vi, trying to hide her smile, looked at Dawn and Molly. "All those in favor?"

All three raised their hands secretively, trying to hide their tiny smiles. Amanda caught them, however, glaring at her friends. Innocently, Dawn shrugged sheepishly as Molly gave Amanda a consoling pat on the back.

And all the while, Faith sat there. Quietly. Steady and wrested back in the captain's chair, or rather the arm of the living room sofa. Normally, Faith would have been right there, quipping, bantering, throwing out ideas and snarks with all of them.

But this wasn't a normal situation, she silently realized.

This time…she was in charge.

She was the leader. All eyes were on her. People were looking to her for guidance. To her for protection. To her for approval. To her for leadership. Like she was Don Corleone from 'The Godfather' or something. At this rate, she wouldn't have been surprised if she put a ring on her finger and a line formed for the rest of the house to kiss the ring, literally. That's the kind of power she seemed to have right now, all within a matter of hours since the rest of the house, comprised of The Potentials, Team Angel and The Scoobies themselves, voted to take the crown off Buffy's head and anoint Faith as the leader of this makeshift army.

It was exhilarating. It was terrifying. It was lonely. And, she decided, this wasn't the time to talk. It was time to listen.

And listen.

And listen…

And listen some more…

And finally, after letting the banter and ideas and suggestions and demands and snarks fly for as long as she would stand it, Faith decided she was done listening.

"Everyone," she said, and all discussion stopped instantly.

Faith tried to ignore how headey that felt…how scary. "Guys…listen to me."

She took a breath. And then Faith continued. Her tone was a mix of just the right amount of breezy to make the troops at ease, but just the right amount of authority to make sure everyone knew who had the big stick right now. "Chill."

And to her surprise…they did. They all looked to her. Not even a pin drop could be heard in the household. Her voice had calmed them.

All at once, Buffy's last words from their conversation hit her. It's only gonna get harder, Faith. But you're all they have now. You're the most powerful one in that house right now. You're the strongest, the fastest…you're the Slayer…Protect them…but lead them.

Fighting the urge to gasp at the realization of the planet-sized burden, the power, now thrust upon her strong, yet slender shoulders, Faith took a silent breath and then continued.

"Just…relax. Okay?" she said calmly. Assuringly. Silently promising them that it would be alright. That they were not defenseless. That they were not alone. Because they had her. Because the Slayer still had their backs. "All right? Cool. Look, guys, it's been a long night, and I don't know about you, but I'm wiped. And so are you. Right now, I'm so tired I can barely spell my own name right, forget coming up with a battle plan. Maybe we should catch some sleep and figure all this out in the morning."

Deciding to back up the Slayer…his Slayer?, a part of him pondered...Wesley swiftly added, "Faith is right. We've all been through a lot tonight, and in the last few days, frankly. Perhaps some rest and a sound breakfast in the morning will do us all good before we discuss stratagem for the coming battles."

Faith looked to Wesley, surprised, but thankful for his support. God knows I need it, she thought to herself.

The ex-Watcher…her Watcher?, she wondered silently…merely nodded in return.

A shocked and still frustrated Kennedy pressed their new leader. "Do we really have time to waste?"

Yet Faith did not lose her cool. She kept calm, kept her raspy, sultry voice steady as she swam in the unchartered waters of being the leader.

"Look, I understand you guys are wicked stressed," the sexy South Boston-born Slayer told the room with understanding and sympathy, imagining how Angel or Buffy would do it from the many times she had seen them make this kind of speech. "Frankly, our situation sucks."

Giles and Wesley exchanged silent glances. Both Watcher and ex-Watcher agreed with Faith's assessment. Time was running out. The First Evil had the Keystone. The Watchers Council was dead. Buffy was gone, her leadership no longer trusted. Angel was gone, possibly dead, on a quest to claim a legendary weapon. Spike had been sent away on a dangerous mission. Whistler had left with him. Connor had vanished. Darla had left, trying to find her long-suffering son. Sunnydale was being abandoned. And they had an entire army of fiends from the stuff of nightmares to face if they wanted to save the world, to save all life as they knew it.

Yes, the two men agreed silently; their situation, indeed, truly sucked.

"But we've got to stay cool," Faith continued, in a calm, but firm voice that was new to her. The voice of a leader. "That's the only way we're going to get through this. Can everyone handle that?"

To Faith's silent relief, her words seemed to work. The group had come down off the hysteria and had begun to settle down. Begun to fall in line.

Under a new leader.

Me, she thought silently, with some awe and more than a little dread.

Gunn spoke up in support. "Yeah." He gave Faith a small nod of encouragement. "We got your back. Go do your thang, girl."

Faith, grateful, gave him a faint smile, winking at Gunn in gratitude.

Vi, seemingly mollified now with Faith in the captain's seat, smiled brightly. Optimistically.

"Yeah…" she said cheerily, if not a bit shaky, "...yeah!...We'll get some rest and then tomorrow, things won't seem so—"

ZZZZZZT!

Without warning, the Summers home was sent into total darkness.

Vi screamed.

So did just about every other Potential in the house, everyone else jumping and gasping, frightened, murmurs running wild as others were asking what happened; some suspecting another attack by the Bringers.

Chao-Ahn began shouting in alarmed, nervous Mandarin that nobody else could understand.

"Chao! English!" Caridad tried to get her to speak something she could understand, unsuccessfully.

It was a full-on freak out all over again.

As Vi continued to scream in terror in the dark, Amanda, growing annoyed, shouted at her friend, "Vi, be quiet!"

Swallowing nervously, the pretty redhead Potential uttered, "O-okay…! Wh-wh-what happened?"

"Uh, the lights went out, genius?" an irritated voice belonging to Rona replied, snarky and all wise-ass.

"Yeah, we can see that, Captain Obvious," Cordelia shot back at Rona in the dark, these frayed teeny-bopper tempers starting to get on her nerves.

"Is everyone alright?" a concerned Dawn asked, looking around the pitch black room.

"We're fine," Molly said, assuringly.

"I'll get some candles…" Amanda offered helpfully,"...um, if we have candles."

"I'll go with you," Molly volunteered.

Gunn stood up. "Sit tight, y'all, I'll go check the fuse box."

Faith swiftly moved to the window…and she saw something that made her heart sink.

"Don't bother, Chuck." Off Gunn's confused stare, Faith motioned for him to come to the window. "All the lights on the whole street just went out."

A now less-confident Kennedy looked at Faith, worried. "Which means…?" she demanded.

Faith swallowed, her beautiful face grim even in the dark, the group could see that as they all looked at their new leader. "That the people from the power company have gotten the hell out of Sunnydale."

Stunned silence filled the room, the heroes all exchanging looks of worry.

Gunn shook his head, cursing under his breath. "Damn. She's right, y'all. There's lights out on blocks as far as the eye can see."

Fred looked alarmed. "What? Faith, are…are you sure?"

"Makes sense," the dark-haired Slayer replied, grim as the Reaper himself. "Hospitals are emptying, all the people have been leaving in droves, the school is closed…this is a dead town now. The asshats from the power company probably figured 'What does a dead town need with electricity?'"

A now-concerned Cordelia put it all together. "So, you mean to tell me that Sunnydale, the town sitting right on top of the Hellmouth, which attracts vampires like flies to horse poo, is now completely dark and dead with the mother of all apocalypses like a week away?"

Willow swallowed nervously as she exchanged worried looks with Cordelia, then with Xander, then Oz and Dawn and Fred. "In a nutshell? Yup."

A one-eyed Xander grimaced. "Oh…well, I guess the gods figured us facing down the Mother of All Apocalypses against the Forces of Darkness without Buffy and Deadboy wasn't enough of a challenge," he quipped in dismay.

More silence.

Faith, Giles and Wesley all exchanged concerned looks in the dark. They all were thinking the same thing…

…Things had just gone from bad to worse.

Vi quietly squeaked out the words that nobody dared to say, but were silently all thinking.

"Guys?" the redheaded Slayer-in-Training uttered. "I think I'm freaking out."

Faith wouldn't say it aloud…but deep down, so was she.

All of a sudden, it was too much for her.

Too much, too soon.

"I…I need some air," she said quietly. "Sit tight, people. Go get some candles. I'll…go check the perimeter for any bad guys."

Then she walked out the door, to everyone's surprise.

Giles found Wesley's eyes. Silently, the older man motioned with his head towards the front door.

Go after her, the Watcher said silently.

Wesley looked to the door, his gaze uncertain. A little afraid to see what would happen if he opened that door again. I shouldn't…

Giles's gaze became more patient, a wane smile forming on his face. Wesley…you must.

Sighing in resignation, Wesley nodded. Giles was right. Faith…needed him, Wesley realized. For better or worse, he was the only one she seemed to be listening to right now.

Silently, the jaded ex-Watcher moved towards the door after her, closing it on his way out.

Taking a huge breath, Faith walked out to the front lawn of the Summers home.

It was all overwhelming for her. She had barely been in the captain's chair for an hour, maybe two, and already the pressure was mounting.

God, she was craving a cigarette. Then she uttered a most unladylike curse when she realized she left her lighter in her jacket upstairs.

And she was not going back in there right now, Faith decided. Not with everybody in there looking at me like I'm supposed to turn water into wine or something…

She had no idea how Buffy did this. Everyone was looking to her now for answers, and Faith wasn't even sure she was asking the right questions.

Man, she wished Angel was here. Or that Buffy was still here. Or…or…

…or Spike, a part of her heart unconsciously offered.

Faith closed her eyes. God, she hated how she left things with him the other night. How she had just sent him away like he was some sort of nuisance to her, something that bothered her. And not someone she wanted…someone she needed…

It scared her a little how much she was missing him. Missing his jokes, his loyalty, the way he could always find the right way to calm her down, to make her laugh, piss her off, excite her, make her feel…the way I hope that deep down I really am…

"Faith?"

The dark-haired Slayer closed her eyes, frustrated. Fuck…not now…

Straightening her back, she didn't turn around when she answered. "I'm not really looking for company right now, Wes."

"Maybe not," the man answered from behind her. "But I'll offer it anyway."

Realizing that he wasn't going to go away anytime soon, Faith let out a frustrated sigh before she turned back to face him.

There Wesley stood, a sliver of moonlight hitting his face while the rest of him was cloaked in shadows. Sporting a brown leather jacket, dark blue shirt and blue jeans. The stubble on his classically handsome features making him quite the dish, Faith silently admitted. Maybe not Angel-levels or Spike-levels of hot, but still, Wesley was looking pretty damn fine to Faith's eyes; worlds better than that stuffy school boy image he had years ago.

Faith folded her arms defensively over her impressive chest. "You don't know when to quit, do you?"

Wesley's lips pressed into a thin line, a sad expression in his eyes. "Never do. Even though sometimes I wish I did."

Faith narrowed her eyes at him. "If I use my fabulous new 'Leader' powers, can I just make you go back inside?" she ventured.

Wesley smiled thinly, but shook his head. "I don't do well with taking orders these days, I'm afraid."

Faith scowled at him, a look of resentment on her face. "Yeah, you've made that real clear, Wes. Probably a couple weeks back when you tortured that junkie when we were looking for Angelus." She scowled as she remembered how Wesley had restored to torturing that drugged-out girl at Hollywood North Billiards in their search for Angelus, later urging Faith to do whatever was necessary to bring Angelus down and bring him in, no matter the cost. "You don't take orders, you do what you think is right, no matter what or no matter how others feel about it."

Wesley frowned. He suspected they were starting to get to the heart of the matter, but let her continue. "Meaning?"

Her brow furrowed in anger, Faith took two steps closer to him. "What the hell was that back there? Huh? Putting it up to a vote about sticking me in charge? Kicking Buffy out? What the hell makes you think that was what I wanted? Did you even bother to ask me what I wanted? How I felt about it? If I even thought I was ready?"

"You are ready," Wesley assured her.

"What the hell do you know about being ready?" Faith spat, angrily. "You have no idea what it's like to be in this spot! To be Angel, or Buffy…" she thumped her index finger to her chest, tried to keep her emotions under control, tried to not look like she was losing it, like she had no idea what she was doing as she took a breath and continued her tirade, "...to have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Knowing that everyone is counting on you to make the right decisions, to make the right calls, asking you to lead them when I'm not even sure where I should be going!"

Wesley saw her struggle with her emotion, and tried to give her some empathy. "You're not going to have to do this alone, Faith. You have help. You have us."

"What's 'us', Wes?" Faith retorted, her voice oozing with sarcasm. "A house full of girls who've barely been in the field? With a witch that's lost her powers? A werewolf that's scared to use his powers? A kid sister who's some cosmic Key-thing that still can't control her powers? A Seer that can't 'see'? A Watcher with no Council backing him up, and you with your damn brooding and your 50 shades of gray moralizing?" She scoffed. "Oh, yeah, I really hit the jackpot."

Faith looked at him, and the fear flickered in her eyes. "There's just me. I get it now. Chosen One, Wes. One. Singular. It's all on me. If I can't get the job done…we're all dead."

She swallowed thickly. "And that's gonna be my fault. And…and I'm not ready. I'm not even close to being ready. You shouldn't have gotten rid of Buffy, Wes. You guys made a huge mistake."

Wesley took her words in, but stared at her frankly. "Faith…it had to be done," he said plainly. "Buffy is in no state to lead us. There was no one else, it has to be you."

But Faith didn't buy it, refused to buy what he was selling. She grew more frustrated. More heated. "You made a mistake, Wes. You kicked her out of her own damn house!"

Wesley frowned. "I didn't ask her to leave."

Faith gave him an accusatory stare. "No. But you didn't ask her to stay, either."

"It had to be done, Faith." Wesley said it with a sense of assuredness that Faith should have found reassuring, yet found instead to be so goddamned frustrating. "Those are the hard choices that we have to make."

Faith bitterly scoffed at those words. "Funny. Because I didn't get much choice at all. And neither did Buffy."

Finally, Wesley backed off, slightly. He could see that Faith was trying her hardest to keep it together. The normal tough, street-smart exterior she wore as a mask was slipping just a little, revealing a young woman who wasn't sure if she was completely out of her depth.

"Look. I wish it could have been done differently," he tried, his tone a little softer. "Really, I do. But the others were right. Buffy's state of mind right now is questionable, at best. Going back to the vineyard with Caleb still there is a suicide mission."

Silently, Faith agreed on that. Something in her bones told her that they would all die if they went back in there the way Buffy wanted. At nearly-full strength, they were beaten badly. Limping as they were now? Caleb and his pals would kill them all, and Faith knew it.

Still, that didn't mean that Faith thought she was ready to be in charge. Ready to be the leader. To be not just a Chosen One, but The Chosen One.

"Wesley…" she paused for a moment, hating herself for being so honest, so damn vulnerable. "...I'm not ready. I'm not the one. I'm not your gal. Buffy is. I'm not—"

"Buffy's not here," Wesley said simply. His voice became more…softer? Encouraging?...something, Faith noticed. Something real that she had never heard from him before. Not towards her, anyway. "You are. You're the one we chose."

Buffy's words again came back to haunt her, and Faith silently cursed the tiny blonde Slayer for laying this responsibility at her feet. "Because I'm the only one around who fits the bill?" she asked, a bit bitterly, a bit insecure.

Imposter syndrome filled her, the old feelings coming back about her never being good enough, never being trusted enough to fill in the role, carry the mantle of The Slayer. Constantly being in the shadow of The Great Buffy Summers.

Wesley shook his head…and smiled at her. "Because you're ready."

Faith wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe that she was.

But she wasn't…she knew she wasn't.

"Then why don't I feel like I'm ready?" she asked quietly, big mocha-brown eyes looking back at Wesley full of doubt.

Full of fear. Full of questions that she didn't have the answers to.

Wesley walked closer to her, looking into her eyes.

Something inside him told him that this was a pivotal moment here.

Not just for her…but for him, as well.

Maybe for all of them.

A Slayer needs her Watcher, the words of Giles rang in his head.

Slowly, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

To his surprise…and to Faith's own…she let him.

"Nobody ever feels ready, at first," Wesley offered gently. "How can we? But life presents us with moments sometimes. Whether we're ready for them or not. Sometimes, the moments choose us. But sometimes…"

He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We don't always have to face those moments alone."

Faith gazed at him, confused and scared and overwhelmed and feeling so many things.

And yet…

Maybe it was how Spike had been preaching to her to let others in, to let them help her. Maybe Angel's constant advice was finally starting to sink in. Maybe it was just because she was tired of doing things alone, but something in her…wanted to let him in.

"I'm…I don't know if I can do this, Wesley," Faith confided. Hating how unsure she sounded when everyone needed her to be stronger. "I don't know the first thing about being a leader. I…"

She looked down, hating this. "I don't want to let everyone down."

Gently, Wesley raised her chin. "Faith, I know you feel like you're alone. But you don't have to be. Whatever happens now, whatever the challenges are ahead…there's a house full of people in there who will do anything for you. You are not alone."

Faith felt those words warm her, comfort her.

Made it feel for a moment that the weight of the world on her shoulders was suddenly a little lighter…if only for a little while.

In surprise and awe, she offered him a smile. "Look at you. Being all Mister Optimism. When did this happen?"

Wesley merely shrugged. "When you work for four years for a borderline-depressed vampire with a soul, you learn a thing or two about the brighter side of life."

That made an involuntary chuckle leave Faith's mouth, and to his own surprise, Wesley found himself laughing a little with her. A much-needed moment of levity.

Faith smiled warmly at him. "Thanks, Wes. I…I needed that," she admitted.

The ex-Watcher nodded. "I…owed it to you, in some way." He shrugged as he looked up at the stars in the night sky. "When I was last here in this town, I was a downright pillock. I see that now. I foolishly thought that if I followed the Council's methods, their ways, their protocols and musty old books, that I would be ready for anything. That I could handle not only one Slayer, but two Slayers."

He chuckled wryly. "I wasn't ready then. I see that. It was only by taking time away, growing and seeing what real life was life in the last four years that I finally understand what's out there. And what we need to do to face it. Honestly, if I could go back in time and meet that younger version of me, I'd have punched him in the face for being so thick-headed."

Faith smirked as she thought back to those times. "Believe me, Buffy and I used to fantasize about that. We had a bet once."

Wesley laughed. "I could hardly blame you," he said, a little wistfully as he looked out into the streets of this town where he failed so miserably once. "I was a child. I wasn't ready to be a Watcher then."

And he wasn't. He knew that. Part of him knew that even then, but he was so eager to prove to the Council…to his father…that he was ready. That he could be more. And in doing so, he made mistakes. Costly mistakes.

Like with Connor, a part of him thought in misery.

Faith's voice broke the silence.

"Well…what if you're ready now?"

Wesley turned and looked at Faith, eyes wide in surprise.

Her eyes were sincere, her pretty features honest.

Wesley looked at her questioningly. As if he didn't quite understand, didn't quite believe what he was hearing.

Faith shrugged, giving him an earnest glance. "Look, Wes, I'm in over my head here," she admitted. "And…it would be nice to have the same kind of help Buffy does, or used to have. With…with Giles, I mean. The way he helps her."

Wesley stared at her, stunned. "Faith…are you…what is it you're asking?"

Faith sighed. "Look. I don't…I don't have the best track record with Watchers. My first one died because of Kakistos. My second one was really Buffy's and not mine, and the last one…" she pointedly looked at him. "...I nearly killed. I just figured that maybe I wasn't meant to have one." Her eyes never left his. "But…I've worked with you. The new you. I don't always get you, and you're still a little bit of a pain, but…we work pretty good together. And…it'd be nice to…"

She gestured a little with her one hand in the air. "...to know that I had someone in my corner. To help with this…Slayer stuff."

Wesley was almost left speechless. Never in a million years did he think these words would be coming from Faith, of all people, to him, of all people.

"You…you're asking me to be your Watcher again?" he asked, finally stating the words that Faith seemed to be dancing around.

There it was, Faith realized. There was no going back now.

Except…except Faith realized, she didn't want to go back.

She wanted to go forward, the way Angel was always telling her she should.

"I…I mean…look, I know that you and I don't have the best history. I haven't always been the best Slayer, and you haven't always been the best Watcher. But…" she said, the cocksure, confident young woman being almost shy about asking him, looking down at her shoes for a moment before she turned her gaze back to him. "...but maybe together, we wouldn't…suck."

Inwardly, Faith cringed at her pitch.

To her surprise, the hardened Wesley chuckled a little.

Honestly, he was starting to feel the same way. Maybe Giles was right. Maybe Faith needed him after all…and maybe, just maybe…

…maybe a part of him needed her, too.

Needed to be a Watcher again.

Needed to help someone.

To do right.

"Faith," he said, solemnly. "If we're going to do this…again…you need to know. I won't go easy on you. I'll push you. It's fine if you push me back, but I won't let up on you. I'll be hard on you, at times. You may not always like how I go about things. And you may not always like what I have to say."

Off her nod, he continued, "But I'll always have your best interests at heart. I'll always look out for you. And if you need to be heard…" he said finally, "...I'll always be willing to listen. Do you think you can handle that?"

Faith didn't even think twice. She nodded. "I've tried doing the solo thing, Wesley," she sighed. "It's not working right now. I need help. I want to do this right, and if that's what you're asking of me…" Her eyes glinted with resolve. "I'm here for it. I'm ready. Whatever it takes."

He heard her words, searched her eyes. Gauging if she was telling him the truth.

A long, eternal moment passed…

Then he slowly reached out, put his hand on her shoulder again. Their eyes met in a single, meaningful moment.

Giving each other trust.

Giving each other a silent pledge.

Pledging loyalty.

Pledging dedication.

Pledging trust.

"Faith," he finally spoke. "If that's what you want…I'd be honored to be your Watcher once more."

Faith could have sworn she felt her heart grow a size in her chest.

She couldn't explain why, but something about this just felt…right, somehow.

Every Slayer had her Watcher.

And now, once again, she had hers.

Faith and Wesley.

Slayer and Watcher.

The Chosen One and Her Guardian.

She nodded, clasping the hand on her shoulder. "Yeah," she gave him a half-smile. "Every Slayer needs a Watcher, I guess. Might as well be you. I mean, what do I have to lose, right?"

Wesley smirked at that less-than-glowing approval. "Yeah, that's the spirit," he said wryly.

Both shared a chuckle again.

Yet an understanding had passed between them.

The shouting inside the house grew louder, reminding them that there was a house full of people that needed them right now.

"Duty calls," Faith sighed, rolling her eyes as she began to walk back into the house.

Only with Wesley walking with her.

Shoulder-to-shoulder.

Slayer with Watcher.

"Keep an eye on Kennedy," Wesley quietly advised her…advised his Slayer, he silently amended. "She seems to be pushing for your spot as the leader."

Faith shrugged, trusting his words…the words of her Watcher, she quietly noted. That's…gonna take some getting used to… "Yeah, I've got my eye on her. Brat's gonna have one rude awakening if she thinks she can muscle me out just because she's banging Willow."

"If you need to focus on handling more pressing matters, I can take care of her for you," Wesley offered.

Faith lips quirked into a cheeky smirk. "Maybe you can sleep her with the fishes? Be the Tom Hagen to my Michael Corleone?"

Wesley looked at her wryly. "Luca Brasi was the one who you'd send to sleep her with the fishes."

Faith scoffed. "You're not big enough to be Luca."

Wesley smirked at her. "Who needs size when you have a gun? Besides, I'm far better looking than Luca."

Faith took a peek at his backside, then smiled devilishly. "Yeah, and a better ass, too."

"Faith!" he said, almost admonishingly.

Now she did laugh.

Sunnydale, California - Walker Street

5 miles from 1630 Revello Drive

1:17 a.m.

Buffy Summers was not, however, in a laughing mood.

She wasn't in the mood for…anything, really.

All in all, as she walked aimlessly through the deserted streets of her town, she felt…

Numb.

Lost.

More alone than she'd ever felt in her life.

She felt like a floating piece of ice walking down the streets in the night.

Cold. Detached. Not really a part of anything. Not feeling anything.

The tears on her face had dried, but had left tracks that were still visible with the right glint of street light.

Arms folded across her chest, she occasionally rubbed at her arms to feel some sensation of warmth.

Of comfort.

Of anything.

For the first time in her life, Buffy Summers, the mighty Slayer, the legendary hero, scourge of the underworld, had nothing.

No friends.

No allies.

No Angel.

No mom.

No family.

No job.

No Calling.

And now…not even her home.

Part of her wondered if maybe she deserved this. For insisting that her friends return to the place where they nearly died, risked their lives again, all on a hunch.

Another part of her cried out, hurt and wounded. Wondering how her friends, her family, could do this to her. How they could be so cruel. After all the times she had been there for them, saved them, protected them, listened to their fears, their personal worries, their doubts, been their friend, been there for each of them…only to be cast out of her own home?

Then there was that dark part of her…the Slayer part of her…raging in fury, wanting to go back there and storm the place. Kick each and every one of their ungrateful asses out of her house, tell them to go find some other place to feel safe, but not in her home.

She slammed the door in The Slayer's face, instead. She didn't want to be the Slayer right now. Besides, she thought with a hint of bitterness, according to her friends, she was no longer The Slayer.

All at once, the fresh grief, the crushing weight of her failure, hit her again.

My friends kicked me out, she thought, pain ripping her heart to pieces all over again as she swallowed a sob that threatened to bubble at her throat. They…don't want me…

The mere thought was too painful to stand.

Buffy walked down the middle of the street, looking around here and there, her survival instincts only mildly interested instead of their usual sharp awareness. The lights were all out. Doors were slung open, entire homes abandoned in what was an otherwise nice neighborhood. Some cars were even abandoned.

Sunnydale had truly become a ghost town. A town she had failed to protect. And now she was paying the price for that failure.

Buffy saw a family nearby hurriedly packing their belongings into their car and getting the hell out of Sunnydale. Buffy pitied them for a moment, wondering if they had any place to go, any plan of what to do.

And yet, Buffy realized, they had more than she did at the moment. They had a car, and each other.

What did she have?

Nothing, she coldly realized. No one…

Here she was, the Slayer, Guardian of the Hellmouth…

…friendless, loveless, jobless, and now, homeless.

Homeless. The word seemed so odd for her to process. Part of her absently wondered if she should get a stick and a handkerchief to carry her belongings in, like in the cartoons. Not that she had any belongings right now.

She had nothing but the clothes on her back, her tattered heart and her right hook.

For now, she decided, that would have to do.

Looking around absently, she realized the night was starting to get chilly, even for California. More out of not wanting to sleep in the cold than the fear of running into vampires or any of the First's minions, she decided to hunker down somewhere for the night.

She chose one small house on her right, whose door was still closed. Slowly, the downtrodden, heartbroken and beaten-down Slayer walked up to it and tried to turn the door.

The door was locked.

More out of latent frustration than anything else, Buffy decided she wasn't in the mood for any more doors to be closed to her tonight.

CRACK!

The door swung open, kicked open by her powerful foot. Without much thought, she wandered in, slowly looking around the place.

It was a cozy little home, she realized. Some nice portraits were hung on the walls, it had that nice eggshell white look that her mom liked. Buffy stifled the swell of emotion thinking about her beloved late mother as she walked deeper into the dark, still house.

Her face was blank of any emotion, her insides still feeling numb. Yet out of instinct, her eyes scanned the dark. Old Slayer habits died hard, a part of her realized absently.

Barely a few steps in, she heard the creak of a floorboard. Then footsteps.

Within moments, Buffy suddenly found herself face to face with a shotgun.

Aimed right at her pretty face.

Pointed at her by a African American man, maybe in his early 60s.

"Don't move!" he said, menacingly.

His hands were shaking so badly that he probably wouldn't have been able to hit her at point blank range. But then again, Buffy knew from experience that an idiot with a gun could still get lucky. Her chest dully throbbed for a moment at the reminder of when the bullet from Warren's gun pierced her chest last year and came within inches of killing her again.

Shaking the thought from her head, she returned her attention to the man. His eyes were wide, some kind of strange combination of sleeplessness and paranoia. He had probably been guarding the house like this for a few days, she realized.

The thought made a part of her mildly angry. The town was clearly not safe anymore, why was this man so hellbent on dying in it? Didn't his life matter to him?

Buffy decided then, she didn't really care.

She didn't care about anything right now, not really.

"Get out of my house!" he demanded angrily as he held the shotgun fast at Buffy's head.

Buffy decided at that point that she was not in the mood for this man's nonsense.

"Hey," she snapped dully, her voice, normally so full of life and spark and sass, now flat, dull. "Don't do that."

Then, in a lightning-fast move, she pushed the gun away, grabbed the barrel, and wrenched it out of the man's hands with just one hand. The man stared at her, stunned and shocked, that this little girl had disarmed him like he was just a child with a toy that he shouldn't be playing with.

Buffy sighed, somewhat apologetically. Part of her did feel bad, for doing this. But this guy needed to get with the program, and she didn't have anywhere else to go.

"Look, I…I thought this place would be empty," she said quietly. "I was looking for a place to crash. I…I don't have anywhere else to go."

"That's not my problem, get out!" he snapped.

But she didn't go. She stood her ground. And she was not about to get kicked out of two houses in one night, she decided.

"Everyone has left town. You know, you really should leave, too. Now. Tonight," she quietly advised him. "It's not safe here anymore."

The man stared at her, blustering and outraged. "You-you can't kick me out of my own house!"

Buffy merely shrugged. "Why not? It's what all the cool kids are doing nowadays."

The man wanted to protest some more, but as Buffy took another step towards him, his gun in her hand, the man felt a primal instinct tell him that he was no match for this strange girl in his home. That he should take her advice.

That he should run. He should leave.

And leave right now.

"Get a clue, pops. It's not your house," she said in a lifeless voice, as the man stumbled out of her way desperately. "It's not your town. Not anymore."

Taking the gun with her, the defeated Slayer slowly trudged her way into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, looking through it for anything to eat.

"Hey," she turned absently to the man, "do you have any Tab?"

But the man had fled, running into the night.

Leaving Buffy alone.

Again.

Buffy sighed, part of her wondering if this was just her lot in life, after all. To walk her path alone.

For the first time ever, Buffy felt like she had truly…lost.

I…am lost, Buffy realized, closing her eyes to hold the tears at bay.

"Oy, cutie," a voice called from the dark. "There wouldn't happen to be any Guinness in there, would there?"

Alarmed, Buffy turned around to find the source of that voice.

A handsome young guy, Buffy noticed. Brown hair on the short side, brown leather jacket. He had a nice red dress shirt, but it was sloppily tucked in and out of his black dress pants and clashed with a white undershirt.

He casually leaned against the opposite doorway, the shadows playing on his face, giving him a slightly eerie look as he shuffled a deck of playing cards.

Instinctively, Buffy's hand drifted towards the inside of her coat, where Mister Pointy the stake lay in waiting. "If you're a vampire, boy, have you picked the wrong night and the wrong gal," she warned, blinking her eyes to banish the tears that threatened so she could look her most menacingly Slayer best. Yet her voice lacked the fire it usually had when she made that threat.

"You know, you really have to work on that instinct of yours, lass," the young man chided in his lilting Irish tone. "By now, you shoulda been able to figure out that I'm not a vampire. Especially considerin' your more…personal…history with certain vampires. A particularly broody one with a thing for too much hair gel, for instance?"

Buffy frowned at that, the reference to Angel causing a dull pain in her already shattered heart. "Who are you?"

The man put his hand to his heart in mock hurt. "Oy, she wounds me! You meet someone for a whole five minutes and you think you leave an impression. Well, technically, in your case, we met for a day, but…you probably don't remember that, do ya?"

Buffy's eyes focused on him. Something dawned on her, an old memory. "I…" she said, frowning. "I know you."

"Yeah, you do," the young man said as he stepped more into what little light there was in the dark room, giving Buffy a better look at his face. "The name's Doyle. Used to work for your fella, Angel. I was sent by the Powers That Be."

Buffy's eyes widened in surprise. She now remembered exactly who this...kinda cute...guy was. Emphasis on 'was', past tense. I...he...but...he's dead...

Doyle gave the crestfallen heroine a sad smile. "Kid…we need to talk."

To Be Continued…

Next: Doyle returns from the grave to have a heart-to-heart talk with Buffy, leading to revelations that rock Buffy's further deteriorating world. What secret has the fallen hero brought to our heroine as she deals with her life falling apart with the apocalypse looming?

And Angel and Spike return to the Summers home. How will Angel respond to the news of his friends and allies' decision to kick Buffy out of the house with the Awakening looming?

A/N: I caved to the years of requests. Doyle has returned :) Though how long and what his message to Buffy is will be anyone's guess.

Yes, Dana, the Slayer from Season 5 of Angel, is Markus Fray's granddaughter, Dana Fray. An ancestor of Melaka Fray, the Slayer of the future in the "Fray" comics. I thought that'd be a nice tie-in.

And I figured I'd give our heroes a plausible weapon to fight the Ubervamps instead of the weird inconsistency thing of them being invincible one minute from staking and then just exploding to ashes with regular stakes in the finale for no reason at all. With these magic stakes, the odds are a little more even, although our heroes are still outnumbered.

Should be a heck of a battle.

More on the way soon! Please read, review and follow!

Best,

Jean-theGuardian