Bring Me to Life

A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event

Part 79

Touched, Part 6


Sunnydale, CA - G Street

9:49 p.m.

Days left before the End of Days: 8


Moving like the shadows, Darla slipped quietly in and out among the gravestones of the empty Sunnydale Cemetery.

She extended her preternatural senses, her enhanced sight, smell, and hearing, far and wide as she could. But despite her best efforts, she could not find hide nor hair of her son Connor.

She smelled only hints of his cinnamon and dirt-like scent. He had been here recently, that much her senses told her. But it appeared the biker creep she thrashed for information was wrong. Connor was no longer here.

Darla's angelic features crumbled, a look of desperation in her eyes. The longer Connor was out here, the more likely he was in some kind of danger. She could smell it in the air, traces of emotion from her wayward son.

He was confused, scared, she could tell from the scent. He was tired, that much she could tell from the salty traces of adrenaline that peppered the air, wafting into her supernaturally-attuned nostrils.

Connor…baby, where are you? She thought desperately. Please…be okay…

Giving up for a moment, she tiredly picked up her cell phone that Wesley gave her. She didn't much care if some ghoul or monster in the night could hear or see her. After all, with her vampire-like strength having returned despite being human again, she knew that whatever ugly or creep that would think to take advantage of the seemingly defenseless, tiny blonde beauty would be in for a fatal surprise.

Her fingers fumbled with the digits.

'Calling: Buffy', the cell phone read.

It rang twice, three times, then five.

But no answer. The phone went straight to voicemail.

Sighing, Darla ended the call. She needed to reach out to Buffy, check if perhaps there was any word on Connor, and to get up to speed on the pending apocalypse. But with Buffy not answering her phone, she decided on the next best option.

'Calling: Wesley', the phone declared.

"Hello?"

Darla frowned. The female, raspy voice on the other end was definitely not Wesley.

"...Faith?" Darla guessed, momentarily confused.

"Speaking," Faith said. "Who's this?"

"It's Darla," the blonde ex-vampiress replied, still frowning. "Why are you picking up Wesley's phone?"

"Hey, Darls," Faith greeted glibly. "How's it going? Oh, and Wesley can't answer the phone on the count of he's naked and asleep next to me."

Darla froze, her heart suddenly feeling like it skipped one of its new beats.

"...Excuse me?" she asked, half-stunned and half-ready to reach through the phone and yank out Faith's eyes the way she had many of her victims over four centuries of terror when she was one of the most deadly vampires to ever walk the earth.

"I'm kidding, Darla," Faith chuckled. "Wes is cute and all, but he's so not my type. We're on patrol."

Darla sighed impatiently. "Faith, this is serious! I'm looking for Connor. I've been trying to find him, but his scent keeps leading me in different directions. Have you heard anything from him yet? I tried to reach Buffy, but she's not answering her phone."

A long, pregnant pause followed on the other end of the line.

Darla frowned again. "Faith?"

"Shit," Faith swore quietly, getting serious.

"No…no, I'm sorry, Darla. We haven't heard anything from the kid yet," the brunette Slayer said sincerely. "But we're keeping an eye out. The second we hear anything, we'll call you. But…Darla, maybe you should come back to the house. It's getting more and more dangerous out there, especially with the power company calling it quits and the town going dark."

So that's what happened to the power, Darla silently figured as much. She couldn't say she was completely surprised. She'd seen a few towns go dark like this after a chaotic event happened. Hell, the Whirlwind and I used to cause towns to go dark ourselves, she mused in silent regret, recalling times when the quartet of Angelus, Spike, Drusilla and herself cut through whole towns across the Old World like a bloody scythe and culled any and all life they could find.

"I…I can't," Darla closed her eyes, a feeling of guilt spreading through her. "Not with Connor still out here. I have to find him. I have to try."

"I…I get that," Faith said earnestly.

"Maybe Buffy knows something," Darla tried. "Is she with you? I need to talk to her."

Another long silence followed.

She heard Faith take in a shaky breath. "Darla," Faith slowly began. "I don't think Buffy's going to be much help right now."

Darla frowned again. "Why? What's wrong? Did something happen?"

She heard Faith take in another deep inhale. "Look, there's no easy way to say it, so I'll just say it. Buffy's gone. The others voted to put me in charge and they kicked her out of the house. It's…been pretty crazy."

Darla's eyes widened, not quite believing what she just heard. Hoping that her ears were playing tricks on her. "Wait, Faith, I don't understand. You…you threw Buffy out of her home?"

"I didn't!" Faith said quickly. "I didn't want any part of it. But everyone had a vote, and there was this thing with Dawn and…and it all just went off the rails. Shit's gone crazy."

"You're damn right it's crazy!" Darla exclaimed. She had grown to like Buffy. And even without that, she was The Slayer. Darla knew that she had an integral part to play in stopping this pending apocalypse, that much The Powers had shown her. Without Buffy, all was lost, and she knew it. "Faith, listen to me, you have to get her back. You have no idea how important Buffy is."

"It's out of my hands, Darla," Faith replied, frustrated. "I begged her to stay, but when the others kicked her out, it…it really hurt her. She said she'd still be in town, but I have no idea where she's gone."

"Or if she's even still alive," Darla said grimly.

"She's alive," Faith said, a little defensively. "Somehow, I think if something happened to Buffy, I might…feel it. I felt it a few years ago after she…when Buffy had that fight with that Hellgod bitch Willow told me about. Might be a Slayer thing or something."

Faith had trouble saying 'died' when it came to Buffy, Darla noticed. Could have been guilt because of this whole situation. Could have been that maybe Faith cared about Buffy more than she was willing to admit.

"Look, Darla, I can't force Buffy to come home if she doesn't want to," Faith continued. "And right now, I'm not really sure the others would be so open to that. They're still pretty pissed with her after what happened at the vineyard."

Darla figured it out. "They blamed her," Darla realized, stunned. "That's why they kicked her out."

"Yeah," Faith replied quietly.

Darla shook her head, stunned that they would blame Buffy for something that she couldn't control. "Faith, this is war. Mistakes happen. People die. Believe me, I know. I've lived through dozens of wars. In every part of the world. It was a trap. You can't put that on Buffy, it isn't fair."

"Darla, look, believe me, you're preaching to the choir with me about Buffy," Faith replied with a sigh. "But there's nothing I can do right now, and us arguing on the phone isn't going to fix any of this."

Darla took in a sharp breath. "Right…you're right. I'll…give the search for Connor another day. Then I'll be back by tomorrow night. Looks like we have a lot to catch up on."

"Tell me about it," Faith said with a rueful sigh. "Just…stay safe out there, Darls. Wes is worried sick about you. And…Dawn and I are worried, too. Just get home soon, alright?"

Darla felt a wane smile come across her face for a fleeting moment, picturing Wesley's rugged, handsome face in her mind. It felt…different, she realized silently. Even 400 years deep into this long life, the idea of people caring for her the way these people seemed to was still something that Darla was unaccustomed to.

"Thank you…Faith," Darla murmured in a quiet breath, gratefully. "And…tell Wesley and Dawn I'll be okay."

"Will you, now?"

At once, the hairs on the back of Darla's neck stood up.

That voice, an unmistakably English accent with a tint of madness, was one she had become very familiar with.

Darla whirled around to find the source of that voice…

Drusilla.

Smiling that mad Cheshire Cat-like grin, her nails clinking in her palms like talons.

Damn, Darla thought in alarm. This was the last thing she needed and her mad Grandchilde-slash-second Sire was the last vampire she needed to run into.

Eying the psychotic vampiress with a hint of dread, Darla's hand holding the cell phone was frozen.

"Darla?" Faith called. "Darla, what's wrong?"

"I'm going to have to call you back," Darla said quickly, pressing the 'End Call' button quickly despite Faith's cut-off protests.

Leaving her alone with Drusilla.

The woman whose life she helped destroy. The same woman who ended Darla's second mortal life years ago while Angel watched helplessly.

"Grandmother," Drusilla grinned, a hint of affection in her utterly mad eyes.

Standing there in stunned silence for a moment, Darla felt so many complicated emotions when it came to Drusilla.

Guilt, knowing that it was Darla herself that found Drusilla, once a lovely, innocent girl with a psychic gift, and sicced Angelus on her over a century ago as a challenge. A challenge that resulted in the brutal murder of her family and friends and anyone who knew her at the ruthless Angelus's hands, and drove Drusilla insane before Angelus turned her into a vampire.

Regret, knowing that Drusilla was sweet, pure and chaste before Darla destroyed her life simply because she could. Because she was bored. Because she wanted to give Angelus something as an act of what her soulless self thought of as 'love.'

Fear, remembering the way Drusilla's fangs felt against her throat not two years ago in that dingy motel, turning Darla back into a vampire, a monster, against her will as Angel was forced to watch.

Anger, at Drusilla's audacity to take away her choice to die a mortal death, taking away her choice to not be a monster anymore. At her threatening her son, her…her friends, Darla realized quietly, by siding with a malevolent force bent on destroying them all, and everything else.

Darla took in a steely breath, trying to reign in her emotions.

"Hello, Drusilla," she greeted quietly, yet cautiously. Her hand slowly slipped behind the waist band of her snug blue jeans, where a stake lay in wait.

"Now, now," Drusilla said, wagging her finger as she made a 'tsk-tsk' sound in disapproval. "Naughty, naughty grandmother. That's no way to treat family."

Darla's eyes narrowed. "You and I aren't family, Dru. Not really."

Drusilla's wide blue eyes, dancing with an insanity so deep that Darla dared not look too deeply into them lest her own sanity be sucked down with them, shined with hurt. The mad vampiress whined like a puppy, hurt and wounded.

"Your words hurt me, Grandmummy," Drusilla sniffled. "You are my family. You have to be my family. After all…"

Her eyes flashed, the briefest hint of sanity, of anger, flashing in them. "You and Daddy murdered mine. Tore out their throats and left them bleeding at my dinner table. You let the snake in the woodshed, and it bit them, bit them, bit them until its belly was all full. And I was all alone."

Darla's blue eyes looked down for a moment, ancient regret and pain flickering in her eyes as she remembered the massacre of Drusilla's family, how she and Angel had brutally murdered them in 1861 on a Christmas Eve in London.

She remembered how gleeful Angelus was as he ripped out Drusilla's father's throat while Darla herself had snapped her mother's neck. How Angelus made Drusilla watch it all, yet let her flee the house alive, taunting the then-young clairvoyant that he was the Devil himself and he and his mistress would follow her to the ends of the earth, how they would eat her soul itself.

The memory once gave Darla's soulless self a chuckle, a hearty memory of the start of her legendary coven. But now, it only made Darla's heart ache in regret. She had done so many terrible things over her life. So much destruction, so much pain, so much death…but Drusilla was one of the worst of her crimes, and Darla knew it.

Maybe this is my penance, her mind thought grimly as she stared back at the crazed vampiress. Maybe I do deserve to suffer for the things I did. The way Angel does. Angel, Drusilla, Connor, Buffy…how many good people did I hurt, did I destroy?

Darla gave Drusilla a pitying look. "Dru…I'm sorry," Darla shook her head, her eyes shining in sincere regret. "What Angel…what Angelus and I did to you, to your family…it was unforgivable. And I'll regret it for the rest of my life."

Startled, as if the apology caught her off guard, Drusilla stared at Darla for a long moment…

…and then she laughed.

Laughed loudly.

Madly.

Laughed so hard that tears began to form at the corner of her haunting blue eyes, and for a moment, an unsettled Darla wondered if those tears were from her Grandchilde…or the sweet young woman who she used to be once. Who had a future before her and Angel tore it to blood-soaked pieces.

"Oh…oh, Grandmother," the undead brunette giggled through the laughter that doubled her over, straightening up as she composed herself. "You were always so funny! How I missed that so."

Darla swallowed, yet her survival instincts told her to be on guard. Something about this felt very wrong. And despite Drusilla being a lunatic most of the time, she knew that her psychotic Grandchilde could be very wily when she wanted to be. While her vampiric strength had returned, even she had no idea if she was strong enough to take on Drusilla. Before Angel staked her years ago, Darla's age made her twice as strong as the mad vampiress, but in her new state, she wasn't sure she could afford to test her strength right now against Dru's when even Darla didn't fully understand her new powers yet. Darla silently acknowledged she had to get away from here quickly. Her survival, and Connor's, might depend on it.

"What do you want, Drusilla?" Darla asked patiently.

Drusilla smiled at Darla, almost dreamily. "I want you to come with me, Grandmother," she replied in a lilting, breathy voice as she slowly took several steps closer until the two women were separated by barely a foot of air. "Darkness is coming. You know this. Like black water, swallowing time and land."

Keeping her gaze steely, Darla got it, recognizing parts of Drusilla's gibberish from the prophecy Angel scribbled weeks ago on the walls of the Hyperion Hotel . "The First Evil," the blonde beauty realized. "And The Awakening."

"Yes," Drusilla uttered. "It's going to be a party when the sun goes black in the sky. All full of fun, like cupcakes at birthday parties. But only good boys and girls get treats on the big day. The others will get a spoonful of death. But you don't have to die again, Grandmother. my moon told me where to find you. It told me you had lost your own star. The one you and Daddy made together. A little brother…"

Drusilla looked up curiously at the night sky, as if the stars themselves held an answer she was looking for. "...Connor."

Darla tensed, tempted to reach for her stake again. "Don't you dare say my son's name," she warned Drusilla quietly, her blue eyes hardening, maternal instincts kicking into high gear. "Or it might be the last word you ever say."

Drusilla raised her index finger up, sliding the other up three times in a scolding manner at Darla. "Shh! Naughty. You wound me, Grandmother. I wouldn't want to hurt the poor dearie. What kind of big sister would I be? I used to have sisters, after all…" She pointedly looked at Darla at that reminder. "Once."

Darla hated every bit of this conversation. Hated the guilt from her past that Drusilla made her feel, hated that she knew her son's name, hated that part of her felt guilty for wanting to just whip that stake out and put Drusilla out of her crazed misery, hated all of it.

"The First has plans for your boy, Grandmother," Drusilla whispered, leaning closer to Darla. "Such beautifully awful plans. He's peeling the layers of his mind back. Like oranges after ripening, all rinds and rings."

The clairvoyant vampiress put her hands to her temples, as if staring into a picture only she could see. "I can feel him. He's all alone. Dazed. Confused. Thinking such sad thoughts. 'Can't belong.' 'Can't be loved.' 'Can't hope.' But you and I can save him. Come back with me. Join us, grandmother. Sit with us at the big party. There's a special seat with your name on it, and they'll be cakes and tea and honey. And I'll tell The First to save your son a seat at the table. He can be saved, Darla. All you have to do, is be what you are. What you've always been…a killer."

Despite her silent horror as Drusilla revealed the dark plans to her and the state of Connor's fragile psyche, Darla found her resolve. "Never," she answered with quiet steel in her voice, refusing to bend.

Drusilla's eyes grew dark, her gaze, like quicksand, locking with Darla's. "Do you really think you've changed? That those nasty Powers That Be cleaned you up, all shiny and new like Christmas toys? You may want to change, but you know you can't. What you are, what we are…that can never change. Nothing we did can ever change. And deep down, you know that. I can see it in your eyes. The eyes never lie, leave you naked as a baby."

The mad vampiress's lips curled into a frightening smile as she sang her next cruel words. "You're a killer. Born to slice, to dice, to chase down people like mice. Leave their throats red and bleeding, and running, running, running…"

Darla briefly closed her eyes, trying to block out the taunting words. Trying to remember the good that Angel, that Wesley saw in her. No. No, I'm different now. I'm not a killer. I'm not…

"Enough!" she snapped, her palm shooting out and pushing Drusilla away hard.

Ignoring the surprised look on Drusilla's face, Darla took in a sharp breath, finding the strength to do what now realized she had to do.

"Drusilla…I'm sorry," Darla said, her eyes sincere as she looked at the woman who she wronged so horribly and violently. "I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'm sorry for sending Angelus into your life. I'm sorry for what we did to those you loved. I'm sorry for what we turned you into. I'm sorry for ruining the life that you could have had."

Slowly, Darla pulled out her stake from behind her waist band, shifting on the balls of her feet into a fighting stance. She gave Drusilla a look mixed with pity and finality. "And I'm sorry for what I have to do to you now. But I cannot let you hurt Connor, Angel or my friends."

Drusilla gave her a sad look, like a puppy who was told by its master that it wasn't wanted anymore…

Then her forlorn glance twisted into a withering scowl. "Naughty grandmother. Turns her back on her family. But if you won't come to the party…we still have a last piece of cake just for you."

Without warning, a small group of Bringers emerged from the shadows, each of them wielding knives, all of them circling around the beautiful blonde ex-vampire like a noose.

Startled, Darla tensed, her eyes darting everywhere. This was bad, and she was alone.

Drusilla began to walk backwards, slowly blending into the night around her. "You made your bed, Darla," she muttered, a dark smile on her face. "Now you can lay in it. And don't worry about Connor, all lost and alone. I'll look after him just fine."

And then she disappeared back into the shadows of the night, leaving Darla in the hands of the Bringers.

"Stay away from my son! You hear me? DRUSILLA!" a half-panicked, half-angry Darla shouted at Drusilla's retreating form, before one of the Bringers came slashing at her.

Deftly, Darla sidestepped his swipe, blasting it with a vicious punch that knocked him to the ground.

Unfortunately, the others that began to descend on her remained, and something told Darla that she was in for a hell of a fight.


Sunnydale, CA - Market Street

30 minutes earlier


Down the empty alley, Kennedy gave a scuffed, pissed-off kick to a garbage can.

Her world had officially fallen apart. No Willow. No leadership. No Willow. No respect from the others. No Willow. No Willow. No Willow….

Silently, Kennedy stewed and seethed, trying to blink back the angry tears that threatened her eyes.

Hands in pockets, the otherwise pretty Potential was glowering . . . and distracted.

Without warning, three Bringers leaped from the darkness, one of them grabbing Kennedy from behind.

She fell to her knees; the knife edge pressed sharply against her cheek and then—

The second Bringer staggered back, knife clattering to the cement…

… as Giles yanked him back with a lasso he had just thrown around his neck.

Then another Bringer lunged at Kennedy as Caridad burst from the darkness and gave it a solid kick to the temple, while Amanda, Vi and Molly erupted from the darkness, slamming their fists into the third Bringer, and Molly stabbed him in the gut.

He went down, dead.

Kennedy picked up the first Bringer's knife as the third one tackled her, throwing her to the ground; solid guy, not like the first, and its breath was foul.

The upstart Potential struggled as the Bringer got its hands around her neck, and then its hands lost their strength as she stabbed it viciously in the chest. It fell dead to the floor.

Taking a breath, Kennedy wrenched out the blade and wiped it on her jeans. Good thing we only need one of these douchebags, she grimly thought.

Molly took a look at Amanda and Vi, then at Caridad. "You guys alright?"

The two young Potentials nodded.

"Never a dull moment in this town. Even with the power out," Vi noted, kicking at the dead Bringer on the ground in front of her.

"Welcome to life in Sunnydale," the hometown girl Amanda joked lightly, patting Vi's back comfortingly.

Kennedy then turned to the others, uttering aloud, "I've never been the bait before. That was . . . actually kind of scary," she admitted, her mind briefly distracted from her heartache.

Caridad reminded her, "We had your back."

Giles tossed the end of the lasso to Kennedy, telling her, "You did well. Your performance as a disgruntled minion was spot on."

She pulled the rope tight, wrapping the slack around her arm. Smugly, Kennedy declared, "What can I say? I'm more of a method actress."

Molly, Vi and Amanda fought not to roll their eyes at her overconfidence.

Kennedy turned to the group and smiled, basking in her brief success. "Alright, y'all. Let's get this back to the Captain."

The triumphant posse walked off into the moonlight, dragging the captured Bringer in tow and leaving its brothers dead behind them.

One for us, Vi thought, optimistically. Finally


Sunnydale, CA – Revello Drive

10:23 p.m.


The black GTX pulled to a slow roll around the corner as Angel put the car in park just three houses before 1630 Revello Drive, the Summers home.

Buffy's home, a part of him whispered, part in fear, part in awe, part in anticipation.

He had thought about this moment over and over again on the drive back from Los Angeles. What it would feel like to see her again. What he would say. How he would say it.

He knew he owed Buffy a hell of a lot more than an apology. He had to beg for her forgiveness. For being so stupid. For pushing her away, again. For hurting her because he thought it was the only way to protect her from what he was. But, Angel decided, he would pay whatever the price was. She was worth it.

I'm done running away, Angel decided silently. Now, I'll run to her.

In the passenger's seat, Whistler sat, looking at Angel curiously.

In the back seat, Kate couldn't get out of her seat fast enough, having had to smush together with Lindsey, Drogyn and Alasdair Coames and not having had much room over the two-hour trip north from Los Angeles to Sunnydale. Kate gladly swung open the car door to make her exit, her long, toned legs thanking her for the much-needed room to stretch.

The others quickly followed suit, each of them glad to have some room to breathe and move around again.

Slowly, Angel got out of the car to join them, Whistler following suit.

Lindsey looked around, not liking the pitch black dark that surrounded them. No lights in any of the houses, which mostly looked abandoned. This was not the same town he had left a few days ago, he realized.

"Yeesh," Kate muttered. "Place looks like a ghost town."

"Yes, it is rather unsettling," Alasdair nodded in agreement.

Drogyn looked around his surroundings, unimpressed. "Angel, when you told me of this…Sunnydale…I had pictured a more…picturesque…environment."

Angel had to agree, not liking the abandoned-looking state of Sunnydale that he was finding. He saw it all over once he entered its city limits. He had quickly realized that the town had become abandoned.

"It is, usually," Angel replied to his old friend. "Something's wrong. I haven't seen any lights for miles coming in here. Not even the street lights."

"Gee, that's not ominous," Lindsey muttered.

"Well, on the bright side," Whistler said, looking at Angel, "At least we're back home. Scenic as jolly ol' England was, this Yankee Doodle Dandy's glad to be back stateside."

Angel frowned as he looked at his mentor. "Weren't you born in Mesopotamia?"

"What's your point?" Whistler quipped.

Angel shook his head, fighting a repressed smile as he looked at the duffle bag of goods that he had brought back from his trip. It was a long journey, but all in all, Angel was glad it was over.

He looked around the pitch-black street. A wave of nostalgia came over him. Everywhere he looked, there was a graveyard of memories.

Angel pointed to a corner on the street. "That spot right there…I remember Buffy and I fought off The Three. The Master's best trio of vampire warriors."

He pointed to a tree, a ghost of a smile on his face. "Over there, I remember having to carry Buffy in my arms the night Ethan Rayne cast a spell on Halloween that made people take the forms of their costumes. She wore this 18th century gown because she thought it would impress me. As if she ever needed to try."

He pointed to her window, a wistful grin on his face. "I used to sneak into her room a bunch of times over the years. Watching out for her, warning her of danger, listening to her talk about her problems..." He chuckled to himself. "Sometimes we'd steal a kiss or two whenever her mom was out of town…"

He paused as he realized it got quiet. He turned and saw his comrades knowingly smile at their friend.

"What?" he asked, puzzled.

"Man, you really are a big ol' girl, aren't you?" Lindsey drawled.

"Lay off, Lindsey, I think it's sweet, the way he's all ga-ga over Buffy," Kate smiled. "It's too bad he can't blush."

Angel frowned. "I am not a girl. Shut up," he groused at the ex-lawyer.

Whistler clasped his hand on his protege's shoulder. "I'm sure Blondie will be glad to see you, too, kid."

Angel looked a bit nervous at the prospect. "I hope so." Deciding it was useless to fear it, Angel decided to embrace it. "Either way…it's just nice to be back home where I can feel welcome—"

POW!

No sooner had he said that than a vicious punch came rocketing out of nowhere, slamming into his cheek.

Knocked backwards towards the car for a moment, Angel's left hand instinctively shot up, connecting with a punch of his own against whoever was attacking him. Drawing Hope's Dagger, Angel whirled and pointed the blade at his attacker—

"Ow! Oy, oy, easy, ya lummox, it's me!"

Angel's face went from angered to surprised to angered again. "What the hell are you doing, Spike?"

Rubbing his cheek, Spike held up his hand in front of him, as if to block Angel's sword from his chest.

"Well, well," he smirked at Angel. "Nice of you to finally show up, Peaches. I had a few pounds on you biting the big one back in the Queen's country."

Behind him, Andrew came running.

"We come in peace!" the skinny nerd shouted.

Momentarily startled and ready for battle, the others seemingly relaxed as they saw two of their allies in the faint moonlight.

"Funny way of showing it," Kate muttered.

"Angel, you know these people?" Drogyn asked suspiciously, his hand drifting under his cloak where his warhammer was waiting. He could tell the blond one in black was a vampire, his enhanced senses told him as much.

Angel grimaced in disgust at the sight of Spike. "Unfortunately. They're working with me."

"The bloody hell I am!" Spike scoffed, not liking the idea of being linked to his Grandsire under any circumstances, especially in this way where it seemed like they worked for Angel.

"Spike, cool it," Kate reprimanded him. "We really don't have time for this."

"Then tell your poncy buddy here not to make it sound like I carry his bloody bags, GI Jane," Spike snapped at Kate.

"Hey! Watch your mouth, Billy Idol Junior," Lindsey snapped back, scowling.

"Apologize to the lady, vampire, lest I smash you back into the dust from whence you came!" Drogyn growled.

Spike gave the ageless warrior a startled once-over. "Who the bloody piss is this guy, some wanker from a Dungeons and Dragons fair?"

"That 'wanker' could turn your head into a crushed grapefruit. " Angel warned. He turned to Drogyn. "Drogyn the Battlebrand, this is Spike. Known to some as 'William the Bloody', known to most as 'that freakin' idiot.'"

"Oy!" Spike protested.

"Answer Kate's question. What are you doing here, Spike?" Angel interrupted. "And make it quick."

"Same as you, mate. I was on an important mission," Spike puffed up.

"Ahem," Andrew cleared his throat, expectedly.

Rolling his eyes, Spike motioned to the clumsy ex-Trio member. "Well, me and Miss Wells here."

"Yeah!" Andrew brightened, until he realized the attack on his manhood. "I mean, 'Hey!'"

"What mission?" Angel asked, tiredly more than curious.

Realizing that the sniping was getting them nowhere, Spike decided to quickly fill them in if nothing else but for the sake of getting back into the house and playing the hero first. "Right. Well, we had a run in with The First's newest toady, a bloke named Caleb. Psychotic, dresses like a preacher, hits like a mack truck. Lindsey over there can tell ya."

Lindsey scowled at the mention of his demented half-brother. Kate tensed up, as well, remembering their last encounter several nights ago with Matthew's killer.

"Yeah. I got filled in," Angel muttered darkly at the reference to The First's new lieutenant.

"Seems this Caleb ponce got a bit careless, left a trail of breadcrumbs for us to follow, at a Catholic mission in Gilroy," Spike continued. "Seems there was something up there once. Supposed to be for the Slayer. Didn't say what it was, but whatever it is, Caleb seems to want it bad. When he didn't get it, he slaughtered the whole mission except one guy, Tobias. He hid, showed us around to find it, whatever it was supposed to be."

"It's a weapon," Angel replied.

Spike eyed his Grandsire with stunned, annoyed eyes. "Wait, what? How do you know that, Carnac the Magnificent Poof?"

Angel rolled his eyes, briefly considering staking Spike before he thought better of it. Then he walked over and opening up the trunk of his car to reveal…

"Ethan Rayne. We had a run-in with him, Pearl and Nash and a mess of Bringers in England after I finished the trials. He clued us in that whatever this thing is, it's supposed to be a weapon of some kind. And the First really seems to want to keep it out of Buffy's hands."

Spike looked nonplussed at the sight of the tied-up and gagged, and rather annoyed warlock in the trunk. "Oh, yeah. He's that ponce who put that spell up on Halloween a few years ago that turned Buffy into a damsel from the Colonial days, Willow into a slutty ghost and Xander into bloody Rambo. Caused quite a mess." He looked at Ethan, nodding. "Bully to you, mate, that was well-played!"

Off Angel's glare, Spike cleared his throat. "I mean, uh, shame on you, fiend!" he amended.

"Well…this is good, right?" Andrew said. Off Angel's intense, questioning gaze, the nerd shyly shuffled his feet before continuing. "I-I-I mean, Ethan could've been lying about this weapon thingie, but-but-but with what Spike and I found out at the Gilroy compound, that kinda verifies that there is a weapon or, or something that The First is trying to keep away from Buffy."

The others exchanged surprised looks among themselves, realizing the same thing in that 'A-ha!' moment.

Lindsey shrugged. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but A.V. Squad over there has a point," he said, motioning to Andrew. "We have double confirmation now that there definitely is something at the vineyard that The First really doesn't want Buffy having."

"Yes," Alasdair noted, plucking his graying beard. "We can rule out the possibility of a weapon meant only for the Slayer being a trap to lure us in."

"Right," Spike muttered darkly, recalling the ambush at the vineyard. "God knows we've had enough of that lately."

"Then it's settled," Angel said. "We've got to figure out a way to get whatever this weapon is into Buffy's hands before The Awakening."

"Angel's right. Look," Kate sighed, addressing the group, "This is all fascinating, but don't you think we should continue this conversation inside closed doors?"

Lindsey chuckled. "Ah, come on, Kate. Look around," he gestured around the dark, empty streets. "It's just us here. What's the worst that could happen?"

Suddenly, the whistling sound of a knife whizzed past Angel's head, the souled vampire narrowly dodging it as it embedded itself into a tree bark.

From the darkness, out came several Bringers, all of them twirling deadly knives.

"Um, getting killed in a deadly ambush, maybe?" Andrew nervously offered, shrinking behind Spike.

Grimly, Angel brought his glittering sword Hope's Dagger up, both hands around its hilt as the others instinctively took battle positions, forming a tight circle with their backs to each other as their enemies circled around them.

"Hell of a 'Welcome home' party," Spike muttered through gritted teeth. He briefly looked at Angel. "If you got any ideas, Peaches, I'm all ears."

"We fight," Angel declared, baring his teeth as he faced down the Bringers.

"A few more details would be nice," Lindsey snarked, drawing his own sword.

"Fight to win, kill whatever moves that isn't us," Angel shot back. "That enough strategy?"

Then he swiped his sword down hard across the sternum of the Bringer in front of him, Hope's Dagger cleaving through the demonoid minion like a warm spoon through pudding.

Then the fighting began...


From a safe distance, Pearl and Nash watched the action, several other Bringers and two Turok-Han vampires in tow.

Nash looked impatiently at his sister. "I still don't understand why we don't just attack them now, Pearl!" Nash demanded, itching to get his revenge on Angel for the loss of his hand in England. "We have the numbers, we have the element of surprise."

Pearl raised her hand, silencing her brother. "We had that last time, too, dear brother. And then Angel cut off your hand," she reminded him. "Let the pawns give him a workout. But not us. Not yet. We have time. We'll pick our moment. And when Angel least expects it…"

Her eyes grew green with hate as she eyed the dark-haired immortal battling a Bringer. Pearl's voice was a quiet snarl. "We'll make him wish he never came out of that cave."


The fighting intensified around them, but Angel and his comrades seemed more than up to the challenge.

Kate viciously dispatched a Bringer with her battle axe sliding across its neck. Lindsey drove his sword deep into the gut of one Bringer he was fighting. The legendary Beacon of Saint Benedict crackled in Alasdair's hands, the Archmage swinging it like a mace as it bashed with deadly effect into two Bringers, slicing through their torsos at the same time. The Bringer slicing at Drogyn was no match for the ancient warrior, his warhammer arcing through the air and slamming into his foes chest, cracking bones and vital organs into powder.

As Angel parried the knife slices one Bringer attacked him with easily with his sword Hope's Dagger, out of the corner of his sharp eyes, he saw a Bringer slowly approach the trunk of his car.

Where a bound and gagged Ethan Rayne lay helpless, unable to defend himself.

Angel realized the Bringer's intention clear as day. It was aiming to silence Ethan, make sure that whatever information he had to share with his allies he would take to the grave.

And that was something Angel knew he could not allow to happen.

Angel quickly dispatched the Bringer in front of him, Hope's Dagger swinging upwards and severing the robed minion's head from its neck. He fought through another blocking his way, desperately trying to reach Ethan in time as the Bringer approached a gagged, screaming, red-faced and wide-eyed Ethan with its dagger in the air…

SNAP!

Only to fall to the ground, its neck snapping thanks to the quick movement and hands of an 11th-hour savior.

Slicing through the last Bringer in his way, Angel moved towards the car…and froze.

His eyes widened, jaw dropping as he stared in bewilderment at the mysterious hero that had saved Ethan's life.

The face of a friend.

A long-dead friend.

A brother he thought he had lost forever.

Doyle stood there, panting as he stood over the body of the Bringer he had just dispatched.

Then he looked up.

Found himself looking back at his best friend.

The man he sacrificed his own life for to save. For the greater good.

For a moment, Angel was blind to anything and everything else.

Here he was, on the street of the house of the woman he loved…staring back into the rueful, yet mischievous blue eyes of a friend he thought he would never see again in this lifetime.

It can't be…was the only thought in Angel's mind.

His throat swelled with emotion, his dark brown eyes staring in stunned disbelief, in hope.

"...Doyle?" he croaked out.

The Irish-born half-Brachen demon smiled sadly at his old friend, drawing out a poker card that he threw into the front seat of Angel's car.

Confused, bewildered, Angel didn't understand. Was this a trick…or a miracle?

He then gave Angel a knowing wink. "Keep fighting the good fight, Angel," Doyle said. "Love ya, brother."

Angel didn't have much time to process before another Bringer leapt at him, slicing at him with an axe. Growling in annoyance for the Bringer's audacity to interrupt this incredible moment, Angel swiped hard at the Bringer, his sword slicing through the handle of his axe like it was made out of paper before the glittering blade sliced down from the minion's neck down through its torso.

The Bringer fell dead, and Angel looked back up frantically to where Doyle stood…

…only to find nothing there.

He was gone.

Almost like he'd never been there to begin with.

Angel's mind was reeling, but thankfully, the fight had wound down, Drogyn having dispatched the last Bringer on the street with a brutal hammer shot to its skull. The rest of the Bringers fled in retreat.

Angel could only vaguely hear the voices in the background, his eyes still darting around the street searching for any signs of his long-lost friend, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him or if…or if miracles did happen, after all.

"Have to admit, you Sunnydale guys throw a heck of a 'Welcome Home', party," Lindsey's voice quipped in the background. Angel vaguely heard it, but he couldn't process it.

Couldn't process anything, except…

Doyle?…

"Angel?"

Brought back down to earth by a gentle touch on his shoulder, Angel turned to look at Kate.

The former policewoman eyed Angel with concern. "Hey…you alright?" she asked gently.

Angel rubbed his head, trying to find his words. "Yeah," he uttered, "Yeah, I just…I just thought I saw something."

Kate frowned. "What'd you…what'd you think you saw?"

Angel looked back to the empty streets around him.

His voice grew sad, but a tiny hint of a smile played at the corner of his lips.

His reply was short, simple, but had more meaning than Kate would ever know.

"A brother…"


Sunnydale, CA - The Summers Home, 1630 Revello Drive

10:47 p.m.


Faith and Wesley entered the kitchen, where they found the entire gang waiting for them.

Faith shook off the expectant looks everyone was giving her, like the Queen of England or the starting quarterback had just entered the room, the others eager for orders, hungry for guidance.

Geez, how does Buffy do this all the time? Faith tiredly wondered.

Giles entered the room, Kennedy and the other Potentials in tow.

Giles looked at the pair in front of him, silently marveling at the sight of Faith and Wesley together. Years ago, Faith was a dangerous rogue Slayer hellbent on killing them all, and Wesley was a stuck-up, incompetent young Watcher sticking to the rules. Yet here they were now, both having changed dramatically. Both brought together again to work alongside one another.

It was nothing short of a miracle, Giles thought in wonder, yet he was happy for them both. "How did patrol go?" he asked them.

Faith smiled faintly. "Wasn't exactly a day at the spa, but it had its moments." She gave Wesley a ghost of a smile. "Seems ol' Wes here has some new tricks."

"And thankfully, your old ones seem to still have their bite," Wesley nodded in approval at his new charge.

A slightly wigged-out Cordelia and Willow quietly muttered among themselves. "Is this weird, or is this weird?" Cordelia asked the redhead in a murmur.

The tiny Witch whispered back, "Which part? Faith standing here and not trying to kill Wesley, or Wesley not wanting to kill Faith? Or Faith standing here in this kitchen not trying to kill us all?"

"Yes. To all," Cordelia replied.

If Faith heard them, she didn't let it on, continuing her talk with Giles as she tried to get up to speed on what happened while she and Wesley were on patrol. "Any luck with the Bringer hunt?" she asked.

"Yes, he's in the basement, shackled and secured," Giles said.

Silently, Dawn sat anxiously with them. She didn't know what the others were going to do to the Bringer down in the basement. But she did know that he, or it, had to talk, no matter how much he didn't want to, because she knew how vicious Faith could be and she had seen firsthand what kind of a beating Principal Wood had given Spike. And she knew that Gunn could be pretty scary when he wanted to be.

She was very grateful to the monks who had created her for giving her happy family memories. But these were not going to be happy memories, ever. Dawn was not battle-hardened, no matter how battle-weary she was.

That thought made her think back to Connor, and that dream she had about him the other night, and Dawn felt herself becoming depressed and angsty all over again. But she knew she couldn't focus on that now. Not yet.

She would find Connor, that much Dawn silently vowed. But for right now, the most important thing was trying to stop this apocalypse.

She silently steadied herself for news.

Faith looked around at the room. "By the way, Darla checked in," she added.

That drew Dawn's attention. "D-Darla? Is she okay?" she asked, a hint of worry...and hope...in her voice. "Did she...did she find Connor?"

Faith shook her head at Dawn. "Sorry, pipsqueak," Faith said somewhat pityingly. "Still no word on him. But she'll find him. If anyone can, it's her. Relax, D, they'll be okay."

Dissapointed, Dawn's shoulders slumped, her eyes falling to the ground. Dawn wanted to believe Faith's words, but deep down, she wasn't so sure.

"So?" Faith asked, turning back to Giles. "Is it really true what Anya said? That someone ripped out the Bringer's tongue?"

"Unfortunately, yes. The Bringer's dumb," Giles replied, downcast.

Anya rolled her eyes. "Told you it was a waste of time."

"Yes, as you've so repeatedly stated, Anya, thank you," Giles replied, not without patience.

"We won't doubt your intel next time, Sugar Cube, promise," Lorne assured her, drawing a smile from Anya.

"But in the meantime, we've got a canary downstairs in the coalmine and he's not singing a single note without a tongue," Xander sighed, deflated.

Gunn threw up his hands, frustrated. "Great. So that puts us back at square one, then," he groused.

Fred frowned, her brilliant mind's gears whirring. "Wait…not necessarily."

Off everyone's looks, the pretty physics whiz felt instinctively shy again, but shook it off and pressed on. "Cordelia and Dawn's idea from earlier made some sense. You know, about a spell to telepathically make No-Tongue Boy in the basement spill the beans?"

"Hey, that's right! Thanks, Fred," Dawn piped up, "It was this old Turkish spell book that I told you about, remember? There's an old conjuration that the ancient Turks used to communicate with the dying . . ."

Willow nodded thoughtfully, sipping on her cup of soothing Chamomile tea. "Oh, yeah. I think I've read a translation of that."

"There's a translation?" Dawn cried in frustration. "Oh, great! I'm reading like two words of Turkish a night when I could be . . ."

She took a deep breath as the others looked on, mildly amused at her tantrum. "Okay, I'm over it," Dawn promised, her voice more composed.

The young heroine looked at the group, getting back into her explanation. "Um, so, the spell is for communicating with people who can't talk. Like when a person is dying and can't speak anymore, this spell would allow them to say their good-byes or, y'know, gripe about how nobody ever came to visit."

When nobody laughed at her admittedly lame joke, Dawn blushed, switching gears.

Then, specifically to Willow, Dawn asked, "Do you think this'll help with Mr. No-Tongue?

"Willow considered. "It should work, yeah . . . if we transmute the Bringer's internal synapses into sound waves . . . yep, I think so. I'll just need to get together some ingredients. It shouldn't take too long."

Being the leader, Faith was good with that. She moved her head, saying, "Well, all right, cool. While Willow's doing that, why don't the rest of us—"

"We're ba-ack!" Andrew sang from the foyer as the entry door slammed shut.

He and Spike appeared in the dining room, Spike first.

As Faith saw the attractive blond vampire, her eyes brightened for a moment before she quickly masked that emotion over her, slipping back into her Cool Gal persona.

"Spike! You're back!" Dawn said, relieved.

He smirked at her. "Hey, Nibblet. What, no hug for me?"

Dawn fixed that quickly as she ran towards him and tightly hugged him.

Andrew was full of vinegar as he jabbered a mile a minute. "Hi, everybody. I missed you guys a lot. Sorry we took so long getting back from our mission-mission but we had to wait out the sun and—"

He brightened even more brightly at the sight of Xander's eye patch. "Oh, cool, very Col. Nick Fury! You're lookin' good!"

"Seeing slightly less good," Xander said, with a touch of warmth in his voice. Andrew was in many ways a reflection of the geek that had been Xander back in the day. He thought wistfully of Jesse, the friend he had lost early on to the vampires. "But…thanks."

"Well, guys, I think we had a very successful trip," Andrew prattled on to everyone who had ears to hear. "We rode on Spike's 'hog,' which was very cool, and we played some amusing games, and we made a new friend Toby the Monk, and then we all bonded, and oh, yeah, we've got some information—but do you know what? I really need to urinate."

With that, he dashed off toward the bathroom.

"He's a breath of fresh air, isn't he?" Spike said archly. "Thank God I don't breathe."

Then his eyes met Faith's.

And her eyes met Spike's.

And time seemed to slow down for a moment for the both of them…

"Hey," Spike said softly by way of greeting, his eyes looking affectionately at Faith, giving her a smoldering half-smile.

Despite her own conflict, Faith found herself reflexively giving the good-looking blond vampire an equally warm, yet brief grin. "Hey."

She put her hands in her pockets, eying him with concern. "You okay? How, uh…how was the trip?"

"Fruitful, pet," he nodded, shrugging. "Found some clues. Oh, and…" he motioned to the door. "We found something on the way in."

And with a touch of drama…

…in slowly walked Angel.

Triumphantly returning from his quest.

And flanked by Lindsey and Kate. With Whistler, Alasdair Coames and the legendary warrior Drogyn the Battlebrand behind them.

At the Champion's sudden appearance, everyone's eyes went wide.

"Angel!" Dawn exclaimed, her eyes brightening, relief spreading through her chest.

At Dawn's enthusiasm, despite the grimness of the situation ahead of them, Angel smiled faintly. "Hey, squirt. Told you I'd be back."

Relieved to have the man she saw as her big brother back home and alive, Dawn instantly ran forward and enveloped him in a tight hug, Angel smiling as he hugged her back.

Feeling all kinds of emotions, Cordelia raced forward, also throwing her arms around Angel. "Oh, thank God, you're alive!" she uttered in relief, squeezing him tightly, close to tears. "I was so worried about you, Angel! I thought you were dead! I thought I'd never see you again! I thought—"

"I'm not," Angel assured her softly, hugging his Seer and best friend back. "It's gonna take a lot more than a few measly Trials and some goons to kill me, Cordy. You know that."

The stunning brunette Seer smiled, sniffled. "Right. I forgot. You're too stubborn to die."

Wesley looked relieved for a moment before Angel's eyes met his, and the ex-Watcher instinctively cooled that emotion. Things were still tense between them for many reasons.

"Angel, thank Hecate!" Willow uttered, stepping forward not too long afterwards, reaching out and hugging her old friend. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"I don't know about Hecate, Willow, but something was looking out for me, that's for sure," Angel smiled as he hugged her back.

"Oh, God, thank goodness you're home, Angel!" Fred exclaimed, joining the list of people who wanted to hug the brooding immortal detective as she tightly embraced him. "We were worried sick about you! Are you okay?"

Thinking back to everything he had gained and learned about himself on this trip, especially about his new resolve in making it work between him and Buffy, Angel gave her a faint smile. "Better than okay, Fred. Better than I've been in a while, actually."

Silently, Lorne observed the Champion.

The green-skinned Pylean demon found himself agreeing with Angel; the normally-broody souled vampire was indeed better than he had been in a long while. Since Lorne has known him, in fact, Angel's aura was usually gloomy and drab, weighed down by the guilt and torment of his past sins and the weight of responsibility as a protector, a Champion of the Powers That Be. And sometimes it was red with conflict thanks to his struggle to contain the evil of Angelus within him.

Yet now it seemed…lighter. Like that struggle was no longer there. Angel's aura seemed clearer now, like he knew what he wanted. Knew who he was supposed to be, what he wanted out of his life…and perhaps who he wanted.

Angel's eyes found Faith, a mutual relief in seeing each other alive reflected in both their eyes.

"Welcome back, Big Guy," Faith smiled warmly as she walked up to him. "God, I missed you around here."

"You, too," Angel replied with equal affection, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. He gave her a concerned look. "I heard you went through a rough patch while I was out. Do you want to talk later, or—?"

"No," Faith said quickly. Off the concerned look in his eyes, she amended her statement. "Not…yet. Soon, though." She gave him a faint, but assuring smile. "Promise."

Satisfied, Angel nodded and left it alone for now, but reminded himself to come back to this conversation with Faith later.

Suddenly, Vi, Molly and Amanda ran forward and glomped around Angel in tight hugs of their own.

Off Angel's surprise, the three teenage Potentials awkwardly backed away. "What? Everyone else gets to hug the hot vampire guy, why shouldn't we?" Vi explained, blushing.

As the idea dawned on Anya, the ex-Vengeance Demon brightly chirped, "Don't mind if I do! Move over, kids, let Mama get in on some of that action!" Then she rushed forward and tightly hugged Angel, her hands getting a little liberal as she let one roam down his washboard stomach.

"Uh…" A confused Angel uttered, looking at Faith and Cordelia and Willow, all of whom shrugged their shoulders, though Faith and Willow fought to stifle their own laughter at Anya's antics. Xander only rolled his eyes, somewhat jealously, and shook his head.

At that, several of the young, attractive and guy-starved Potentials around the room suddenly stood up and rushed forward, trying to get their share of Angel hugs from the very surprised, tall, dark, sexy and mysterious vampire-with-a-soul.

At that, Kate rolled her eyes and began to brush them off and stood as a shield between an increasingly uncomfortable Angel and the boy-crazed teenage girls. "Okay, that's enough of that, ladies! Geez, what is this, a mission briefing or a Justin Bieber concert?"

Whistler shook his head at the antics of the young females in the house when around Angel. "Geez, has it always been like this for him? They act like they haven't seen a studmuffin in ages."

"Worse," Drogyn replied, rolling his eyes. "Even when we were fighting in the second World War in Lwow, half of the women in the resistance movement he and I were helping were in love with him. And even a few of the men. Most of the other men were jealous, and a few even tried to kill him for it. It was…distracting."

Spike, Xander and Lindsey all rolled their eyes, though with not-too-subtle jealousy. None of them ever understood why most women just gravitated towards Angel like they were bees and he was covered in honey from head to toe.

Yet Gunn and Oz, more than secure in their own stud status, merely shrugged. Like the streets say, game recognizes game.

Relieved at the space, Angel's gaze then found Gunn. The seasoned vampire hunter threw up his hands. "Don't look at me, man, I ain't huggin' ya," he drawled, yet smiling at his safely-returned friend.

"Good," Angel wryly grinned back. "That would just be awkward."

"Good to have you back, Angel," Oz greeted warmly. "Though I'll pass on the hug."

Angel chuckled. "I appreciate that, Oz."

Lorne smiled warmly at Angel. "Good to have you back, Angelcake. We missed you around here."

Angel nodded at the Pylean demon. "I missed you, too, Lorne. Hopefully, I'm not too late."

At that, Lorne's smile faded somewhat, thinking back to the events of the last few days. "Yeah, well…we tried keeping it together as best we could."

Angel caught that, the cryptic tone in the friendly green demon's melodious voice. He knew that Connor was missing. And that Buffy was in way over her head. They needed him. And he wanted to get back up to speed ASAP so he could find both the love of his life and his son. Bring them both back.

"Angel…" Cordelia started, hesitantly. "About Connor…you should know, he…a few days ago, he…"

"I know," Angel replied, surprising her. "I know he's missing. Lindsey and Kate filled me in." A determined look filled his eyes. "We'll find him, Cordy. I'll find my son."

Dawn looked away, a heartbroken look in her eyes at the mention of Connor.

Cordelia could only nod. She hoped Angel was right. In some ways, she still blamed herself for Connor's disappearance, knowing the mental games the Beastmaster and Jasmine played with him in her body had to have contributed to his fragile mental state. Just another thing I screwed up. Nice one, Cordelia, she chided herself.

Giles, who gave Angel a guarded look considering how he feared the brooding immortal would react to what had transpired within the Summers household recently, turned his eyes towards the massive, statuesque stranger that was Drogyn.

"Angel, um, who is this?" he asked.

"Who, indeed," Vi asked, not so subtly checking out the handsome stranger clad in black. Several of the other Potential girls followed suit, except Kennedy, of course, the other girls suddenly fascinated by Drogyn and his statuesque appearance.

Realizing he was referring to Drogyn, Angel began the introductions. "Giles, everyone, this is Drogyn the Battlebrand. Legendary warrior, Keeper of the Deeper Well. He hitched a ride with us."

"Pleasure," Drogyn nodded to the group in his low, masculine voice, which made a few of the younger girls sigh.

"Drogyn!" Anya exclaimed, running over to him and giving him a hug.

"The fair Anyanka!" Drogyn laughed as he returned the hug, lifting her and spinning her around. "Gods, I haven't seen you since the Russian Revolution. And still as beautiful as ever. You don't look a day over 1,000!"

Anya blushed, playfully fanning herself. "Oh, stop it, you! But look at you, you're still all hunky and gorgeous as the last time I saw you. Remember? When we were having tea from the balcony of that amazing apartment while the Bloody Sunday riots were happening!"

"Well, they installed a Peloton in the Deeper Well. I keep in shape," Drogyn replied with a smirk.

Anya checked the muscular warrior out from head to toe. "Yeah, I'll bet you do," she said, biting her lip as she eyed him almost dreamily, a hint of lust in her eyes.

Xander looked at Anya in confusion...and some reflexive jealousy left over from their past. "Wait a minute…you know this guy, Anya?"

"Know him? Duh! This is Drogyn the Battlebrand!" Anya said enthusiastically as she motioned to the warrior. "This guy is a legend. He's got entire legends about him. Total badass. He's captain of The Brotherhood of the Chosen, this elite level of badass warriors for good? He's fought in a ton of major mystical and regular human wars. The Crusades, the Anglo-French Wars, the War of the Pureblood Demons, the First Leyline War of 1321, the War Against The First Evil about a thousand years ago…He's killed more demons and stopped more apocalypses than Giles has gone through tea bags!"

Willow was impressed. "That's a lot of tea bags."

Ignoring that crack, a surprised Giles stared at the immortal warrior in awe. "Drogyn the Battlebrand? But that's impossible, he's said to forever be guarding the entrance to the Deeper Well!"

"The Deeper Well can wait for a time," Drogyn said, his tone serious. "Angel is an old friend of mine. And the situation here threatens us all. I felt that given the circumstances, I should join him for the time being."

"So, I'm guessing you're pretty old, then," a curious Fred suggested as she looked at Drogyn.

"Just a few millennia," Drogyn shrugged, smirking as he looked over at Whistler. "Not nearly as old as Whistler."

"Hey, watch it, Monk Boy," Whistler cautioned him. "I'm still spry enough to whip your butt."

At the sound of some of the girls sighing as they lasciviously eyed the handsome warrior, Whistler rolled his eyes as he turned to Drogyn. The serious warrior merely shrugged, as if he didn't register it, either.

Gunn gave him a skeptical look. "You sure we can trust him? We don't even know this guy."

"We can trust him, Gunn," Wesley replied, his eyes regarding the giant warhammer Messor, the Reaper,in Drogyn's hand that confirmed his identity. "This is Drogyn, the Battlebrand, given eternal youth a thousand years ago. Demonsbane, Truthsayer...and warrior of light. He was a Champion for the Powers in ancient times before being delegated to keep watch over the Deeper Well."

Spike snorted at that bit of information. "Percy did a paper. Bully for him."

Wesley promptly ignored the flippant Spike, but subtly shook his head and rolled his eyes in mild annoyance.

Suddenly, Lindsey looked around and noticed there were a few people missing. One of them was… "Wait, where's Darla?"

At that, Wesley's eyes fell, sadly. "Away. She…decided two nights ago that she needed to look for Connor on her own. She'll be back when she finds him."

Lindsey didn't like that, but he knew better than to get in Darla's way when she wanted something. Off his concerned look, Kate's lips pursed together, feeling a sudden sense of insecurity due to…whatever it was that was happening between her and Lindsey of late.

Angel wasn't too thrilled about the news of Darla's absence, either. And the reminder of his son being lost made him look away, frustrated and worried. Buffy was in over her head, his son was gone, Darla was gone…he couldn't have come back at a better time, he decided, glad that his chapter in England was finally over.

Angel shook his head. "Look, we can get to all of that later. But in the meantime, we have a lot of good news." He gave the group a small half-grin, a rare show of emotion from the often-brooding vampire. "We might have hit the motherload with things we need to beat The First."

Willow brightened at the news. "That's-that's great!" She nudged Oz. "See? Told you Angel would come through."

"Like the mail. Rain or shine," Oz nodded, impressed, giving a rare half-smile at Angel.

Faith grinned at that. "All right, Angel! Delivering in the clutch like Larry Bird in the 4th quarter with 5 seconds on the game clock."

"Nah, my man's more like Kobe Bryant! Game on the line, and with no fouls to give, down by 1 and everything. Swish! 'Kobe!'" Gunn chuckled, a relieved smile on his face, though he appreciated Faith's basketball analogy, even if the Boston-born Slayer and the Los Angeles-raised vampire hunter were on opposite sides of the heated Lakers-Celtics NBA rivalry.

Appreciating the hoops talk with a fellow fan, Faith exchanged nods of respect with Gunn.

"I think he's more like Shaq," Anya chirped up, surprising them all.

"Anya, you never told me you like basketball," Xander asked, surprised at this detail from his ex-fiancée.

"I don't," Anya replied, giving Angel the slow once-over, undressing him with her eyes. "But just like Shaquille O'Neal, Angel's all large and…muscular…and sexy in a very Cro Mag kind of way…"

If Angel had circulation, he would have been blushing at that moment. That very long, uncomfortable moment…

Rolling her eyes, an annoyed Cordelia looked to Willow. "Do I have to hose her down now, or…?"

Willow shrugged, mildly embarrassed on behalf of the other 2.0 Scoobies. "Give her a minute, she'll come down on her own."

Ever the loyal New Yorker, Whistler disagreed. "Nah, nah, you're all wrong. Angel's more like Willis Reed, all heart, the guy who played on a bad leg and still led my beloved Knicks to the NBA world title in 1970."

The Chicago-born Kate shrugged, smirking. "I was more of a Michael Jordan gal myself." Off their glares at Kate, the ex-cop shrugged proudly. "Hey, six championships don't lie. Lindsey?"

Off her look, the Texas-born ex-lawyer smirked. "I'm more of a baseball guy. But who doesn't want to be like Mike, right?"

All eyes turned to Angel as the deciding vote.

As they eyed him expectantly, the immortal detective gave them a casual shrug. "I'm a hockey fan, honestly. But Lindsey's has a point, much as I hate to admit it; everyone wants to be like Mike."

Faith, Gunn, and Whistler, along with Lakers fan Xander and closet Lakers fan Dawn gave him a loud, though halfhearted 'Boo!' while Kate smiled triumphantly.

Ignoring the basketball banter, Cordelia beamed at Angel. "Awesome! The Dark Avenger delivers big, as usual."

Spike groused, more than a little jealously. "All right, all right, enough showering the Pouf with bloody flowers. What about me? I pitched in, too, ya know!"

Angel merely rolled his eyes at his needy GrandChilde, still wondering why exactly they needed him here.

Dawn affectionately patted Spike on that back. "You did good, too, Spike," she assured him.

"Bloody right, I did," Spike said defensively. "Just give me my kudos, is all I'm saying."

Faith took all of that in and chuckled at Spike's jealousy. The Betty and Veronica-like jealous relationship between Angel and Spike was a dynamic she found to be hilarious.

Giles eyed Angel curiously. "So you passed the Trials? You, um, acquired Hope's Dagger?"

With a small smile, Angel motioned to the hilt of the sword tucked away under his coat. "Present and accounted for," Angel confirmed, patting the hilt for emphasis.

Giles has to admit he was impressed. He honestly hadn't held out much hope that Angel would survive the Trials if thousands of warriors before him in hundreds and hundreds of years could not. Yet now that he was here, Giles was rather excited to finally see this legendary sword that few had ever laid eyes on who could still tell the tale. "May I, um, see the Dagger?"

"Later," Angel said, his eyes scanning the room, getting down to business. "We really need to talk to Buffy. We have a lot I need to get her up to speed about. Is she around?"

At that, Willow and Xander exchanged troubled looks.

Angel's eyes scrunched in concern as he caught that look, then he saw Giles and Faith also shared similar 'Uh-oh' faces, while Dawn looked down almost…sadly, their smiles gone.

Gunn and Fred also looked away, looking like they were ashamed, while an apprehensive Cordelia bit her lip, a tell of hers that Angel had recognized over the years whenever she did something that she knew he wouldn't like, like booking the team in divorce cases to pay the rent or forgetting to file an invoice the right way.

Wesley also averted his gaze for a moment, folding his arms defensively. Oz's normally stoic features fell for a moment, averting his gaze from the vampire detective.

The Potentials did much of the same. Kennedy fought down her smirk, trying her best to look away. She remembered well what happened the last time Angel and her got into it, and she knew full well that she was no match for him if he decided to get into it with her again.

Angel's alert eyes read the suddenly-pin-drop-quiet room, and saw everyone have the same kind of troubled looks on their faces.

And he didn't like it.

Not one bit.

A feeling of trouble began to gnaw at his heart.

Ever the cop, Kate was reading the same room that Angel was, and she also didn't like what she was seeing.

"Seriously, guys, we really need to talk to Buffy. Now," Kate prodded. "Apocalypse Time's counting down, and we have a lot we need to fill her in on if we're gonna beat The First's army."

Lindsey said nothing, but he could practically smell the apprehension and fear in the room. And he wasn't even a vampire. The tension in the house reminded the former star defense attorney of how guilty murderers and other scummy clients acted shifty during meetings with him. And it also reminded him a lot of how on edge Wolfram and Hart employees were during their Harvest time in Late Spring, when the firm would promote outstanding employees while cutting the dead weight, with an emphasis on 'dead'. Something bad had happened here recently, that much the former star attorney could tell.

"Yeah, it'd be good to see her. I think Urkel and I got a lead, too. Between Captain Forehead over here and us, I think we might've hit the jackpot, something to give The First and its pals the thumpin' they've had comin' for a while now," Spike eagerly said, before he looked around and saw what Angel was seeing. A room without Buffy…and a crowd full of troubled, guilty looks. "Where's Buffy?"

Swallowing, Dawn looked down to the floor for a moment before she returned her troubled gaze to Spike. "Uh, um…she's not here right now."

Spike took that in, said, "Well, when's she getting back?"

Nobody spoke.

They all looked around, awkwardly and guiltily.

"What, she finally ran off and joined the circus?" Spike asked jovially, though he couldn't shake the feeling of trouble, of something bad having happened while they were gone. "Always thought she'd be a genius at the old knife-throw . . ."

"Shut up, Spike," Angel said tersely, in less of a mood to joke around, his smile from earlier long having vanished.

Something had happened here, he could sense it.

And whatever it was, he didn't like it. At all.

Normally, Spike would have rebutted with a scathing retort at Angel's snappish demand, but he also began to realize what Angel had. The peroxide-blond vampire could feel the tension in the room, and he was getting a bad feeling about it.

Angel zeroed in on Dawn. Off the intense look in the older vampire's eyes, Dawn felt herself shrink, intimidated by his large, looming presence.

"Dawn," Angel asked patiently, but with an undertone of steely seriousness in his voice. It was a tone that demanded an answer. Not requested; demanded. "Where's your sister?"

Meeting his penetrating gaze, Dawn nervously flinched. "Um…Angel…I, uh…she…"

"Dawn…I'm not going to ask you again," Angel said sternly, like he was a parent warning a naughty child. "Where. Is. Buffy?"

Angel could hear a wide-eyed Dawn's heart pounding in his ears like a jackhammer. She was nervous. Afraid, actually. And not just of him…that was the heartbeat of someone guilty of something. But what? Angel wondered in growing frustration and worry.

Not liking how nobody else was saying anything regarding Buffy's whereabouts, Spike dropped his joking demeanor and got real serious, real fast. Frowning, he looked around the room and demanded, "You heard the big lummox. Where is she?"

Despite her heart telling her to stand down, the protective instincts in Faith reflexively got her ready to rumble, if rumbling was going to be necessary. Everyone else was jittery, and hey, no surprise there . . . they had just kicked their leader to the curb, after all, and now had to face the wrath of her present / ex-lover Angel and her past / ex-lover Spike.

Two men that always went to bat for the blonde Slayer no matter what. Two men who happened to be the two deadliest vampires to ever walk the earth.

Whistler looked around the room, also growing suspicious. "Guys…this really isn't the time for secrets. We really need to speak with Buffy. Now, as a matter of fact. We don't have a lot of time to waste."

"What he said," Angel gruffly added, walking to the center of the room, addressing everyone.

Yet nobody was coming forward yet.

The broody souled vampire's tone now got 100 percent serious. Deadly serious. "Okay. I'm only going to ask one more time, and then I'm going to get pissed…Where. Is. Buffy?"

Willow looked like she was going to try her hand at diffusing the situation, so Faith opted to keep her mouth shut…for now.

Sure enough, the Wicca waded right in, smiling nervously at first before that grin faded, standing in front of Angel.

"Uh…While you guys were gone, we, um…all got together and talked out some, uh…disagreements we've been having," Willow said, very diplomatically. Like she was a political Public Relations flack briefing an impatient press corps demanding to know about the latest on a hostage situation. "And eventually, after much discussion . . . Buffy decided that it would be best for…all of us…if she took a little, um…time off. A little breather," she finished lamely, finishing with a nervous grin.

Unconvinced, Angel folded his arms over his chest, staring down at the little red haired Witch with nonplussed brown eyes. He didn't buy it for a second, and Willow knew it.

Uneasy, Faith ticked her glance to an unimpressed and unconvinced Spike, who wasn't buying what Willow was selling, either.

Spike studied the little Witch and said evenly, "I see. Uh-huh." He gave the Witch a hard, interrogating look, and Willow looked away. "Been practicing that li'l speech long, have you?"

"Time off?" Kate scoffed at that, not buying it either. "Yeah, sorry, Red, but I'm gonna have to call bullshit on that one. It's Buffy. I haven't known her nearly as long as you guys have, but even I know that she wouldn't take time off when the end of the world is literally counting down."

"No. She wouldn't," Whistler agreed, frowning as he remembered the spirited, determined young blonde who he had seen stop Acathla by herself and save the world when her entire world was falling apart around her. "Buffy doesn't know the meaning of those words during Apocalypse Season."

Even without seeing the holes in that lame explanation, Angel could smell Willow's heart pumping faster, could smell the subtle stink of fear off her and everyone else in this room. It was a smell Angel knew well over his long life; it was the smell of lying.

"Willow, you know I'm a vampire, right?" He reminded her grimly.

Off her nervous nod, he walked up to her and leaned in closer, his probing eyes interrogating her.

"So you know that it's pointless lying to me," he said, letting his voice drop just a tad, but enough to make the hairs on the back of Willow's neck stand up. " I'd know it."

Willow swallowed hard, remembering just how scary Angel could be when he wanted to be.

Deep down, Angel didn't like intimidating Willow like this at all, especially since they were good friends. But when it came to Buffy, all bets were off for him. Nothing else mattered to him but finding her.

"Angel…" Oz tried, not liking how close the agitated vampire was to Willow, even if he was a friend. "Look, just calm down…okay?"

"Yeah, back off of Willow, Barnabas!" Kennedy spat, standing up angrily.

Without even looking at her, Angel pointed to Kennedy. "Sit down, Big Mouth. Before I sit you down," he replied coldly. Warningly.

And Angel meant it. He was not in the mood to put up with Kennedy's obnoxious crap right now, and his dangerous body language made that very clear.

Off his icy warning, and sensing she was in imminent danger if she continued to try and confront the tall and stormy immortal, Kennedy gulped and sat back down in her place. She still remembered how easily Angel could have killed her last time she had been this close to him.

To Oz, Angel said gruffly, "And I'll calm down when I get an answer, Oz. Where's Buffy?"

Still, nobody answered.

Angel's patience grew thin. "Okay, somebody better start talking. Right now," he demanded, his brusque tone indicating that unless someone started talking immediately, there would be hell to pay. "Where's Buffy?"

Robin's hand slowly drifted to his jacket, where a cross lay hidden. "I think you need to calm down," he calmly warned Angel.

Not in the mood, Angel eyed the son of the Slayer his GrandChilde had killed with icy regard. "And I think you better take that hand out of your jacket, Mister Wood, unless you want me to stick that cross you're reaching for right up your ass," he said with a none-too-veiled threat in his voice. "Don't play games with me. Not tonight."

Despite himself, Robin decided to stand down. The last time, he had the element of surprise against Angel. That weapon was not going to work this time, however. One look at Angel and he could tell the vampire meant business. And being Spike's GrandSire, Wood remembered that Angel was even stronger and faster than Spike because of his advanced age. Meaning that he wouldn't fare well or long in a fight with the dark-haired vampire detective.

Gunn shook his head, tried to reason with Angel. "Angel, look, man…if you just calm down for a second, maybe you'll…"

"I really don't want to hear anyone else telling me to calm down right now, Gunn," Angel replied, his voice stern. Hard. "What I do want to know is this…where's my girlfriend?"

Willow looked up in surprise at his statement. Girlfriend

She knew for a fact that Buffy and Angel weren't together at the moment. But the fact that Angel had referred to her best friend as his girlfriend meant only one thing to Willow: that Angel was finally done with punishing himself. He was ready to really give a life with Buffy a chance. He was finally ready to fight for her. To win her back.

The little witch would have been thrilled…if Angel wasn't standing there furious while Buffy had been banished from her own home.

Gunn swallowed, yet he hesitated to say anything further.

Fred looked up at Lorne, a lost expression on her face. "Wait…I thought they broke up, didn't they?" she whispered, groaning. "I'm getting so confused…"

Off the hard stare that Angel was giving them, Lorne nudged Fred. "Um, best not to go into that right now, Lambchop. Our Fearless Leader's clearly not in the mood to brief us on his love life at the moment."

Feeling his own temper start to rise, Spike regarded the group at large and mulled out loud their lame explanation. "So, let's rewind for ol' Spike, then, kiddies. You're telling me that Buffy took some time off, right in the middle of an apocalypse. And it was her decision?" he pressed, gazing at them all. "That doesn't sound like Buffy at all, does it, Angel?"

"Not in the slightest, Spike," Angel coldly agreed, finding himself reluctantly playing 'Bad Cop, Even Worse Cop' with his wayward GrandChilde, but willing to do so to find out what happened to Buffy. "Not in the slightest."

Heads were hung in shame.

"Well, we all decided," Xander said, trying to step up.

"Yeah, you all decided!" Spike echoed as he glared at the one-eyed man, scoffing in disgust as the blond vampire began to put it all together.

Angel grimly had put it together, as well. He figured it out a little faster, actually, being a detective. But he wanted it said…he needed to hear it said. He wanted to hear it from them.

"Decided what, exactly?" he demanded again. Folding his arms over his chest, he stood patiently. Waiting for someone brave enough to say it. "I want details, and I want them right the hell now."

Yet everyone looked around, not wanting to be the messenger, as they all knew the old saying about what happened to that guy, or girl.

After a beat, Dawn swallowed hard. Being the one who had given Buffy that fateful ultimatum the night before, she decided she was the one who had to break the news. So she stood up and looked at Angel with a sad, guilty look.

"Angel…" the youngest Summers girl hesitated before she shakily began. "Look…a lot happened while you were away."

Deciding he didn't want the youngster to face the wrathful, angry stare of the first-ever souled vampire alone, Wesley stood up and walked over to where they stood, standing alongside Dawn as he faced Angel. "We have a new player working for The First Evil," Wesley said, gravely.

"Caleb," Angel surmised.

Wesley and Dawn eyed him in surprise. "How did you…?" Wesley asked.

"Everyone and their mother texted me while I was at the Trials," Angel said simply, frowning as he recalled Buffy's heartbreaking voicemail. "Lindsey filled in the blanks for me while I was away. Buffy told me two nights ago. She left me a message. She was shaken up, scared…so I rushed back as soon as I could. Wanted to deal with this bastard myself."

The implication of his message hit home, causing them both to look down for a moment, ashamed.

"Tell me what happened," Angel pressed quietly.

Knowing that the Champion wouldn't like it, Wesley still continued. "The attack on the vineyard where Caleb and The First's forces are holed up in went badly. We lost a lot of people. And some of us…" His eyes ticked to Xander. "...Some of us lost other things."

It was then that Angel took notice of Xander's missing eye. For a moment, he felt pity for the young man. He didn't like Xander, and he knew the feeling was mutual and that made it easier for Angel to dislike the kid even without his childish jokes and cruel remarks at Angel's expense, and the jealousy over him and Buffy. Yet Angel still respected how Xander had put his life on the line for years to help protect the woman Angel loved. Without any powers. But honestly, Angel was surprised the kid hung in there as long as he had without having something horrible happen to him. It seemed that his luck had finally run out, Angel realized grimly.

"Buffy wanted to lead us back into the vineyard just last night," Wesley went on, silently bracing himself.

That news had startled Kate. "Wait, what?" She looked to Gunn and Fred, who nodded in confirmation. "That's a terrible idea!" Kate saw the first time that a group offensive storming the vineyard would only lead to disaster. If they had to go back in there, so be it, but they needed a better plan than to repeat the same deadly mistakes a second time.

"Yeah, I'm not liking that myself," Lindsey frowned, remembering the haunting, crazed look in Caleb's soulless eyes. "I was there. Believe me, that place ain't no Disneyland. It was a massacre."

"Look, Buffy wouldn't have suggested that unless she was 100 percent sure she had to. And now we know she was right," Angel defended her, unwaveringly, as he looked to Lindsey and Kate. "I know Buffy. She wouldn't just risk the lives of the people she cares about unless she was absolutely sure that she needed them, and that there was a damn good reason for it."

Spike nodded in agreement. "I hate to agree with Peaches over here, but he's right," Spike replied, just as stoutly. "The Slayer has an instinct. Ancient, mystical warrior-type mojo what-sis. If Buffy thinks there's something back at this place, Vegas odds are that she's right."

Angel rolled his eyes, not quite believing that he and Spike were in actual agreement on something. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but Lite Brite Hair over there isn't wrong." Ignoring the annoyed look on Spike's face at that dig, Angel pressed on. "Buffy has dreams and visions that warn her about danger that's coming. Her instincts can't be ignored."

He looked at the group earnestly. "You have to trust Buffy's gut, guys. This is what she does."

Faith wasn't quite convinced, folding her arms over her chest. "I'm a Slayer, same as her, and I haven't been getting any dreams or instincts about heading back into that slaughterhouse."

Angel turned to Faith, deciding to choose his words carefully so as not to hurt her feelings. "No offense, Faith, but Buffy's probably more connected to the Powers That Be than you are. For some reason known only to them, Buffy's been a major player in a lot of big events in the last few years. That's why she can sense things that others can't. She's different. That's why you have to trust her when she says there's something there."

Cordelia thought about that for a moment, then nodded. "Angel's got a point. The Powers don't just pick anyone to fight on their behalf. And Buffy's always seemed to have some kind of weird sixth sense about things. I never understood it before I got the visions. Buffy might not be a Seer like me, but I think the Powers have been clueing Buffy in for a while now."

Faith frowned, looking down for a moment. I should have figured, she sighed insecurely. Of course it was Big Sis Buffy who got picked by the almighties to be the Golden Gal, the star of the show. She was, after all, the real Slayer while Faith was, what, an understudy? Even now when I'm supposed to be the Top Dog around here, I'm still second place compared to Rock Star Buffy. Story of my life.

Yet Wesley shook his head as he faced Angel. "Instincts or not, Buffy had no plan of attack, no clear objective, and the forces The First amassed there were too formidable. It wasn't just Caleb waiting for us. The Beast was there, so was Drusilla, Pearl and Nash, the Madison girl, the Mears freak, and swarms of Harbingers and who-knows-what else lurking about…it would have been suicide, Angel," he insisted. "And with our numbers dwindling, Willow's magick still missing, and you and Spike gone, we had no chance of winning. We would have lost even more Potential Slayers. Lost more allies. We lost dozens of them in that attack as it was. We tried to get Buffy to listen to reason, but she wouldn't budge. She insisted that we go back there, and we couldn't do it. So after a lot of debate—"

"We asked her to leave," Dawn finished, her heart jumping as she stared at Angel, whose eyes widened in surprise at her confession. "I…asked her to leave."

No one spoke.

No one dared to breathe.

Spike's eyes widened, his nostrils flaring as he stared at them in shocked anger.

Stunned, Angel stared at the both of them.

Then he spoke two quiet, yet harsh, icy words.

"You…what?"

"I asked…I asked Buffy to leave," Dawn hurriedly tried to explain. "Angel, people were dying, and Buffy was…she wasn't herself! You didn't see her, she was…!" She tried to come near him, to grab his hand, to plead with him to understand.

But Angel took a step back from her. As if her touch would have burned him. He stared at Dawn's wide, hurt eyes, but he didn't flinch. He only stared at her with shock. With disappointment.

With betrayal.

The same way that Buffy looked at me, Dawn realized in guilt.

Swallowing, Dawn pulled back, feeling shame and hurt under Angel's intense gaze.

Feeling incredulous and not believing what he just heard, Lindsey shook his head, not quite understanding. "Wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight," he paused, scratching his chin. He couldn't believe that a group filled with so many smart people would do something this stupid. "Instead of talking things out and maybe helping her figure out another solution…you guys threw The Slayer, the one person who's literally been keeping y'all alive, out of her own house?"

"Alone?" an angry Kate added, now offended on Buffy's behalf. She didn't much like Buffy's plan, either, but she never would have gone along with throwing Buffy out of her own home had she been there. Buffy had looked after her kids, kept them safe. She'd been good to Kate, and the former cop always repaid that loyalty in kind. "With most of the town abandoned and with vampires and demons and Bringers and God-knows-what-else lurking around out there? How could you do that to her? She's supposed to be your friend, isn't she? Is this how you people treat your friends?"

Willow exchanged guilty looks with Xander. They weren't just supposed to be Buffy's friends; they were supposed to be her best friends. Yet they helped not only strip her of her mantle as the leader, The Slayer, but they did nothing as she was kicked out of her own house. The shame they felt was making their cheeks turn red.

"That's a Bush League move, guys," a frowning Whistler said, disappointed with all of them. "Totally weak."

The others took that in, looking away, the levels of shame increasing in the room by the minute.

Frowning, Drogyn himself was rather repulsed by this apparent action. In the Brotherhood of the Chosen, which he captained, treason and betrayal was punishable by death, Drogyn often having to execute traitors himself with a blow from his warhammer. Were these people in his ranks, he would have spent an entire day personally doling out justice himself. But these were not his ranks, so he deferred to Angel how he would deal with this lot for betraying their leader and ally.

Angel, Kate and Drogyn weren't the only ones who were pissed.

Spike paced, smiling strangely, then faced them all.

And then he laid into them. With both barrels.

"You sad, sad, ungrateful traitors!" he angrily chastised all of them. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Looking stricken, Willow murmured in protest, "We're her friends. We just want—"

"Oh, that's ballsy of you!" Spike hotly interrupted. "You're her friends and yet you betray her like this?"

Willow looked down, feeling shame and regret washing over her.

Giles moved forward, trying to justify their decision. "Ehh, y-you don't understand…"

"You know, think I do, 'Rupert'" Spike shot back acidly, sneering at Giles and said, "You used to be the big man, didn't you? The great teacher, the Big Swingy, Mister Galileo, all full of wisdom. And now she's surpassed you, and you can't handle it, can you? She pushed you away after you tried to plot to have me killed with Principal Mama's Boy over there," he pointed at Wood, who glared hatefully at Spike, who in turn ignored him before continuing, "…and your precious little ego couldn't take it, huh? What good is a Watcher without a Slayer to watch, right?"

Giles stared at the blond vampire tensely, lips pursed, yet he said nothing. Nothing to defend himself. He just took it. A small part of him actually wanted to.

Angel took that in, silently. He had no idea that Giles and this Wood guy had tried to kill Spike behind Buffy's back. It wasn't so much the trying to kill Spike part that bothered Angel—after all, most people who knew Spike ended up wanting to kill him at some point, Angel mused—as much as it was how Giles, of all people, would have gone behind Buffy's back and made a decision that would break her trust in him that Angel found disturbing.

"Really, Giles?" Angel asked the Watcher, frowning and sitting in judgment. "This again? Did you learn nothing after what you did to her on her 18th birthday? Taking her powers away without her permission? Forcing her to face a psychotic vampire alone? Thinking you knew what was best for her and betraying her trust instead?"

Giles's mouth dropped open at the memory of the Cruciamentum, the cruel rite of passage that the Council had forced him to make Buffy go through. To test her 'skills', they said.

"That was different," Giles said quietly.

"You betrayed her trust then, and you did it again now," Angel replied coldly. "If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…it's not a pig, Giles."

Giles frowned, but he said nothing. Taking it. And again, feeling a little bit like he deserved it.

Spike's seething gaze took them all in as he resumed his lambasting of the entire group of heroes. "You dishonest, traitorous, ungrateful sods! She's saved your lives again and again."

He looked at Dawn. "She's died for you!" At that, Dawn felt the pricks of tears stinging her eyes and she looked away sorrowfully.

Spike then kept blasting the group. "And this is how you thank her? This is how—?"

Okay, my ups, Faith thought. She didn't like what happened to Buffy, either. She even tried to convince Buffy to take her job back. But she couldn't. Like it or not, she had The Big Stick now. And she was never much for speaking softly. So she had to make do with carrying it. Like I promised Buffy I would…

Summoning whatever leader swagger she could muster, Faith stepped in front of Spike, gruffly cutting him off and said, "Hey, why don't you take it down a notch or two? The time for giving speeches is over, Bat-Boy. I'm the one who's in charge now."

His own anger and emotions blinding him, Spike regarded Faith, scoffing at the notion. "Please. You? You can barely hold yourself together these days, and what, you think you can hold together an army?"

Faith's eyes steeled. It had hurt that Spike thought so little of her, she silently admitted. Yet there were bigger things she had to worry about now. She made a promise to Buffy, and she was intent on keeping it.

"If I have to," she replied, her voice firm like iron. "Why can't I, huh, Spike?" Her eyes, her tone became accusatory, with just a subtle hint of hurt. "Because I'm not Buffy?"

Cursing in exasperation under his breath, Spike fought to keep his temper in check, for Faith's sake, but he found himself quickly losing that battle because of the magnitude of this betrayal. "This has nothing to do with who you are or who you aren't, Faith! This has to do with what you've done!" Spike's eyes narrowed as he looked at Faith accusingly. "This is wrong and you know it, Faith! She trusted you! And this is how you repay her? By taking over her bloody life? Again?"

The vampire once known as William the Bloody felt all kinds of emotions clashing within him, tearing at him. His loyalty to Buffy warring with his growing feelings, his concern…his affection…for Faith. Wanting to be loyal to both, but knowing that he could only pick one side right now.

Her eyes stormy with emotions, Faith scowled, those harsh words stirring up bad, dark memories which in turn were stirring those old emotions of insecurity welling up in her again. Feeling all kinds of other emotions just being this close to Spike after missing him so much while he was gone.

"Wait, you think I wanted this?" she asked, incredulously, defensively, her left arm gesturing to the makeshift army she was now in charge of. "I didn't! I didn't want any of it! But they voted, Spike! They didn't want to go back to the vineyard, and I sure as hell can't blame them for that! You know what's down there! You know what they did to me, what they…"

She broke off, squashing down those horrible memories before she continued. "Look, I don't know if I'm a leader or not, but what I do know is that it doesn't matter. I'm in charge now. So either get in line and fall in, or get the hell out of here!" She heatedly pointed to the door.

Angrier than he could remember being in a while, almost as angry as he was the night he and Angel came to blows in the Hyperion clash that almost killed them both, Spike took a step closer to Faith, pissed, threatening. "Yeah? Is that right?"

"Yeah," an uncompromising Faith said, unafraid and bold as she took a step of her own towards Spike until there was barely a sliver of light between them. The tension between them, all the tension, was simmering, boiling, ready to blow.

She then shoved him hard. "That's right," she scowled. "So save your lack of breath."

The same words they had exchanged only nights before when they were spending part of the night dancing in each other's arms in the Bronze, Spike desperately trying to get a confused and distrusting Faith to open up to him. To let him in.

Only this time, there was no dance floor. No music.

There was only anger, a lot of anger. A lot of unresolved issues. And betrayal. All of it was a ticking time bomb.

And it was about to explode…

Faith shoving him was that one bit of action that suddenly caused Spike's fuse to ignite.

"All right," he angrily drawled, and before he realized it, before he could stop himself…

POW!

…he reflexively hauled off, his fist connecting with Faith's beautiful jawline.

"Spike!" an outraged Angel shouted, angrily, his hand slipping into his coat for a moment for a weapon of any kind.

It caught Faith off-guard, even though it shouldn't have; she fell against the counter and the others backed away.

As if he was splashed with a bucket of ice water, Spike looked at Faith in shock, realizing what he had done. Oh, bloody hell…what did you do, you idiot? What the bleeding hell did you do?

"Faith…" he said softly, apologetically, tentatively trying to approach her. "God, I…I'm sorry, luv…so sorry, I-I-I didn't mean…"

CRUNCH!

But then her foot lashed out and kicked him away, creating some separation.

As Faith touched her jaw, she ignored how her heart had felt like it had cracked in two at how Spike had hit her.

Spike. Hit me…

The words still didn't make any sense in her head.

She could barely put them together in a sentence.

Yet she ignored that wild pain and bewilderment. And instead used another emotion that his one careless action had sparked in her…anger.

She whipped her head around to face him. A deadly smile spread over her face. The woman who eyed Spike with dangerous eyes was no longer Faith, and Spike knew it instantly.

He was now in the presence of The Slayer. All five-feet-by-five-inches of her.

And The Slayer decided that she was most definitely not five-by-five.

"You're pretty sweet on her, aren't you?" Faith slowly drawled, that dark smile still on her pouty lips, her voice ripe in accusation.

Using the kitchen counter as her leverage point, Faith kicked up both legs, cracking Spike in the face.

CRACK!

"No, Faith, stop!" an alarmed Dawn pleaded desperately.

But Faith ignored her.

Faith didn't want to talk.

She wanted blood now.

His.

"Well, I think it's cute." Faith pressed her attack, her right cross smashing him right in the face. On instinct and survival mode, Spike hit her back, hard, and she returned the favor with equal force, cracking him right in the face with another punch. "The way Buffy's got you all whipped. Like a little bitch!," Faith continued, with a tremendous kick that sent him flying onto his back.

"Stop!" Dawn shouted again, growing more fearful.

"Guys, stop it!" a shocked Fred cried out.

"Spike! Faith! Stop!" Willow worriedly shouted. "This isn't…!"

But the two warriors were beyond hearing any of them, throwing down hard in the Summers kitchen.

Gunn and Kate looked at each other, then at Angel, as if to ask him if they should step in and break it up.

But Angel silently shook his head, wordlessly ordering them to stay back. They weren't seeing, smelling what he was. There was a firestorm of emotions between the dark-haired Slayer and the platinum blonde vampire doing battle. Rage. Jealousy. Resentment. Affection. Attraction. Confusion. And…

And something else.

Oh, God. Don't tell me…? It made Angel's eyes widen in surprise. He wasn't so sure he liked it, but his senses were not deceiving him.

And like it or not, Angel realized he had to let Faith and Spike work it out. For now…

Getting angry flashbacks as he saw his mother's murderer attack another Slayer, Robin Wood looked like he was going to make a move on Spike in the melee, reaching for his stake…

Only this time, it wasn't Buffy who stopped him.

Angel stepped right in front of Wood, the centuries-old vampire shaking his head and glaring at the former principal.

Angel's hand was on the hilt of Hope's Dagger, neatly tucked under his long black coat.

The first-ever vampire-with-a-soul's silent message was heard by the vampire hunter loud and clear: Do NOT interfere.

Another kick from Faith knocked Spike down to the floor.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Spike shot back as he got back up, blocking her fist.

But she ducked underneath, using her momentum and flipping him hard back to the ground in a judo throw.

"Don't I?" Faith spat, anger, hurt and more than a little jealousy in her expressive doe-brown eyes. "C'mon, 'Big Bad'. We all know about your thing for Buffy. We all knew that eventually you'd get tired of slumming it with the Bad Slayer and go jumping back for seconds with the Golden Gal, not that you'd have any chance with Angel back. But I guess it doesn't matter to you, does it? It's always been about her for you. So why waste any more time pretending that you ever gave a damn about me?"

She jumped on him, hitting him in the face, again and again, brutally; but he threw her off him and threw her to the wall, got right in her face; he was shaking with fury. He had to fight to keep his vampire face from emerging, he was so enraged.

"Finally got what you always wanted, didn't you?" Spike shot back icily, holding Faith's wrists so that he pinned her against the wall, feeling her lithe body shaking against his, ignoring her struggles, trying so hard not to focus on how the contact between her wriggling body against his larger frame made his cold skin feel as hot as if he had touched holy water. "The attention, the power, not having to be Number Two anymore…and all it took was you stabbing your friends in the back. Turning on the people who cared about you. Who tried to help you! People like Buffy." He punched her hard, yet held back just a bit.

Spike's eyes filled with anger and more than a little hurt as he stared at Faith hard. "People like me!" I've tried so hard to help you, Faith…

Feeling her eyes threaten to mist for a moment, the dark-haired Slayer angrily stared at him and she headbutted him, knocking his head back, hard.

"I already told you. I don't. WANT. YOUR. HELP!" Faith exploded angrily, catching him in the mouth with another solid punch, brushing him back.

"Spike! Stop it!" Dawn shouted, fearfully. "Faith, please, enough!"

But The Key's pleas for peace fell on deaf ears.

As she moved to the far end of the room to avoid the melee, a nervous Anya said aloud, "Um, not to be a worry wart, but generally? When a vampire and, um, a Slayer duke it out? Usually? Wreckage. A lot of wreckage."

"Ohmygosh!" Amanda gasped, narrowly ducking a can of peas that Faith launched at Spike's head and missed.

"This is getting out of hand!" a worried Vi uttered as she watched the fight.

"Shouldn't we do something?" a fretful Molly asked.

"Like what, make popcorn?" Kennedy scoffed, mildly amused at the fight. Personally, she was kinda hoping they'd kill each other. Then maybe she could finally have a shot at being the leader, like she felt she deserved.

Giving Kennedy the evil eye, Cordelia worriedly called to the dueling fighters, "Guys! Cut it out! Seriously! This isn't helping anyone!"

A glowering Faith's answer was throwing Spike hard into a wall, cracking the plaster.

Growling, Spike returned the favor, spinning Faith around and slamming her against the wall, back first. The stressed wall plaster further cracked.

"Come on, guys, I just remodeled the kitchen like months ago!" Xander groaned, though he didn't dare get in the middle of this melee.

Wesley, concerned, looked like he was going to make a move to his hidden wrist weapon for a stake or a sword to back up Faith, only to catch Faith in mid-fight quickly giving him a shake of her head. She did not want her new Watcher's interference in this. It became clear to Wesley in that moment that this was a private affair that now became public. He knew what that was like. After all, he and Gunn had come to blows in the middle of the Hyperion not long ago over Fred amid Angelus's return. Despite his reservations, he would have to cede to Faith's wishes to handle this alone. For now…

Faith regained her fighting stance, bouncing on the balls of her feet, eyed Spike with a storm of emotions brewing in her expressive Mocha brown eyes that Spike still found so captivating…

"You have no idea what I want. You never did, Spike," Faith shot back angrily, shooting out her leg and catching him in the ribs, knocking him backwards. "And you never will."

Recovering, Spike sneered at her, and Faith sneered right back, his icy blue eyes and her raging brown orbs locking in a dance of anger, of frustration, of rage…and a much more passionate emotion that scared them both too much to name.

"I guess that bloody well makes two of us, doesn't it?" he coolly replied, but the accusing tone in his voice burning her inside. Furious, the sultry Boston-born Slayer hauled back and let her fist fly at his face. But he caught her attempt at a punch before he twisted her around and shoved her against the wall.

Both Slayer and vampire stared at each other with simmering emotions. This was about a lot more than just about what happened with Buffy.

A lot more.

And deep down, they knew it.

Shoving those thoughts down, Faith pushed him away, then quickly stepped in with the speed and grace of a puma, trying to hit him with a roundhouse Muay Thai kick, but Spike ducked underneath it smoothly like a cobra, wrenching her arm and pinning it behind her back, while he wrapped his arm around her slender waist and pressed her against his own waist.

The proximity of Faith's perfectly-toned globes against his crotch caused him to reflexively harden, and both warriors realized that. Feeling his manhood pressing against her butt so intimately, Faith's wide-eyed face flushed red for more reasons now than just her raging anger with Spike, while an embarrassed Spike was trying ever so hard not to think about how close Faith was to him, and how good she smelled as he continued to hold her thrashing body to his.

"Where is she?" Spike demanded, angrily.

"I don't know! Get the fuck off of me!" Faith shot back, just as heatedly. She wrenched out his grasp and kicked him in the gut, readying for his returning blow.

"Guys, c'mon…let's put an end to Wrestlemania, alright?" a jittery Lorne tried to reason with them, but to no avail.

The gloves were off now. If they got into it again, they might just take the whole house down with them, and Spike knew it. Faith knew it, too.

Yet there they stood, barely three feet apart. Ready for the final round…

Spike wiped the trickle of blood from his mouth. Eyed Faith with a mixture of sadness, regret and anger. "You sure you wanna do this, Faith?" Please don't make me do this, luv…

Faith scowled at him, subtly rubbing her sore jawline where he had connected with a punch. Her eyes stared at him, furious and conflicted, her heart screaming 'No!' while her battle instincts shouted 'Yes!'

She surrendered to her instincts.

"Come on, William," the dark-haired Slayer taunted him, spitting out a red gob from her mouth. "Try and make me Bloody."

Closing his eyes in disappointment, Spike reopened them, his passionate blue eyes flashing a glint of primal, amber yellow. "Fine. Have it your way."

At that moment, their eyes locked angrily, moving at the same time as they were about to clash into each other for a final round of blows…

DAP!

…only for both of their fists to be caught in mid-air.

"That's ENOUGH! Both of you!" a stern Angel barked, playing Referee Guy as he suddenly appeared in the middle.

The Champion tightly grabbed each warrior's fists in his powerful hands before shoving them both away from each other, standing firmly in the middle so they wouldn't dare try again.

Scowling, the immortal hero's authoritative tone left no room for argument. "The next one of you that tries something is gonna be sorry they did. Got it?"

He had let this go on for a moment as he saw that Faith and Spike clearly had something personal and private between them, something that he didn't understand, but something he knew which they needed to work out. But it was starting to get out of control, and Angel had far more pressing issues now to worry about than a lover's tiff between two people who, as far as he could determine, weren't quite lovers just yet.

Like finding out where Buffy was. And finding her…and then Connor…

Relenting, Spike threw up his hands in disgust, glaring at Faith with anger and rage and…hurt. So much hurt…

Back in her corner, Faith likewise gave Spike an intense look, furious with him, wanting to hurt him, wanting to kill him…and wanting to die from how much what they just did to each other had hurt her deep inside, in the parts that no one else could see.

Shaking his head, his simmering emotions feeling like they were going to explode out of his grave-cold chest, Spike suddenly turned away from her. Headed out toward the kitchen doorway, leaving the house altogether. Resisting the urge to stay.

To apologize to Faith.

To explain himself and beg her forgiveness.

He just couldn't…not tonight…

Part of Faith felt like she wanted to call out to him, to beg him to stay.

To tell him that he was right. That she did need him, more than she or he could understand…

…but she didn't.

She couldn't.

It's better this way, part of her told herself bitterly. It wasn't meant to last. It was fun. It could've been sweet, maybe even special…but we all gotta grow up sometime. You don't need him…and he doesn't need you…

"Spike, wait!" a worried Dawn cried out, taking two steps towards the door to go after him.

"Let him go, Dawn," Angel cut her off by holding his arm out, blocking her advance. "He needs to cool down."

Sadly, Dawn obeyed, trudging back to her spot in the room.

Faith then turned to Angel, her eyes wide, begging for him to believe her. "Angel, I swear, I didn't want it to go down this way. I-I-I begged Buffy to stay, I didn't want—!"

"I know, Faith," Angel said, assuringly, to Faith's silent relief. "I believe you."

Despite his growing anger, he could smell that Faith was telling the truth. And even without it, he had seen Faith grow and change. He knew that it was beneath the strong young woman he had seen her become, who was willing to stay in prison to face her punishment for her crimes, who had only broken out to save him when he needed her, to suddenly turn on him and betray the woman he loved. Again. Faith was better than that now, and Angel knew it.

Satisfied that the fighting between his GrandChilde and his protege-slash-surrogate little sister was over, Angel turned angry eyes towards the rest of the group.

"You know…I've known that knucklehead for a long time. Over a century, in fact," Angel said, shaking his head in disappointment as he addressed them all. "Spike's a lot of things. He's an idiot. He's hotheaded. Impulsive. Has a big mouth. Never listens. Always gets himself into trouble. And those are his good qualities."

Faith tried to hide a little smile at Angel's assessment of Spike, not arguing once about how on-the-nose Angel was about his GrandChilde despite her own complicated feelings for the volatile blond vampire.

Angel let out a breathless sigh. "And yet in this moment, he's gonna make me say the one thing I've never said about him before in the entire 100-plus years I've known him."

The 247-year-old dark-haired vampire paused a beat.

"Spike's right."

All of them looked at Angel in shock.

Wesley tried to explain. "Angel, listen, we—"

Yet the vampire cut him off by raising his hand. "Not now, Wesley. I have the floor."

Then Angel faced the rest of the group.

"Buffy has risked everything time and time again for you. All of you," he said, coldly. "She's given up everything she has to protect the people she loves, to protect the world. Everything. Even her own life. Twice. She's made choices so hard that it would have broken any of you to have made a single one of them, yet she does it. Every day. For you. To protect you. Do you have any idea what that's like? To have everyone's lives depending on you? How lonely it is? How scary? Knowing that all it takes is one mistake and you have to bury someone you love? I didn't understand it completely until I found myself with a family of my own to protect. A mission of my own to accomplish. It's a terrible, lonely burden, but it's one that she's had to bear longer even than I have. You might think that you can do this without her, but trust me, you can't."

He looked at Willow, scowling. "And you knew that. Otherwise, you wouldn't have bothered bringing her back from Heaven."

Willow looked at him, her big blue eyes full of hurt. "Angel, that's not fair—!"

"Do you really want to talk to me about fair, Willow?" he interrupted her, pointedly. "Was it fair that you pulled Buffy away from Heaven? From paradise? From where she was at peace? From where her mom was?"

Willow's eyes watered, guilt flooding her.

Shocked at Angel's revelation, Dawn gasped, her own eyes filling with tears at the knowledge that Buffy was with their beloved mother in Heaven before they brought her back to life. With mom? I didn't know that…if I knew, I would never have…oh, God, what did we do?

Angel took in their looks, then continued laying into them.

"When I came back, I went through a hundred years of torture in a Hell dimension, my every waking moment filled with more torment and suffering and death than any of you could possibly imagine. And I deserved it. I admit it. It was my punishment, and I had to own up to it, but after a few decades of that mind-wrenching misery, I would have given almost anything to get away from that. Sometimes, the only thing that kept me alive in the middle of that insanity, all of that hopelessness, was the nearly impossible hope that if I made it far enough, if I survived, that someday, somehow, some way…I'd see her again," Angel continued, long-closed memories that he never shared with anyone but Buffy pouring out of him. Fighting down his emotion, he shut his eyes and summoned his legendary calm and went on. "She was in Heaven. At peace. Rewarded. She had earned her paradise because she had spent her whole life helping others. Protecting people. Saving the world. And she earned her reward. She was happy. I know because she told me. After all her burdens and her suffering…She was finally free."

He paused, eying Willow again. His eyes went cold, dark. "And then a bunch of idiots who were in way over their heads without her, who couldn't even think to dig her body out of her coffin, dabbled in magick they had no business messing with, and brought her back in her own damn grave."

Willow shrunk under his withering gaze, silently cursing her stupidity for having put Buffy through that nightmare.

Xander protested. "We-we couldn't have known that! We didn't know, we—!"

"Exactly, Harris," Angel spat, harshly, drilling the one-eyed man with his cold stare. "You didn't know and you didn't want to know because you were all so desperate to make the bad things that bump in the night go away. As good as you've all become in the last few years, you realized that when you take your star player away, all you guys are is just a bunch of role players sitting around waiting for the other team to pick you off."

"So that gives her the right to treat us like we're beneath her?" Anya asked, accusingly. "Like she's better than us?"

Angel turned his intense gaze to the ancient ex-Vengeance Demon, and despite her age, Anya fought not to make her knees buckle in fear at the intensity of the stare of the former Scourge of Europe.

"Hey, Anya?" he asked, absently. "Remind me again…how were you guys doing without Buffy before bringing her back to life?"

Cordelia looked down as she understood Angel's point. She remembered full well how the first Summer Without Buffy Summers went back in high school before their Senior Year. An emotionally overwhelmed Buffy left town after getting kicked out of school, losing both Jenny Calendar and Kendra months apart under her watch, and being forced to send her beloved Angel to Hell. Her absence and the loss of Angel left the Scoobies to fend for themselves against the menacing might of the Hellmouth. It was bad. The Scoobies had valiantly stepped up and became more organized when they patrolled themselves to take on the vampires and other demons dwelling in the darkness of Sunnydale's nightlife. Yet it became all too clear very quickly that they needed Buffy back. Without The Slayer or the future Champion Angel, and only an untrained Witch, a Slayer-less Watcher, a werewolf with no self-control in his primitive state and two ordinary mortals in herself and Xander to throw at the forces of darkness, they were all knocking on death's door, and Cordelia knew that everyone knew that.

Her face flushed, Anya tried to save it. "We-we-we did just fine, actually. We had…um…"

The former Vengeance Demon paused, searching for any kind of success the Scoobies had. But truth be told, they didn't have many in the second Summer Without Buffy Summers, either. Buffy's death after the final battle that destroyed the mad Hellgoddess Glory left the Scoobies to deal with a huge power vacuum that they couldn't fill. Even with two full-blown Witches in Willow and the now-late Tara, a legendary vampire in Spike and more field experience on their side in Xander and Anya, the Hellmouth's unending stream of fiends and vampires and demons was overwhelming. It was as if the Hellmouth had sensed somehow that The Slayer, its keeper, its guardian, its greatest foe was gone, allowing it to rampage at will. Without The Slayer, they could barely handle it. They were lucky that they made it out of that time alive, Anya silently acknowledged.

But she wasn't about to admit that aloud, let alone to Angel. "Well…we had, um…no…Oh, but there was…no, that sucked…and there was…no, that wasn't good either…Oh! We did pretty well when we had the Buffy…bot."

She deflated when she realized how that argument actually proved Angel's point.

Off Angel's confused look, Xander sheepishly explained. "Spike's weird sex-bot he made to look like Buffy so he could have sex with it. Part of his sick little 'obsession with Buffy' phase. We kinda…repurposed it to do the slaying in Buffy's place."

Faith's eyes went wide. "Wait…Spike made a what?"

Cordelia had a disgusted face. "To look like who?"

"To do what-now with?" Kate asked, repulsed.

"Eww, gross," Fred frowned, equally squicked out.

"And…sad," a disturbed Gunn said in total judgment.

"So sad," Lorne concurred, cringing.

"I think the word we're looking for is 'pathetic,'" Lindsey added, snorting in mild amusement.

"Tell me about it," Willow muttered in agreement, recalling how she felt like she needed a shower when she learned about Spike's commissioned sex doll of her best friend.

Confused, Drogyn looked at Whistler. "What is this 'sex-bot' of which they speak?"

Whistler scratched his head, equally grossed out. "Let's just say that out of all of the 21st century's modcoms since the Dark Ages, Dro, trust me, this one you'd want to pass on."

Suddenly remembering something that Buffy had briefly mentioned to him, about how Spike had built some disgusting machine to look like her so the blond vampire could live out his repulsive desires and fantasies of her through it, a fuming Angel silently made a note to find Spike and pound him into the ground with as many crosses as he could find when this was over.

Calming himself, he turned back to Anya, a knowing look in his eyes. "So, you mean to tell me that the only luck you had without Buffy…was to use a robot that looked like Buffy to take her place and save your asses while the bot did the heavy lifting?"

Anya flushed in embarrassment, shrinking back in her seat as she looked away. "Well, when you make it sound like that…" she muttered quietly.

Angel snorted in disgust. "It seems to me like you all found out what your world would be like without Buffy. It's not pretty."

Cordelia silently agreed to that. Her time in the Higher Planes allowed her to remember the wish she once unwittingly made years ago to Anya, then in full Vengeance Demon mode, for Buffy to have never come to Sunnydale. It was hell on Earth, the Seer recalled with a shudder. The Master having overrun her hometown, people locked up in cages, Willow and Xander having died and been turned into vampires, Angel imprisoned, Giles and Oz having to go at it alone defending the town with a watered-down Scooby Gang, Cordelia's own death having come at the hands of a vamp-turned Willow and Xander, Xander, something that was painful for her to even think about…that memory alone made her realize what a difference that one tiny little blonde with a stake and a never-say-die attitude had made in their lives. Buffy was the light that kept the things in the dark at bay. Without that light, the darkness would have swallowed them whole.

And we threw her out of her own house, Cordelia grimly realized, ashamed. We threw out our light. And I just stood there and let it happen. Oh, Buffy…I hope you can forgive us someday…

"You have no idea how much she has to put on the line for you," Angel continued, fighting to keep his rage in check as he gave the entire crowd a withering look. "What she's given up. Most of you here just showed up on her doorstep not months ago and pleaded with her to protect you from the things out there that have been hunting you down. And it goes back further than that, doesn't it?"

He looked at Willow and Xander, specifically. "If I remember correctly, she didn't even want your help. She wanted to do this alone, but you all begged her to be a part of her world, right? Sure, you've helped, you've helped her a lot. But you should have known what you were signing up for. That it wasn't going to be easy." He let out a 'tch' sound, disgusted. "What did you think it was going to be like, huh, guys? That you'd have a few thrills? Get to play superheroes, fight some bad guys like in the comics and then go home safe in your beds, maybe something to do on a Saturday night? I bet you thought if you just touched the darkness, that you'd be okay. That it'd make you brave. Hell, maybe it might even be fun. Tell me…"

Angel walked in closer, locked both eyes with Xander's only remaining one. Despite his resentment, his growing anger, Xander could only stare back silently at Angel, his lips trembling with emotion.

The tone of Angel's low, gravelly voice was like ice to the one-eyed young man as the souled vampire stared knowingly at him and asked him one question. "Is it still fun?"

His left eye socket dully throbbing, Xander cursed himself for flinching, hating how weak he felt, hating Angel for reminding him of it.

"Angel. Stop," Cordelia protested, not liking where he was going with this. And not liking at all how Angel was making Xander feel despite her own conflicting emotions for the wounded young man now.

"No," Angel replied coldly, stunning the Seer as she stepped backwards in shock.

And she was truly scared. The last time Cordelia had seen Angel like this was back when he had gone off the deep end years ago when Darla was sired in front of him by Drusilla. Wolfram and Hart had messed with him so badly that he had fired all of his friends and set off on a one-man mission to destroy the two female vampires he had spent centuries with before they could hurt anyone else.

And somehow, this was scarier, Cordelia realized.

Angrily, Xander stood up. "You have a lot of nerve talking to us about how we hurt Buffy, pal!" he said, accusingly. "Last I checked, if hurting Buffy was an Olympic sport, you'd be Simone Biles! We know about how you broke up with her before you left on your big hero King Arthur quest. Again. And it wasn't just this time, was it? There was her 17th birthday, then Jenny, then Acathla, then breaking up with her before Prom, leaving her on Graduation Day, all the times you kept popping back in and out of her life since then like she was some revolving door for you between Memory Lane and L.A., while you left her messed up and we had to pick up the pieces. And she keeps making excuses for you, letting you off the hook. You've hurt her worse than any of us, Angel, and you do it again, and again, and again, yet you think you can judge us? You don't deserve her!"

"Xander, that's enough!" Lorne said, admonishingly. The Pylean demon knew the kid was skating on very thin ice with Angel right now. Lorne had seen into Angel's soul more than once. He knew that the blonde-haired Slayer was the one area of his life that was off-limits to anyone and everyone but her.

Enraged, Angel's eyes turned a demonic amber for a moment, which made Xander involuntarily tremble as he realized that he might have poked the bear a little too hard.

Yet after a beat, Angel's eyes returned to their normal brown shade, casting them down as he closed his eyes in regret.

Xander was right. He might have been an obnoxious little shit about it, but he was right, Angel realized.

He had hurt Buffy. A lot.

Too many times.

In his efforts to protect her, to keep her safe, Angel had accidentally hurt the one he loved most of all. And that was something he would never forgive himself for.

He returned his gaze to Xander.

"For the record…she broke up with me. And…you're right. I don't deserve her," he said quietly, staring at the one-eyed man with sheer intensity. "I have hurt Buffy. And I've done it a lot. And for that, I'll never forgive myself. But every time I have, I thought I was protecting her. You have no idea what it's like to have something inside of you that could destroy the people you love if you lose control of it, Harris. I live with that every day. It's like living in a world made out of eggshells. Constantly having to control myself. Being careful not to get too emotional, not to get too happy, or even too angry. Always having to keep my emotions in check, always having to have self-control, always having to be extra careful of who I let close to me, never letting anyone get too close, always having to be careful never to slip, to stay in control of myself at all times, because when I'm not, and I lose control, in that one second when I take my hands off the steering wheel? Someone can get hurt. Someone can die. Maybe even someone I love... and it would be all my fault."

He walked in closer to Xander, letting his full height tower over the young man. "It's hard. It's lonely and it's sad. It drives me crazy living that way…And I'm tired of it. I've lost Buffy too many times in one lifetime. And even after 240-something years, life is still too short. I'm never losing her again. So I'm going to make it right with her, if she'll let me. Beg her to take me back. Fall on my knees, if I have to. Promise to fix things and mean it this time. I only regret that it took me this long to realize that I had my head up so far up my own ass that I couldn't see it."

He then glared at Xander challengingly, furiously, warningly. "And if you or anyone else has a problem with that, then you can go to Hell. I don't need to justify how I feel about the woman I love to anyone else, let alone to some goofy kid who can barely hold a relationship together with a woman because of his inferiority complex!"

Xander scowled at Angel, his one eye brewing in rage, yet a part of him registering that what Angel said about him was right. If it wasn't for his damned issues, he would have married Anya long ago. If it wasn't for his damned issues, he would still be with Cordelia from high school onwards. Had he not blown his second chance, he would be with Cordy right now...

As his lone-eyed gaze drifted to Cordelia, who looked away from him painfully, Xander felt his heart sink in his chest, felt that familiar self-loathing creep up inside of him as he looked down in shame. God, I messed up. She's perfect. She's the one for me, and I blew it…how could I let her slip away? Again? I really am the King of Cretins, aren't I?

"Angel, that's enough!" Giles said, warningly.

Angel whirled around and eyed Giles angrily.

"And you," he said accusingly. "You just sat there and let this happen? Buffy loves you. You're like a father to her, Giles. Hell, you're supposed to be better than her father. She trusts you, maybe even more than she does me sometimes. And you said nothing while you let them kick her out of her own home?"

Giles tried to make him understand. "You don't know what was at stake! We couldn't risk any more of the Potentials getting killed, the entire Slayer line is teetering on a knife's edge—"

"That's bullshit, Giles, and you know it!" Angel snapped. "You and I know better than anyone that when Buffy's instincts are on, they're always right. The Powers put her in my path for a reason. Cordelia's visions are what keep me on my path. Buffy doesn't need that; it's built into her. She's got instincts that we can't explain, and we aren't meant to. That means if she says something's at this vineyard place, then that's where we have to go. Period."

"You have no idea," Giles replied tersely, in a hushed voice that grew louder. "You have no idea what she was asking of us. Of her state of mind. Of the dangers we were facing. She was out of control, Angel, and she needed to rest. You have no idea what she's capable of when she's like this—"

"No, Giles. I had no idea what you were capable of," Angel shot back just as harshly, his dark eyes boring into Giles's seasoned blue ones. "She was counting on you. On her Watcher. And you turned your back on her?"

"She's made it clear to me that she no longer needs or wants my help," Giles replied, rather bitterly and sadly.

"So you just give up on her? Roll her over and trade her in for the newer model, one that maybe will be a little more easier to control?" Angel asked, accusingly. He knew he was treading on sensitive ground here, but he didn't care anymore. They were wrong, and he knew it.

Not appreciating the last comment, a defensive Faith scowled, raising her hand. "Uh…I'm still here, y'know," she called out in annoyance, putting one hand on her flawlessly sculpted hip.

Ignoring her, Angel stared at Giles, awaiting his answer.

Giles shook his head bitterly as he scowled at Angel. "I don't have to explain myself," Giles replied coldly. "Least of all to you."

Angel stared at him for a beat.

A long beat.

And then Angel asked a simple, quiet question.

"Because of Jenny?"

The eyes of all of the present and original Scoobies widened at Angel's question. A few of them gasped audibly.

Jenny Calendar.

The great long lost love of Rupert Giles's life.

The beautiful, sexy Gypsy technopagan who he would have likely ended up marrying.

The woman who Angel, while possessed by his evil alter ego Angelus, had murdered five years ago, brutally snapping her neck for nothing more than wanting to return his soul to him after he had lost it during his one night of passion with Buffy, the happiness the cursed vampire felt in that magical moment so blissful, so heavenly that it allowed his murderous demon to break free and re-emerge with a vengeance.

The woman whose body the soulless demon laid in Giles's bed just to taunt him, as a way to make Buffy suffer by coming after her friends. To punish Angel for the century that Angelus had been imprisoned inside of him by tormenting the woman he loved. Because the sick bastard thought it would be funny, Angel recalled in disgust and shame.

Stunned, angered, Giles glared at Angel.

"Don't you dare say her name," Giles said quietly, warningly. He felt a dull ache in his heart at the mention of Jenny's name, in the place where her absence had left a hole.

"Why not?" Angel asked, softly, simply. His face was blank, but his eyes held a hint of regret, of guilt. Her murder was a sin that would forever haunt the brooding immortal's soul. "I killed her, didn't I?"

Giles's right hand shook hard, trembling as he felt long forgotten grief and rage bubbling up inside him at the loss of his lover.

"That's right. I killed her, Giles," Angel said quietly, his eyes tinged with regret, raising his hands slightly until they were at his chest. "With these hands. She was our friend. I even saved her life once from Eyghon…yet in the end, I snapped her neck like a twig for nothing more than wanting to help me. I wasn't myself when it happened, but I still did it. Believe me…if I could take it back, if I could bring Jenny back to you, trade her life for mine, I would—"

"Shut up," an emotional Giles hissed at him, not wanting to hear Angel talk about her anymore. Not wanting to hear Jenny's beautiful name leave his damned mouth.

"But I can't," Angel finished, earnestly. His soulful eyes were filled with endless apology, with such shame and remorse. "And I will never, ever stop feeling sorry for what I took from her. And from you. I'm sorry, Giles. I'm so, so sorry about Jenny. I'll regret what I did to her until the day I die."

An emotional Giles finally snapped…

"Damn you, shut up!"

POW!

…as he rocketed his fist at Angel, connecting with his jaw.

Everyone gasped.

Shaking his sore hand, the seasoned Watcher felt his eyes mist as Jenny's beautiful face flashed lovingly before his eyes.

Though the punch stung a little, Angel had rolled with the momentum of it just a little. He had become stronger now. So much so that if he hadn't rolled with the punch, Giles would have broken his hand.

Shaking his head, Angel rubbed his jaw, yet giving Giles that same look of pain and regret.

"But what's happening here is bigger than that. Buffy's safety is bigger than that. And you know that," Angel pressed on, quietly but firmly. "But if you can't listen to me about Buffy because of what I took from you…"

He reached into his coat, and plucked out a stake. "Here."

He placed the stake in Giles's hand. The stunned Watcher eyed the stake in his hand. Realizing what it meant.

Angel held up his arms. Leaving himself wide open.

Defenseless.

Vulnerable.

A wide-eyed Dawn looked at the scene, panicked. "Angel, what are you doing?" she yelped, suddenly afraid.

"If revenge is what you need…" Angel swallowed hard, not really wanting to die, but he was resolved, even resigned to it if he had to. He owed this man that much. "...take it. Take your pound of flesh."

"Wait, what?" an alarmed Willow asked, her eyes widening in fear. "No! Angel, Giles…!"

Giles's hand trembled as he gripped the stake, his mind flashing with a thousand flashes of fantasies he had in the weeks and months after Jenny's murder of taking a stake like this one and plunging it into the chest of the one who took his beloved away from him.

Now all it would take was just one, swift, decisive thrust of his hand and that justice would finally be done for the woman he loved, the woman he would always love…

Xander stared at the scene in silent shock. He couldn't believe that Angel would actually be willing to die right here, right now for the sin that had alienated him from their group for so long; the death of Jenny Calendar. But would Giles really do it?

Angel gave Giles a mournful, earnest look. His voice was a quiet promise. "I won't stop you."

One look into the brooding immortal's eyes and Giles could tell instantly that Angel meant it. He would die right now if Giles decided that was how it should be. Angel had literally placed his life in Giles's hands.

And God help him, but here and now in this long, dark, painful moment, Giles was very tempted…

Cordelia's beautiful hazel eyes filled with fear. "Angel, no!"

The Seer looked at Giles, eyes wide and pleading with him for mercy. "Giles, please! You can't! You-you can't do this! It's wrong! Look, we all miss Jenny, but this won't bring her back! It wasn't Angel who killed her, it was Angelus! Angelus is gone, Giles! Giles, please, don't! Think about Buffy! What do you think it would do to her if she finds out you killed the man she loves? Giles, please think about this! Giles!"

"Cordy, it's okay," Angel assured her softly.

"The hell it is!" a stunned Faith suddenly snapped, walking over to Giles in an instant.

"Faith…" Angel tried to calm her.

"No, shut up, Angel!" a glowering Faith tersely silenced him as she pointed at him. She didn't want to hear it. This was not happening, her friend and mentor was not going to die here tonight, not on her watch…

Turning back to the Watcher, Faith began to reason with Giles, cautiously. "Giles? … G, you're better than that. You know better. That's not Angelus. That's Angel. Believe me, I know the difference. Giles…give me the stake."

Yet the Watcher held it fast in his hand.

"Giles…don't do this," a wary Faith said louder, her voice simultaneously pleading with Giles to show mercy and warning him that if so much as a splinter nicked Angel's skin, that the dark-haired Slayer would come down on the Watcher like an avalanche. Damn you, Giles, don't make me do this. Please don't make me do this. Don't make me choose between you and Angel…that's a battle you'll never win with me. Buffy trusted me to take care of everyone, and I can't do that if I let you kill the love of her life on my watch. C'mon, do the right thing, G…

"Giles, no!" Willow blurted out, making her way over between the two men when she saw just how seriously Giles seemed to be contemplating Angel's deadly offer. She gave the man who had taught her so much a pleading glace, begging for him to be the voice of reason again. "Giles, you-you-you can't! You know you can't! Look, Angel feels sorry about what happened to Jenny, but we both know that it wasn't him, it was Angelus! Giles…I-I-I miss Jenny, too, but Cordy's right, this won't bring her back."

Seeing that her mentor was unswayed by her words, Willow hurriedly tried another way.

"Giles…remember what you taught me when I lost Tara? When we were training with the Devon Coven? You said that when you take one life in vengeance, you lose a piece of your own life. And you were right. Giles, look, we all miss Jenny, but if she were here, this is the last thing she'd want you to do." Seeing the Watcher still holding the stake, as if he wasn't hearing her at all, Willow desperately tried her last tactic. "Think about…think about Buffy! If you do this, Buffy will never forgive you, you know that! You remember what happened the last time when she had to send him to Hell. She was devastated! Do you really want to put her through that again?"

Of everyone in the Scooby Gang apart from Giles, Willow was the closest to Jenny Calendar. The gypsy technopagan had been both a friend and mentor to Willow, even inspiring Willow to start dabbling in witchcraft through her work with some spells. When teaching her computer science, Jenny had also encouraged Willow to believe in herself, to never stop at roadblocks and follow her instincts, lessons that had served Willow well even to this day. Jenny was a dear friend to Willow. For those reasons, the redhead had been devastated by her death. Yet Willow eventually came to understand that Angel wasn't truly at fault. She knew what kind of person Angel was. He had even saved her own life on multiple occasions. Angel wasn't just her best friend's boyfriend, he was her friend, too. She knew that the man standing before her now was not the same sadistic demon that killed Jenny and nearly killed her and her friends years ago; this man was a hero. This man genuinely wanted to help, to do the right thing. She hoped that Giles could see that. He has to…

Yet Giles still stared at Angel, the stake in his hand slightly raised, as if he were contemplating it. He then turned his eyes to the stake he held, raised it just a tiny bit more, like he was really, really thinking about plunging it through the air and bringing the heroic vampire's centuries-long life to an end right here in this small kitchen in California…

"Willow…it's alright," Angel told the witch quietly, an almost resigned look in his eyes, she noticed. Like he was perfectly fine with letting Giles end his eternal life right then and there if that is what the Watcher wanted.

And truthfully…he was.

Deep down, Angel had always felt enormous guilt over what happened to Jenny. They weren't close, but she had tried to help him by bringing back his soul. Without her digging up that long-lost spell, he might have been dead long ago. Or more people would have died. Angelus knew that, and he didn't think twice about killing her. The fact that she was so close to the Scoobies only made her death sweeter to Angelus, Angel recalled bitterly. His cruel alter ego had been particularly eager to kill at least one of Buffy's friends during his rampage in Junior Year, so that even if they had somehow managed to re-ensoul Angel, to defeat Angelus, that Angel would be a pariah among the group, perhaps even forever ending his relationship with Buffy. It would be Angelus's spiteful last act of revenge for the century the murderous demon had spent trapped inside Angel's head because of the soul. And it had worked, in some ways. While Buffy's love for him had never changed, the others had been slow to trust him again when he returned to the fold. And the friendships he was building with many of them weren't quite the same with some of them afterwards. Especially Giles. It was one of the worst things Angel had ever done. He had caused Giles, a man who he was beginning to become friends with, unimaginable pain. And he did it to hurt the young woman the man considered to be a daughter; the woman Angel loved, to boot. For that, Angel decided, if anyone had earned the right to end his life, it was Giles. Part of him would have preferred for Buffy to make that call, but he didn't want to put her through that anguish.

So Giles would do, Angel decided. I owe him that much...

"No! Giles, please!" Dawn pleaded, feeling damn near hysterical, her big blue eyes threatening tears as she begged for the Watcher to stop. "You can't do this! They're right! Angel didn't kill Miss Calendar! He would never hurt her! That wasn't him! Giles, please, don't kill Angel! He's like family to me! Please!"

"Shhh," Angel quietly whispered to Dawn, trying to calm her. "It's okay, Squirt. It's okay…"

Giles heard them, but he couldn't hear them. For a long, painful moment, all he could think about was…

Jenny.

Her beautiful dark eyes.

Her raven-black, silky hair.

Her loving smile.

The first time they kissed.

The first time they had made love on his bathroom floor.

The first time she told him that she loved him.

The last time he held her in his arms, tears of agony and loss spilling down his face, her warm body already cooling, her neck broken, never again to hear her lilting voice, hear her teasing him about his books, hear her telling him how much she loved him…

He loved her so much…and he would never see her again…

Oz inched closer to them, his blue, normally cool and stoic eyes now filled with concern. The young werewolf remembered Jenny, too. He liked her. She was sweet, and smart, and she never judged him for being what he was. But Angel was also his friend. And Oz knew that Angel wouldn't have hurt Miss Calendar if he was the one in control on that awful night at Sunnydale High when they lost her to Angel's cruel and evil other half. Oz also knew, better than most, what it was like to have an uncontrollable, murderous, monstrous thing inside of one's self that could break free at any moment and hurt innocent people, even loved ones.

Oz still feared to this day waking up one morning only to find the coppery taste of Willow's blood in his mouth, in his teeth, on his hands, her lovely body beneath him, torn to ribbons, her bright, loving green eyes vacant, cold and lifeless, tears of grief and unbridled agony rolling down his face…and having to live with that awful grief, the knowledge that he had killed the one he loved most of all in this world because he failed to cage the animal, the monster within him. And he knew for a fact that Angel feared that same fate befalling Buffy.

That's part of why the taciturn werewolf and the brooding vampire-with-a-soul had always understood one another, and the lonely burden of responsibility that came with keeping the beast at bay.

Oz's voice was calm, collected as he cautiously tried to reason with the Watcher. "Giles…be cool. Put it down."

A concerned Gunn looked like he was ready to move in to protect Angel, Fred tensely clutching at his sleeve as she watched fearfully the scene before her.

"Giles, you can't!" Fred urged him, her soft brown eyes begging him. "Please! I'm-I'm sorry about your girlfriend, but that wasn't Angel! We need him! He's our…" Fred's voice nearly cracked, her pretty eyes large and shining, beseeching him for mercy. To show mercy to Angel, the man who had rescued her from Pylea, who had saved her life again and again, who taught her how to be brave. "He's my friendplease don't hurt my friend, Giles..."

"Fred, it's alright," Angel said quietly, soothingly.

Lorne also stared at the scene before him in shock.

"Come on, Giles," Lorne tried, laughing nervously. "Peace and love, and all that, right?"

Alasdair rolled his eyes at the Pylean demon. "He wasn't a hippie," he corrected him absently, watching the scene play out in surprise.

Silently, Drogyn gripped his warhammer in his hand, turning to Whistler, asking with his eyes if he needed to intervene to save Angel's life. While he was also concerned, a somewhat reluctant Whistler subtly waved him off, deciding to trust Angel in what he was doing.

To the side, a frowning Kate's hand subtly drifted towards her holstered handgun, debating whether or not she needed to fire a warning shot at Giles. And she knew she could do it quickly; she had graduated from the LAPD police academy as the best and fastest marksman in her class.

"Giles," the ex-policewoman said, her tone patient but stern. Warning. "I understand what you've been through, believe me. But you know this is wrong. Put it down. Now."

Though she really didn't want to, if she had to, Kate knew she could get off two slugs to his knees faster than Giles could bring that stake halfway towards Angel's heart. She even knew where to shoot and have the wounds be as non-life-threatening as possible. As much as she liked the kind and wise librarian, as much as she would hate to do it, there was no way Kate was going to let Giles try and stake Angel. That was non-negotiable, in her book.

Yet Lindsey gently reached for her wrist, his eyes silently telling her to stay her hand. To trust in Angel. Reluctantly, Kate nodded, yet she kept her hand close enough to her weapon in case she needed to step in.

Alasdair gently tried to coax Giles down. "Rupert…we need Angel. You know that. I'm so, so sorry for your loss, my friend. But Angel has already suffered for that crime. He was sent to hell, by the woman he loved, no less. He came back and yet he still suffers guilt for it. And Angelus…he will never be able to harm anyone else ever again. We've seen to it. Rupert, you and I have been in this game a long time. We both know that The Mission must come first. Always."

Whistler stepped forward, his voice absent of his normal quips and surprisingly earnest. "Giles, believe me…I know what you've gone through," he said quietly, his eyes lost for a moment as he thought of how he lost his beloved Cassandra. "I lost the woman I love, too. But you know the drill, pal. Big picture. We can't lose sight of that."

"Giles," Wesley tried this time, trying to reason with the older fellow Watcher. His voice was soft, yet stern. "You know you can't. Please…put it down."

The brooding new Watcher weighed his options. Angel was his friend once, but their relationship was now fractured seemingly beyond repair. And Giles was a man who he had respected and come to see as a friend in the last few days. Yet Wesley knew that for them to survive the coming battle, they needed Angel on their side. Several prophecies he had come across over the years, including the Shanshu Prophecy in the Scrolls of Aberjian, were specific about a souled vampire, which Wesley believed to be Angel, playing an important role in the coming apocalypse. Ultimately, Angel had to survive for that to happen, or the future of the world may cease to exist.

That meant that as much as he and Angel were estranged now, Wesley had to ensure his safety. Which meant Wesley realized he would have to stop Giles by any means necessary if he decided to take revenge into his own hands now. Subtly, Wesley deftly drifted his fingers up to his jacket sleeve, where his wrist-mounted multi-weapon with the collapsible sword, stake and several other deadly gadgets lay in wait. Ready to spring into action if need be, and Wesley praying he wouldn't have to use any of them…

Robin stared at the scene in stunned silence. Giles had lost someone to this vampire…someone he loved. Like Robin had, when a soulless Spike murdered his beloved mother in cold blood decades ago. Yet while Spike showed him little to no remorse for what he did to his mother, here was that asshole's Grandsire—the vampire that made the vampire who made his mother's killer—willingly offering his own life to atone for taking Giles's lost loved one from him. He was willing to die just so he could make things right for the man he wronged. And to help the woman he loved. It was…noble, really. And…honorable, Wood admitted. Despite his reservations about Angel, Robin Wood could feel his opinion of the vampire starting to change just by this single act alone.

Anya has seen a lot of things in her millennia-long life. But if someone had told her that she would live long enough to see the former Angelus, the infamous Scourge of Europe, a vampire so evil that he made other demons fear him, a monster who had filled entire graveyards with his victims, willing to lay down his life for a murder he committed to make amends with the man he wronged, all to help a woman he loved, she would have called them insane and turned them into some hell beast for bothering her. That would have been as likely as her opening up another bunny farm. Yet here she was, watching the vampire who once made his legendary reputation through unspeakable cruelty and evil willing to pay the ultimate price, just so he can help the woman he loved. To make amends. It was…inspiring, she silently admitted.

The Potentials watched in silent awe. Rona was stunned, surprised that this…creature…would willingly offer to put himself to the stake. It contradicted everything she had heard about him. Caridad was shocked, amazed that Angel would be willing to go this far for someone he loved, for Buffy. The Latina Potential admitted to herself that she thought it was admirable. Hell, it was…noble, she silently relented. Amanda found it sad and sweet that Angel would go so far to make amends to someone he wronged once. Molly thought he was remarkably brave and noble for offering such a sacrifice, like the tales of King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table that her grandmum used to read to her when she was a little girl. Vi thought it was incredibly romantic, watching this handsome hero willing to give up his life to make things right. All to help the woman he loved. Now the redheaded Potential was starting to see what Buffy had seen in Angel. And it didn't hurt that he was an absolutely stunning hunk of a man, either…

Kennedy merely watched in silent anticipation. Personally, she was hoping Giles would just stake this undead bastard and be done with it, Buffy's feelings be damned…

"I meant what I said, Giles," Angel said softly, a hint of respect in his quiet, yet steely voice. "I won't stop you. So if you really feel like I owe you this, if you can't listen to anything that I have to say right now because of what I did…then just put me out of my misery. Believe me, you'd be doing me a favor. Or…you can put it to bed, put the past behind us once and for all, and help me get Buffy back. She needs you. She needs us. And we need her. You know it…and I know it."

The souled dark-haired immortal detective looked at the man he wronged earnestly. "Deep down…you know I'm right, Giles. But it's your choice. So choose. I owe you that much."

Everyone held their breath for a moment…

…a long, tense moment…

…a moment that stretched into an eternity…

And then, Giles turned the stake in his hand…

…and handed it back to Angel.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

As he tucked the stake back into his coat, Angel gratefully nodded at him, saying nothing else. His hand slightly trembling, Giles stared back at Angel, and after a long time, nodded back in kind.

A silent understanding passed between the two men most important in Buffy's life.

"Geez, give me a heart attack, why don'cha?" Lorne muttered in relief.

Done with that, Angel turned back to the group.

"Like it or not, this is war, people," Angel replied frankly, this time to the group. "It's ugly. It's scary. And people get hurt, even die. Stick around a few centuries like I have and you'll see that firsthand. Look, I hate that we lost the people we did in that attack. They were good soldiers. But that's what happens when you go to war with the Forces of Darkness. You're going to have to take some losses. Believe me, I've lost people myself. Good people. People like Doyle…"

Cordelia looked up, gasping at that name, tears forming in her eyes. Angel's pained eyes briefly met hers. None of them except Buffy had ever met Doyle. Nobody but Angel and Cordelia would remember how brave Allen Francis Doyle was. How good. How much he had sacrificed for them. Their first soldier down…

"And we're probably going to lose a lot more. I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is. Not everyone here is going to make it. But we have to throw in anyway because if we don't, then The First Evil is going to destroy everything. Everything we love. Everyone we love. Everything good. Everything. That's what we're fighting for. Not for ourselves…for them." He looked at them sternly. "Make no mistake about it. Buffy's our best shot at beating this thing. Without her, we've got nothing."

"We still have you," Fred insisted. "Don't we, Angel?"

Angel turned to Fred, shaking his head at her naivete. "I'm not enough, Fred. Buffy and I are a package deal here. Neither of us can beat The First alone, it's become too powerful. But together? With all of us? Together, we have a shot. It's our only shot. If you think you can do this without her…"

He turned to the group, his brown eyes dark in judgment. "Then you're all idiots. And you're all doomed. And you don't deserve her."

The brooding souled vampire looked down, a moment of self-loathing passing on him. "I sure as hell know I don't. But she's out there. Alone. And no matter what it takes, or how long it takes, I'm going to find her. And then my son. I'll make this right. And then I'll figure out what to do. Until then…nothing else matters…and no one else, either."

Angel looked up at the group, disappointed and bitter as he shook his head. "You all should be ashamed."

No one could look at him.

And with that, he turned and walked out of the house.

Willow crossed her arms as she traded guilty looks with Cordelia, then Xander, then Faith, then Giles, and then Dawn and Oz.

Her eyes then fell to the floor, ashamed. "Maybe he's right," Willow quietly murmured.

Cordelia nodded sadly, her own eyes meeting the ashamed faces of Gunn, Wesley, Lorne and Fred.

"Guys…I think we made a big mistake," Cordelia said softly, her eyes filled with regret.

Wesley tried to rationalize their decision, half-heartedly. "We just did what we…thought was right," he quietly argued, though it lacked any real conviction.

Folding her arms, Kate frowned at him. "Yeah? Well, it still feels pretty damn wrong to me," she replied, her tone full of judgment.

No one in the room disputed that.

And at that moment, Andrew popped back in, oblivious and upbeat. "I'm back! Man, that was a long pee break! What'd I miss?"

They all stared at him, eying him with mixtures of annoyance, exasperation and some mild offense.

The skinny nerd shrugged, clueless as usual. "What?"

Annoyed, Lindsey looked at Giles, Willow and Xander, unimpressed. "Seriously? You boot Buffy, yet keep him? How did the forces of darkness not kill you guys years ago?"


Angel was barely a few steps out on the backyard lawn when Wesley called out for him.

"Angel!"

Yet Angel did not stop his stride.

"Angel, where are you going?"

As Angel turned around, he saw his entire team follow him out into the front lawn. Cordelia and Wesley were at the forefront. Gunn and Fred were right behind them, and Lorne brought up the rear.

Angel Investigations. Team Angel, the "Fang Gang", all trailing after their leader.

He barely spared them a look as he headed for his GTX convertible on the other side of the street. "To find Buffy."

Nothing else mattered to Angel at that moment.

He had to find Buffy.

He had to find the woman he loved. He had to fix things with her.

And then he had to find Connor.

He had to make this right. All of it.

"We all care about Buffy, Angel, but this had to be done," Wesley argued matter of factly.

"What, kick her out of her own house? Putting Faith in charge when she's not ready?" Angel spat, dismissively not breaking his stride. "Sounds like those are things that could have been put lower on the agenda."

"Faith is ready," Wesley argued in defense of her.

Not far from them, Faith began to walk towards the group, Dawn not far behind her. Faith briefly considered using her shtick as new leader to order Angel to stay. Yet that thought got out of her head immediately, knowing that Angel took orders from no one, least of all her. As much as Faith tried to show the others that she was in charge, part of her really wanted—no, needed—Angel to stick around. She was in over her head here, and she knew it. She could really use his advice. His wisdom. Hell, she could really just use someone to talk to lately…

Stopping in his tracks, Angel whirled around to face them all.

"Look, Faith has come a long way. I'm…I'm proud of her," Angel said sincerely, looking at Faith with pride, something that brought a faint smile to her face.

"But that doesn't mean she's ready," Angel continued.

That knocked the smile right off her face.

"Are you…are you saying I can't do this?" Faith asked her mentor and friend, hurt in her eyes.

Pinching the bridge of his nose as he fought to keep his frustrations at bay, Angel sighed, trying to make her understand. "Look, Faith, you've done great. You're still doing great," he gently assured her. "And you're going to continue doing great things. You're not that same broken, violent girl who broke down crying in my arms in that alley three years ago. You've come so far…"

Then he shook his head. "But Buffy has been doing this for seven years. Longer than that, even. She's never wrong about this kind of stuff. Between what you told me she said, what we learned and what Spike found up there, it sounds like Buffy is right. You should have trusted her."

He looked at his entire crew in anger. "All of you should have. I trusted you to help her while I was gone. To protect her when I couldn't. And my son. And instead, I come back after risking my ass halfway across the world trying to find a way to save us all, only to find that the people I've trusted for years helped drive away two of the most important people in my life?"

He threw up his hands, frustrated. "Great job, guys, really. Glad to know you have my back," he spat sardonically.

"Angel, that's not fair…" Fred protested, hurt.

Finding his own patience waning, Wesley shook his head, trying to make Angel see. "You weren't here, Angel, we had to make tough decisions—"

"Right. 'Tough decisions,'" Angel said sarcastically, specifically having his eyes on Wesley. "You seem to like making those big unilateral decisions, don't you, Wesley? But what happens when those decisions you make turn out wrong? Like how about… 'The Father Will Kill the Son'?"

They all froze.

They realized exactly what Angel was talking about.

The Nyazian Prophecy.

A scroll altered by a sadistic time-shifting demon desperate to avoid his death at Angel's son's hands.

A decision that Wesley made from those scrolls that led to an innocent baby boy—Angel's baby boy—being lost to a hell dimension in the clutches of a lunatic who was so obsessed with revenge against Angel for killing his family centuries ago that he followed him through time to take his vengeance out through Angel's only son.

A decision that led to Wesley almost getting killed twice—once by Justine Cooper and the second by Angel as he lay dying in a hospital bed. A decision that led to the team banishing Wesley from their ranks and from their lives, abandoning him as punishment for betraying them, for not trusting them.

A decision that ruined Connor's life, turned him into the angry, conflicted, cynical and borderline suicidal teen that turned against his true family that loved him…

Caught off guard, Wesley's eyes went dull, a feeling of self-loathing, a familiar feeling he'd lived with for over a year now since that horrible night that changed him forever, washing over him.

"That was…different," the new Watcher said, quietly.

Angel didn't buy it. He folded his arms over his chest, long brewing resentment inside him coming back to the forefront. "Really? Let's run that back—I trust a friend to protect someone I love, and the second I turn my back, 'Whoops! Hey, Angel, remember that kid of yours you asked me to protect? Yeah, I lost him. Sorry about that. Hey, can you go out and kill some demons and keep us safe now?' Sound familiar?"

Feeling a storm of emotions rising up within him, Wesley felt his bitterness coming back to the forefront. "Is this the part where you try to kill me again with my own pillow?" he jabbed, unconsciously rubbing the scar that Justine left him—a permanent memento of his failure and abandonment.

"If I wanted to kill you, Wes, trust me…" Angel gave him a dark look. "You and I both know that I wouldn't need a pillow. And I wouldn't even have to be Angelus to do it."

Unconsciously, Wesley felt his fingers twitch near his wrist weapon, as if he was ready to pull out a stake against the man he had defended just moments ago. Angel didn't seem threatened at all, however. As good as Wesley's combat skills had become, Angel knew that the younger man was not really a match for him at all if push came to shove.

Cordelia swallowed at the tension. However, she knew that if Angel had really wanted to, he could have killed Wesley before he could even blink. He simply chose not to because it was wrong. And because deep down, Cordelia wanted to believe, Angel still cared about Wesley. Even after what happened with Connor…

"Angel…don't do this," Cordelia urged him quietly. "We don't need to bring this up, not now…"

"Guys…" Dawn pleaded. "Please don't…"

Faith tried to diffuse the situation. "Hey…let's take it down a notch, huh?"

"No, let's not," Wesley replied to her coolly, waving Faith off as he stood rigid in front of Angel. The young re-christened Watcher had long thought about this moment. What he would say. What he wanted to say. Not just to Angel. To all of them for how they cast him out from their lives last year like he meant nothing to them. Like he was a sack of garbage. All because of one well-meaning mistake. All for wanting to protect a little boy he loved, the son of his best friend…

The former Watcher's eyes narrowed, hardening. "You really want to have it out? Fine, let's have it out."

"I actually want to look for Buffy and my son, but I can spare a minute if you really want to do this, Pryce," Angel tersely replied, not backing down. This discussion had been a long time coming. And he had more than a few things he wanted to get off his chest concerning Wesley. Especially about what he took from Angel. Especially about his son.

"Fine," Wesley bit out, straightening his spine, squaring his jaw. "I did what I thought I had to do. To protect Connor. Had I known about what Sahjahn did, I—"

"You would have what, Wesley?" Angel cut him off. Coldly. "Huh? What would you have done? Not go to Holtz and Justine for help?" A note of subtle hurt seeped into Angel's voice. "Do you have any idea how that made me feel, Wes? That after all these years, and all the battles you and I fought together, here and in L.A., even in Pylea, that after trusting you with my life, that you couldn't trust me with information regarding my son…my son!…but you could go to him?"

At that, subtly, the other members of Team Angel started to take a step back from the two men, giving them space.

To Wesley, however, the space they gave him felt symbolic of how they had cast him away, marooned him on an island of irrelevancy and bitterness, adrift to die alone. And he immediately felt like he wanted to turn and walk away from them all right now, to tell them all to go to hell and never have to see them again. It was only his focus on the bigger picture, their mission, that convinced him not to.

God, he wished that Darla was here right now. He could really have used her warmth, her compassion, her support right about now. Instead, she was off searching for the son whose life Wesley destroyed because of his own arrogance. The same arrogance that had basically destroyed his own life…

"Do you have any idea how it felt like for me to watch you try to kill me while I was in that hospital bed?" Wesley replied quietly, equally as hurt. "How it felt to fight for my life, so I could have the chance to see the people I love, my friends, once again, and explain my side of what happened? And then to be cast off instead? Thrown aside like trash, like those last few years of battles and blood and sweat and tears we shed together meant nothing? Like I meant nothing?"

The resentment, the anger, the familiar pain of loneliness came back in a wave all at once over Wesley as he stopped for a moment, taking a long breath as he shut his eyes for a moment, struggling to contain his emotions. At last, he opened his eyes, faced the people who were once his family. "I felt like I wanted to die. You were all I had…and you all turned your backs on me."

Cordelia felt tears prick her eyes. Wesley…smart, well-meaning, thoughtful Wesley. He was like a brother to her, a know-it-all, annoying, but fiercely protective older brother. Only now had she seen how much the team's anger, their distancing from him had torn him apart. Broken his heart. Turned the sweet, caring bookworm guy she knew into this cold, cynical, bitter and hardened man in front of her now.

Gunn swallowed, looking away for a moment. Despite his recent problems with Wesley, their bitter rivalry over the affections of Fred, Gunn admitted to himself that deep down, he missed Wesley. He had become like a brother to Gunn. The man once took a bullet for him, literally. No matter their problems of late, Gunn had come to realize that their team…their family…wasn't the same without The Brains of Angel Investigations. Without Wesley, something was…missing…

Lorne shook his head in sympathy for Wesley. Even without Wesley having to sing or him a single bar, the former Host of Caritas could read the loneliness, the pain, the regret and silent suffering coming off the man like a strobing clublight. His aura was all kinds of wrong. Too much gray where there was once light. He had put on a mask of stone to mask the broken heart underneath. And he was getting tired of carrying that weight, Lorne could see it, feel it. He only hoped that his old friend could find his way back to the light soon, before he lost his way forever…

Moved, a teary-eyed Fred looked away for a moment, feeling guilty for her part in that. She was the one who officially informed Wesley that he was fired from the team and no longer welcome back at the hotel. Had she known that it would have broken him like this, turned him into this cold, angry man, she never would have done it. But she still cared about Wesley. Deeply. If she could have done anything in that moment to ease his pain, she would have. She could feel her own heart breaking for him. Her eyes began to water, stinging with long brewing emotion as she looked away from the friend who she had hurt so badly…

Touched, Faith folded her arms uncomfortably. She knew that Wesley had fallen out hard with the team, but she had no idea how bad it was until now. She had never seen him this hurt, this vulnerable, not even during that night she had tortured him to drive Angel to kill her. But she could relate to what her new Watcher had gone through. Everything Wesley once had with Team Angel, she could have had with The Scoobies. They had offered it to her and she would have had it had she not gone down the dark path she did and betrayed them to side with a monster in man's flesh. She paid for those mistakes every day since then. And that's what he's going through right now. Poor guy…guess we have more in common than we thought…

Even Dawn felt badly for Wesley. When he was in Sunnydale, while the others mocked and teased him, she had found him to be kind, and he was so nice to her. He was a little stuffy…okay, a lot stuffy, she admitted…but he was a good man, she could tell. And so, so smart. They had even bonded briefly over their love of books.

To realize that he had felt so lonely, so broken over what happened to Connor…and the thought of her boyfriend still being out there, alone and confused and hurting, in part because of things that happened to him when he was just an innocent child, things that weren't even his fault, still broke her heart at the thought of it…but Connor's life wasn't the only one ruined by Wesley's choices. Dawn could see that now. But she believed to her core that Wesley would have never hurt Connor had he known what those assholes had done to trick him into doing what he did. Dawn only hoped they could see it, just like she saw it…

Silently, Angel regarded his old friend, listened to him…and then gave his answer.

"You deserved it."

Everyone's jaws dropped. Wesley stood there, frozen.

"Angel!" a shocked Cordelia angrily admonished him.

Granted, Cordelia was also angry with Wesley for what he did and how he handled that situation, yet she had come to understand that Wesley had acted from a place of love. Cordelia realized in time that Wesley had never meant to hurt Connor, and he would never have done what he did had he known the truth about Sahjahn's plan and Holtz's role in it. She cursed herself for not being there when it had gone down, for being away with Groo in a lust-based relationship that ultimately had failed. Had she known all of this would happen, Cordelia never would have left Connor alone for one second. She might have even taken him to Sunnydale, seeking out Buffy's help. And Willow's. Then Connor would still be a happy, bubbly baby boy instead of the bitter, jaded, confused and mentally unstable young man he had become while warped by Holtz's abusive upbringing in a dark hell dimension.

"No, Cordelia," Angel waved her off, training his hard eyes at Wesley.

He was not going to let Wesley off that easy just because he had suffered. While Wesley always meant well, he had a history of making these kinds of big decisions that ultimately blew up and hurt others. And Angel decided that it was long past time for someone to confront Wesley with the harsh truth.

And Angel minced no words, staring coldly at his old…former?...friend. "You stole my son. And then lost him. To someone who hated me. What did you think was going to happen, Wesley…that I'd bake you a cake?"

Wesley felt his eyes lower briefly, before he tried to save face. "He survived," he said simply.

'Survived'…he shouldn't have had to worry about surviving, Angel thought in anger and silent anguish at the thought of Connor, his son. And how his little boy grew up having to worry about his own survival in that hellish place while trapped and raised with Holtz, a madman so twisted, so vengeful that he committed suicide later just to make sure Angel's own son would turn against him and destroy him.

Even now, Angel could still see that swirling vortex, Holtz jumping through it with Angel's baby boy in his arms…

Angel forced to watch helplessly as the madman whose life he destroyed, who followed him through time to seek revenge, disappeared into the void with innocent little Connor in tow…

the feeling of despair and lamentation and true suffering swallowing Angel whole as he saw the end of his little boy, the death of his innocence, losing the chance to be a father to him, possibly forever…

his sweet, laughing, lovable little boy being groomed and turned by his enemy into a confused, jaded, angry and unstable young man, a weapon against him, and Angel not being able to do a damn thing about it…

Angel flashed back to the present, staring down the man, his own friend, who helped to make that nightmare a reality for him, and for Connor.

"And then we kicked you out because you proved that we couldn't trust you anymore," Angel replied frankly, fighting to keep from growling. "You survived, too. So stop your whining about crapping the bed and then being forced to lay in it. Do you have any idea what you took from me? From Connor? Actions have consequences, Wesley. So, welcome to them. It's about damn time you realize that."

"Angel, please…" Fred insisted, hating how all of these old wounds were reopening.

Ignoring her, Angel resumed his dressing down of Wesley, staring hard at the young Watcher. "Ask yourself this, Wesley. If I had done to your kid, or to someone you love, what you did to mine, would you really be interested in hearing my side of the story?"

Angel motioned to the porch, where Giles and some of the others had gathered to watch the uncomfortable showdown. "Look at Giles. You know what I did to the woman he loved. Do you really think he wants to hear my side of things? How because I had one moment where I thought I could find peace, that I could find a small moment of happiness with the woman I love like any other normal man, that I became the psychopathic son-of-a-bitch who killed his girlfriend and tortured him for hours just for kicks? Who tried to kill Buffy and then destroy the world?"

His eyes smoldering with so many emotions, Wesley's lips pursed together, tightly. He said nothing. What could he say?

"Yet for everything I did to him, as hard as it is to look at him after what I did, or even be in the same room with him, I apologized to him because it was the right thing to do. I even offered to let him kill me. I owed him that much. I've done things that I know I can never be forgiven for, yet I work every day to make amends. To make up for it," Angel said sternly. "Yet all I've heard from you is how bitter you are, how angry you are because we turned our backs on you for what you did to my son. But the one thing I never heard from you? Two little words that might have even changed how we felt, how I felt— 'I'm sorry'."

Wesley looked at him, stunned. "You don't think I'm sorry? You think that I don't regret what I did?"

"Judging from the fact that I never even heard you say it, I'd say no. You don't," Angel replied frankly. "Frankly, I think if you had to do it again, you would. Am I right or wrong, Wes?"

Wesley scowled at him icily. "You don't know a damn thing about me. I don't think you ever did."

Yet, a part of him couldn't help but wonder if what Angel said was right. He silently wondered if he wouldn't act like that again, if he was willing to ignore his instincts just to placate his friends, something that he learned long ago was just as dangerous. Something his own father had ingrained into him since childhood.

"Wesley, come on," Cordelia pleaded. "That's not true…"

Faith didn't like the rising temperatures between them. "Guys, settle down…" she warned them.

"I know you're too damn proud to admit you're wrong," Angel replied, just as cold, ignoring all of them, his dark brown eyes boring right into Wesley's sharp blues in harsh judgment. "I know that you keep making these big decisions that end up having mistakes over and over again and end up hurting others, and you never apologize for it. And you still keep doing that. I know that you've always had that problem. You had it here in Sunnydale years ago, and you still have it now. Like when you had the Watchers Council's goons drop in on Faith and I when I was on the verge of pulling her back from the brink years ago, remember that? Before you and they swooped in like the Gestapo and made sure it'd be a long time before she trusted anyone again."

Faith's eyes lowered, remembering that awful night in question. That night had set her on a dark path that led right to Mayor Wilkins, an amoral psychopath with a fatherly smile who manipulated her, turning her into a cold, remorseless killer. A path that nearly led her to an early grave before Angel swooped in and pulled her back from the edge, saved her soul.

Seeing the doubt in Faith's eyes, Wesley looked like he was about to snap, his long-brewing rage and self-loathing at all his failures bubbling up, out in the open for everyone to see. Fearing he was exposed as the bumbling idiotic failure his late father always accused him of being.

"You didn't trust us," Angel continued, scowling. "And you should have. You should have come to me, and if not me, then any of the others. But you didn't. And we all paid for that."

"They wouldn't have believed me," Wesley argued quietly, but sternly.

Gunn frowned. "Did you even try?"

"Charles…" Fred protested, trying to diffuse the situation.

"No, Fred, I think we should hear this," Gunn said somewhat accusingly, folding his arms as he got Wesley's attention. "C'mon, English. Did you even try coming to me? Or to Cordy? Or Fred? Or Lorne? You really think we wouldn't have done everything we could have to try and help you, to make sure that prophecy didn't happen? To help protect Connor? Or were you just busy trying to play the big badass hero?"

"It had nothing to do with being the hero," Wesley said, his voice getting louder. Angrier.

"Guys, we're getting off track here," Faith protested.

"Then what did it have to do with? You took a bullet for me once, man! You really think I wouldn't have trusted you?" a scowling Gunn pressed his old friend. "Or did our friendship suddenly go out the window when you saw I beat you to the punch with Fred?"

"Charles, stop it," Fred pleaded. "We don't need to go there anymore…"

"And you just loved throwing that in my face, didn't you?" Wesley accused his old friend, shaking his head.

"If you're so hung up on Darla now, why would my relationship being in your face bother you?" Gunn shot back.

"Guys, enough, please…" Dawn pleaded, not liking how this conversation was devolving.

"You still should have told us, Wesley," Cordelia found herself saying the words, drawn into the tense and toxic brew of past sins among Team Angel. "Why didn't you trust us? After everything we've been through? And you went to Holtz and not us? Holtz? That sick, demented asswipe freak blew up Lorne's bar just to try and kill us all! He was never going to let it go that Angelus and Darla killed his family. He was like a crazy dog with an even crazier bone! He was insane, but you thought you could trust him and not us? Not me?"

"Considering we have no idea how long Jasmine, The First and The Beastmaster had been influencing your decisions, maybe it's a good idea that I didn't tell you, Cordelia, quite frankly," Wesley replied matter of factly.

A stunned and angry look crossed Cordelia's face. "I can't believe you'd throw that in my face after what they did to me! What they made me do!" she said, hurt and shaken. Does that mean he blames me? For what I…for what happened to Lilah?

"You really should have told us, Wes," Lorne said, shaking his head. "Hitting me over the head to knock me out while you ran off with the little tyke? Not your best moment."

"I already told you why I couldn't! But of course, why would you or anyone here listen to me?" Wesley snapped.

"You ruined Connor's life, English! And you're telling me that you're not even sorry?" Gunn demanded.

"Charles, stop it!" Fred shouted, angry. "I'm so damned sick of your macho temper, always starting these stupid fights!"

"Are you taking his side?" Gunn asked, hurt and angry.

"Hey, everybody, calm the hell down!" Faith demanded, exasperated, stressed and not in the mood to deal with this.

"I'm not on anyone's side, but I'm sure as hell NOT ON YOUR SIDE!" Fred screamed at him in frustration.

And then it devolved into shouting, all of Team Angel's dirty laundry being thrown out and aired for all of them to see.

Their long-brewing problems spilling out for all of them to deal with. All of the problems started by The First's and Jasmine's manipulations, the twisted plots of Sahjahn and Holtz and the unhinged Justine.

Angel yelling at Wesley. Wesley yelling at Angel. Gunn yelling at Wesley, while being yelled at by Fred. Cordelia yelling at all of them, Lorne awkwardly trying to keep the peace while Dawn looked close to tears and a frayed Faith trying to restore the peace in futility, looking like she was about to have a nervous breakdown.

The pain. The anger.

Jealousy.

Bitterness.

Betrayal.

All of it. It was a rainbow of pain that arced over all of them, blanketing the team of heroes.

It was getting so loud and angry that had the neighbors been around, they would have called the cops on them. But the streets were still abandoned, the cops had vanished with the other folks for higher ground, leaving only the people in the Summers home witness to the awkward and angry bickering among their neighboring allies…

Realizing that they were not going to listen, Angel finally decided he had no patience for this nonsense anymore.

Turning swiftly on his heels, he walked over to an abandoned car near the property, pulled out the glimmering sword Hope's Dagger from his sheath at his side…

KA-CHANG!

…and promptly sliced the car in two.

The team instantly stopped their loud squabbling, shocked to see their leader holding the legendary shining sword, having taken apart a car like a hot knife through warm butter.

"ENOUGH!"

Angel's voice boomed over them, leaving no room for arguments. His voice instantly ended the shouting and in-fighting.

The souled vampire had enough of this. Clearly all these issues weren't going to be solved tonight. And he had no time to solve them.

He had to find Buffy. And Connor.

And he had to do it now.

"I don't have time for any of this crap," Angel said, in disgust. "I have to find Buffy. Now."

Re-sheathing the sword, he walked back to the group and turned to Wesley.

His dark eyes stared hard and harshly at Wesley, his tone harsh with the truth. "I'll just leave you with this, Wesley. Your whole life, you've been trying way too hard to prove you're not the useless idiot that your father accused you of being. Believe me, I know what it's like to have a jackass for a father bearing down on you telling you that you're not good enough. It sucks. But you either get over it, move on and build a life for yourself despite what he thinks, or you let it define you. If you really want to start fresh? Maybe you should learn to swallow your pride and admit when you're wrong. To just say you're sorry. It's called accountability. That's what leaders do. That's what grown-ups do. Until you can learn to do that, until you learn to apologize for your mistakes, and the people you've hurt from them, then it doesn't matter how badass you think you've become, or whose Watcher you are, or how many special ops demon-hunting groups you run…because you haven't really changed at all."

His dark, ancient brown eyes bored into Wesley, right into the depths of his soul. "And if you can't take that, if that bruises your ego, then maybe you should leave. Go. Go back to your sewers and your little paramilitary squad or whatever and let them think you're some great leader. We've made due just fine without you, we can keep on doing the same thing. But I'll tell you the same thing that Whistler told me when he was trying to train me to be a warrior after he found me in the gutter and I thought I knew better than I did. 'You may think you're ready…but you're not ready.'"

Wesley stared at Angel, his face still as stone. Nothing to say at all.

"Angel, you can't just go again, we need you!" Dawn protested as he started to turn away.

At that, he turned back to Dawn. "Then you shouldn't have kicked Buffy out of her home. What were you thinking, Dawn? Do you have any idea how cruel that is? How irresponsible?"

Dawn's eyes went wide, tears forming in her eyes. "I…I was trying to protect her…"

Angel glared down at her, and for a moment, she could see why he inspired such fear in others. Angel really could be frightening when he wanted to be. "That's not protection, Dawn. You didn't…"

He paused, trying not to blow up at the sweet little girl he had known for years. "You shouldn't have done that," Angel said, his voice a strained hush. "You didn't have the right."

"It's my house, too…" Dawn weakly protested, frowning as she did.

He cocked his head at the youngest Summers girl. "Really? I had no idea you were paying the bills now, Dawn."

Dawn flushed red, embarrassed. "Um…I'm not…"

"No? Then are you paying the mortgage?" Angel pressed.

"N-no, but..." Dawn stammered.

"Then is your name on the deed?" he continued.

The questions were coming in too fast and Dawn had no idea how to handle them. "Well, no, but…"

"Then that means it's her house, Dawn. Hers," he corrected, glaring at her admonishingly. "Buffy has spent her life trying to protect you. Caring for you. Even after your mom…"

He paused, seeing the tears threatening to spill in a surprised and hurt Dawn's eyes. He didn't want to press any more. He cared about Dawn, he didn't want to hurt her. But he had to make her understand the error of what she had done.

So he ended it with only a simple sentence.

Something to convey to her that what she did was wrong.

Angel shook his head at her sadly, regret and admonishment in his eyes. His next words were spoken quietly, his tone hurt. "I am so disappointed in you, Dawn."

Stunned, Dawn now felt a tear fall down from her face, her eyes big and hurt. For someone with cosmic, reality-altering powers coursing through her veins, Dawn Summers had never felt so small as she had in that moment.

She had chased Connor away. Driven her own sister away. Let Angel down when he was counting on her. Dawn realized in horror at that moment that she had messed up. Big time. Oh, my God…what have I done?

Exhausted and angry, Angel shook his head. "I'm done with this." He turned to the group. "I'm going to find Buffy, and then my son. Do me a favor? Try not to burn down Buffy's house while I'm gone. I've got enough problems I need to fix without the extra 'help'."

Then he turned towards his car, opened the door, fired up the engine and drove away.

Leaving everyone behind, stunned and silent.


To Be Continued…


Next: Angel searches the empty streets of Sunnydale for Buffy, but he's not the only one seeking the Slayer. And unlike Angel, their intentions for Buffy are anything but noble.

Faith and Spike search their hearts.

And The First's minions begin to make their next move as the apocalypse draws closer…


Well, hope that was worth the wait! Shout-out to everyone who reviewed and messaged me (Unless you're one of those people who keeps sending me art commission requests that I will NOT pay for), and thanks to whoever updates the TV Tropes page, you guys rock!

Please review, comment and follow. More to come soon!

Best,
Jean-theGuardian