Part Seven
Visiting the mansion after so long was very strange. It looked abandoned…but then, it always had. Still, she knew that inside would be dusty and worn. Willow could still see in her mind the last time she had been here. She could see Angel suffering from the effects of Faith’s poison. It made her shiver.
She was very glad for the sun shining outside.
Only Angel’s car in the driveway showed her that anyone was here. None of the rest of the gang was here yet, but that was the way she wanted it. She needed to speak to Angel alone. She only hoped he was awake.
The door opened only moments after Willow knocked hesitantly. For a second she glanced into the open doorway in confusion, not seeing anyone. Her eyes adjusted to the darkened interior and she spotted Angel standing behind the door, out of reach of the sunlight.
“Hey,” she said softly in greeting as Angel closed the door behind her. “I wasn’t sure you’d be awake.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he replied just as softly. “Though…I guess that’s not too surprising with the last week and all.”
There was a long moment of silence between them.
“You’re early,” Angel said at last.
“I needed to talk to you.”
Angel nodded and the two of them walked deeper into the house. They sat facing each other on the couch. Angel waited patiently for Willow to begin to speak.
“You’re looking better,” Willow said, trying to figure out where to begin.
“I recover fast,” Angel explained. “But you didn’t come here to talk about my health.”
Willow was silent for another moment. “It…has to do with Buffy’s death.” Angel nodded but said nothing. Willow swallowed hard. “When…the doctors were trying to save her, she called out to me. I don’t know what she was talking about. She said… ‘tell him I never forgot.’ No one has a clue, and you’re the only *him* left I can think of.”
An odd look crossed Angel’s face. He sighed and sank back into the cushions of the couch. He looked tired, and instantly smaller.
“It does mean something to you!” Willow exclaimed. Angel nodded silently. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Angel said dismissively.
“Yes, it does,” Willow disagreed. “It matters to you.” When Angel still didn’t respond, Willow sighed. “We’ve got a big battle coming. It may be the biggest yet. And…we don’t have Buffy this time. Which means we’re really going to need to work as a group. Anything that effects one of us could effect all of us.”
When Angel did not reply or even look at her, Willow came to a decision. “I blame myself for Buffy’s death,” she blurted.
Angel’s head shot up and he stared at her. “You couldn’t possibly-“
Willow’s gaze stopped his words. “I was the first one to be captured. It was stupid, really. I walked out after dark…. I thought I was prepared for vampires…but crosses and holy water did no good against these guys. Not stakes either…I tried to get one of the ones that came after me that day. We had no clue there was anything unusual going on in Sunnydale before that. So Buffy was totally unprepared when she came to rescue me. And she died for it.”
“You can’t blame yourself for her death,” Angel said finally. “Buffy would have done the same for anyone she knew. And anyone she didn’t know, for that matter.” Angel stared at his hands for a moment. “Maybe it was just her time.”
Willow smiled sadly. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
Angel met her empty smile. “Both, I think.” He looked her in the eyes. “There’s something else.”
Willow nodded. “Someone else died…in my place. Someone I knew. She was a friend of mine, and when the demons needed a witch and lost me…she died instead.” They gazed at each other in silence for a long moment. There was really nothing for Angel to say to that. Except… “Well, I’ve told you what I hadn’t told anyone else. Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you now?”
Angel’s gaze dropped back to his hands and a silence stretched between them. “’I never forgot,’” he whispered. “For some reason I’m not surprised. She…was near death, after all. ‘The soul never forgets.’” He sighed. “But you have no clue what I’m talking about. You told me your story, and I suppose I owe you the same.
“It was when Buffy came to see me over Thanksgiving. Did Buffy…ever tell you about the demon that attacked us?”
“She didn’t say much about seeing you,” Willow said, unsure of how Angel would react.
Angel just nodded, though, as if he’d expected as much. “Well, to explain…Buffy didn’t just visit for five minutes. She was there for five minutes and a day…except the day didn’t happen.”
To say that Willow was confused would have been an over-simplification. “What…didn’t happen?”
Angel leaned back on the couch and did not meet her gaze. “A demon crashed through the window while we were talking. The first time – we fought it but it got away. We tracked it into the sewers. I caught up with it, fought it, thought I killed it…and when I stabbed it some of its blood mixed with mine. It made me human.”
Willow gasped and Angel’s gaze met her own. “Huh?” she squeaked, flustered by Angel’s revelation. “I mean…what?”
Angel smiled a touch bitterly. “You heard me,” he said softly. “It was real. Heartbeat, hunger, reflection… Do you have any idea how strange it is to suddenly see yourself after 200 years?”
“And you were with Buffy,” Willow said in understanding.
Angel just nodded.
“So what happened?” At Angel’s odd look, she tried to amend her statement. “I mean…uh, that is…what went wrong?”
“The demon didn’t die,” Angel said after a moment. “I tried to kill it for real, but I was too weak…. I found out Buffy would die when the End of Days came. So I asked the Oracles to turn back the day so that I could kill the demon before it made me human. And…that was that.”
A silence stretched between them again. “But…Buffy did die in the End of Days,” Willow said after a moment.
“Exactly.”
“So you’ve been doubting your decision.”
Again Angel nodded. “If she was meant to die anyway…couldn’t we have had those several months of happiness together?”
“Maybe not,” Willow said. “Maybe if you’d been human you’d both have been killed. We’ve got a big battle coming, and we’re going to need you. The world needs you. Where will we be if you aren’t there to fight?”
Angel smiled very slightly then. “Same to you,” he said.
“What?”
“Maybe you’re needed when all this goes down, too.”
“Me?” Willow squeaked. “But Tara…”
“Isn’t used to working with this group,” Angel interrupted. “Am I right in assuming that she was not used to doing magic in…a combat situation?” At Willow’s nod, Angel continued. “You’re a powerful witch, Willow. You’ve done a lot of good. You restored my soul. So don’t doubt your importance. Don’t regret that you lived.”
Willow nodded. “Will you do the same for me?”
“What’s that?”
“No regrets, Angel.”
It was a big thing to ask and for a moment Angel did not reply. But regrets got in the way of fighting and there was some major fighting ahead.
Finally Angel answered as best he could. “Only small ones,” he said.
Willow went to speak to Cordelia and Wesley, leaving Angel alone once again. Not that he minded; he was already *alone.* Why not make it a literal and not just an emotional truth?
The talk with Willow had done him some good. Probably it had helped her as well. Then there was the soul searching – the dreams and desires – that Angel had faced in that place between life and death. Still, something in his world had been irrevocably shattered; an empty place would always remain.
Left alone in the silent mansion, Angel tried to calm himself through the familiar exercise of Tai Chi. As his body moved through the forms, his mind wandered. He’d told Willow he only had small regrets left, but that wasn’t entirely true. He still had one major regret – that Buffy had never known the full impact she’d had on his life.
Angel had lived without Buffy in his life before…if you could call it that. Existing was closer to the truth. Barely existing off the blood of rats, Angel had been so caught in his own pain to be numb to anything else. It had taken Buffy…just a glimpse of her strength and heart…and the light of her life had removed some of the shadows from his. He could feel again, and there was no turning back. It was because of Buffy that he was the…man he was today.
The part of his soul that she had touched pained him, though it no longer screamed in her absence. It simply cried, a soul-deep keening. Angel knew its tears would never be silenced.
He was just finishing his exercises when Giles made his early evening appearance. As they exchanged brief greetings and Angel excused himself to get cleaned up, Giles looked at him in concern.
“What?” Angel asked on his way out of the room.
“You’re not pushing yourself too hard, are you?” When Angel didn’t immediately reply, he continued. “You’ve been in bed for over a week, Angel. You don’t want to harm yourself. We’ll all need strength for what’s coming.”
“And what’s that, Giles?” Angel asked, standing stiffly in the doorway.
“I’ll explain when everyone gets here,” he said.
By the time Angel had gotten cleaned up, fed, and returned to the main room darkness had fallen and the gang had gathered. Xander and Anya sat next to each other on the couch, Willow a little ways over from them. Cordelia and Wesley sat a bit apart from the rest of the group, as they had always been. Riley sat in one chair, looking uncomfortable and out of place. Giles stood beside the couch. All turned to look at Angel when he entered.
“You’re here,” Wesley said. “Looking better, I see.”
“Feeling better, thanks,” Angel replied, taking the last seat. He looked at Giles expectantly. “What’s going on, Giles?”
Giles leaned against the arm of the couch. “We were just waiting for you before we began,” he said. “Usually I’d try and start off easy, exchange pleasantries and all that, but there’s no time for that.”
The urgency in Giles’ voice was enough to make everyone sit up a bit straighter and pay close attention.
“The Cult of Spikura,” Giles began, “is actually many different types of demons. Fanatics, all of them, dedicated to bringing about Hell on Earth. Literally.”
“Just once,” Xander muttered, “I’d like to meet a demon *not* dedicated to the end of the world.”
“Hey, I wasn’t!” Anya protested.
A look from Giles silenced her. “Unlike other attempts,” Giles continued, “the Cult of Spikura does not seek to end the world all at once. Instead, they prefer smaller rituals, gradually bringing more of Hell here, constantly growing in strength and numbers. You have all certainly noticed the steady influx of demons lately.”
“So, how do we stop them?” Willow asked. “I mean, when…we…stopped their last ritual, they just turned around and performed it a couple of days later. How do we stop them for good?” Unspoken was what they had lost to prevent that ritual. None of them wanted Buffy’s death to be in vain.
Giles sighed. “Their rituals are spread out so as to have the least chance of failing, but there is one… Call it the point of no return. If we can’t stop it, they’ll be invincible until Hell rises. If they can’t perform the ritual, though, then neither they nor anyone else will be able to end the world in this manner again. They must perform the ritual on top of the hellmouth, and the hellmouth will be closed for good.”
The entire room was silent for a long moment as they took this all in. So, they were headed back to the hellmouth itself. It would be like coming full circle, saving the world from the burned out shell of the high school. Appropriate, somehow, that the last battle for the fate of the Earth be back where they had fought and planned together so often.
It was Riley who finally spoke. “When?”
“Tomorrow night.”
The shattered fragments of the Initiative looked up in shock at that. Like much of the town, they bore the scars of the last several weeks. Bruises and scrapes were evident on most of them. For that matter, most of them weren’t even there. Those that weren’t sitting around the table or nursing more serious injuries were either dead or had fled the town completely. So much for the unified strength of the Initiative.
“Tomorrow night?” Forest asked, sounding amused. He looked the least injured out of the group, or maybe he just hid it better. “They just had to schedule the apocalypse for tomorrow night. I kind of had plans…”
Riley was not amused. This was a serious occasion and he was in no mood for jokes. “It’s not the apocalypse,” he explained. “It’s a ritual. We need to go in, stop it, and then there will be no apocalypse.”
Looking completely exhausted for the most part, no one said anything at that. When Riley didn’t continue immediately, Forest finally took it upon himself to speak up. “So we go in, kick some demon ass, and the world is La-dee-dah again. Why the big meeting?”
“It’s not that simple,” Riley tried to explain.
“Then tell us, Agent Finn.”
Riley sighed and stood. He adjusted his head bandage nervously before he spoke. “Already this town has been decimated by these hostiles. Some of our friends are among the many dead. We can’t imagine that these hostiles don’t know that tomorrow night is the crucial night when they can be stopped. We’re not the only ones that know; we have to assume that the demons know, too.
“They are certain to be prepared for opposition. They will be calling on every force they can get to ensure they are successful. We need as many people as possible to make sure that they’re not.”
Riley tossed a couple of photographs out on the table. “We will be working with these people,” he said.
Forest spoke up once again. “Civilians, Riley?” he asked doubtfully. “This is going to be dangerous. Do you really think…”
“They know what they’re doing,” Riley protested. He paused, then said in a softer tone, “They were friends of Buffy’s.”
“Man, it always has something to do with that girl.”
“Stop it,” Riley said angrily. “Besides, without them we wouldn’t know about the ritual tomorrow night.”
Forest sighed. “Fine. So what’s the plan? Or do you have any other bombshells to drop on us.”
“The plan is to go in there and kill anything that’s not human,” he explained. Then he seemed to realize something. “And there is another bombshell, yeah.”
Forest sat back with a sigh. “What is it?”
“There is an exception to the ‘kill every non-human’ rule,” he explained a touch reluctantly. He fished out a separate picture and slid it onto the table. “His name is Angel, he’s a vampire, and he’s on our side.”
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’m not,” Riley said seriously. “Believe me, if the situation was less dire I’d be questioning this too. But the truth is we need all of the help we can get. He’s…well, he’s on our side. He’s strong, he’s hard to kill, and he has experience fighting demons. We need him.”
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Cordelia said in exasperation.
Angel didn’t even acknowledge her statement. He just kept going through the amazing number of weapons brought by Wesley from L.A. Some he cleaned and/or sharpened and placed in one pile, others he ignored and put in a second, less organized pile. He’d been at this for…well, Cordelia wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d been at this, but it was ridiculous.
“Are you even listening to me?!” she asked louder.
Angel stopped what he was doing and looked at her sharply. “What would you have me say, huh, Cordelia?”
“Say that you’re not going to go charging into battle like this. Say that you’re not going to fight like this.”
Slowly, Angel sat down on the couch. He sank into it and looked up at Cordelia. His face was blank, but his eyes were pained. “I’m needed in this fight,” he said simply.
“But…”
“I *need* to be in this battle,” Angel said, stronger this time.
Cordelia was startled by his earnestness, but would not be swayed. “Angel,” she said in a softer tone. She thought carefully before she continued. “I just don’t think you should be out in front this time. You were unconscious for over a week. Maybe you should just hold back.”
Angel looked angry at that. “I won’t hold back!” he snapped, then seemed to deflate again. “You don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand,” Cordelia pleaded
“They killed Buffy,” Angel stated, nearly growling.
“So you’re going to let them kill you?!” Cordelia demanded, giving voice to her fear.
Angel stood again. Cordelia thought that he would have been pacing if he was one to pace. “I’m not going to let them kill me,” he said, though he did not meet her eyes. “But if they do…I’m taking all of them with me.”
“Angel,” Cordelia pleaded desperately. He was talking as if he didn’t care if he lived or died. “Please…”
He raised his head from the weapons and looked at her again. He said nothing, just looked at her pointedly. Then he went back to sorting the weapons and would not be disturbed again. Cordelia could take it no longer. She turned her back and walked towards the room she’d been staying in.
Wesley was standing in the corridor, watching her. “You’re wasting your breath,” he said softly.
“I know,” Cordelia agreed wearily. “I couldn’t just stand there and say nothing.”
“We’re all worried about him,” Wesley tried to assure her. He smiled very slightly. “At least he’s not still comatose, right?”
Cordelia frowned. “I’m just afraid…that we won’t ever see him again after the battle.”
“He won’t get himself killed intentionally,” Wesley said, though his certainty was waning.
“But what about unintentionally?” Cordelia demanded loudly. She didn’t care if Angel could hear her. “What if he gets killed because he doesn’t care any more either way?”
Wesley said nothing for a while, then sighed heavily. They both knew there was no good answer to that. “The others will be here come nightfall,” he said. “They’ll watch out for him tomorrow.”
“Watch out for him?” Cordelia said, aghast. “Everyone is too caught up in their own personal issues or wallowing in the Buffy misery just like him. Do you think Riley and the Initiative guys are going to care what happens to Angel? A vampire? No one cares about what happens to him.” She turned away from Wesley and quickly strode towards her room.
“We care.”
She almost missed Wesley’s response.
He ran up beside her and touched her arm lightly. “Cordelia, stop!” he said sternly.
“What?!” she snapped back at him.
“We care what happens to Angel,” Wesley said slowly. “We’ll watch out for him, Cordelia.”
Cordelia just looked at him for a moment.
“*We* will,” he said again.
Cordelia took a deep breath. “We will,” she affirmed.
Just as the demons were gathering inside, various weary and heart sore fighters began to gather within sight of the burned out Sunnydale High School. A couple of the Initiative soldiers had been there since before nightfall, watching the Cult of Spikura began to assemble. If the situation had been less dire, they might have been fascinated by the sudden teamwork between various types of demons that usually avoided each other.
The demons and fighters had both begun to gather as soon as the sun set completely. It was not 10:00 at night and the last of them were assembling. The ritual that had brought them all here would occur at the moment when the moon was at its fullest, 11:40 pm precisely.
The fighters were obviously nervous about the coming battle. It didn’t matter how much training any of them had, this wasn’t like anything any of them had ever faced before. There were amazing amounts and types of demons teamed together. And this battle would truly decide the fate of the future.
In contrast to the fighters still gathering outside the school, the demons were confident. If they even noticed the humans at all as they gathered, they ignored them. They could afford to be over confident based on sheer numbers. They also sported none of the numerous injuries that the humans bore from the battles leading up to this point. It was definitely an uneven match.
The only advantage the demon fighters had was that the demons didn’t seem to have any clear leadership. They had a common goal, but no one of them had taken control. On the other hand, with three groups of demon fighters coming together, they needed a clear plan and at least a nominal leader.
Since Buffy was the usual leader of one of the three groups and her death had been what introduced them to this situation, and Angel wasn’t exactly in the right mind at the moment to be leading anyone, that task fell to the only other one in the group that was used to command: agent of the Initiative, Riley Finn.
“Report,” he said to one of the soldiers who’d been there since well before sunset.
The tired young man looked up seriously. “They stopped gathering about ten minutes ago, so we think that every creature that’s going to be here is here. We’ve seen a good twenty vampires, plus another twenty or so assorted, stronger hostiles. And there may be more within that have been there since last night.”
Riley tried not to show his chagrin. It was no surprise that they were grossly outnumbered. Still, he’d hoped that there would be slightly better odds than three to one.
“So when do we attack?” another of the soldiers on watch asked impatiently.
Riley looked at everyone that was gathered on the edge of the grounds. The remaining soldiers of the Initiative – barely a squad – were helping each other suit up. They bore the latest in high-tech anti-demon weaponry. Standing in a smaller clump a short distance from them were Buffy’s friends. They, in contrast, were arming themselves in a more *traditional* manner – stakes, crosses, and medieval weaponry. Riley still wasn’t certain about fighting along side them; the two groups didn’t exactly mesh well. Still, Buffy’s friends would no be dissuaded from avenging her death. But then, neither would he.
“We wait until everyone is here,” Riley said to the anxious soldier.
The group was quiet and tense. They all knew that any second they would be entering a battle that they might never leave alive. But it was something they had to do. It was what Buffy would have expected…would have wanted.
Footsteps on the road leading towards the school startled the gathering. Riley watched as the group of people hunkered down behind what little cover they could find, drawing weapons and waiting for whoever – or whatever – was coming.
Three figures separated themselves from the surrounding darkness and Buffy’s friends relaxed visibly. Riley recognized the vampire and his two friends, all three calm and well armed. The members of the Initiative stayed alert with their hands on their weapons until Riley waved them off.
Angel stopped in the midst of the group. He looked for all the world like he hadn’t been in whatever passed for a coma in a vampire just days ago. His eyes met Riley’s across the gathering, and Riley could see a momentary pain before it was replaced with cold determination. Both men acknowledged each other’s presence and the battle they were about to enter with that look.
No one smiled. Angel looked over the gathered crowd. “What’s everyone waiting for?”
This was it. Now or never. The demons were gathered in and around the high school library, deep within the school and right on top of the Hellmouth. The group with the greatest firepower was the Initiative soldiers, so they were charging straight in to draw the brunt of the attention from the demons. Everyone else came in behind them, circling around and taking out the stragglers while they were distracted.
That wasn’t good enough for Angel. Over night his despair and loss had turned into an all consuming anger. It burned under his skin, beating with a pulse like the heartbeat he did not possess. It needed to be released, and there was only one way that was going to happen.
Kill them all, or die trying.
No one else had any clue as to what was going on in Angel’s head. He kept his anger under close control, just as he had controlled his own demon for so many years. Perhaps that was part of where the anger came from – the demon’s constant rage at being unable to fight anything. Angel wasn’t always able to separate his demon’s basest instincts and his own. In this case, it didn’t matter. The feelings were still there, and Angel was still able to hide them.
No one suspected. No one at all.
Angel stayed to the shadows, unnoticed by the demons he entered the school. He’d managed to loose his friends as well. None of them were as good at blending into the shadows as he was.
A figure moved in the darkness in front of him. Creeping at his stealthy best, Angel waited a moment, then came up behind the vampire and beheaded him before he was even aware of Angel’s presence. The vampire burst into dust and Angel continued confidently on his way.
Already he could hear up ahead the sound of fighting; the Initiative was facing off against the Cult of Spikura. A fight was going to be impossible to avoid this evening, if Angel had wanted to avoid a fight. He strode right into the battle.
The first demon unfortunate enough to spot Angel’s entrance in the library met the sharp end of Angel’s axe quite quickly. He made an odd gurgling sound as he died, alerting the demons right in front of him. Angel found himself the center of attention, and it wasn’t a good place to be. He let his vampire face show through and growled at the approaching demons.
Those demons nearest him – at least, those not already engaged in battle with members of the Initiative or busy with the ritual – took that as a signal to attack. Angel didn’t care about them – he only cared about the ones they were protecting, the ones conducting the ritual. They had to be stopped.
Angel barely even noticed the demons right next to him. He just kept going, kept his axe and his body moving. He paused only long enough to know aside anything that got in his way. He didn’t even take notice of what he was hitting. It didn’t matter if they were down and groaning or down and dead, so long as Angel was one step closer to stopping this ritual.
The closer Angel got to the center of the gathering, the harder he had to fight for each and every step he took. Even so, he barely felt any blows that landed on him. If he was hit, he simply staggered a step before getting rid of whatever hit him any way he could. Once, a large, hairy demon with nasty looking claws managed to knock Angel all the way to the ground. Some vague part of his mind recognized that the demons claws had inflicted some pretty serious damage, but he didn’t have time for that right now. He rolled right back to his feet, using his momentum to swing the axe back around and into the hairy demon’s chest.
He felt absolutely no triumph when the demon fell. One death was nothing compared to the loss of Buffy. He simply turned and looked for his next opponent.
Instead he found himself deep within the library, right up against the ritual space and the Hellmouth itself. There were only three demons wearing robes of sorts within a circle marked on the ground. Moving forward, he frowned as he stepped into the circle. He could smell it; the circle had been drawn with human blood. Angel doubted it was from a willing donor.
Angel held his axe in front of him. “You’re not taking any more lives,” he declared, mostly for his own benefit.
The three demons stood, identical only in the looks of outrage on their faces. They growled, snarled, and drooled at him and Angel knew this battle within the battle was going to decide it all. He swung his axe wildly at the closest demon. It moved quickly, sidestepping the blow. The axe buried itself in the altar. At the same moment one of the others hit Angel hard from behind, making him stagger. He didn’t cry out; he just gritted his teeth and kicked out at the slimy demon that had hit him. The demon fell backwards several feet across the blood circle.
One of the other demons ran at Angel with a growl. It was blue with heavily ridged skin and was quite large. Instead of getting in a punching contest with this one, Angel ducked under his massive arms and went for the axe again. As he reached for it the third demon barreled into him from the side. They landed on the edge of the altar, bringing part of it down on top of them. Even as Angel felt something sharp dig into his side he reached for a stake he had in one of his coat pockets. With a massive shove he buried the piece of wood into the demon’s chest. As the demon pulled back in shock, Angel shoved it off of him. It collided with the largest demon as it fell back, and Angel scrambled to his feet. He wrenched the axe from where it had fallen with the altar. With one smooth, strong motion he beheaded them both at once. Then, with the last of his strength, Angel destroyed what was left of the ritual supplies.
Finally Angel stood and looked around him. Some of the demons and vampires were beginning to run off. Others were dead. No matter what happened to the Cult of Spikura, this battle was over. This war was over.
Suddenly, the pain of Angel’s injuries made its way through his battle fogged mind. His shirt was wet with his own blood. His back and side burned. Angel did not even bother to look at what the extent of his injuries was. Instead, he sighed in relief and let the darkness of unconsciousness overtake him.
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