“Delia,” a voice called, forcing Cordelia out of her drug-induced rest. “Delia, wake up, princess.” 

Opening her eyes, Cordelia looked around the room. It looked like a standard hospital room but shrouded in fog, giving it the appearance of a Hitchcockian dream. Doyle stood in the middle of the room, looking just as he did the last time Cordy saw him alive and filled with purpose and drive and a conviction that what he was doing was incredibly stupid but above all, right. 

“Doyle?” She asked and was momentarily surprised she could speak. It was an instinctive function, giving voice to his name, but the moment the word was out of her mouth, Cordy realized she shouldn’t have been able to speak it. 

“Yeah, lass, it’s me. I’m sorry, so sorry you had to go through that, Delia, but I couldn’t stop him. Not allowed to.” Guilt and pain flashed in his bright blue eyes and Cordelia wondered, for a brief second, what might have been. 

“I’m sorry to ask this of you, princess, but you’re not done yet. Remember when I said it was partly your fault Angelus broke free?” 

“I was nowhere near Angel, Doyle, I had nothing to do with it,” she said in defense of herself. 

“I know, lass, but Angel saw you and Connor. Anger brought the demon closer to the surface and allowed Angelus to seize the body as it were. Now then, have you thought of what your answer is? Will you help me or not?” 

Cordelia nodded, keeping her eyes on the man – demon – ghost? – before her. She was deathly afraid that if she let her eyes wander she’d see herself. Emancipated, deformed, a hollow shell of a person who couldn’t even give voice to the pain, mentally and physically, she was feeling. Drowning in, desperately afraid there was no way out of all she felt and didn’t feel. 

“You, God, I’m sorry, lass, you need to focus here.” He crossed to her then, stroking her cheek with his hand and Cordelia smiled at the feel. Real, solid, honest, a touch that she had once shunned but now craved. Wasn’t life ironic? 

“I need you in Sunnydale, Cordelia,” and when he said her full name she knew it was important. “I need you to take the watcher and go to Sunnydale. I know,” he continued tears in his eyes for what she went through at Angelus hands. 

“I know that you’re nowhere near ready to face Angel even if it wasn’t he who did this. I’m sorrier than I can ever adequately express, but God we need you. Things are coming to a head faster then anyone thought and it’s only a matter of time before they explode one way or another.” 

Tears leaked out of her eyes and Doyle couldn’t help himself as his arms wrapped around her shaking body. She was as she always looked to him, beautiful and whole, not the near carcass Angelus had left. He held her as she cried and cried with her, murmuring soothing words neither of them heard and probably wouldn’t have believed anyway. 

“Connor needs you and I know that whatever else happened you honestly care for the boy. The watcher is more a mess than you are, Angelus broke his mind, battering it down until there was nothing left to do but build it back up. And he did, the way he wanted it; there’s only a little left of the man Wesley originally was trapped inside his own consciousness. But I need Wesley there as well.” 

He brushed the tears off her face with the pads of his thumbs, smiling at her as if nothing were wrong. “You remember how you still don’t know what your demon powers are? They’re for this. They’re because this was inevitable – oh,” he hastily corrected, seeing the horror on her face when he said that. Damn it, she thought he meant this disfigurement. 

“No, no, princess, not this, not Angelus. That was just coincidence, a bad set of to be sure, but…no I mean the First Evil. Its big plan was this, the Blood Harvest, the killing of innocents; Angelus was a big bonus for It. Things never work out the way anyone, even the First, plans, though.” 

Doyle continued to stroke her face though Cordelia’s tears had long ceased. He was running out of time to convince her. “You…Connor is destined to ascend to a higher plain, to become more than he is yet still remain human. Not a higher being, but…higher. And I need you there to make sure nothing happens to him. Your demonic powers aren’t fully developed and they may never,” not any more, Doyle added silently to himself, knowing the chances of her surviving this were as slim as the rest of their chances, “But they’re strong enough to help.” 

Shaking her head Cordelia protested, “You haven’t told me anything, Doyle! Just that I’m supposed to help. How am I supposed to, what powers are you talking about? I glow, Doyle, that’s all. I don’t want to see Angel again even if Angelus is no longer a threat. I’m not ready and doubt I ever will be. I can’t…” 

“Shh, Delia, shh. I know and I’m sorry but you need to. I can’t tell you more; you’ll know when you’re needed.” 

“And Wesley?” She asked, not agreeing but knowing she hadn’t a choice in it. She desperately needed Doyle’s forgiveness, Cordelia had a lot of time to think over the days Angelus had left her to die and if nothing else, Cordelia Chase was honest. She fucked up and badly; sleeping with Angel’s son? Christ, she changed his diapers. Granted she had feelings for Angel, but she should have known better. 

He would never and could never love anyone other then Buffy. And while the thought ate her up, made her stomach crawl with jealously, Cordelia could at least admit it. So she was going to get Doyle’s forgiveness because truthfully he was the one person in her entire life who accepted her totally and completely for who and what she was. He loved her when she was mean and rotten to him and he never tried to change anything about himself to grab her attention. 

He already had it, even if Cordy never admitted it. So if to earn his forgiveness over what she had done, knowingly and unknowingly over the years, she had do this, she needed to be in Sunnydale to stop the latest apocalypse, then so be it. 

This had better work; Cordelia doubted she could survive an encounter with Angel. 

“I’ll go,” she whispered softly. 

A soft smile graced Doyle’s face and he kissed her lips gently. “I know, lass. And I’m glad.” 

The next instant Doyle was gone as was the feeling of health and wholeness. Cordy was back in the hospital bed, bones sticking out of her parched skin, face blistered from repeated beatings, mouth swollen and abused, unable to talk, her body ached everywhere from Angelus’ special attention and frankly all she wanted to do was die. 

But she promised Doyle and it was one promise she intended to keep.

Of course she had no idea how she was going to accomplish that.
~~~~~~~~~~
They were leaving. 

There was no doubt about it, Spike thought, as he watched Dru watch the Bringers. They weren’t as mindless as everyone thought, but they weren’t as observant what with the lack of eyes. Of course there were less of them now that the First had Its hissy fit. Apparently all powerful evil didn’t translate into all knowing and all seeing. 

The Beast’s death came as a surprise and horrible shock to It and It let everyone know Its displeasure. Spike and Dru had been out when, hunting, and avoiding the enraged Evil. 

“The time has come, my Spike,” Dru said as she ran her had over her lover’s face, “To talk of many things.” She smiled dreamily into space and continued, “The First Evil is losing, she is much more powerful than It knows and has friends even she does not know of. My Angel is with her, always with her, and he gives her strength.”

Spike nodded, checking his own rage at the thought of Buffy and Buffy with Angel. Pissed him off royally, but he was willing to let it go until the First was banished. Then all bets were off. 

“She’s more, now a thousand and one plus one and he’s just himself, alone and lost, confused as is she.” 

Now that made no sense to Spike, but he nodded anyway. “When are we leaving, pet?” He asked instead, hoping to lead her onto the conversational path he wanted. 

“Soon, my Spike, soon. Don’t you want to stay for the finale? It’s going to be lovely, fireworks and songs, better than the parades!” 

Parades? Fireworks? Was she talking of the Fourth of July? Or maybe the running of the bulls they had watched one year in Pamplona. There were hundreds of places they had watched fireworks together over the years. Shaking his head at the waywardness of his own thoughts, Spike nodded.

“We’ll stay then pet, but I want no parts of this fight. I’m tired of playing for them.” He growled then, shifting into the face of his demon. William’s soul whimpered quietly, but otherwise said nothing, content to let someone else take over. It was too hard being good, too hard caring. Better to lay dormant and forget. Better, easier, better. 

Spike’s demon raged. Called for blood and howled in bloodlust. It reveled in its dominance over the soul and wanted to keep it that way.
~~~~~~~~~~
“So she killed the Beast and her wounds healed almost instantaneously,” Connor said, finishing he and Gunn’s recap of the events leading up to this moment. As promised, neither he nor Gunn said anything about the strength of the slayers; Buffy had made them promise and frankly neither man knew this group well enough to go back on that word. 

He sat back with a sigh and drank deeply from a glass Buffy’s sister – Dawn was it? – had brought. Briefly Connor wondered why those staring at him in silence weren’t more surprised by the tale they had just heard. 

Looking around he supposed they had seen things no one else would ever believe and this was more of the same. Giles had said nothing when Connor told them of Buffy’s spell on Angelus even though the potential slayers had gasped in surprise; obviously no one had informed them of this plan. Anya – was that her name? – and Faith shared a look that said more than Connor could understand and he wondered if he would ever understand the intricacies of humans. 

Everyone was silent for a minute, thinking back on all that they heard. Faith set the now cool wet rag in the basin and held Gunn’s hand clenched at his side, smoothing the fist he had curled tightly. The look of anger and pain on his face when he had told of Fred was enough to get through even her hardened shell. Faith knew that were having some problems, but Gunn still obviously loved the girl and Faith was sorry, for his sake, that she wouldn’t get a chance to really get to know Fred. 

She hadn’t, though, shed one damn tear over Cordelia’s fate even if she worried about Wesley. Not that Faith even planned on telling anyone, but that didn’t stop her from worrying. 

“Do you think it’s the slayers?” Dawn asked, breaking the silence that had descended on the group. “Do you think their combined healing powers had something to do with this?” 

She looked to Giles for this explanation but the watcher had none. “I don’t know, Dawn, the spell was risky at best but it was the only way to do what needed to be done. Willow,” his voice broke here, “Willow knew it better than any of us, I’m afraid.” 

Faith straightened a little but said nothing even when Gunn shot her a look; it wasn’t her place to tell the gang what she knew about Buffy’s spell. She shook her head at the wounded man and went to empty the basin, but spun towards the door a scant second later, ready to attack whoever was there.

Angel walked into the room, anger radiating off him in waves as his eyes quickly scanned the large space. He noted Faith and Connor’s relaxing stance, Giles and Anya lowering quickly grabbed weapons, and a group of girls looking lost and bewildered but nevertheless armed. 

This was his final stop, and why he hadn’t thought of it before still pissed him off. He had taken a lot of his rage out on straggling demons at the road block in LA first, wasting precious time there. But in the end he had felt marginally better, leaving a trail of demonic destruction in his wake. 

His first stop in Sunnydale was Buffy’s old house, only to have Buffy’s dream of Willow’s death confirmed, then Giles’ – the new owners of the apartment had been less than happy to be woken by angry and insistent pounding before dawn. He had even tried the new high school in case they had gone to the Hellmouth for some unknown reason. 

“I thought you said no one knew about this place?” One of the girls said, cocky attitude to the fore. “And yet Miss High and Mighty found us and now this guy shows up.” 

“Shut up, Kennedy,” Dawn said, scowling at the potential slayer and smiling at the newcomer. “He owns the place; be glad he’s on our side – again.”

Angel smiled at Dawn and didn’t bother to correct her; Buffy owned this mansion now, but as Angel never told the slayer – it never really came up – it was doubtful her sister would know. No one made a move towards or away from the vampire as his gaze swept through the room again. His body stance was tense and it was obvious he was looking for something…or someone. 

Something was missing, gone, as if sucked from their presence. Angel knew that both Xander and Willow were dead and while he honestly mourned the redhead’s death, he would have happily danced on Xander’s grave if it wouldn’t have distressed Buffy so much; that boy could try the patience of a saint, something Angel never claimed to be. 

Laughter, love, hope, friendship, trust, and so much more, these things were all missing. Their absence bred weariness, defeat, fear, and indifference. The original scoobies were gone and nothing could take their place; Xander’s inane and most often ill-timed jokes, his more than annoying presence, yet his will to do the right thing even if his help was more likely to get him killed and distract Buffy. 

And Willow, her devotion to her friend, her belief that what they were doing was right and true.

Buffy had once told him how she tried to talk Willow into leaving Sunnydale but the witch chose to stay, chose to fight beside her friend and ally, chose to help defend the innocent and oblivious from the darkness. Willow’s unswerving faith in what was right and true – excluding that breakdown last year but everyone was entitled to a fall in his opinion – had helped Buffy more than once and for that Angel would always be grateful. 

His dark gaze swept the room once more, noting the scared huddle of potentials, the remaining fighters, Gunn’s wariness at his presence, and Buffy’s absence before landing on his son. “Where is she?” He asked annoyance and worry clear in his voice, not bothering to greet anyone else. 

“Upstairs, resting.” Actually Connor thought he had heard something about a bath and food but wasn’t too sure. 

Before Angel could ascend the stairs, positive she was in their room though it had been years since they shared it, Dawn decided that she had waited long enough and jumped up, throwing her arms around him in a fierce hug. “Angel! I missed you, I was worried…” 

She trailed off but Angel understood all too well; too many people had died or simply left her life, and she was on the verge of losing it. She couldn’t lose Buffy any more than the blonde could lose her sister. Angel vowed that that wasn’t going to happen, no matter what he had to do; he’d protect the both of them, no matter what. 

“Shh, Dawn, I’m here.” He said, hugging her back. “I’m here, I promise.” He placed his hands gently on the girl’s shoulders; no she was a young woman now. “Wow, you’ve grown, Dawnie,” he said, smiling, relieved when she smiled back. “More beautiful than I remember.” 

Dawn blushed but her smile broadened at his words. “Thanks, Angel,” she said sincerely. “So I ah, I hear that you were, um, having some problems. All that fixed now?” She may have stammered her way through the question but her gaze never wavered from his. Definitely her sister’s influence. 

“Yeah, Dawn, I’m me now. No more…nothing to worry about,” he finished awkwardly, not knowing how to bring any of the last days up to any of them. They probably had a right to know, but Angel wasn’t too keen on sharing. Buffy was one thing, strangers and former friends was another. 

“Angel,” Giles said, walking to the vampire. “What happened?” 

Obviously the time for pleasantries was long over and Angel accepted that; just as obvious was that he wasn’t going to be allowed peace on this matter. He could accept that, too, to a certain extent. What he couldn’t accept was that fact that Giles had allowed Buffy to complete that spell, drawing not only the power of the slayers, but Angelus into her. 

Narrowing his eyes, Angel stalked towards the aging watcher, all power and grace, and growled, “It worked, Rupert, if that’s what you’re afraid of. It worked; Buffy preformed the spell and now houses Angelus within her. Why, Rupert?” 

He asked, his voice growing louder but both he and the watcher ignored the gasps from those not familiar with the situation. Briefly he wondered what it was they were gasping in surprise at; they couldn’t possibly know of Angelus, no one familiar with the situation was all that into sharing the gory details. Poor choice of words there, Angel grimaced. 

Or maybe it was just the fact that he had slipped into his vampiric face, eyes gleaming, and fangs flashing. 

“How the hell could you allow something like that to happen? How could you let her do that?

 I left here so he couldn’t have what he wanted: her. And what do you do? You hand it to him on a platter. For that alone I should…” Angel trailed off, eyes flashing crimson as he grappled for control. 

“How the hell could you allow something like that to happen?” He asked again. “How could you let her do that?” 

“I hadn’t a choice, Angel and you damn well know Buffy would have found a way to do it with or without my help.” The other man pointed out in a weary voice, rubbing tired eyes but not backing down. “We needed your help and Angelus, not you, was in charge of the body. I’m sure there were other ways but we couldn’t be sure they’d work; hell we couldn’t be sure this would. And there wasn’t the time…. Buffy was insistent and Willow…” again his voice broke, “Willow helped.” 

“I’m sorry about Willow, I…Buffy told me.” Angel said, his voice softening for absent friends, if not the steel behind the words. “Tell me about the spell, Giles, the slayer one. What are the aftereffects and what did Willow promise or sacrifice to whomever to allow this to happen?” 

“I don’t know what she promised; all I know was that it was some kind of test of valor and spirit. She wouldn’t tell me details, and hid the books on it. I fear that whatever it was, should she have lived, Willow sacrificed a great deal for Buffy.” 

Angel nodded but said nothing and Giles continued. “The gist of it was to call on all the slayers from the first onwards to bind with Buffy to finish their calling and to help stave off the darkness.” Giles paused and thought back to Willow’s words, trying to remember more, but Anya finished for him exasperated at his poor memory – hey, she missed Willow, too, and Xander. 

“She called on the first slayer to guide and to protect, to counsel and to justify, to allow this to happen, to bind, to grow, and to see and to hear. Everything that the slayer, in its purest, truest form was ever meant to be was called into Buffy. Willow’s sacrifice was to some Japanese goddess, Amaterasu, the goddess of all life or something.” 

Faith nodded, deciding now was as good as any time to joining with her knowledge. Some of it at least. “Amaterasu is the goddess of love, fertility, goodness, wisdom, peace, light, sun, and compassion. Willow asked the goddess for the right to contact the First Slayer and asked the First Slayer for permission. Both granted her that…but she was forced to give up her future.” 

No one said anything for a moment clearly waiting for one or the both of them to continue, and Faith looked to Anya who reluctantly nodded to the slayer. “Willow’s offspring were meant to be powerful sorcerers, great mages that would help control the balance between life and death. Amaterasu now controls their lives even though Willow is dead. Her children’s souls are in the goddess’ hands now, to be born or not at her whim.” 

Anya swallowed hard at the thundering look on Angel’s face and the shocked and disappointed one on Giles’ and finished in a rush, “Willow passed the test because she was not asking for herself but for Buffy. And for the world. If it was a selfish request then Amaterasu never would have granted it and the First Slayer would have never heard of it. Most likely something bad would have happened to both Willow and Buffy and the First Slayer would have sought revenge. Again. But because the balance shifted the goddess granted Willow’s request and Willow accepted the terms.” 

Anger leaping out of his eyes, Giles looked at the women before him. “How could she…? Is this why she never told me what exactly the spell consisted of?” Hurt, anger, self-recrimination colored his voice and Giles looked older then than he had since Buffy died. It was his own fault, not pushing Willow for details. He had been too busy researching ways to defeat the First Evil, to stop the Blood Harvest, to think of alternate ways to contact the First Slayer. 

Faith and Anya exchanged another look. “Yeah, um,” Faith floundered then said, “She didn’t want you to stop her and she knew this was the only way it could be done. She knew what she was getting herself into, Giles.” 

Stalking a few steps forward, Angel asked in a low voice, “How do you two know?” 

Swallowing again, Anya admitted, “I helped her with the spell to seek Amaterasu. She needed a second person, an anchor, and I was the only choice. Faith wandered by the room after the spell.” 

Shrugging the slayer nodded. “They were arguing over it, apparently Willow had lied to Anya about the purpose of the spell but Anya found out.” 

“I speak how many languages?” She asked now, vexed, “Honestly, vengeance demon here, over eleven hundred years old!” 

Smiling faintly, Faith finished, “Came into the argument, didn’t know what to do, who to side with, and agreed – reluctantly mind you – with Anya to keep it all a secret.” 

“It needed to be done, this spell, if we were to win and the only way was for Willow to do this.” Anya added. 

“The consequences to Buffy?” Angel asked his face still thunderous though no longer in vamp form. Somehow that seemed more dangerous to the two on the receiving end of his wrath with his eyes flashing red with rage, his voice too silky smooth to be anything but dangerous. “What are they?” 

Shrugging the women said nothing. Willow promised to see them eviscerated if they spilled the one consequence that was worth noting and both believed she would find a way to come back from the dead to do just that. Faith had agreed because she suspected Buffy already knew about the immortal power she was about to inherit. Anya agreed because she knew what kind of power Willow could control and because Willow had told her what Amaterasu had said in regards to Buffy. 

And Willow knew, she believed, because she knew Buffy; knew that the kind of power that the slayer was about to control was her destiny always had been. Both Amaterasu and the First Slayer had spoken of this. 

Angel let it go for now, but the look he gave them clearly told the two conspirators he knew exactly what those consequences were and he was less than pleased. Changing the subject, he turned to Dawn who looked scared and saddened once more. 

“I need to see Buffy, Dawn,” he said in a soothing voice, a faint smile just for her, “Is she upstairs?” 

“Of course,” she said smiling again, though her eyes looked old and tired “I tried one of the rooms down here, we’re all staying in the great room, but she refused.” Dawn didn’t voice her suspicion that Angel’s room, and as such, Buffy’s room, was upstairs and that was where Buffy wanted to be. “She’s in the bath now, she’s exhausted, Angel.” 

Kissing her forehead, Angel gave her shoulders one last squeeze, “I’ll look after her Dawn, I promise.” He said, turning for the stairs. Stopping at the first step, Angel turned back and said, “Giles, we’ll talk more later;

 I want to know about the slayers, about Angelus, and I will expect answers.” He said, stating a fact, not threatening though it was implicit, and headed to find Buffy. 

He heard but didn’t care when one of the potentials asked, “Is it common to form alliances with Vampires? And why were his eyes red, not gold? That’s just freaky.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Silence reigned for long moments after Angel ascended the stairs before Giles turned to the group. He glanced at Connor and Gunn, before addressing the rest of them. 

“Faith, Dawn, Anya, why don’t you take the potentials and train. It’s obvious no one’s sleeping this morning. Spend an hour or so then eat, maybe sleep will come then.” Giles instructed the group. “We don’t know when the harvest is coming but we can’t assume the First won’t have demons in his employ that will only attack at night. We need to be prepared and we’ll need a guard schedule.” 

Faith nodded, wondering how she was still in charge with Buffy now here. She really hated this looking up to her shit. Better when she was the one flaunting the rules, not enforcing them. “We’ll go train then sleep in shifts,” the slayer agreed. “A few potentials with someone more trained. There are enough of us, I think, to do it in two hour shifts.” 

He nodded and Faith herded the girls into the basement. She was turning into a decent leader, Giles thought, as the slayer shot one last look to the second level, obviously wanting to know what was going on with the couple. Frankly, Giles didn’t want to know; he had his suspicions and thought that was enough. Waiting until the group was gone, Giles turned to Gunn. 

“There’s a room down here, it has a clean bed and should shield you from most of the noise in the house. You look as if you could use some rest. I’ll make you some tea with healing herbs, that and the rest should help with what…with the pain.” Giles finished, not wanting to remind anyone what Angelus had done to Angel’s friends.

Nodding his thanks, Gunn stood, slowly stretching the aches out of his body once more. His ribs ached horribly and his head pounded, yet he hadn’t wanted to complain, almost positive these injuries were the least of his concerns. “Thanks, G-man, appreciate it.” 

Gunn left the room before he saw the flash of pain on Giles’ face. “You’re welcome,” the Englishman murmured, pain and memories in his voice. Just because he detested that name didn’t mean he wouldn’t give a lot to hear it again from the mouth of the young man who had coined it. 

Turning to Connor he asked the boy straight out, “What do you know? What are you not saying?” 

“A lot,” Connor admitted, but didn’t know if he should go into details, didn't know if he could trust the older man, didn’t know the whole story himself. So he hedged with, “It’s a long story.” 

Giles smiled at the wording and gestured to the seat Connor had abandoned when Angel arrived. “I find that, when people say something’s a long story, it can usually be boiled down to several short sentences that hold the essence of the tale. Start at the beginning,” he suggested, leaning back in the chair he had reoccupied and picking up his glass of whisky. “And when you get to the end, stop.” 

Connor debated for a moment before deciding to trust the older man. He wasn’t sure why he had that feeling, but had learned long ago to trust himself. “You know Angel’s my father?” 

At Giles’ nod, Connor sighed in relief. That was the first and probably hardest obstacle to overcome. Nobody ever really believed that. “Apparently I’m some form of higher being, though higher. I think. I’m not real clear on that, Doyle was a little confusing, using too many words I’m not familiar with; he called them pop culture references. Do you know what he’s talking about?” 

Giles laughed, “I know the term, yes, but please don’t ask me to explain the references; I’ve been told often enough that I don’t understand them either. But who is Doyle?” The name sounded vaguely familiar. 

“My guide I guess you’d call him; he said he used to work for Angel. But he’s dead now so I’m not sure how that all works. Dead people, so far as I was taught, only come back when they’re turned into vampires.” 

Giles nodded at that but refrained from elaborating; no need to confuse the boy. “Used to work for Angel? Ah, I believe I know who you’re speaking of, Irishman, half Bracchan demon. Angel once told me about him.” It was during the Chumash Indian spirit, er, problem, Giles recalled, Angel had told Giles a little of his new life in LA and how he wasn’t adjusting to life without Buffy at all. 

Connor shrugged at that, “I don’t know, all I know is what he told me. I can’t get a reading on him, he’s…I don’t know how you would describe it. Not on the same plane of existence as we are, I guess. But I’m still getting used to that, so I might have it wrong. I’m some kind of balance being, the ultimate tool or something.” Connor continued, trying to explain something he only just discovered himself. 

“Doyle said he worked for beings higher than the Powers and that I had to stay and help Buffy in this fight, her fight with the First Evil. Something about being there when she couldn’t be. Or doing something she couldn’t.” 

Intrigued, Giles leaned forward. His eyes were wide with interest, his face and voice betraying his excitement. “Fascinating, you…that would make you…you’re one of the Ancients, then? I’ve heard…but I’ve never…they were only rumors, I mean. Even the Council could never confirm or deny the existence of them.” 

At Connor’s confused look he elaborated. “It’s said that there is a race of beings, ancient when the universe was new who created everything because they wanted their legacy to continue. They created good and evil, or rather The Powers That Be and The First Evil, the Higher Beings that work for the Powers and the Exalted Minions that serve the First. They were the ultimate in everything. 

“Like Cordelia?” Connor asked with a stab of guilt for the seer. There was a lot of unresolved emotion concerning her, he admitted to himself. 

“Cordelia? What on earth does she have to do with them?” 

“She receives visions to help Angel with his redemption and was a Higher Being for a while,” Connor said, not understanding Giles confusion. Hadn’t she always received visions? Granted, even he knew the demon part was new, but surely the vision part wasn’t. 

Giles snorted at that as Dawn wandered by them, obviously listening for the sounds of arguing. She wasn’t disappointed. And while none of them – with the possible exception of Connor – could hear words, the rising and falling of voices confirmed an argument. 

“There was crashing from up there earlier,” Giles offered, his eyes darting to the ceiling to emphasize his point. “And shouting of course,” which was still obvious from the sounds drifting down to them. “I didn’t check, for obvious reasons, but feel free, Dawn.” 

“I’m not going up there,” Dawn said, spinning back around and walking back the way she came. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Faith can do it herself if she wants to know so badly.” 

Giles smiled at the youngest Summers and silently agreed. Turning back to his conversation with Connor, he told the young man, “I find that hard to believe, the Higher Being part, not the redemption. But,” Giles said, waving that off, “That’s neither here or there, and I suppose anyone can change, Cordelia included. God knows we all have in the time we’ve been doing this.” 

He looked at Connor once more. “The point is that the only beings higher than the Powers are the Ancients and if this Doyle works for them and is your guide to becoming more, then that means you’re an Ancient. You have gifts…I, I don’t even know where to begin.” 

“Buffy said it was telekinesis, moving objects just by concentrating on them,” Connor said. “I have this feeling with everything, it’s like I know what everyone’s feeling, what trees are growing, where the animals in the ocean are swimming. It’s strange,” he admitted with a smile, “But it’s so exciting, knowing it all. I can see colors I didn’t know existed before, hear things no other being in the universe can.” 

Giles nodded, just as excited. “I assume that as your powers grow, you’ll be able to talk, in a way, with all the plants and animals, with other beings in the universe. An Ancient,” he repeated, itching to take all this down in a journal, to begin research, to drill Connor for more information. “Can you contact the other Ancients?” 

Shrugging Connor looked a little sheepish. “I don’t know; I didn’t know I was one until just now. But I do know that whatever it is I am, it’s given me a whole different insight into life. I know what Angel…what my dad’s purpose is, what his destiny is. I know the destiny of everyone here; not their future, I don’t think, Doyle said it was different, destinies and futures. It’s almost like I know what their purpose on this earth is, but reaching that purpose is up to them. And I understand the difference now between Angelus and Angel, soul and demon.” 

Why he was confessing his deepest thoughts to a stranger Connor didn’t know but he felt the need. Maybe it was the way Giles focused solely on him that made Connor do it. The intensity of it reminded the boy of Holtz, of how the man who claimed to be his father sometimes used to listen to him. Or maybe it was the accent? 

Still, Connor drew the line at confiding his brief romance with Cordelia. He was still too confused over the whole thing himself to try and tell the story to a virtual stranger. And now, with the pain Angelus had inflicted, Connor wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to look the seer in the eye again. He cared for her, Connor realized over the days Angelus had free reign, but the love he thought he felt for her was not there. 

Maybe, Connor thought now, it was supposed to be this way. If Cordelia and he hadn’t slept together and Angel hadn’t seen them, then Angelus couldn’t have taken over the body and none of this would ever have happened. For Cordelia, that might be considered a blessing, but Connor finally understood his purpose in this life, something sorely lacking until Doyle showed up in his prison room. 

Jerking out of his reverie, Connor added, “I know it wasn’t he who did the horrible things Holtz accused him of, I know he feels guilty over them and is trying to make up for it. I know all this and yet I don’t know how to tell him.” 

Giles stood up, sighing as the urgency of their situation fell back to his shoulders. “Don’t wait too long, Connor,” he advised, “We’re running out of time with the First. I don’t know if you’ll have a chance to tell him afterwards.” 

“This harvest, what is it?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t know enough about it, I wish I did, but information is almost as scarce as that on the Ancients,” Giles admitted with a sigh. “The Blood Harvest, innocent’s blood flowing in rivers, same old, same old. The only thing we have is the prophecy, nothing else, no information more than that. In short, Connor,” Giles said, suddenly feeling all of his years, “We know nothing. Not how to stop it, not what we have to stop, not when we have to stop it by, nothing.” 

“It’s soon,” Connor said, “That’s all I know. Soon as in days at most, more likely hours.” 

Giles looked to the younger man. “Isn’t that always the case?”
~~~~~~~~~~
“You realize that they’re worse than I am, right?” Dawn asked from the sidelines where she stood with Anya and Faith. They were watching the potentials ‘train’ and it was looking…bad. Andrew, of all people, was giving them ‘helpful hints.’ He really should just keep his mouth shut, Dawn thought. 

“You have Summers’ blood,” Faith said, trying to reason Dawn’s ability to fight better then the potential slayers. “And have lived on the Hellmouth all your life, and …and you had B to train you.” 

Anya and Dawn looked that the dark haired slayer and Faith shrugged. “What? I don’t know. But they don’t seem to be grasping the working together concept, do they?” 

“You think?” Anya asked as the trio grimaced in unison as one of the newer potentials, Grace maybe? Tried to toss Rona over her shoulder. It didn’t work and both girls ended up on the training mat in a tangle of limbs. 

“Discipline,” the former demon offered. “They lack discipline. And style, maybe.” 

“How the hell am I supposed to teach them that?” Faith wondered as another pair of girls tried the same move with similar results. “We have no time left before this harvest thing, they don’t have slayer strength to actually help in a fight, and I’m the last person to try and teach them anything.” 

“True, you have the whole fugitive thing going,” Dawn said, “But think of it this way. It gives you experience. I bet no other slayer did jail time.” Faith glared at the girl and Dawn shrugged. “What I mean is that it gives you an advantage. You were all dark-side, I killed a man, I know what it’s like and have the strength to try and redeem myself.” 

Faith squirmed at Dawn’s description but the younger girl continued, not oblivious to the slayer’s discomfort, but trying to make her point. “What I mean is that you’ve experienced the darkness in your soul as very few have. That’s why you can identify with Angel, that’s why you’re going to show these girls how it’s done.” 

Anya nodded, elbowing Faith forward a little. “She’s right, you know. You need to show them that you’re the one in charge, that this is how it’s done and that’s that. And maybe not say how they’re all going to die. Hope is a good thing to have, even if it’s false hope.” 

Scowling at the both of them, Faith ignored Anya’s last comment and asked Dawn. “When did you get so smart?” 

“I had a great sister,” she said, “She was the best teacher. Besides, I don’t want to train them, better you do, what with that super slayer healing and all.” 

Laughing, though they had little to laugh about, Faith walked forward, calling attention to herself. Maybe this leader thing wasn’t so bad after all. 

Maybe she should wake Buffy up instead. 

“You fight like a bunch of girls,” Faith began. “The First isn’t going to care how well you fight or can’t, what you may become or who you are. The weaker you are, the happier It will be. The weaker you are, the more of you will die. You are future slayers, the Chosen Ones, the ones who fight and win and the ones who are going to learn how to do that here and now. Questions?” 

“Rousing speech there, coach, when did you suddenly become John Wayne?” Kennedy asked, “Leading us into battle and all.” 

“I’m way better than that cowboy,” Faith laughed scornfully. “I’m the Slayer. What’s more, I’m the Slayer that’s survived; I’ve lived it, breathed it, and bled for it. And if you would loose the know it all attitude for about five minutes and listen to what B and I have to say, some of you may live to see the end of this as well. So as of this moment you’re going to act like you are Slayers as well. Now then, break into groups of five.” She waited impatiently as that happened. “This isn’t gym class, people, pick a team already and get it over with.” 

There were five groups of five – Faith hadn’t realized how many potentials they had there. And she only knew a small number of them. Was that wrong, she wondered? Was it bad to not know those who were about to die for a cause they knew nothing about? A cause that was the result of an accident of birth no one could predict? 

Faith didn’t know, but they didn’t have the time to worry about it, either because school was over as far as these girls were concerned and, like the Slayers before them, they now had to fight for their lives. And no one could give them the extra edge to do that but themselves. It was something they had to learn the hard way just as she and Buffy had. 

“Now then, team one, attack me. All at once. The rest, just watch. Watch what they do right and wrong. Learn from that. Then we’ll try again.

 And again, and again and as many times as it takes until you can make a halfway decent attempt at protecting yourselves.” 

“Can I be in a group?” Andrew asked and everyone turned to look at the would-be villain. 

“No,” Dawn said, “But you can go upstairs for snacks.” 

Andrew looked disgruntled for a moment before trudging up the stairs. “I never get to play.” 

Anya shared a look with Dawn. “Why do we keep him around again? I thought our mission was to rid the world of evil, not use them for food runs.” 

Shrugging, Dawn agreed. “Don’t ask me, I’m not in charge.” 

The pair watched from the sidelines as the groups attacked Faith, each team learning from the other’s mistakes. It didn’t help, the slayer took them all down, but they learned. The hard way, the painful way, but learn they did. And, unlike the First or Its minions, at least these girls were alive to fight another day. 

“Shouldn’t we have Buffy down here for this?” Anya asked at team four attacked a barely winded Faith. “Shouldn’t she have some kind of answers for what to do with this harvest thing?” 

“I’ll check on them, but last I heard, I think they were fighting. Giles said that there was crashing from the upper rooms and shouting. But didn’t check, for obvious reasons.” 

“They’re having sex? At a time like this?” 

Dawn shrugged, “Too much information, Anya that’s my sister! Who knows, but I wasn’t about to walk in on anything. I’ll go up in again, though, if I have to, and see if things have quieted a little and report back.” 

Anya nodded, focusing her attention back on the training before her. “Yes you do that,” she said, her voice portraying the better Dawn than her attitude. 

Watching the ‘training’ before her, Anya notice something; there was slight improvement among the potentials. But it was still more than obvious the girls were tired and beat. They really didn’t have the healing and stamina Faith did. Still, there was minute improvement; apparently pain was an effective motivational tool. 

Maybe they wouldn’t all die. 

Dawn walked up the basement stairs, going through the great room with a nod and smile to Giles and Connor who were still talking quietly in a corner. She briefly wondered where Gunn was but dismissed it as she faced the steps leading to the second floor. 

The sounds of arguing had stopped, but Dawn wasn’t taking any chances. Slowly and with great trepidation, she climbed the stairs, listening intently for any noise. 

All was silent, which could mean one of two things: They had killed each other, or were sleeping. Dawn doubted the first but you could never be too sure when it came to her sister. And now that Buffy held Angelus within her, there was no telling what was going on in her mind. 

She really wanted to know, but Dawn wasn’t sure she’d like the answer, so she wasn’t going to ask. Still, could Angel’s demon speak to her? Was that possible? And did Angelus share things with her, like having a truly separate entity within Buffy? There were so many questions Dawn had about the logistics of a slayer holding a demon’s essence within her without turning into a demon herself. Still, it was decidedly weird. 

Freaky, Dawn thought again as she turned down the hallway, definitely freaky. Imagine having someone else inside your head all the time. 

Creeping down the hall, Dawn opened the door to the master bedroom as quietly as she could, straining her ears for the slightest sound. Hearing nothing, she opened eyes she hadn’t been aware of closing and scanned the area. 

Curled around each other on the bed obviously naked and – thankfully – covered by the sheet, lay Buffy and Angel. They looked peaceful, much more so than they had upon arriving at the manor. She’d let them sleep for a while; they both looked like they needed it. And who knew when the next time the luxury of sleep could be had. 

Speaking of, maybe she’d nap for a while herself. 

Closing the door as quietly as she could, Dawn crept back down the stairs, heading to the basement to inform Anya that both Buffy and Angel were still alive and she, Dawn, was going to try and sleep. 

Buffy was here, now, as was Angel. Nothing bad was going to happen. 

Right?
~~~~~~~~~~
It raged. 

If It needed to breathe, great huffs of air would be circulating in and out of Its lungs at an astonishing rate. 

But no, It thought, trying to calm Itself, no that wasn’t the way to go about anything. It needed to think, and to do that, the haze of blood coating everything in Its sight needed to be cleared. Cleared, at least, for the time being, for it wasn’t yet time for blood to cover everything. Its time would come, sooner than anyone suspected, but for now, for now It needed to think clearly. 

That bitch had destroyed both Its servants. Angelus now resided within the Slayer and she had killed Its Beast. And Angel, the pathetic soul, had helped. 

How was it that one of the greatest demons in history was saddled with a soul that was one of the greatest warriors for the side of good? Amazing the yin and yang of life, and so incredibly unfair, It groused as It attempted to calm Itself.

That was when It knew something happened to Angelus, when the slayer killed the Beast and Angel suddenly showed up and tore the remains of Its devoted servant to shreds. It was pure dumb luck that It discovered what exactly ‘that’ was. It didn’t know how it happened and It didn’t care; all It knew was that the Slayer had somehow drawn the demon into her body. 

A body It was going to take great pleasure in destroying. 

It discovered that when she had spoken aloud to him, clearly expecting an answer. One of Its minions heard and, instead of destroying the slayer, had reported back to It. Granted, It was pleased to discover this information even if in a rage It killed the minion and anything within striking distance. Being incorporeal didn’t mean It couldn’t kill. It was the First Evil, after all. 

There was a choice now, It thought as It tried to again calm Itself: attack in the light of day when they weren’t expecting It, or wait until the cover of night when more of Its minions were able to play. Forcing a calm It didn’t feel, It opted for the latter. Just a small test, perhaps, see what the Slayer now had. 

It wouldn’t make the same mistake It had before with the witch. 

Oh, no, this wasn’t a capture mission, nor yet a destroy mission. This was a ‘Let’s see what you’ve got’ mission. A simple test of the Slayer. A test she’d likely pass, but it wouldn’t matter in the long run. 

“Drusilla, my dear,” It said, morphing into the form of the now dead witch, “Would you like to take your boy out on a little assignment for me?” 

Dru looked at ‘Willow’ and smiled. “One by one her friends are falling, falling, falling down,” she sang. Then, “What are we doing?” 

“I want you to watch the Slayer and her little band of friends. Tonight is going to be a little test for her.”

And wasn’t it perfect that the test would probably be enough to keep her occupied for the next few hours? Yes, perfect. By dawn everything would be in place and it would be too late to stop it. 

‘Willow’ smiled but didn’t notice when Drusilla didn’t smile back. The vampiress, for her part, wondered if warning the slayer changed the rules. Could the game continue as it was or should the slayer know to never trust an opponent you couldn’t see?

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