1

Angel felt he was going down. Down into the depth, into the darkness, in a prison even he had not a chance of escaping. He would not die, no, he was going to live for ever. Yet with no way of feeding, he would first rage, then starve, then lose his mind with the overacute senses absorbing only silence in a depth where even the sounds of the water and the aquatic animals were drowned by the void surrounding his prison. He would lose his mind until he was no more than a beast with an insatiable hunger, and he would finally become indifferent to the emptiness. His demon would be keeping him alive, till his son Connor, even till the ocean was no more, if necessary, for ever, but he would only exist in a stasis. Ironically, Holtz had made sure he would soon be unable to regret, or suffer. Soon. In fifty years or so.

The only regret he felt now was for his son, who would never learn the truth about how he had been used, manipulated into getting his kidnapper his revenge from the grave.

A two hour's ride away, Buffy Summers was falling into a sound sleep. Was she dreaming? Didn't she feel the blood bond between her and her eternal soul mate, telling her he was in trouble, commanding her to save him, once again, to bring him back from hell, once more? Didn't she dream of her lover's face sinking into emptiness, dream of his silent scream so vividly it woke her in the middle of the night, so that she put away everything else and jumped into the car as fast her her Slayer speed allowed her? Didn't she have a prophetic dream like that fateful night when she knew Drusilla was threatening them again? To tell the truth, she didn't. Just like Angel did not know she died to save Dawn, she had no clue. She had no idea. And do you know why? Because Joss, sorry, The Powers That Be, said she wouldn't. So I, sorry, Angel, would have to do without the Chosen One. Because the Chosen One did not feel him in her blood any more. However, someone else did.

*

Lorne looked at the flight attendant across the checkin counter. "Have you packed your hand luggage yourself?"

Lorne looked at the well-built shoulders of the young man and met his steel blue eyes. "Sure, honey."

The man frowned. "Did anyone give you or ask you to take anything?"

Lorne shook his head. "No, at least not yet."

The attendant handed him his ticket. To Lorne's regret, he was all business. "Thank you very much, sir."

"Thank you."

Lorne picked up his hand luggage and walked across the hall towards the sign saying "DEPARTURES".

He began to hum. Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong...

West Virginia... Someone in the crowd began to whistle.

And then it hit Lorne, all the hurt and pain and misery of the whole world.

Lorne looked around in confusion. Who had whistled? Who had such an abhorrend thought?

*

The boat was landing.

Curiously, Justine felt nothing like satisfaction. She felt hollow.

Steven did not say a word. He helped her tie the boat, then nodded at her and stepped on land.

"So, what happens now?" Justine asked.

"I thank you on behalf of my true father," Steven replied curtly. "Good-bye."

"Excuse me," Justine said, "Good-bye?"

He nodded.

"You don't have to leave. We can still go and buy the farm in Utah your father and I dreamed of.

"It was never your dream, it was my father's."

"In the beginning," Justine insisted, "But it can be so much more. I loved your father, and I will love you as he taught me to. We can still be a family."

He shook his head in determination. "No, thanks I've had enough of families."

Justine stared disbelievingly at him. "Steven, don't you realize we did all this for you?"

"For me, yeah." He turned his back on her. "Find yourself a vampire's nest to play with. Don't bother me any more, ever again, or I'll have to kill you."

"No!" Justine yelled after him. "You can't be that ungrateful! You're coming back, I know it! I'm now the only family you'll ever have!" She blocked his way and grabbed his arm.

He pushed her away effortlessly and shook his head. "I'm not my father, Justine."

"No, your father loved me," she replied angrily.

Steven sighed. "My father used you."

Justine was unwilling to give up. She struck him over the face. "Go now and you can never come back to me!"

Steven Holtz was not planning to. He did not even bother knocking her down.

He walked out into the night, seemingly oblivious to the shadow that was following him at a distance. Yet Holtz had trained him well enough so he knew when he was being observed. He pretended not to notice, for the person on his heels had melted with the night. He left the dock area and walked past the few small wooden houses. When he was out in the open, he turned around carefully, prepared to surprise any attacker with his readiness.

That moment, the presence of someone was betrayed by the heavy perfume in the air. A woman.

For a moment, Steven stood enchanted by the scent, and the lethal beauty of the stranger who stepped from the shadows with floating skirts.

The woman was not very tall, but her eyes seemed to glow even in the dark.

"Poor boy," she whispered, "You buried your father not long ago."

Steven's eyes widened. "How do you know?"

The woman chuckled. "I know many things. I knew your father."

"What's your name?"

"I have many names, and many faces. I have been called lover, prophet, madwoman, and, occasionally, bitch. What do you call yourself?"

"My name is Steven Holtz."

She chuckled again.

"What's so funny?" he retorted.

She smiled. "Your father and I were close. Will you show me where you buried him?"

He hesitated.

She extended her hand, which looked like a woman's who had never done hard work, and was ornated by long white fingernails. "What harm can there be?" she wondered.

The woman did not look threatening. Steven was not familiar with accents and dialects, but he recognized her speech as similar to Holtz' and his own, rather than the awful chattering of that demonic Cordelia or the appaling dialect of the black bloke. Therefore, he assumed she spoke the truth and was indeed a friend of his father's. He walked her to the burial place.

*

Wesley was in the shower. He had no idea how long he had been there, but it had to be quite long, his skin felt all thin and wrinkly, and yet he did not feel clean in the remotest sense of the word. He felt stained. He felt corrupted. Had it been the same way with Angel and Darla? Angel had been separated from the group, then. But Wesley knew better than to expect any kind of epiphany from sleeping with Lilah Morgan. He would not sell his soul for a 15^th century copy of Dante's "Inferno", cheap sex with designer whore inclusive.

Lilah had left the apartment an hour before, with the vengeful smile of a cat who had just devoured a baby bird. "Call me," she had said.

Wesley hadn't even looked up. He had not thought of Fred when he had ripped Lilah's clothes of and covered her mouth with insincere kisses to shut her up. He had not thought of Lilah either. So why had he done it? The worst place in hell is reserved for those who betray.

She had not won him over.

*

"An announcement to all passengers for American Airlines flight AA 62671 to Las Vegas International. Your plane is now ready for boarding at gate 17."

Lorne took his suitcase and walked up to the security check. Then he entered the waiting area and passed through towards the gates.

And again, the strange feeling stole over him, as he heard a voice in his head, a voice coming from someone in the crowd of departing passengers.

Lorne scanned the crowd quickly. But he could not determine whom he had read.

*

Steven took in a breath of the cool night air.

The beautiful dark lady was standing there on the grass. She did not seem to noticed him, her body swaying to the tune of some unheard melody.

"So... you knew my father well?"

The woman smiled. "I had always hoped we'd cross paths again."

"The one buried here... his head..." She gave him a smile. "He's pretty off his head, isn't he." The woman sank down to her knees. "All the blood... I can smell it, even six feet above..."

"He was murdered..." Steven hesitated. If she had known Holtz well, she would know about vampires. "By a demon. A vampire."

She shook her head. "No, my dear," she said softly, "The ground soaks with his blood. So much blood, and all wasted." She looked up at him. "The body wasn't drained. Whatever killed that man, it wasn't one of---"

Steven drew a stake. "You're one of them!"

She rose to her feet and fixed his eyes with her hypnotic gaze. "Easy," she whispered. "We can still be friends. Listen. Look here. And put the stake down."

Like drawn by invisible hands, Steven put the stake down. He was shocked and frightened to death, knowing she reached out for his psyche, and he could not shield his mind against her manipulative mind-reading. "Who are you, demonness? Temptress, fiend, speak."

"I am Drusilla," she replied, stepping behind him. She put her arms around the defenceless teenager and felt for the veins of his neck. "Your father is my father as well."

"My father staked his vampire daughter!"

"Oh, not him. Your real father. Our father."

"Angelus is not my father!" Steven protested.

"Oh, he is, and that makes you my brother!" She clapped her hands. "I've always wanted a baby brother to play with!" Then Drusilla hesitated. "Oh, and your mom was my grandam, that... oh, that makes me your niece as well!"

She ran her fingernail across his skin. "Now we've got to know each other better, shall we go and find daddy?"

Despite his fear, Steven chuckled. "Hope you're a good swimmer."

*

Fred and Gunn met again in the middle of the lobby.

"Connor's not upstairs, neither are Angel and Cordy. Where did everybody go?" Gunn wondered, again.

Fred shrugged helplessly. "Cordy doesn't answer her cell, and Angel's turned his off." She looked at him uneasily. "What if..."

"If what?" Gunn asked, alarmed by the sudden fear in his girlfriend's eyes.

"You know..." Fred stuttered, "What I said earlier, when Angel started humming.... when Connor said it was good to see him happy.... What if.... what if he WAS happy? TOO happy, I mean....!"

Gunn's eyes widened. "You don't... no. I mean, he did look normal, didn't he."

"Maybe the curse takes some time to work," Fred whispered breathlessly. "What if he is... Angelus? He wouldn't harm Connor, or Cordy, or both --- would he?"

Gunn grabbed his jacket.

"Where are we going?" she asked, frightened.

"I'm going to find everybody, you're staying here," Gunn said and tossed Fred a bunch of stakes. "In case he comes back."

"Charles," Fred pleaded.

"I'm sure it's nothin'," Gunn said, not very convincing, though.

"Charles!" Fred exclaimed.

He turned around. "What?"

She pointed at the phone. "Shouldn't we call..." She made a helpless gesture.

Gunn shot her a warning look. "Don't say Wesley."

"Someone," Fred insisted.

Gunn's expression was darker than usual. "If you call Wes, and Angel is still Angel, he'll kill 'im. And if he isn't Angel, well, then you'd better call the National Guard."

*

Lorne had taken his place on the plane, not without being asked several times if he had ever been on Star Trek, and was lost in his copy of Demon's Health.

A young man in denim and a black leather jacket addressed him. "'xcuse me, pal, you're in my seat."

Lorne looked up to the good-looking man with the remarkably melancholic eyes. He checked his seat number and noticed he had the wrong row. "So sorry," he said and squeezed past his neighbour to give way to the other man.

The other man raised his eyes in impatience and began to hum nervously.

Lorne stared.

Lorne sighed. Another cute guy who wouldn't go for green.

Lorne stared at the man. The voice in the crowd! He tipped his neighbour's shoulder. "Sir, would you mind changing places with my friend here?"

His neighbour looked at him. "Hey, weren't you on Star Trek?"

Lorne sighed. "Would you mind?"

"Oh, wow," his neighbour stuttered as he gave way to the new passenger, "I changed places with Mister Spock's friend, wow!"

The newly arrived gave Lorne an amused smile. "Ya don't look like Spock. 'is blood was greene, not 'is face!"

Lorne sighed. "If only more people knew that!" Then he lowered his voice. "Now, I wanna be honest with you, I can see you're half-demon. And I'm a mind-reader. And as an experienced amateur psychiatrist, let me tell you, a dead unrequited love is still an unrequited love. So, what's your problem about that girl?"

The guy whispered to Lorne. "Well, she's a Higher Being, and I'm unfortunately not just half-demon and full-Irish, but actually also quite.... dead."

2

Gavin met Lilah just as she left the elevator. She really could not use him right now. He was annoying enough during the office hours, when she had no means of avoiding him, but that he was spending even his free time at the office was so like that intolerable fool it almost made her angry.

"Hello, Lilah," Gavin said with a smile that made her sick, "Was it fun?"

"Was what fun?" she asked back.

"Spending hours at Pryce's apartment. Wonder  what held you that long."

Lilah returned his feigned smile. "The fact that you can't get a lay, Gavin, doesn't mean I can't either."

"My, my, what would the senior partners say if they knew you were fraternizing with the enemy?" "Or not so much the enemy," Lilah replied. "You can do that every night, Lilah dear, and yet you'll never win him over."

Lilah  walked past him towards her own office. "I already have." She banged the door closed behind her. Exhausted, she leant against the cool wood. This night had been more than she could handle in a few minutes. It had changed nothing, and yet everything.

You're terribly anxious to find out. She had hardly been able to breathe with his hand on her throat. But she had not even flinched when he had drawn the knife and whispered dangerously: "Get out of here and into the car." She had known he could never do it. He was one of the good guys, after all. They had arrived at the apartment a little past midnight. They had walked in together without talking. Wesley did not switch on the light. Didn't have to. He sighed. "You've tried bribing, revenge, so what's next, sex?"

Lilah chose to ignore the unveiled sarcasm in his words and voice. Instead, she tilted her head slighty and replied: "Why not? Don't you have sex on the island?"

Wesley shook his head. "Not interested, thanks. There are more attractive women than you willing to sell themselves for information or money out there, and to be honest, I despise women of your kind."

Lilah shrugged. "They all say that, and yet women of my kind, as you put it, seldom sleep alone."

Wesley walked towards the door. "We are born into this world alone, and we leave it alone, so what's the fuss in between?"

Lilah walked up to him, hips swaying more than necessary according to the very moderate height of her heels. "Why not give it a try?"

Wesley opened the door and stepped aside. "Don't let me keep you."

Lilah closed the door gently. "Do you always give your chances away that easily?"

Wesley chuckled. "Don't waste your energy, Lilah."

Lilah looked at him with defiance. "I'm not surprised, Wesley. Of course it would be easier for you to impress a schoolgirl from the Texan country, not to mention she was out of the game for five years. Are you afraid you can't put up with a real woman?" She opened the door. "Sleep tight, Wes. There are things you don't learn from books."

Wesley slammed the door and threw Lilah against it. He tossed his glasses somewhere on the coffee table. "Depends on the book," he replied.

Lilah felt how the zipper of her tight leather pants was torn open impatiently and triumphed silently. She unbuttoned Wesley's shirt with hasty fingers, so he would have no time to reconsider the breathtaking kisses and the torn undergarments. She let him throw her down on the bed without resistance. "Don't tell me you've read the Kamasutra," she whispered with open irony.

Wesley smiled knowingly. "In the original Indian."

She ran her fingers down below his waistline. "Impressive," she commented, leaving the reference open to interpretation.

She lay still and showed no reactions to her partner's attentions, neither refusing nor welcoming. Though she felt like a soft moan or an enthusiastic cry, she bit her lip and kept silent, for this was about power, and she would not show him he had any sort of power over her. Hell, this was the best lay she had had in years, but she'd be damned if she couldn't make him come first. She made an attempt to slide down between his thighs, but he would not let her. His hands held Lilah's hips in an iron grip, and she felt the heat rising, her cheeks blushing, and her voice growing hoarse. Yet she kept pretending she felt nothing.

Wesley covered her neck with meaningless kisses and whispered: "There's really nothing human about you, is there?" He held her arms down. "You need it hard and violent, don't you."

Lilah smiled up at him. "Maybe you're the problem. Why, who knows what you did with Angel when the demon slut and the nigger whore were out with their lovers?"

Wesley struck her across the face.

Lilah moaned. "Now, we understand each other."

Wesley grabbed her shoulders and turned Lilah on her stomach, and forced his way through her hyprocrisy. Lilah was at first stunned at the brutality of the act, then drove her fingernails into the soft fabric of the sheets to stifle a cry. Her skin broke under the pressure, she bled from tiny fissures, but it was worth it, for she had done it, she had made him show all the aggression lurking beneath the surface, and he would soon be ready to do anything she wanted. It was as if he wanted to pound every bit of depravity out of her with a merciless rhythm, to end her laughter of triumph, of victory. It was not until then that Lilah allowed herself to give in, not until he was prepared to take his release from her without paying any attention whatsoever to whether she was climaxing or hurting. Lilah collapsed, yet only for a moment. Then she turned on her back and began another round of the dangerous game. She ran her fingers over the scar on his throat. Wesley stopped her hand in the movement.

"You think you know everything."

"No. Not everything, Wes," Lilah disagreed, "But I wanna know. I wanna learn. How she did that to you. How you felt." She clung to him and brought his head down to her lips. In a voice so low it was almost inaudible, she said: "What would you do to me if I were her?"

Wesley's expression was dark.

Lilah wrapped her long legs around his waist. "Just go for it," she whispered encouragingly. She wasn't prepared for what he did to her next.

Wesley brushed away the hair from her shoulders, tenderly at first. Then he examined the skin of her neck slowly. A discomforting feeling of déjà vu stole over Lilah, as she recalled how Angel had bitten her. However, Wesley had other things in mind. Lilah gasped as she felt him enter her again. Then, without warning, his hands closed around her neck. Firmly. She felt bruises forming, and she struggled for breath. She tried to pull away, but his thrusts continued, and so did his pressing hands on her neck. Lilah was surprised to find she panicked. Had she driven him over the edge by telling him to imagine her as Justine? Would he kill her right then, in his own bed?

Wesley's expression was totally unreadable. He saw the sudden fear in Lilah's eyes, and it satisfied him, just a little, to see he was not as predictable as that woman thought he could be. And, again, she was close to a peak. For a moment, Wes thought of letting her slide into the dark and awaken her with more subtle methods, but he sponteneously decided it was enough.

As he let go of her neck and she drew breath again, Lilah arched up against his body. Whispering a hoarse insult, Lilah reached another climax.

The night was far from over. Yet after a while, Wesley's impatient way of so predictably dominant male behavior gave way to something else. He stopped hitting her and began with gentle caresses. He no longer insulted, but whispered soothing words and compliments into her ear. He delayed his own release for her sake. And his kisses were no longer a convenient way of silencing her, but prolonged exchanges of affection.

Lilah looked at him questioningly. "What...?"

"Don't speak," he ordered gently and closed his eyes.

Lilah realized what was going on. He was somewhere else in his mind. Well, she might as well play along. She ran her fingers through his chest hair and returned his kisses with a tenderness that equalled his. Lilah Morgan provided the perfect illusion. Instead of awakening his aggressions, now she evoked his vulnerable side and took on a more modest passivity. She was very careful to make her own moves hesitantly and let him take the lead, as a younger woman with less experience in that area would have done. Her tactics did not fail her. After what seemed hours, his tension finally eased. The name he whispered in her ear in the moment of greatest rapture wasn't hers. It was that of the Texan girl.

Lilah sighed. Well, she could have imagined him to be the good-looking guy from her gym. Why did the good ideas always come up when everything was over?

Deep inside, Wesley knew he was cheating on himself. With a sigh, he kissed good-bye his vision of a completely naked Fred, cheeks flushed with the heat of their lovemaking and totally spent in his arms. Instead, he had to face the empty reality of Lilah Morgan. This wasn't love. It was just sex.

"You know that sinking feeling you sometimes get the morning after? It arrived early."

Lilah smiled, pleased with herself. "It's like a little death... several, in fact."

He rolled over to the other side. "Get out."

"Call me."

*

Lilah stood in her office, examining her bruises in the mirror. This wasn't as bad as it had felt. Call me.

Lilah's cellphone began to vibrate in her pocket.

Heat flooded her body at the thought Wesley might have changed his mind and got used to the idea of another dose of 'Fred'. She answered her cell immediately.

"Lilah Morgan----- yes, I'm at the office ----- Connor did what???? ---- you positive??? ... yeah, I'm on my way. Don't attempt any recovery without me."

*

Lorne was staring at the young man in disbelief.

"You gotta be kidding me."

"No, sorry. My name is Francis Doyle, and I'm actually quite dead. You see, the only trouble is, things are happening which are no good for this dimension. And I, no, TPTB need you to go back immediately. You're our last hope."

"Me?" Lorne shook his head. "Look, I'm just an artist, and what you're looking for is a champion, so, conclusion, I'm not your man!"

Doyle shrugged. "Sometimes you become a hero before you know it."

Lorne sighed. "In case I have to spell it out for you, TPTB=Los Angeles, ME=Vegas. You have your warriors in L.A., so why not charge on of them?"

Doyle grabbed Lorne by his jacket and tried to pull him off his seat. "You need to go back! Go back, you have to reach her before they take her to

another dimension! The girl with the visions, Cordelia. Warn her, don't let her go! Or something horrible will happen!"

Lorne was about to complain to the flight attendant that he was being harrassed, when all of a sudden, the young man who had called himself Francis Doyle had disappeared.

*

The storm had come without a warning. The small boat was thrown around by the waves stronger every minute, and the deck was wet with rain.

Lilah was feeling sea-sick. She hated ships, and small boats in particular. Besides, the night was cold for Californian standards, and she would have preferred some rest. Instead, she was trapped on a boat in utter darkness, on a wild and uncompromising sea.

"How long does it take them?" she complained.

Her assistant Sophy shrugged. "Dagonian demons are extremely good divers, they should come up any minute."

"They'd better. The storm's getting worse."

After what seemed hours, there were bubbles on the surface, and two fish-like creatures were emerging. They shapeshifted into what was close to a human, yet B-movie like human shape, and climbed onto the boat.

"At last! It's high time you arrived! This, gentlemen, is a Versace costume, and it's becoming all ruined with the rain! I hope you have some information worth a ten thousand dollar damage."

"We located the casket," one of the demon divers reported. "It's sunk almost to the bottom of the sea, and it's close to a cave. Another hour in this storm, and it would have sunk into the depths of the cave and may have been irretrievable. You've been lucky, Miss Morgan."

Lilah thought for a moment. "So you could still bring it up?"

The Dagonians smiled at each other. "That shouldn't be a problem."

Lilah turned to Sophy. "How many people know about what happened here tonight? About what Steven did, what's in the casket and where it went?"

Sophy thought for a moment. "Just you, me, our informant Mr Farlowe, the skipper, and these two... fishy gentlemen. In fact, everyone who knows anything about the matter is aboard this boat."

Lilah nodded. "You are positive no one else at the firm has any idea? Particularly not Gavin?"

Sophy shook her head. "I guarantee you, we are the only ones to know what happened to Angel."

"Good." Lilah gestured at Sophy. "Would you please pay these gentlemen?"

"Of course." Sophy nodded and brought forward a chest. As she unlatched it, Lilah could see two newborn babies sleeping peacefully amidst several soft pillows.

The elder Dagonian took a deep breath. "I appreciate fresh products."

"They were born at L.A. Memorial just two hours ago," Lilah announced with more than just a little pride. "Bon apetit."

The second Dagonian nodded. "It's always a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Morgan."

Sophy shuddered. She was glad the whole affair would be over soon now.

"Can we do anything else for you, Miss Morgan?" the Dagonian asked, "Shall we retrieve the casket?"

Lilah shook her head. "No. We'll leave it out in the storm for another hour, so no one in this whole world will ever be able to find it in the ocean. Oh, but there's one more thing." She looked at Sophy, Farlowe, and the skipper's cabin for one last time. "Kill them all."

*

Steven smashed the door to Justine's apartment and stormed into the bedroom.

The woman was lying on her bed, fully dressed, but looking very sleepy. "Hey, Steven," she whispered deliriously, "Long time no see."

He held a knife to her throat. "You lied to me," he thundered, "I need to know the truth!"

Justine did not reply. Dazed, she opened her eyes to look at him, but the sight of the boy was unclear ans milky, so she could not really meet his gaze. "You know the truth," she whispered.

"Who killed my father?"

"You know the answer," Justine said weakly.

"There's that madwoman. She says he wasn't drained."

"Your father left me," Justine whimpered, "While I was the only one who loved him so much... I would've gone through hell for him... now I'm really going, it seems..."

Steven was too unfamiliar to recognize the small plastic box in her hand as a pack of sedatives, which she had emptied minutes before and downed with the help of her old friend Jack Daniels, but he realized there was not much time left if he wanted to know what had happened. "Was my father bitten by a vampire?" he pressed her.

"Yes," she whispered, and in a way it was true.

"Did Angel kill my father?" he asked, "I have to know."

Justine was slowly slipping away into darkness. "I loved him, I loved him so much, and he left me here, alone, but I'm not letting him, I'm going after him..."

Steven hit her in the face. "Don't lie to me now, bitch, or..."

Justine giggled. "Or what? Or you'll kill me? 're a bit late for that, I fear..."

Steven shook her shoulders. "Did you kill my dad? Did you?"

Justine's body went limp in his arms, and he knew she was dead.

"No!" he raged, "You have to tell me! Did you kill my dad? Did you?"

Suddenly, he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. "No, she didn't," Dru whispered in the strange melody of her voice, "You did."

He glared at her. "Don't say that! You're lying!"

Dru shrugged. "Children and fools tell the truth, uncle."

Steven kept beating Justine's dead body. "Answer me! Answer me! Who is to tell me but you?"

She knows. She knows. The images of the night kept flooding his mind. I love you. I will always love you, no matter what you do. Always remember that. I love you.

Dru began to giggle.

"What's so bloody funny?" he asked. "I have to know how my father died."

Dru's lower lip began to tremble. "You're confusing me, uncle. Your father was freed, uncle. As he freed me. That woman just pierced the throat of an old man."

Steven trembled. "No... No... It can't be..."

Drusilla brushed his head with her hand. "I feel him. Like I always felt him. He did not feed." Tears came to her eyes. "He's not the way he used to be. We can never be a family again."

Steven stared at her. "Because he has a soul. He is not like you."

Drusilla sniffed. "He won't play any more."

At that moment, everything, the whole truth, dawned on Steven. "He loved me, and I let him down." He jumped from the bedside. "I have to get that damned casket."

Dru shook her head sadly. "He's in the sea," she whispered, "Pretty little fish... all those colorful fish... he belongs to them now... you can't reach him... Oh, little uncle, now I'm all you've got."

*

Lilah had not even flinched when the Dagonians had devoured the newborn babies. She had seen worse things in her time as an attorney at Wolfram&Hart. She smiled at the thought of what Gavin would say when she told him that Connor had staked his father, and the senior partners' preferred special project was just a pile of dust. She knew the truth, she alone.

The Dagonians accompanied the boat to the shores, then left, diving into the dark stormy sea.

Suddenly, she heard the clapping of hands behind her.

She recognized the demonness at once. "Drusilla. How've you been? Last time I saw you, you looked pretty burnt out."

Drusilla smiled. "The moon heals me... the moon also talks to me in my dreams and tells me stories. You've been a bad girl, Lilah. A very bad girl. Naughty." She giggled. "And just because my Angel refused you."

"He never refused me, I refused him," Lilah snapped back. "Besides, things are good for you the way they are. Face it, lady, your lover's not coming back ever."

Dru chuckled. "Maybe for you, things are nice, but not for my little uncle."

That moment, Steven appeared on the scene, knife in hand. "She says you know everything about Angel. Untie that boat and take me to him."

Lilah burst out laughing. "Silly boy, you killed him yourself!"

Within fractions of a second, Steven was at her throat. "Angel did not do anything wrong, did he." As she did not reply, he cut a bloody furrow into her skin. "DID HE?"

Lilah shivered. "Not lately, no."

"Take me to him," Steven commanded.

Lilah reached out at his hand with trembling fingers and mobilized all her acting qualities as she replied in a low voice, crocodile's tears in her eyes: "I wish I could, Steven. I'm sorry. Also my firm's policy is to protect your father. I'm so sorry, love."

"No," Steven whispered, hands trembling. He let the knife sink.

Lilah patted his shoulder gently. "I requested two fish demons, they tried to recover the casket, but, you know, the storm, it sank so fast, it was steel, you know, and..." She pretended her voice trailed off. "There was nothing I could do. It's gone, the casket is gone, and we can't retrieve it. I'm so sorry, Steven."

"No!" Steven shouted, tears leaving white traces in his dusty face. He collapsed and sank to his knees, repeating a stubborn, unbelieving refusal to believe.

Lilah took him in a tight embrace he just let happen. "If you need anything, money, clothing, a place to stay, just let me know."

Dru looked into the emptiness. "Not everyone is sincere," she said quietly. "The stars are seducing us with false prophecies onto the road to perdition, while the moon is shining on those who listen."

Steven was too broken to listen. "I killed my own father, I killed him, nonononono...!" he whispered.

Lilah decided it was time to tear him from the cranky vampire's influence. "You can stay at my apartment for the moment, tomorrow we'll see," she said soothingly.

"I killed my father, holy God, can I ever be forgiven... this is hell..."

Dru stood in the stormy weather, looking out to the sea. She was too distracted to care for anything but the blood bond that was calling out to her. She already seemed to have forgotten Steven, lost in her own little world.

*

Linwood met Lilah in front of her office the first thing in the morning. "So Steven killed Angel? Can you prove it?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Lilah said and pressed the PLAY button on the video recorder.

Linwood saw Steven sitting on the guest room bed in Lilah's apartment, hair tangled, eyes red with tears, and heard him repeating like a horrible confession, again and again: "I killed my own father... I'm in hell... I killedhimIkilledhimIkilledhimnonononononono...."

"It's different from what we'd planned," Lilah admitted, "but the son can be much more valuable than the father. The fact that he could defeat him proves how much power is there in him, how much potential. He's the son of two vampires considered invincible. And he's on our side, now."

Linwood nodded. "Sounds wonderful, Lilah. I think there's a free office for you. Top floor, south wall, view of the sea. The senior partners will appreciate your efforts, too, I'm sure."

Lilah smiled politely. "Thank you, sir."

"You have a BIG BIG future here, Lilah. So, where is he now?"

Lilah pointed at the door. "In my office, sir. He's still under shock, but beginning to think clearly again. The prognosis for his overcoming his grief soon is good, if you ask me. He's right in here. Waiting to meet you, to talk about his future with Wolfram&Morgan, er.... I mean, Hart."

"You're surprising me, Lilah!"

With a self-assured grin, Lilah opened the door.

Steven was indeed in the office. His feet hang down from the ceiling, right before Lilah's desk, which he had used as a higher point to jump from. The rope was tied firmly around his neck, and attached to the ceiling.

His eyeballs were staring at the incoming lawyers accusingly.

Steven was stone dead.

Lilah stumbled back.

Linwood gasped.

"Sir, I..." Lilah stuttered.

Linwood looked at her as you would at a terminate. "Heads will roll."

*

"Yes, yes, don't break my door!" Wesley was annoyed as he moved towards the door. As soon as he'd unlocked it, Lilah burst into the room and slammed the door.

"They're coming after me!"

Wesley frowned. "They?"

Lilah's eyes were pure fear. "I didn't know where else to go. "

With a dry and slightly ironic tone, Wesley replied: "Would you have the kindness as to tell me what happened and who is pursuing you?"

Lilah's eyes widened. "The firm! Connor emprisoned Angel in a steel casket and buried it in the sea, then he killed himself, and now I'm gonna hang for that! Help me, Wesley, please, you're the only one I can trust!"

Wesley regarded her with amusement. "Angel's gone, Connor's dead, oh, I'd reckon that isn't the ideal precondition for the apocalypse your Senior Partners have scheduled. They won't be too pleased. Be honest with yourself, woman, you blew it! And now you come to me for protection."

"In a nutshell," Lilah said and laid her arms around Wesley's neck. "Please, we're so perfect for each other. And Angel was your enemy in the end as well, at least he tried to kill you, and now you're safe, thanks to me!"

Wesley pushed her arms away. "Lilah, Lilah, Lilah," he sighed, "You have so much more to learn." "For example?" Wesley switched on the lights. "Never trust someone you slept with." In the flash of the neon light, Lilah saw Linwood and several other men she recognized as Wolfram&Hart's most reliable...assassins.

Linwood smiled coldly, but the smile never reached his eyes, which were cold with anger. "Hello, Lilah."

"Sir," Lilah stuttered, "I can fix this, I can explain everything!"

Linwood nodded. "That I'm sure of. Miss Morgan, may I introduce you to Mr Wesley Wyndham Pryce, our new manager for special projects? I have assigned Mr Pryce to your old office, for you won't need it any more."

Lilah's heart was beating wildly. "So you're firing me?"

"Lilah, you know Wolfram&Hart doesn't fire anyone." Linwood gestured at the assassins. "Make it slow."

*

Lorne raced into the lobby of the Hyperion. "Anyone in?" he shouted, "Cordelia! Angel!"

Fred came down the stairs. "They're not here, Lorne," she said weakly, "And you... you wanted to go to Vegas. Well, guess it doesn't matter any more now, anyway."

Lorne turned to her and went pale. Fred's hair was tangled, her face was white and haggard, eyes red and swollen with crying. And she was wearing a simple black dress. "Fred..."

Fred nodded, carefully avoiding to burst into tears again.

"What HAPPENED?" Lorne asked.

Gunn came from the office. "You're back. Why?"

Lorne shrugged. "Doesn't matter now, let's just assume I had a vision."

That sentence set Fred crying again. "It was in the news," Gunn reported, even he struggling for words. "Man, I don't know how to tell you. They found a deserted car, out on the highway. It was Cordelia's. It was close to the cliff where she wanted to meet with Angel. The police say the driver must have lost control of the car and have been thrust out. They didn't find her body. Witnesses said they felt like they were frozen in time, and they... they saw a woman... shining like the sun, ascending into the sky..." he broke off.

"So I'm late," Lorne said desperately, "Does Angel... does Angel know? Where is he, anyway? And... where's Connor?" There was an uncomfortable silence. "We don't know," Gunn admitted, "But about an hour ago, SHE showed up."

It was only then that Lorne noticed the beautiful vampiress in laced skirts sitting at Angel's desk. She was distractedly playing with a pen and humming a tune. Alas, my love, you do me wrong, To cast me out discourteously, For I have loved you so long, delighting in your company. Greensleeves was all my joy, and Greensleeves was my delight. Greensleeves was my heart of gold, no one else but my lady Greensleeves.

Lorne went pale. "No," he whispered.

"What?" Fred asked, grief-stricken. "I suggest you'd better sit down."

*

Wesley locked the office door behind him. Lilah's old office had a wonderful view of the City of Angels, indeed. The sun was rising, and it was the most beautiful sunrise after the most horrible night. And the cleanness of the place did not betray that only hours ago someone had committed suicide in here. The worst place in hell is reserved for those who betray. And for those who betray the betrayers? Wesley took the jar with Lilah's blood out of his bag. He began to draw the pentagram onto the floor of the office. He took great care the lines were precise, and to draw it with one stride of the brush. He would not fail. He took a deep breath. His last look fell on the book Lilah had brought him. Dante.

"Attienti ben, ché per cotali scale," Wesley cited, "disse 'l maestro ansando com'uom lasso,

conviensi dipartir da tanto male." Then he cast the spell.

(Hold fast – be silent, the master, meandering like a man, said after a while, - by this only stair We find Hell's exit - Dante Alighieri, La divina commedia: L'Inferno)

3

For hours, Fred hadn't stopped crying, not even while she was packing. Too shocking had been the news Lorne had read from Drusilla's mind.

"I still don't understand they're not coming back, ever," Fred whispered.

"Are you done packing?" Gunn asked gently.

"I think so." Fred wiped her eyes. "I can't stay here a minute longer."

"So where are you going?" Lorne wondered.

"Dunno. Somewhere nice, some place different. I hear Chicago is a nice spot." Gunn shrugged. "You?"

Lorne did not reply. He walked out into the garden.

Reproachfully, he looked at the ghost that was manifesting there. "You again. You KNEW I would be late, and you made me go nevertheless, though Cordelia was long dead before..."

Doyle shook his head. "Yes, I feared you'd be late, but: no, Cordelia isn't dead. TPTB got her."

Lorne looked confused. "I thought you were working for The Powers?! That doesn't make sense, first they take her away, then they send you to tell me to stop her from going? How sick is that?"

Doyle sighed. "I hoped I wouldn't have to tell you. In fact, I'm no longer working for them. I'm a rogue ghost. Because... TPTB were testing Cordelia. And, in fact, I could see she was failing. You were my last hope. It's too late, now. She failed."

*

Cordelia woke to a burning red sky and the smell of fire.

"Where am I?" she asked, confused. "Am I a higher being, now?" She looked around, next to her were people with dirty faces, lying in chains. Cordelia frowned. "Is this heaven?"

One of the women in the dust turned to her, chuckling bitterly. "Does it look like it?"

With a shock, Cordelia recognized the woman. "Lilah... I don't understand..."

"Let me spell it out for you, sweetie - I'm dead, and this is hell. We're in hell."

"No," Cordelia insisted, "This can't be hell! Skip said I was a higher being, moving to a new level, there was work to be done in higher realms, that I was being called, and that deep inside I knew..."

Lilah nodded. "Sure. But did you even bother to look deep inside? I guess not. Otherwise you would have known how terribly WRONG it was. Did you think about it just for a minute? It was only weeks since you got the new power, and what use did you make of it, a nightlight? Oh, please, Cordelia! Could there be so much hybris in you to think you had outgrown the mortal existence --- at twenty-one? And there was Angel, Angel waiting for you, and you believed the crap when Skip told you? That your calling transcended love?" Lilah laughed openly in her face. "You passed the first test, faith - when they send you the visions. Then the second one, hope - when they offered you an acting career. That was your last test, Cordy. Love. And you blew it! You knew your place, and you were too vain to know that no power in this world, how ever strong, transcends love. The temptation of becoming a higher being tempted you from the strongest of all powers. And for that, you shall burn in hell. Forever."

*

"That was a long time ago," Wesley said in a low voice, "I really don't know why you're showing me that."

His father turned to him. "You couldn't even draw a triangle correctly, so what makes you think you can do better with a pentagram?"

"You're not real," Wesley remarked, "This isn't real. I'm being tested. I'm still in Lilah's old office. It's normal to be tested with your greatest fears if you conjure such forces of darkness as I'm trying to."

"You're trying, that's all you ever could, you never truly did anything, you always tried, and you always failed! You had your chance with that detective agency. Look how you ruined that."

"You're not my father," Wesley replied. "And you can't scare me with things that made me cry when I was ten."

"You were nine years old, you were fluent at Latin, excellent at Greek, and you spent a week in hospital because you got a B plus in trigonometry."

"I'm tired of you," Wesley said. "If this is your great test, your powers may not be as dark as I supposed."

The surroundings changed. Wesley found himself in the completely dark office of Angel Investigations. Not in the Hyperion. In a building that had burnt down almost two years before. It didn't take long to recognize what night it was. He wasn't surprised when he saw Angelus walking up to him in the dark. "You always thought you had an inferiority complex? No, you're just inferior."

"You're not my father, and you're not Angelus either, so stop it! I've made my choice when I cast the spell, so don't try to make me falter, for I won't! I will proceed with what I chose." Wesley looked around in confusion. He was lying in a hospital bed. Again. He sighed deeply.

Angel, or at least a BEING which looked like Angel, stood at the bedside. Smiling viciously, it said: "You almost got shot for that vampire, you lost your cute girlfriend Virginia because of that job, your throat was cut, and as if it wasn't bad enough not one of them came to hear your side, it tried to kill you when you were helpless in hospital, and you want to do this for the monster?"

"No," Wesley disagreed, "For my own peace of mind."

"Are you aware there will be a price to pay for this powerful kind of magic?"

"What do you want? My soul?" Wesley laughed bitterly. "Where can I put my signature? In blood, I suppose?"

The BEING shook its head. "We don't do this any more. But there is a price, a huge price. Are you willing to pay, Mr Pryce? Oh, how I love these puns!"

"Will you bore me to death, is that your reward? Well, you're almost succeeding."

A storm rose around him, a column of unnaturally white light blinding him, and the voice thundered: "Laugh if you will, but be aware there will never be such a thing as peace for you, and this world will never be the same after what you've set in motion here tonight!"

A circle of fire was building up around Wesley.

*

For a moment, Linwood was really disoriented. He had figured himself in his office, but now, there was this blinding light....

and he was grabbed by the throat violently.

Steven's eyes were sparkling with threat. "Stay away from my father." He threw Linwood into the back of the van.

Linwood had a strange feeling of déjà vu, but was too surprised by the situation to ask himself where it came from. This was the time for action. He looked at the kid: "I'm not your enemy. We can help you, Steven."

The teenager beat him and shouted: "My name is Connor."

*

Cordy was looking at a photograph of herself with Angel and Wes on either side. "I don't feel... And even if I did, it's impossible."

From somewhere, she heard her own voice: "It's ridiculous."

"That's right. It's..." Cordelia looked up from the photograph. In the window across from her was an apparition of herself, framed in white light. "Woah!"

The apparition addressed her. "Maybe on some level I've always known it's true."

Cordy frowned. "I have? It is?" She broke off and frowned again. "Wait. I've seen you before."

Her phantom self shrugged. "Why, yes, every day, in the mirror!"

"No," Cordy insisted, "I think we've had this talk before, and it scares the hell out of me, because I can't remember when. So you're saying I'm in love... With Angel, right?"

The apparition smiled. "With Angel!"

"Just checking," Cordy replied. "Thanks for the tip." Somehow, she was still confused as she headed for the phone. She was surprised to discover her feelings for Angel - but not as surprised as she should be. And that was strange. Very strange.

The phone in the lobby was ringing just as Angel and the others walked in.

"I got it!" Angel announced.

Angel ran across the lobby, whistling.

Gunn frowned. "He's whistling. I was gonna say I've never heard him whistle... but I think I have. But that's ridiculous."

Fred shrugged. "He's happy."

Angel answered the phone: "Angel Investigations. We can help you. I *know* we can!" He paused. "Cor, is that you?"

Cordy took a deep breath. "Hi. It's me." She paused. How did he know?

Angel did not ponder on why he had known instinctively it was her. "Hi! Cor. How are you?"

"I'm good. You?"

Angel glanced at Connor: "I'm pretty good."

"Uhm, Angel, I sort of need to talk to you, in person."

Angel suddenly got a bad feeling he could not put his finger on, "Is it something - bad?"

"No! No, it's something good. I think. Well, it sort of depends on how *you* feel."

"About what?"

"Well - about me."

"Oh." Angel was listening carefully. "Tonight? Sure. Okay. Where?" Angel wrote down the directions: "Point Dume. Viewpoint. First turn, north Kanan. We'll meet there. - About an hour? - Okay. -Yes."

Angel slowly hung up the phone, then looked at Connor. "I have to go out for a while, son."

Connor looked up. "With Cordelia?"

"Yeah. Will you be alright?"

"She's beautiful. And she cares about you. I like her." For a moment, Connor had a strange feeling of déjà vu. Maybe because he was acting, playing a role, pretending to be the loving son caring about his father. A rule his true father had taught him, how to sooth the enemy, a rule that his father had taken from a great writer of his home country. Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under't. Yet Connor felt he had said these things before.

"I'm glad," Angel replied.

Connor nodded. "It's good to see you happy, dad."

Angel turned away with a smile, humming a little tune.

"Now he's humming," Gunn noticed.

"He's really happy," Fred noticed in a worried tone, still clutching the popcorn she was eating, took up a stake to poke it into Angel's side. Angel quickly reached out for the stake and turned Fred's wrist around.

"Ouch!" Fred exclaimed, "I wasn't gonna hurt you!"

"I know," Angel replied, "But my side is very sensitive, I hate being poked there."

Fred stared at Angel. "How did you know I was gonna do that?!"

Angel shrugged. "I didn't! Probably just a reflex, an instinct."

"No," Gunn said slowly, "Fred was gonna say 'Not TOO happy, I hope!' "

Fred looked at him proudly. "You know me well, Charles!"

Gunn frowned. "Why do I get the feeling we're acting out something? Slow, man..." He thought for a moment. "Then Angel was gonna say 'No! Ouch!', and Fred was gonna say 'Just checking'..."

"It's just natural, logical, with the curse, I mean," Angel replied, "It's good you're careful, Fred, I do appreciate it."

Gunn shook his head. "No, man, that isn't it. Something STINKS."

Connor began to feel uncomfortable. "Dad, whatever is going on, it can wait until you return. You can go on saving the world after you talked to Cordelia. Hurry, you're going to be late." He smiled warmly. "I don't know much about women, but I can't imagine they like waiting."

Angel nodded. "What a smart kid!" He turned to the door. "I'll be back!"

"Have fun!" Fred said.

Gunn saw Angel leave. And he suddenly got the feeling he saw him for the last time.

*

"You know that sinking feeling you sometimes get the morning after? It arrived early."

Lilah smiled, pleased with herself. "It's like a little death... several, in fact."

He rolled over to the other side. "Get out." Then he remembered. "No, wait." He chuckled. "It worked! Oh, the irony of it! It worked, it really did!"

Lilah looked at him. "I knew you were drunk, but that drunk?"

Wesley jumped from the bed. "I'm not drunk. No." He found his pants and hurried to get dressed. "You can stay. Get some sleep, you'll need it."

Lilah's smile broadened. "Promise?"

Wesley did not reply. "If I'm not back till morning, help yourself, there should be something in the fridge. And I need your car."

Lilah sat up on the bed. "What?"

"Give me the keys. Where did you put them?" He grabbed Lilah's handbag and found what he needed.

"What the hell do you want with my car? Where are you going?" Lilah asked in confusion.

Wesley tossed her his copy of Dante. "If you get bored, try reading this. Oh, wait. Who'd want a guided tour of one's home town?" Without wasting another word, Wesley left.

*

Cordy was driving down a crowded highway. The cars in front of her seemed to crawl on, while time was running."Slow poke!" she hissed. "I'm late. I'm late. And it's not a date."

Cordy lifted a hand in front of her mouth to check her breath.

*

"Have you packed your hand luggage yourself?"

Lorne looked at the well-built shoulders of the young man and met his steel blue eyes. "Sure, honey."

The man frowned. "Did anyone give you or ask you to take anything?"

Lorne shook his head. "No, at least not yet."

The attendant handed him his ticket. To Lorne's regret, he was all business. "Thank you very much, sir."

"Thank you."

Lorne picked up his hand luggage and walked across the hall towards the sign saying "DEPARTURES".

Suddenly, he felt someone's grip on his shoulder.

A young man in denim and leather jacket, with an incomprehensible Irish lilt, grabbed his ear and shouted: "REMEMBER!"

As Lorne turned around in confusion, the man was gone. And suddenly, it all came back to him. The pale vampiress in the lobby, and the terrible knowledge he had read (would read????) from her.... Lorne buried his face in his hands. "Oh, f*****!!!!!"

He did not even have time to regret his loss of Las Vegas as he hurried to the opposite direction.

*

Angel walked up to the edge of the cliff and checked his watch. He sighed, checked his hair.

Why couldn't this be Pylea, where he could at least see himself in the mirror?

And where was Cordelia??? She was late. Or... was he late? Was his watch not working all right? Had she left already because she had thought he wasn't coming?

He pulled out his cell phone. He flipped it open and began to dial Cordelia's number, but the phone tipped out of his hand and tumbled down the side of the cliff.

"I hate those things."

*

Cordelia took a deep breath and found it incresigly difficult to concentrate on driving. "We're just gonna talk like two grown-up adults. I have some feelings. You may have some feelings. He may not even know I'm insane until he hears my feelings."

Suddenly Cordy felt a strange heat filling her. To her despair she recognized at once this was not the familiar anticipation she felt before a usual date. Her skin began to burn pleasantly, and as she stared at her arms clutching the steering wheel she saw she began to glow from the inside. "Oh, no! No, no, no! Not now!" she yelled, screamed, begged, pleaded, but it was no use.

"Mommy, do angels have cars?"

"No, honey, they have wings."

"But the angel who's driving behind us has a car!"

"Honey, why don't you try and sleep a little, Mommy has to drive."

"Mommy, mommy, the car behind us is glowing!"

"Put away the flashlight, honey, you're blinding me!"

"But mommy, there's white light in the car!"

"If you don't..." The sentence of this mother was not finished.

Everything around Cordelia's car slowed and came to a stop.

Cordy, no longer glowing, looked around her and saw that her fellow motorists were frozen in time. "Oh, sh****!"

*

"Can't you drive a little faster?" Lorne asked the cab driver.

"I'm already doing 80 mph," the driver murmured.

"This is about life and death!" Lorne complained. "For heaven's sake, HURRY!"

*

Angel, at the edge of the cliff, checked his watch again. It was no use. She wouldn't come. A chill went down his spine. What if she'd had a car accident??? Those fools on the highway were driving like crazy. He pulled out his keys and started to walk back towards his car - only to see Connor walking up beside it.

"Connor."

Nothing in his son's eyes betrayed the rage and turmoil in the boy's treacherous heart. "Dad."

Angel was walking towards him carefully, stressing every syllable. "What are you doing here?"

Connor's tone was cold. "We're family. And I wanna show you how I feel about that."

With that Connor launched himself at Angel and they both tumbled over the edge, down the side of the cliff and onto the beach below.

*

Justine was at the docks, untying the boat that would take her to the shore where she planned to rendez-vous with Connor as soon as his fight against Angelus was over. She checked the casket again and smiled. Her destiny was almost fulfilled.

She was about to check the screw gun, when she was suddenly grabbed and pulled back violently.

"Give one sound, and you die."

She recognized the British accent and the voice despite the hoarse whisper. "Wesley."

Wesley pressed the blade of his knife against Justine's throat. "Do you want to know what it was like?"

Justine chuckled. "I'm not your enemy, Wesley. Angelus is."

The knife broke the surface of her skin, and blood began to trickle from the wound. "It doesn't matter. Take that boat, and tell Connor the truth about Holtz."

Justine's chuckle grew louder. "Are you really gonna save him? Him who tried to murder you? Oh, please!"

"None of your business. It's simple. You tell Connor you murdered Holtz, you get to live. Connor harms Angel, you die."

"You don't think I really care whether I live or die? Kill me, Wesley, if it adds to your peace of mind. Connor's gonna finish without me."

Wesley nodded. "I feared you would say that." So quickly that Justine got no chance to break free, Wesley drove a tiny needle into Justine's flesh, pressed the injection into her body and tossed her against the casket.

Justine felt her skin burning. "What the HELL was that?" she hissed.

Wesley remained totally calm. "You don't care if you die, that's fine with me. But you might care how you die. Do you remember I was in hospital? I assume you do, for I remember who sent me there. In hospital they keep all these toxic substances. And as I lay in hospital, dying, I remembered you, and when I was up and about again, I thought of you again, and I decided to bring along a souvenir."

Justine felt nauseous. "What was in that injection?"

"They call it Botulinus toxine. In hospital they use it to inject it into the forehead muscles, so these muscles get paralyzed and the elderly ladies do not get wrinkles. Which is, by the way, less than one tenth of the dose I gave to you. It will start with hallucinations. Maybe you'll see Holtz, maybe the seat in hell he saved for you. But that is just the beginning. First, you will feel how your tongue gets heavy. Then you will lose feeling in your mouth, and if you are not careful, or if you should try to scream, you might swallow your tongue and suffocate. That is the easier death. If you remain calm, however, feeling will cease from your limbs, and one moment you will feel cold, then heat that you want to rip all your skin off. But you will be unable to move by then. Then, you will feel how your inner organs fall apart, one by one, how the acids will flow into your body and burn it, you will burn alive from the inside. Then your eyes will widen, your pupils will be so large the light will blind you. But maybe that's better. So you won't see the trembling of your whole body, and the pallor of your face. Your nerve endings will vibrate until many hours after your heartbeat stops. So you will be dead, and you will still suffer."

Justine was close to fainting.

Wesley smiled. "I keep the antidote in a safe place. The truth can save you, Justine. What's your decision?"

*

Angel and Connor picked themselves back up off the sand.

Desperate as they fought, Angel tried to reach his son through the rage. "Connor. Connor."

Connor kept attacking Angel, who tried to fend off his blows without hurting his son.

Connor's attacks became more violent with each and every blow. "It's all about balance. You lose it---" He tossed Angel onto the sand - " --- you lose."

*

"DRIVE!!!!" Lorne shouted. Then he realized the cab driver was losing speed. He was about to complain when he realized everyone else in the lane was losing speed, in fact, the whole highway was slowing down.

Then the traffic came to a complete standstill. In fact, not just the traffic. Lorne got out of the car and examined the cab-driver. The driver was... frozen. And so was every human being on the whole highway.

Lorne was still unaware of what that meant, when he suddenly saw a light in the distance.

"CORDELIA!!!!" He began to run.

*

Cordelia was startled by a voice behind her.

"Don't be frightened."

Cordy gasped. "It's a little late for that!"

Skip shrugged. "Sorry. You remember me? I'm..."

Cordy interrupted him quickly. "Yeah. Skip. You tend to remember your demon guides. What is going on?"

Skip looked at her knowingly. "I think you know."

The shock was written on her face. "I'm dying."

"No," Skip disagreed quickly, "No, you're not - dying."

"Not dying?" Cordy made sure once more.

"No."

Cordy punched him: "Say that part first!"

"Sorry. It's not the end. It's the beginning. You're a great warrior, Cordelia. The battle that we're all a part of is fought on many different planes and dimensions. You've outgrown this one. You've become - a higher being."
Cordy looked at Skip in confusion. "Am I the only one who has a curious sense of déjà vu here? You told me that before, and all these people, they are frozen in time... by the way, how do you do that?"

"Little magic," Skip announced proudly. "You and I are the only demons on this highway, so I made every non-demon on the highway slow down and pause a little."

Cordelia nodded slowly. "If you and I are the only demons on this highway..." She pointed over Skip's shoulder, "Then who's coming there?!"

*

Lorne saw a woman in the distance, talking to a demon. He recognized Cordelia. "CORDELIA!!!!!!" he shouted. "CORDY!!!! CORDY!!!!!! DON'T GO!!!!!!"

*

Cordelia frowned. "What does he want?" Her eyes went wide. "That's Lorne!" She was about to run towards him, but Skip caught her arm.

"No. It has to be now."

"But Lorne wants to tell me something. And... oh my God, Angel! Why would the Powers give me time to have the most important conversation of my life? I'm on my way to... I'm in love! With Angel."

Lorne was getting closer, within seconds he would be within earshot.

Skip shook his head, gravely. "What you're being called to do - transcends love."

Cordy looked at Skip, then at the approaching Lorne, in despair. "How can they possibly do this to me now? - This is the last test, isn't it?"

Skip touched her shoulders. "Go now, Cordelia. It's time. It's now!" He extended his hand.

*

Connor kicked Angel across the face.

Angel still did not understand what was going on. "Easy. He caught Connor from behind. "Talk to me! Talk to me, okay?"

Seeing that he couldn't get free, Connor stopped struggling. "Okay."

Angel let go of him, not suspecting any tricks now. Connor pulled something out of his pocket, then turned and zapped Angel full in the face with a tazer.

Angel was thrown back.

Connor jumped on him and started to slug him across the face. A wave rolled over them, and Angel used it to roll on top of Connor. He held Connor's face under the water for a moment then pulled him up. "I don't know what the hell is wrong with you but you're gonna talk..."
Connor slugged him across the face with the tazer.

Angel dropped down. Then everything went dark.

*

Cordelia stood and stared at Skip. Then she slowly shook her head. "Sorry. I can't."

Skip frowned. "You can't?"

Cordy shook her head. "No. I wish I could. But seeing Lorne reminds me of my place. I have to stay here, because deep inside I know it's right."

"You're placing your personal feelings, your own egotist love for Angel, above the good of this world?!?!"

Cordy straightened her shoulders. "If the Powers That Be strike me down for that, let them. There is no power in this world that transcends love."

Skip nodded. "You have passed the test, Cordelia." He faded into air.

The traffic began to move again.

Lorne reached Cordelia, gasping.

"Lorne!" she exclaimed and hugged him, "Thought you'd gone to VEGAS!"

"Angel," Lorne gasped, "Connor... trap!"

*

"At last!" Connor exclaimed as Justine steered the boat as close to the shore as she could.

She walked through the water towards Connor.

Connor frowned. "What happened to your neck? You don't look healthy either."

Justine hardly kept her balance. "Steven... I'm sorry... I lied to you."

"WHAT?" Connor exclaimed.

Justine nodded. "If you'd examined the body, you'd have seen it was a trick. Angel did not kill Holtz. Steven, your father asked me to kill him and make it look like... a vampire's bite. So he would get his revenge... from the grave."

"No... NO!!!!!!" Connor screamed, but he knew in an instant it must be the truth. "Who sent you?"

"No one," Justine said quickly, fearing Wesley's rage. "It's true, Steven. It's true. Don't grieve him. Holtz used me, and he used you. But... he loved us both."

He staggered towards Justine. "And you bitch let me do this ----" he pointed at Angel's motionless form. "in spite of what you knew!" He hit her into the face.

Justine stumbled and fell.

"WHYWHYWHY?" Connor yelled.

Justine felt darkness closing around her like a veil. "Because I loved him."

Connor sank down to his knees, waves rolling around him. The pressure of all this became too much for his body to take. Pain, grief and exhaustion took their toll as he lost consciousness in the sand.

Wesley sneaked past the motionless kid towards Justine and injected the antidote. He heard a car approaching. A car? This couldn't be good. He saw headlights and heard excited voices. Wesley quickly hid in the shadows of the surrounding cliffs.

"Angel!"

It was Cordelia's voice. "It's his car!" She rushed past the car and bent over the cliff. Several feet down below, she saw three motionless figures lying in the water and sand of the lonely beach. "Oh my GOD!" Cordelia did not bother that she tore her dress and ruined her sandals, that her feet bled from tiny cuts as she hurried down the cliffs.

Lorne followed her.

Cordelia almost stumbled over the woman's body. "It's Justine!" Then she saw Connor. "My God, Connor!"

Lorne rushed to her side. "I'll take care of them."

Cordelia tossed him her cell phone. "Call an ambulance, I think they're injured!"

"Sure." Lorne dialled 911.

Cordelia hurried to Angel's side. The vampire was lying, face down, in the wet sand. With an effort, Cordelia managed to turn him on his back and steadied his head with her lap.

"Angel, can you hear me?" she whispered desperately.

Lorne pulled Connor from the water and laid him out on the beach. "The ambulance is on its way. We should get Angel off the beach, they'll ask questions if they find a dead man who will soon be walking around and talking again."

Cordelia nodded. Then she looked up at Lorne. "You didn't tell me how you knew..."

Lorne shook his head. "I have no idea. It seemed as if we had lived it through before. That sense of déjà vu... As if someone had turned back the time."

Wesley stepped from the darkness. His heart was beating so hard it nearly broke his chest. There were so many things he wanted to say. He wanted to tell them how he had risked everything to make up for the mistake he had made. But how could these things be told? Yes, I turned back the time. I did it. I conjured dark powers that will probably ask my soul for it, but, hey, it's a fair price, isn't it? Are we friends again, now? They hadn't noticed him yet. He made a step towards them.

That moment, Angel turned his head.

Cordelia reacted at once. "Angel?"

His eyelids fluttered. Then he looked at her. "Cor."

Cordelia smiled at him through her tears. "It's over. You're safe. Connor's safe. It's finally over!" Cordelia bent down and kissed his forehead.

Lorne waved his arms as he heard the sirenes of the ambulance.

Wesley turned his back on them and walked slowly away into the dark.

*

Cordelia was standing at the coffee dispenser, emptying another plastic cup. She was watching Angel through the glass window of the intensive care unit.

"He still in there?" Fred asked.

Cordelia nodded. "Yeah. He wants to be there when Connor wakes up. He's just exhausted and sleeping. He's not seriously injured or anything."

"What about Justine?" Gunn asked.

"The police are waiting for doctors to give their okay to question her. She's delirious, talking about We... the W-word, turning back time, killing Holtz, telling Connor the truth... we assume she made Connor believe Angel killed Holtz, but was so guilt-ridden she confessed it was a lie before Connor could harm Angel." She shuddered.

"Poor kid. How he'll feel when he wakes up..." Fred broke off and stared at the glass window. "Look, he's moving!"

*

Connor woke in a hospital room. He opened his eyes and recognized Angel sitting next to his bed. He closed his eyes, then opened them again. "You..." he began.

Angel shook his head. "You learnt the truth - and you hate yourself. Don't. It's not your fault. I don't blame you. Listen to me. I love you! Never forget that. Connor, never forget that I'm your father and that I love you."

Connor looked away. "Do you know what I was gonna do to you?"

"I saw the casket," Angel admitted.

"And still you don't blame me?" Connor looked sceptical.

*

Lorne came back from the bathroom. "Did you know they have peach soap in the hosp..." He did not finish his sentence as he saw Gunn, Fred in his arms, watching the glass window to Connor's room.

He followed their gaze and saw Angel and his son embracing.

Fred sighed happily.

Lorne smiled. "So, happy ending, after all?"

*

Angel looked at the twenty empty coffee cups surrounding his sleeping employee in the waiting area. He touched her hand. "Cordelia?"

Cordelia shot up from her seat, startled from her sleep. "I'm not sleeping!"

Angel smiled. "Of course not."

Cordelia hesitated for a moment. "How's Connor?"

Angel sighed. "Fine. Physically. Otherwise, there's work to be done."

Cordelia nodded. "He can't forgive himself, can he."

"He will," Angel said. "Until then, I will try to help him best I can." Angel looked at her expectingly. "So, now we have a moment to ourselves, it seems."

Cordelia's heart beat faster, and she prayed his vampiric hearing wouldn't tell. "Yeah," she said. "You see, Angel, there's something I wanted to talk to you about, the reason why I asked you to come to that remote, but lovely place... I have to tell you something. Angel, I..."

"I know," Angel interrupted her, "But before you tell me, I need to say something. Please, let me go first. Cordelia, I want to thank you for what you did tonight. For what you are doing for me and Connor all the time. You're the best friend I've ever had. And more, so much more. You're family. I realized this tonight. This night changed everything for me, and I hope you feel the same way." He took her hands in his. "Cordelia?"

Cordelia looked deep into his eyes. "Yes, Angel?"

"Tonight I was going to tell you that I love you. But now, after all that happened tonight, I've come to realize that what I feel for your TRANSCENDS love. You know how much you mean to me, and I know Connor will love you as well. Connor is the most important thing in my life, and he'll understand that one day. My number one priority is my son. All other issues must stand back behind his well-being. But life isn't just about ice-hockey matches, sparring, picking a high school... y'know, father and son things. I wanted to ask you if you were willing to share the responsibility with me. I mean, he'll need a female influence in his life, and you're the only woman I trust enough to handle this responsibility. I know it's a great deal to ask of our friendship, but..."

Cordelia cast her eyes down. "Sure."

Angel sighed. "Do you know I was really frightened you were gonna say no?!" He embraced her and smiled radiantly. "Thanks, Cordelia. I really do appreciate it. Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?"

Cordelia gave him a forced smile. "Oh, it wasn't that important."