Scribes Of Angel

Reflections Revealed

The three of them crept quietly down the stairs. Wesley led, a baseball bat gripped tightly in his fingers. Willow followed, fumbling with the spellbook, and bringing up the rear, Cordelia wrestled with the paper packages which held the ingredients.

"So, Willow," Cordelia said, "how many times have you done this spell thingy before?"

"Uh, counting this one? None."

"Great," Cordy groused.

"When did you even get a chance to study it?" Wesley asked curiously.

Willow shrugged. "Well, it was a long bus ride, and I forgot to bring anything else to do..."

"So you read a collection of spellbooks," Cordelia finished. "Jeez. Why didn't you just take a magazine?"

"Well, let's be glad she didn't," Wesley replied. "I very much doubt make-up tips and clothing prices would come in handy right now."

"Shush!" Cordelia whispered. "We're almost at the bottom."

"I don't hear anything," Wesley hissed.

"Maybe he's having a nap," Willow said hopefully.

"Sure," Cordy said sarcastically. "He just bashed everything up and then had a nice rest."

'Bashed everything up' was an understatement. Angel's apartment was a wreck. The weapons that lined his walls had been ripped from their hangings and slammed into just about anything with deadly force. His unoffending sofa bristled with knives and in the bedroom, his bed was torn and ripped. The room spoke of rage, burning uncontrollable rage, yet the strangest things remained untouched. A coffee mug...a small Walkman that belonged to Cordelia...a photograph of Angel Investigations, with its employer and employees standing outside, smiling...but an expensive Ming vase was in pieces and a beautifully carved spear snapped in two.

"How bizarre," Wesley whispered.

"'Bizarre' pretty much covers it," Cordelia agreed, looking around nervously. "Is he still here?"

Wesley picked up the photograph. "Why would he destroy so much, but then leave other things untouched?"

"He's destroying the past," Willow said softly.

"Excuse me?"

"Look," she pointed. "Everything old, or which reminds him of olden times, is smashed. There's practically nothing intact here that doesn't come from the twentieth century."

"Incredible," Wesley breathed. "I think you've got it, Willow. He's destroying the objects that belong to the past, as if to wipe it out of existence."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Cordelia said, still nervy. "But back to my question - where's Angel?"

"Maybe he left through the sewers?" Willow suggested, as they entered Angel's bedroom. Her feet crunched on broken glass and wood as she walked across the floor and perched on the edge of the bed.

"Possible," Wesley allowed. "I'll - " The ex-Watcher stopped talking abruptly.

"What?" Cordy asked. "You'll what?"

"Do you hear that?" he asked in a voice thick with dread.

"What?"

Willow ignored Cordelia, listening intently. She could hear it too, a low, erratic humming, like a terrified child. "Where is that coming from?"

"What?"

Wesley frowned. "I'm not sure..."

"*What?*"

Willow's eyebrows came together in a thin red line. "It sounds close...really close."

"*What?*"

"It should," Wesley said softly, his voice strangely thick and strained. He stretched out a finger, pointing at Willow. *Under* Willow.

Her face reflecting the same stunned horror as Wesley, Willow carefully stood up and walked away from the bed. Then she turned around and bent down.

Angelus, the Scourge of Europe, was huddled under the bed in a mass of pale flesh and black clothing. He was slowly rocking himself backwards and forwards with his face in its vampiric form, but to Willow, his vampire face didn't show its usual rage and viciousness. It showed fear.

"A-Angel," Willow asked in a small voice. "Are you all right?"

Angel's humming continued, his lips pursued slightly so Willow could see the white tips of his fangs.

"Oh, God, Angel..." Cordelia whispered, a compassion Willow wouldn't have thought the girl was capable of filling her voice. "Talk to me. Angel, are you okay?"

"Stay a-away," Angel whispered. "Away from me."

Wesley took a step towards the huddled vampire, trying hard to maintain his composure. The baseball bat drooped in his hand like a wilting flower. "Angel. We want to help you, but we need your help."

Willow thought she saw Angel's lips form the word 'Why'. "Because we're your friends, Angel. And that's what friends do. They help." She tried to smile as reassuringly as possible.

There was a disturbingly manic edge to Angel's voice as he replied. "You're not my friends. I have no friends. I'm just a pet...a useless little puppy..."

"Angel," Cordelia said sharply. "Snap out of it. I'm Cordelia, this is Wesley and that's Willow. We're your friends, remember? Quit with the trauma patient act and talk to us. We can help."

Willow shot a surprised glance at her. "Uh, Cordy? Trying to calm down maybe-insane-vampire? Tact sounding like a good idea?"

"Willow..." Angel breathed.

"Y-yes?"

"You're different...your eyes, your scent..."

Willow tried to hide her confusion. Badly. "Me? I'm just the same as always. Me. Willow. Willow is me. I mean, I'm Willow. No changes here!"

Angel shifted his body slightly, shaking as if with intense cold. "How can you help me?"

Wesley stepped in. "We think it's a spell that made you like this, Angel. We can fix it, but we need some of your blood - "

"Blood!" Angel hissed suddenly. "That's what you always want, isn't it, Willow? My blood, my pain?"

"Angel, I don't know what you're talking about - " Willow began.

"Liar!" he roared, reaching out for her in a sudden burst of motion. Willow yelped as his harsh grip closed on her leg and he dragged her close. She closed her eyes in fear as she felt the coolness of his body close to hers. His mouth hovered by her neck, cool lips brushing the skin.

Wesley squared his jaw, raising the bat. "Angel, let her go or I swear I'll..."

"So warm..." Angel whispered in Willow's ear. "Alive."

"That's me," she said nervously. "Alive. And hoping to stay that way."

"Alive..." Angel said wonderingly. "And you want to help me?"

"We all do," Cordelia said. "But I wouldn't advise killing Willow because that would be, you know, kinda rude."

Angel's body rolled slightly away from Willow's. "Take my blood, then," he whispered to her. Her movements jerky and awkward with fear, Willow turned to face him under the bed. She pulled a small knife and bottle from her pocket and, moving very slowly, pressed the edge of the blade against Angel's hand. Angel rumbled softly in pain as she applied pressure, letting his blood run into the confines of the small bottle.

"Sorry," she apologized weakly.

Angel's rumble became louder as more blood poured into the bottle, gaining a definite edge. "Just a few drops more," Willow promised. "Then we'll be done." The rumble began a full-fledged growl, as Willow corked the bottle and rolled hastily back to Wesley and Cordelia. "Leave now?" she suggested.

Angel's growl grew louder as they hurried for the stairs.

The sun had dipped below the horizon an hour ago, and the night air was cool and sharp.

Cutter stared through the binoculars at the sign on the door. "Angel Investigations. Cute."

"That's the place," the smaller vampire next to him said nervously. "The guy who dusted Carlina owns the place."

"A vampire do-gooder," Cutter sneered. "What is the world coming to?"

"So, do I gather the rest of the gang?" his companion asked.

Cutter smiled condescendingly at the other. Even without his vampire side visible, Cutter was intimidating. His tall rangy frame was packed with muscles and his shaved head had an almost skull-like sheen, so it was no surprise that the other demon cowered before his imposing form. "Not yet," he said. "We wait. We watch. *Then* we eat. Tactics."

"I don't know," the small vamp said warily. "I've heard some bad things about this Angel guy. He's done some serious damage, for *both* sides or so they say."

"Doesn't matter," Cutter said sharply. "He killed Carlina. He's dead meat. Got it? Nobody kills my sire and lives to boast about it. Fifty damn years, she and I had together. You don't forget that. It's a matter of principles."

"Yeah," his companion agreed. "'Sides, the brunette looks like pretty good eating."

"Uh-huh," Cutter smiled. "But I bags the redhead. We'll share the Brit."

At first, Angel had wondered exactly what Willow meant by 'Walkies.' Now he knew. He had been dragged from his cell by several vampires, through the main section of the slaughterhouse that was this world's Bronze and out on to the empty, silent street. There, they'd put it on. The collar.

Made of steel, it fit snugly to his neck and was attached to a thick metal chain. That would have been bad enough. But painstakingly carved on the inside of the collar were eight small crucifixes spread so as to touch all around his neck. When the collar's chain was slack, they barely touched his flesh, raising welts and causing stinging pain. When the chain was pulled tight, they pressed hard against his neck, scorching and wounding.

Angel could already feel the stickiness of blood rimming his neck as Xander and Willow led him down Sunnydale's main road.

"Are you having fun?" Willow asked him, smiling gently.

"Enjoying the fresh air?" Xander quipped. The vampire tugged hard on the chain and Angel hissed in pain. "It's good for the lungs, I hear."

Willow slowed her pace, now walking beside Angel, while Xander led the vampire by the chain. She ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it like he was a young child. "Someone needs a haircut," she announced, kissing the top of his head. Angel struck out, but she skipped out of the way, giggling.

Xander yanked hard on the chain, bringing the souled vampire to his knees. Angel desperately tugged at the collar, trying to keep it off his flesh, ignoring the blisters that were forming on his fingertips.

Xander chuckled. "You know, I could watch this all night." He pulled harder.

Willow smiled. "It is pretty entertaining. Better than Pay-Per-View." She wandered casually around the agonized vampire, circling like a shark around a sinking ship. "Oh, look. A barber's shop. Want to get that haircut, Puppy?"

Angel slowly turned his head to see where she was pointing, and grief and horror choked his throat. The door to the shop had been torn off its hinges, and he could see the corpse of a young girl lying facedown in the doorway, a pool of blood spreading around her. Another older woman lay protectively on top of the girl. Her face was just a mass of blood and pulped flesh.

"Puppy looks very sad. I think he wants a haircut," Willow suggested to Xander.

A grin spread across Xander's face. "Barber's shop, huh? Lots of scissors and knives. What a wonderful mind you have, Will."

She dimpled. "Thanks."

Laughing, the two vampires dragged their captive towards the shop. Angel staggered to keep up, trying to avoid too much pressure on his collar.

"Going somewhere?"

Angel turned to face the figure that stood on the sidewalk behind them, ignoring the searing pain of the collar. "Buffy..."

She wore a grey tank top and long brown trousers which ended with her heavy metal-tipped combat boots. Angel barely noticed the pale scar that cut across her mouth as he studied the lines of her face. There was coldness there, and fury, and determination. But there was something else, something he had never seen on Buffy's face before. She was tired. Tired of battle, of fighting. Of life. The spark of courage and inventiveness that belonged in her eyes was gone, leaving only the embers of a fire that was long dead. She wasn't afraid, because there was nothing left for her to lose except her life, and she assigned that no value at all.

"So you know who I am already," she said calmly. "Man, news travels fast in these small towns."

Xander shrugged, his eyes fixed on the Slayer. "You should see the gossip column in the Sunnydale Times. Now that's scary."

"Scarier than you two, I imagine."

Xander laid a hand on his chest. "Oh, I am cut to the quick. Will, this is a sharp-tongued lady. Beware."

Willow ran over the back of his neck, caressing his flesh. "Then let's cut that sharp little tongue out."

Xander smirked. "Sounds like fun."

Buffy took a second longer to appraise her opponents, and then walked forward, her stride regular and easy. As she stepped within range, Xander threw a punch at her head, fast and smooth. Angel hid a smile - no Slayer would ever fall for such a direct attack. Sure enough, Buffy ducked under the blow, lashing out with an elbow for the vampire's body while simultaneously drawing a stake and thrusting it for Willow's heart.

It was an excellent move, executed with textbook skill and precision, but Willow and Xander had been fighting - and killing - side by side for years. Xander twisted his body to the side, taking the blow on his upper thigh, sending her elbow glancing off his leather jacket. Willow dodged behind Angel, yanking him in front of her like an undead shield. Angel closed his eyes reflexively as Buffy's stake lanced in. He felt it prick the flesh of his neck as she arrested the blow in mid-strike. As she drew the stake back, Xander waded in, sending a left jab thrusting at her head. The distracted Slayer was hit hard and barely dodged a second blow. And a third. Taking a quick hopping step backwards, she threw herself into Xander, her feet leading. He crumpled to the ground, the Slayer crashing down beside him. Angel heard his chain slip from Xander's stunned fingers and land with a clink on the ground.

Willow's grip on his body loosened slightly as she turned to help her lover.

Angel smiled tightly. "Bad move." He drove both his elbows backwards, plunging them into Willow's vulnerable belly. Unneeded breath whooshed out of her as she let go of him, growling with fury. Angel locked both his hands together and spun to face her, sending his fists up and across like a sledgehammer. They slammed across Willow's face and she was sent tumbling backwards, her neck snapped back at a brutal angle. Angel balled his fists and leapt after her.

Xander rolled frantically to one side as Buffy brought her stake down with lethal force. The wooden weapon splintered against the sidewalk, and she hissed in frustration.

"What's wrong?" Xander taunted her, rolling to his feet. "Did the poor little Slayer go and break her pointy stick? How ya going to kill me now, Buffster?"

Buffy shrugged, hands ready in a combat stance. "I guess I'll just rip your head off your shoulders."

Weak from torture and from the biting pain of his collar, Angel was no match for Willow's ferocity. She smashed the souled vampire to the ground and leapt atop his prone form, straddling him as her nails dived for his throat. The two vampires twisted and writhed in a grotesque parody of lovemaking, pale hands tearing and punching. Trying to keep Willow's hands away from his throat, Angel flicked a quick glance at Buffy.

The Slayer traded blows with Xander, but she lacked any weapons to capitalize on her skills and strikes. Her moves were all technically perfect, showing years of training, but the fire and innovation behind the Buffy he knew was long gone, trained out of her. Xander, for all his relative youth, was holding his own against the Slayer and -

A vicious punch brought Angel back to his own battle. Angel sent his whole body rolling with the blow, trying to pin Willow beneath him. She hissed and clawed, her nails raking across his back, cutting through his shirt and leaving crimson trails behind them. A sharp twist of Willow's hips put Angel beneath her again and she took advantage of the position, pounding his head and shoulders with blows.

Bleeding and bruised, his one eye swelling closed, Angel saw Willow smiling down at him.

"Naughty boy. Remember, *I* always get to be on top." Her face shifted, her eyes burning yellow and her fangs jutting out.

That was her mistake. If she had kept wearing her human face, kept on attacking Angel with the body and features of a dear friend, he might have given up, just lay there and surrendered. But when he saw the demon rise to the surface of sweet, innocent Willow's face, it ignited a burning rage that surprised even him.

He reached up and grabbed her short red hair, pulling her face sharply down against his forehead. Willow grunted, stunned, as Angel shoved her off him.

"Sorry, Will. I think a physical relationship would spoil our friendship." Grabbing her by the hair again, he smashed her face down into the sidewalk, again and again. Angel growled with fury, feeling his vampire features spread across his face, almost against his conscious will. The world seemed tinged in red, as he lifted Willow's head again and again, pounding the sidewalk with her features. Red blood stained the dark gravel. Willow's growls of pain grew less frequent, and finally ended. Raising her head for another blow, Angel saw Willow's demon features melt back to human. Blood caked her cheeks and nose, and her eyes were glazed and empty. Angel let her slip from his grasp, sickened by himself and his actions, fighting the urge to vomit. Angel forced his face to revert to human, feeling darker impulses pull and tug at him as he stared at Willow's motionless form.

Buffy threw Xander back with a powerful series of punches. "Hey, pal! Some back-up, if you please?"

"Willow! Xander! You all right? The Master wants a word!" a new voice asked from further up the street. Angel growled reflexively, seeing more vampires approaching further up the road.

"You mentioned back-up?" Xander said, grinning sadistically, his clothes battered and torn.

Buffy inclined her head. "I'll just get around to killing you later, vampire." She turned and sprinted away, dashing down an alleyway. Angel cast a guarded look at Xander and loped after her.

"We'll get you back!" Xander called after him. "Enjoy your freedom. It won't last!"

Willow slowly lifted her bloody face from the ground. "Puppy has been very, very naughty," she whispered viciously, staring after the two fleeing figures.

Willow bent over the herbs, chanting.

"I cast patterns of life, of magic, of all things old and new..." Cordelia sneezed, and Willow sighed. "Cordy..."

"I'm allergic to something in there," the other girl said firmly. "Couldn't we help Angel with something less stinky?"

Wesley slipped into Angel's office, closing the door behind him. "How's the spell?"

Willow gave him a strained smile. "Apart from the fact that every time I try to cast it someone, who shall remain nameless, ruins my concentration...we're peachy."

"Sorry," Cordy muttered.

Wesley hissed with frustration. "I would suggest you hurry. Angel sounds like he's moving around again down there. I think we may have upset him."

"Sure," Cordelia said ironically. "We just stuck a little knife in him and drained his blood, but I'm sure he's fine with that."

Ignoring her, Willow bent over the bowl of sacred herbs and began the spell again. By some miracle, and thanks to Wesley putting a well-placed hand over Cordelia's mouth, she made it all the way through this time. Upending the small bottle over the bowl, Willow watched with satisfaction as the mixture bubbled and smoked.

" Purple," Wesley murmured. "Let me check the book."

"Actually, I think it's more of a violet," Cordelia disagreed.

"It's definitely not," Wesley replied firmly, holding the half-open spellbook in his hands.

"Oh, please! That is so violet."

"Purple," he disagreed.

"Violet."

"Purple."

"Violet."

"Pur - hey!" With a sigh of impatience, Willow yanked the spellbook out of Wesley's hands and flipped it to the correct page.

"It's purple," she said firmly, "and it means...hey, that can't be right!"

"What can't?" a quiet voice asked from the doorway. Angel leaned against the door, his eyes flicking from one to the other.

"Angel!" Cordelia blurted. "Hi! You're looking much better! As in, you know, not breaking everything in sight and throwing stuff...which is better, I guess." She glanced nervously at Wesley. "It is better, right?"

"The spell," Willow told the motionless vampire, her heart in her throat. "The reaction doesn't make any sense."

"What does it say?" Wesley asked, keeping a cautious eye on Angel.

"Uh...some kind of transportation magic. Like a gate or transferal spell."

Angel blinked. "Transferal."

"Uh-huh," Willow said. "Maybe you could said some light on the subject...now that you're acting slightly less crazy and all. No offense."

Angel frowned with concentration. "I...I remember...pain. Sharp, piercing pain, like someone had stabbed me. And this world isn't....right."

"Right?" Wesley queried.

"Things are...different," Angel said hollowly.

"Like what?" Cordelia asked. Then she screamed.

As she began to collapse, clutching her head, Wesley was beside her, steadying her balance. "Cordelia, what do you see?"

Willow moved towards the twitching girl, as Angel drew back into the shadows. "What's wrong?"

"She's having a vision," Wesley answered shortly, struggling with Cordelia.

Willow nodded. "Oh. Vision? Does this...happen often?"

"Way too often for *my* liking," Cordelia muttered, sagging as the pain released her.

Wesley held her upright, his eyes clouded by concern. "Do you want a painkiller?"

"No, I enjoy having a killer headache," Cordy bit out sarcastically. As Wesley reached for the bottle of pills, she continued haltingly, "It's a homeless shelter, on 4th street. There's a bunch of really creepy green demon things trying to make snacks out of the populace."

"We can't allow that to happen," Wesley said grimly, handing her the pills.

"I'll get the weapons," Willow offered. As she moved towards the door, a tall form stepped in front of her. "Angel," she said hesitantly. "I need to get out of here. So I can get the weapons. So we can stop green demon things."

"You can't face demons," Angel said quietly. "They'll kill you."

Cordelia bridled. "Hey, excuse me! We have done this before, you know."

"You should just stay put," the vampire advised. "Discretion is the better part of valor. I learnt that the hard way."

"Oh yeah?" Cordelia asked sharply, stepping away from Wesley. "Looks to me like all you learnt was how to be a coward. Now get out of our way, or I'll move you myself!"

Angel looked down at the young woman. Cordelia's eyes burnt with fury as she matched his gaze. Slowly, the vampire stepped aside.

"Right," Cordelia said with satisfaction. "Good boy. Now, Willow, get the weapons and Wesley, get me a damn glass of water! How do you expect me to take these pills? You want me to choke to death or something?" She swept past Angel, Wesley and Willow following.

"You're going to die," Angel called after them, his voice filled with old pain.

"Oh yeah, like we haven't heard that before," Cordelia shot back as she headed for the door. "Now go and help Willow move those weapons!"

Angel stared at her.

"Now!" Cordy snapped, stamping her foot. Slowly, the vampire moved to obey.

On the roof outside Angel Investigations, Cutter looked down at the office.

"What the hell are they doing?" he wondered aloud, as the humans and the vampire left the office in a black convertible.

"We could take them now," his companion suggested hesitantly.

"No," Cutter decided. "Follow them. I want to see what's so important they're rushing around like this."

"Why? Isn't it kind of risky?"

"Tactics," Cutter told the lesser vampire. "Watch, then eat."

Angel staggered down a side street, his side burning with throbbing pain. For nearly fifteen minutes, the Slayer had led him on a whirling chase through Sunnydale, crisscrossing backwards and forwards across its streets. Their pursuers had given up long ago, but still Buffy kept running. "Maybe...we could take...a rest break," he gasped out to the seemingly tireless figure.

Wordlessly, Buffy stopped and regarded him. Angel leaned against a wall, wiping his sleeve across his sweating brow. The collar was tight and painful around his throat as he tried to catch his breath. "Thanks."

Buffy shrugged. "Whatever. Can you make it to shelter without dying on me?"

"Give me a few minutes. I won't enjoy it, but I'll get there," he replied dryly.

"Good," she said flatly. "Then I'll be seeing you. Try not to get kidnapped by vampires again." The Slayer turned to go.

Blinking sweat away from his eyes, Angel forced himself away from the wall, taking an awkward step towards her. "Where are you going?"

"To kill things," Buffy answered bluntly. "One thing to be precise. Supreme vampire around here or something. Then I'm outta here."

"The Master."

"That's the one," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Know where I can find him?"

Angel shook his head. "You can't fight him. He'll kill you."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. I wouldn't write me off yet, thank you very much."

"You don't understand," Angel said. "It's a prophecy, written in the Perganum Codex. The Master will rise, and the Slayer will fall. It's foretold."

"Uh-huh," Buffy said dubiously. "Nobody told me that. Or foretold me. Besides which, everyone dies. Way of the world." She started to turn away. Angel's hand closed on her arm.

"You seem awfully eager to die," the vampire bit out. "I've seen a lot of people die, and believe me, not many looked like they were having much fun at the time."

Buffy looked up at him, her brown eyes empty and hard. "Let go of me, or I'll break your hand."

"And then the Master will break your neck," Angel answered.

Buffy measured him with her gaze for a few seconds longer. " I know a guy. He might be able to help us with your prophecy. But if you're spinning me a line, you're dead." Knocking his hand aside, she walked away. Tearing the worn collar from his neck, Angel followed.

The collar lay alone on the sidewalk, rimmed in blood.

Angel's convertible roared as the demons scattered, fleeing ahead of the onrushing vehicle.

"Watch the road! Watch the road!" Cordelia squealed, trying to aim a crossbow at one of the fleeing monsters.

Wesley muttered several unWatcher-like words as he spun the wheel, narrowly avoiding a trash can.

In the back, Willow hefted a machete far too large for her and glanced nervously at Angel, who sat motionless next to her, his eyes studying the fleeing demons emotionlessly.

A bolt from Cordelia's crossbow totally missed one of the demons and narrowly avoided one of the homeless they were trying to rescue.

"Remind me what the plan was again?" Wesley said grimly.

"We scare the demons away from the shelter with the car," Cordelia answered.

"Check."

"We chase the demons."

"Check. And when we catch them?"

"I'm still working on that one," Cordelia said awkwardly.

"Bloody marvelous," he snarled. Two of the demons turned to face the oncoming vehicle, claws bared.

"Any luck on that next step of the plan?" Willow quavered.

"Sod this," Wesley ground out. Stomping on the gas pedal, he watched with satisfaction as the expressions demons' faces changed from fury to panic as the car thundered towards them.

There was a sickening thud as the first demon hit the front of the car, the vehicle grinding its bones to powder. The second demon came crashing over the bonnet and into the windscreen, glass crunching around it as it snarled.

"I got it! I got it!" Cordelia yelped, firing the crossbow at point-blank range. The demon went silent as the bolt punched into its throat and its body slid off the bonnet.

Wesley smiled tightly, glancing at her. "Nice work, Cor - "

"Guys! WALL!" Willow screamed.

Wesley looked forward again and very nearly lost his lunch. Yanking the wheel around, he sent the car into a spin. The car slammed sideways into a wall and rebounded off, coming to a spluttering halt in the middle of the road, shaking its occupants like paper dolls.

The demons cautiously approached the smoking car. Wesley was slumped over the steering wheel, motionless. Willow lay in the back, a tangled mass of limbs and red hair. Cordelia groaned, rubbing her bleeding forehead and shifting in her seat. Of Angel, there was no sign. The demons approached the moaning girl. Cordelia's eyes were closed as she fought to maintain consciousness.

She didn't see them.

The lead demon bent over her, snuffling eagerly, and a yellow-eyed ball of fury erupted from behind the driver's seat, bounding over the seat and into the confused creature.

Angel hit the demon twice, growling with feral rage, and then smashed the demon's face into the passenger's door. The snap of its neck breaking sounded like a twig being trodden on. Angel let its body sag to the ground, sickened. He'd killed again, for the first time in so long. He hated it, but some part of him had missed killing.

Angel stared at the crumpled form at his feet, his mind roiling with disgust and turmoil. The other demons moved cautiously around the lone, dark form of the vampire. Angel didn't look up as they began to pull Cordelia from her seat.

"Angel!" she screamed, her eyes opening. "Angel!"

Angel didn't look up.

Rupert Giles frowned as he surveyed the spell components laid out on his living room table.

"Yes, that seems like everything," he announced to no one in particular. He smiled slightly, amused at his foibles. He'd fallen into the habit of talking to himself, with no one else to share the burden of Watcher and leader of the little group nicknamed the 'White Hats' with. No one else understood his strange and seemingly pointless crusade against the darkness, except maybe the teenagers he fought with. And even they didn't understand the nature of his sacred calling. He'd hoped that with the arrival of the Slayer, things might change for the better, but the foolish girl just went off like a wild cannon. Giles already counted her as dead. No, there was only one hope. The dream of a better world Cordelia Chase had claimed existed, and the key to that lay with one being.

"Anyanka," he whispered. "I summon thee - "

A knocking at his door interrupted him. Reflexively, Giles scooped up a cross and walked towards it. Vampires could not enter without invitation, but many demons could, and holy symbols often still affected them. At the very least, a cross might buy him an extra second of life.

But it wasn't a demon at the door. It was a grim-looking Buffy Summers, and a tall dark-haired man he didn't recognize.

"Miss Summers, you're...back," Giles noted with some asperity.

"Wow, Jeeves, full marks for observation."

"Giles," he corrected, wincing.

Buffy folded her arms. "Whatever. I rescued this guy..."

"Angel," the man said quietly.

"...Angel from a pair of vamps. He says he knows something about some book called the Peregrine Codex. Books seemed more your deal than mine, so here we are."

"Perganum Codex," Angel corrected, glancing at the Slayer, a fond smile starting to spread across his face. But then it stopped and vanished, as if he had suddenly remembered something upsetting. Giles watched with interest.

"The Codex, you say?" he asked curiously. "I believed it destroyed."

Angel shifted uncomfortably. "I caught a peek once."

"Fascinating. I wonder - "

Buffy cleared her throat, tapping her foot.

Giles flushed. "Oh, of course. Do come inside."

Buffy shoved past him and Angel followed slowly, keeping his distance from Giles. Something about the way he shied away from the Watcher set off alarm bells in his mind. Giles raised the cross and shoved it in the man's face.

Angel staggered backwards, flinching.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh great. I rescued a vampire from a pair of other vampires. Yay me."

"Wait..." Angel said, keeping clear of the cross. "I won't hurt you."

Buffy pulled a stake from her belt. "No, you won't. I'll make sure of that."

Angel opened his mouth to speak again, and Giles rushed him with the cross. As the vampire staggered, Buffy stepped up to him and struck him hard across the face. Angel fell like a falling tree, crashing to the floor. Buffy raised the stake.

The door to Angel Investigations swung open, and Angel walked inside, his eyes dark and empty. He sat down at desk and stared blankly ahead. Willow followed, her face drawn and pale, her machete hanging in her like a dying thing. Then Wesley, also pale, and with his glasses bent. The two of them trooped inside.

The silence in the room was like a living, breathing thing.

Until a voice broke it.

"Ow. And ow. And ow again," Cordelia complained, closing the door. She glared at Angel. "You've got some explaining to do, Mister. I was nearly demon-munchies, and you didn't even raise a finger! If it wasn't for Willow and her Knife From Hell, I could be very seriously dead by now."

Angel said nothing.

"Hey! Silence boy! I'm talking to you! What the hell did you think you were doing?"

"I froze," Angel said quietly.

"Excuse me?" Cordy asked angrily. Willow and Wesley exchanged uncomfortable glances.

"I froze. I was scared. I couldn't think or move."

"Scared?" Cordelia asked disbelievingly. "You eat creepy demons for breakfast! And you killed one of them without even trying!"

"I wasn't scared of the demons," Angel replied, his voice as dead as his body. "I was just...scared. Of action, of anything."

Cordelia grabbed his shoulders. The vampire didn't respond. "What the hell is wrong with you? Whatever's going with spells or curses or anything, you're still Angel! You're still the bravest person I know, the strongest, and the most depressing! You're still my friend, and friends don't give up on each other!"

"I'm none of those things," Angel whispered, staring at the floor. "I'm worthless, useless...I have no purpose...I'm just a pointless waste...a pet for others to control."

Cordelia let go of his shoulders, staring at him. "Okay, Angel, this is depressing, even by your standards. What happened to you? What happened that makes you so different from normal Angel?" she asked, her tone desperate, even slightly panicked.

"Cordelia - " Wesley said.

She cut him off with a glance. "What happened?" she asked softly.

"Cordelia -"

"Wesley, shut up!"

"Cordelia, I may know what is wrong with Angel!"

"Shut - oh. Really? Okay, talk."

Wesley licked his dry lips. "It's been theorized for many years that parallel universes exist, running concurrently to this one. They are like reflections of the existing one, each one different to a greater or lesser degree, but sharing certain characteristics. If some kind of travel spell *was* used on Angel, like Willow's divination said, then perhaps the Angel we see before us is actually the Angel that belongs in another reality. That would explain the world seeming different to him, as well as his different behavior. Our experiences shape our personalities, it's a proven fact."

Cordelia shook her head. "No 'experiences' can change a person this much."

"That's very debatable, Cordelia. What if Angel had never been cursed? That would certainly affect his behavior!"

Cordelia nodded slowly. "Okay. Point for Wesley. So what happened to you, Angel?"

Angel stared at her, and then glanced at Willow and Wesley. Then, his gaze shifting to the floor, he began to talk, his voice empty of all emotion. "After I was cursed with my soul, I spent a lot of time wandering the cities of the world, living off rats, staying on the edges...until the balancer demon called Whistler found me. He told me I had a destiny, a purpose." Angel smiled bitterly at the thought. "He showed me something he thought would change my life. A girl. Who was about to be a Slayer. Her name was - "

"Buffy, yeah, yeah, been there, heard that," Cordelia broke in, rolling her eyes. "Please don't start the whole romance angst thing again - "

"Cordelia," Wesley said sternly.

"Oh. Sorry. You were saying?"

"Whistler told me I had to get strong. To help her. So I did, I watched I fight, and then I came to Sunnydale, the town she was supposed to protect, to wait for her. But she never came. I waited...and waited...but she never came. The Harvest came, she still wasn't there. The Master rose, and I fought him and his minions. Alone. Without her. A lot of people died...the streets ran red with blood. I can still smell it...the Master let me live, to punish me. Death would be too kind for a traitor like me, he decided. So he had me chained up, for him and his followers to...play with. Three years, and still she never came."

"Three years of torture," Willow whispered. "God."

"You were the worst," Angel told her emotionlessly. "Most were just brutal, but you, you were an artist."

"Me?" Willow said disbelievingly.

Cordelia snorted. "Oh come on. Willow couldn't hurt a fly. Unless it was like, a demon fly or something."

Wesley nodded. "I must say I concur."

"He means I'm right," she translated.

"Uh guys," Willow said uncomfortably, an unpleasant memory surfacing. "Beg to differ? Remember last year, that teensy little spell I did with Anya? The temporal fold?"

"Oh, yeah, *that* one," Cordelia said. "Hey! You tried to kill me! Other you, that is."

"You've met her, then," Angel said hollowly. "You know what I'm talking about."

Willow nodded. "Do I ever know. She gave a wiggins unmatched by anything else I've seen."

"She tortured me...for hours at a time...for pleasure," Angel said haltingly, his face shadowed with remembered pain.

"Sorry," Willow said awkwardly.

"So you were tortured. A lot. Do you think that just gives you the right to give up on yourself like this?" Cordelia demanded. "That means Willow, the other one I mean, wins! She finally broke you."

"She broke me a long time ago," Angel said distantly.

A grim silence settled over the four of them. Several times, Cordelia opened her mouth as if to say something, and then shut it again.

And it was then that the office door slammed back on its hinges and the vampires charged in.

Angel shifted on the cold floor, groaning. "Well, I'm not dead," he announced to the darkness behind his eyes lids.

"That could be arranged," Giles said coldly.

Angel opened his eyes and sat up. "Great. The library cage."

The Watcher eyed him cautiously from the other side of the bars. Buffy leaned against the library counter, glaring coldly at him. Next to her, was a figure wearing a familiarly blank expression.

"Oz," Angel muttered.

The werewolf raised an eyebrow. "Have we met?"

"You could say that," Angel said under his breath, pulling himself to his feet. "So, why aren't I dead?"

"You know, I was asking that very same question not so long ago," Buffy said harshly.

"You're alive because I want to know why a vampire would play such a risky and elaborate game," Giles said, his eyes hard and distant behind his glasses. The old ones, Angel noted, the ones he'd broken when he was torturing Giles while he was soulless.

Angel forced his mind away from that line of thought. "I won't hurt you."

"That's the second time I've heard that line, and I still don't believe it," Buffy responded. "Try again."

A heavy-built boy, one Angel didn't recognize, entered the library. "Perimeter's secure," he told Giles. "How's Dracula?"

"My name is Angel."

"Whatever," the boy said, sitting down next to Buffy. "Hey, I'm Larry." Buffy just stared coldly at him. "Nice. Very psycho-killer, that stare," Larry said awkwardly.

"I'm still waiting for your answer to my question," Giles said flatly.

Angel shifted his gaze back to the librarian. "I want to help you."

Buffy laughed bitterly, a harsh, jarring sound. "Not winning points on the belief scale here."

"It's true," Angel tried. "I'm not like the others. I was cursed by gypsies, my soul restor - "

Buffy yawned openly.

Angel racked his brain for proof of his true nature. A very painful memory gave him the answer. "Jenny Calender, she can prove my story, she - "

"She's dead. Has been for four weeks," Giles said quietly.

Angel swallowed. "I'm sorry." His last hope, gone. There was no way these people would ever trust him.

"So, we done with the cover stories yet?" Buffy asked. "'Cause I'm losing patience fast. What is your Master planning?"

"I heard him ordering Xander and Will - two of his minions to gather vampires for an attack. He said he wanted you dead before the factory opens. And he's not my Master."

"Factory? What factory?" Giles asked.

"I didn't take vampires for industrial types," Oz noted.

The doors to the library slammed open.

"We're not, usually," Xander announced casually.

"But we can make exceptions," Willow added, running her hand down her lover's neck. Her face was dark with bruises, her eyes glaring out from her injured features with lethal fury.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh look. The Terrible Two. Again. What does it *take* to get rid of you guys?"

"We'd settle for your head on a stick," Willow answered.

Buffy chuckled. "Coming on pretty hard, aren't you?" She drew a stake. "Okay, you want my head? Come and get it."

"Thank you for your generous offer," the Master said, stepping through the doorway after his favorites. The four vampires behind him growled threateningly. "I believe we'll take you up on it."

Cordelia shrieked as the female vampire lunged at her. She brought her desk lamp across, hard, and the vampire crumpled to one side, hissing in frustration and fury. Clutching the latest in office lighting, Cordy warded the monster off.

A few meters away, Wesley was not doing as well. The Englishman slammed hard into a wall, grunting in pain. The two vampires holding his arms grinned at each other and slammed him against the hard plaster again.

Willow held off another vampire, waving a bottle of water threateningly at him. It was fresh from the water cooler, but the vampire didn't know that. Her machete lay uselessly on the floor, too far for her to get to it.

Cutter looked around the office with satisfaction. Half a minute after his gang's entrance, and all the humans were helpless and extremely close to messy deaths. He liked messy deaths. The only remaining problem, the do-gooder who dusted Carlina, was just sitting on the sofa, his hands shaking slightly, like a drinker who's spent too many nights and too many years full of the hard stuff.

"Hey, Mr Savior," Cutter called.

The other vampire didn't look up.

Cutter frowned. "Hey, pal. I'm talking to you."

The other vampire remained still, apart from the slight trembling of his hands.

"Bud, what *is* your case?" Cutter asked, sauntering over to him. "Any last words? Come on, Mr Hero! You gotta have some last words!"

The other vampire looked up, and Cutter couldn't restrain a shudder. He'd seen some twisted stuff in his time, but that face was so full of pain and rage and fear, it was a wonder the guy didn't just explode from the tension right there. Cutter felt a nervous tremor in what, if he was human, would have been his soul.

"My name is Angelus," the vampire said, rising to his feet. His fist shot out, crunching hard into Cutter's jaw. "And why do I need last words, when I'm not the one who's going to die?"

Cutter wiped a trickle of blood away from his lip. He felt almost relieved. This wasn't any weird psycho stuff. This was just good old-fashioned violence. Cutter knew how to handle violence. "We'll see about that, Angelus or whoever the hell you are."

Smiling pleasantly, Cutter reached out, as if to clap Angelus on the shoulder. At the last second, his hand balled and darted for the other's face. It was batted aside. Cutter growled as he swung again. Again the blow was deflected by a swift block. Cutter took a third futile swing and then Angelus moved, dropping low, his legs scything out. Cutter leapt on reflex, grinning with satisfaction as his enemy's feet swept below him.

"Nice try, but - "

Angel snatched up Willow's machete and came up from the floor, the large blade slashing across.

And then there was only dust.

"Who's next?" he growled, the blood-splattered machete weaving a steel circle in front of him.

Oz grunted in pain as the female vampire slammed him up against the library cage, her hands closing around his throat. He heard the other vamp, Angel, snarl in frustration and strike out against the cage. Oz stared into the red-haired girl's bruised, innocent face through dimming eyes as he fought for air. Looking past her with his black-rimmed vision, he could see the battle wasn't going their way. Larry was slumped against a bookshelf with a vampire's fangs in his throat, the same vampire who had led the charge alongside the redhead. Oz allowed himself a moment's sorrow for himself and his friend, as the redhead's grip tightened. She could have snapped his neck by then, but he could tell she was enjoying choking him slowly, savoring his death. Giles was probably going to be the next to fall, backed into a corner by two vampires, an axe cutting protective semi-circle in front of him. But axes were heavy, and mortal arms got tired. It was just a matter of time.

The only one who was holding her own was that Slayer girl, who had downed one vamp and was taking on another. But the big bad, the Master, hadn't even entered the fray yet. He was just standing by the door, arms folded, a smile on his ugly face like the entire thing was just some big joke. When he got involved, Oz was willing to bet the Slayer wouldn't stand much of a chance.

Oz could feel himself getting light-headed. He couldn't really feel his fingers any more, and the black spots on the edges of his sight were getting bigger.

"No!" he heard Angel curse, but it seemed very far away.

Oz's hands dropped from his neck, flopping limp. He felt something cool brush his fingertips. Angling his eyes down, he saw what he had touched. The library key, hanging on a chain, right next to the cage. Angel slammed himself into the cage again, making the whole thing shake. Oz's oxygen-starved mind fought to tell his hand what to do.

Angel ducked an out-swept arm, thrusting the machete hard into the arm's vampire owner. It wouldn't kill him, but it would hurt like hell. As the vampire staggered back, clutching his red-stained side, Angel whipped a boot into the chest of another onrushing enemy. Willow, Cordelia and Wesley were safe, if bruised. The vampires were all going after him now. Angel wondered if this was a good thing.

Sure, he was tougher and older than these youngsters, but three years of torture hadn't exactly left him in prime physical condition, and four-on-one wasn't exactly good odds.

Angel felt, rather than heard, another opponent closing in from behind. The female vampire wrapped her arms hard around Angel's body, pinning his arms from the back, as one of her buddies rushed in from the front. Tensing his muscles, Angel threw his weight backwards. All vampires were strong, but strength wasn't the same as mass, and the female staggered, buckling beneath his weight. Using this leverage, Angel brought both his boots up into her friend's face. As the other vampire reeled back, Angel and the woman collapsed to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Several brutal blows later, Angel rose to his feet, alone.

Out of the corner of his eye, Angel saw something spinning towards him. He snatched the stake out of the air and plunged it into the vampire he had wounded with the machete. "Thanks, Wes."

The last standing vampire looked nervously at the stake as Angel stepped forward.

Then the souled vampire staggered, a quiver running through his body. Something was wrong.

Oz's exhausted brain was on the verge of shutting down, but his hand wasn't prepared to go down without a fight. It was a miracle that he got the key into the lock, one-handed and with a vampire strangling him. The fact that he was still able to turn it, was just plain unbelievable.

Angel burst from the cage like the wrath of God, smashing Willow away from Oz. The stunned vampire went flying, hissing in rage and shock. Xander pulled his face away from Larry's neck, blood running down his jaw. "Oh, great. Puppy's on a rampage."

Buffy threw Angel a distrustful glance of acknowledgement, staking her opponent with a blow so fast it was nearly invisible. She turned to support Giles and, in a blur of motion, the Master was in front of her.

"Your time is up, my dear," the Master told her, smiling horribly. Buffy, looking into his dark reddish eyes, had no reply as the vampire lord's hand closed around her neck.

Angel roared in denial, his face twisting into the visage of the vampire as he scooped up a stake and moved for the pair of them. Then he stopped, staggering as a quiver ran through him. Something was wrong.

Angel took another step towards the younger vampire, raising his stake. Another quiver shot through his veins, and he realized his flesh was turning transparent.

"No..." he hissed with frustration. The vampire was turning towards Cordelia...

Angel stared in disbelief at his transparent skin and bones, time around him seeming to slow to a crawl.

Each second was a hour, each minute a day. The Master's hand tightened on Buffy's neck in preparation for the fatal twist. His back was to Angel, he hadn't noticed the approaching vampire. Xander's mouth was opening to scream a warning. The stake began to slip from Angel's suddenly insubstantial fingers.

Angel's hand could no longer feel the stake in his hand. Cordelia was staring at his specter-like figure in disbelief, not noticing the attacking vampire.

In both worlds, stakes slipped from insubstantial fingers, beginning to drop with painstaking slowness for the ground. Both Angels saw their skin lighten to almost invisibility, wraithlike and ethereal. Both felt a feeling of great speed, while remaining painstakingly slow in their movements.

Then, with an almost audible snap, both Angels felt something pass through them, like an echo of themselves. Their skin darkened and became real once more, their hands closed on stakes.

Together, their hands thrust.

Angel blinked in confusion. He was standing...in a library, surrounded by humans and vampires, and he was holding...a stake buried half its length in the Master's back?

The ancient vampire groaned in shock and pain as the wood lanced his corrupt heart. The flesh stripped itself from his bones in a storm of ash, whirling upwards towards the roof. His white skeleton, picked clean, tumbled to the ground and Angel was face-to-face with her. Her. Buffy. The Slayer. Real.

As the shocked vampire stared at the equally shocked Slayer, Xander and Willow exchanged glances and dove for the exits.

Angel stared at Cordelia. At Wesley. At a Willow who, thank god, was *not* wearing leather. "Wha- what?"

Cordelia stared at him. "Angel? Is that you?"

He looked around the office. "Yes. I think so." He glanced at the stake in his hand. " Who did I just kill?"

In a small rented apartment, opposite the building that numbered Angel Investigations among its tenants, something inexplicable was going on.

The last of the mixture bubbled into nothingness at the bottom of the dish, its magic spent. Beside it, a crystal ball faded and went dark. The man standing over them sighed in disappointment. "How unfortunate." His voice sounded cool and crisp in the silent apartment.

He was thin, almost skeletal, beneath his elegantly tailored business suit. His smooth white skin seemed to have a sheen of its own, and his hairless pale head was encased in a pair of dark sunglasses.

Carefully, his delicate hands scooped up the dish and placed it neatly inside a black satchel. Wolfram & Hart, the gold-embossed lettering on the side read.

Heaving the sigh of someone forced to accept an unpleasant duty, the man pulled a cellphone from the case and hit speed-dial.

"Yes, sir. The objective was not achieved. Yes. I understand. The subject, actually the subject*s*, proved stronger than we expected. Yes. Yes. I am aware the materials required for the spell were extremely difficult to obtain - "

The sound of a door opening interrupted the man's conversation.

"Dent? Dent, you there?" the small vampire called, peering into the darkness.

The man sighed, lowering the phone. "Yes. And it's Mr Dent, if you please."

"Cut the crap, Dent," the vampire retorted, moving through the dark apartment towards the man. "Listen, man, I did like you said. Got Cutter all riled up, got him pointed towards this Angel and everything, and what happens? We get our asses kicked, that's what! I need my money, man, I've gotta get out of town. If any of the big news vamps find out I set Cutter up for a fall, I'm going to be taking up sunbathing, if you know what I mean?"

The man inclined his head. "I see your dilemma. But unfortunately, I can't pay you." He held up a placating hand. "But...but, I can give you a very valuable item instead. It'll be worth enough sold to keep you in funding."

The vampire shifted from foot to foot nervously. "I'd prefer cash, but I'll take whatever you've got."

"Excellent." The man pulled a crossbow from his satchel and fired. "That was an antique crossbow bolt," he told the column of dust. "Very valuable. I hope you liked it." He turned his attention to the phone once more. "Sorry to keep you waiting, sir, just terminating an employee. No, we won't need to give him a severance package...I understand your disappointment, and I share it completely, but might I remind you that we still have another option. It will be expensive to work, but I believe the rewards could prove quite remarkable."

Mr Dent picked up the small crystal ball and gazed into its depths. Just visible, if you looked closely, were two small figures. One of them had red hair. "Quite remarkable indeed."

End

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