"Get in the car," said Gunn.

"Remember when you told me to have a sense of humor?" said Angel. "I finally get to move!" Keeping Doyle safely inside the Hyperion through every one of Cordelia's little messages over the last eighteen hours had felt like it had taken eighteen days.

There hadn't been much more sleep for any of the team. When Angel had arrived back after planting his false prophecy and trekking through the sewers (nursing a couple of gunshot wounds, courtesy of Wolfram and Hart security), he had heard the short version of all the things Giles, Wesley, Fred, and Tara had uncovered working on prophecy scrolls together.

He, the vampire with the soul, was still due to play a major role in the coming apocalypse--and he was glad when they moved beyond that point; with all the chaos surrounding death and life lately, he did not want to think about shanshu--and so was magic itself. Magic, power, choice, and time. Magic wasn't quite as specific to the wielder; it was out there, and who would use it, could. Wesley had almost as much magic potential as Tara. Giles could channel forces to rival Willow's raw ability.

Having the Promised One alive and well changed a few things in the long-term prophecies, working about equally for both sides. They didn't uncover much more than they had already known, although it had become abundantly clear just why Wolfram and Hart was so eager to turn Angel to Angelus. Angel had the power, not just to affect the apocalypse, but to hasten its arrival--and he wasn't the only one.

"Great power and great responsibility," Buffy had quipped. "How many times did I--do I--wish to be a normal girl?"

"You only have a choice about magic at the beginning," Tara had said quietly. "Sometimes not even then."

It had turned out that Tara's power, so connected to Willow's, was as much under Wolfram and Hart's control as Willow's own.

"Good thing I haven't tried to do any spells," Tara had said.

"Didn't you make that potion for me, so I keep the visions?" Doyle had asked.

"Chemistry 102. I'm going to work in a research lab when I get done with school."

Inconvenient as it was to have another witch who didn't dare do magic around, it had given Angel and Buffy their diversion. They had been arguing, for the fourteenth time, about whether to bring the others through the dungeons or leave them in the hotel, and it had looked as if Gunn was going to settle that question with his battle axe when Fred had clenched her hands over her ears and begged them to shut up for a second.

Ire gone, Gunn had immediately gone to Fred. Angel had leaned in to catch what Fred said to him. So softly that even he could barely hear, she had said, "Before, I would have said..."

"What," Gunn had said.

"This is when you go smoke weed."

"Did you really just say that?"

"Wait," Tara had said. "We do something weird with my power..."

"The evil lawyer guys will be so distracted they might let Angel and me take care of whatever's hurting Willow," Buffy had finished. "But," doubtfully, "I really wouldn't know where to get any, um, illegal drugs. Maybe the nerd squad might have a few ideas, but they're the bad guys too."

"I just fake being confused, and it makes everyone within range of the contained power confused. There's a spell that would let me do that--of course, once I use it, I'll be drawn right to Willow; she invented it."

When everyone had stopped laughing, that had become their contingency plan. Fred and Gunn would guard Tara in a different section of the Wolfram and Hart dungeons. As soon as Lilah, or anyone else, made with the we're-already-a-step-ahead-of-you routine, Buffy would signal Tara, who would cast her general weirdness spell.

"Somehow, it's a bit more comfortable than it was before when you talk in my head like that," Buffy had said.

"I'm f--flattered."

"You really should be."

So there they were, all piling themselves into Angel's convertible, ready to take back their own. Angel felt himself sliding into full battle mode, relaxed and alert.

"How much longer, man?"

Angel checked his watch again. "According to our fake prophecy, they're expecting us any moment. That means we wait...another thirty minutes. Twenty nine and three quarters."

"Cordy's not tryin' to talk to me anymore. And things were really bad, the last message I got."

"Hold on," Angel said quietly.

It hadn't taken them long to get into position. They were on the other side of the dungeons from the place Willow and Cordelia were held, hiding in one of the adjacent rooms, only a couple of barred windows away. But even if it had been possible according to plan, there were voices from the other room. Both Cordelia and Willow were refusing something, and that was as much as Angel could make out, beyond screams.

He was grateful that neither Buffy nor Doyle could apparently make out anything at all. Angel had forgotten how quietly and quickly Buffy could move when she had to. Perhaps she appeared a shadow, but the shadow was deadly.

"How are you holding up?" Angel whispered.

"You'll tell me when we can move?"

"On the second," he said, pretending to check his watch and actually listening. The moment there was silence from the other room, they would break those bars and spirit two very special women away and home.

Between straining to hear the sounds from the other room and going over and over their plans in his head, Angel zoned. Then he realized Buffy and Doyle were talking, quietly.

"Have you ever read a story so beautiful it made you cry?" It was Doyle who had asked that.

"Fred said she'd turned her life into a story. You know, all those horrible things that happened to her, it wouldn't matter so much if it wasn't real?"

"Fred. Yeah, I'm not too clear on her story; girl's gone through a lot. But I meant just a story that puts things in place, that makes them better, not just less real."

"No. No, I haven't."

They were the only two people in the world who understood what it was like to have to live, to build connections all day, every day, compelled and driven, only to have them fall apart.

"Angel? Have you?"

Three people. He understood. "Once. Tennyson, Idylls of the King. He was English, so I had to hide my books--plus, Spike would have given me no end of grief; it was from William's cabinets that I took them while he and Dru were otherwise occupied--but the story kept me reading. Late in the day, when we'd all eaten as much as we could and the others were asleep. I think it had just been written before Spike was turned. I should ask him about it sometime."

Buffy probably wanted him to say more, but Angel wasn't terribly articulate that way. He understood her; he hoped it would be enough.

A small hand slipped into his own and squeezed.

There was silence, and Angel lost track of the conversation again.

“Yeah, sometimes I feel like I’m being punished,” Buffy was saying. “But I think it’s easier, because I know--my friends convinced me, before--that I hadn’t done anything wrong. Even wanting Dawn to die, just so that the battle with Glory would be over, wasn’t unforgivable.”

"Was I really forgiven? Before?" Doyle said into the silent moment.

"No matter how much good I do, no matter how much I try to make up for the past, I'll always be haunted," said Angel. "I knew that before, but I didn't know the more I became...good...the darker the evil would seem. It isn't a matter of getting used to the condemning voice, because you never want to."

"I get that," said Buffy softly.

"You're the most purely good creature I've ever met," Angel said softly. "You fight because you have to, not because you have to redeem."

"Can't quit savin' the world," Doyle said softly.

"Can't win," Angel added. "Well, we can." At their unspoken questions, he added, "Or we may never win. But as long as we keep trying..."

"Don't you get tired, Angel?" said Buffy.

"Oh, man. You mean this exhaustion never goes away?" said Doyle.

"I'm not going to tell you to just deal with your choice," said Buffy. "We all should be dead; we're all…alive” she said deliberately, “for reasons. But, whether you can even get any closer..."

"At least we can know death doesn't change anything," Angel said. "I never stopped loving you."

"Are you looking on the bright side? I know you could have been with me, Angel. And I know you gave that up, to keep me alive. They showed me the whole day, that time in the white room."

Damn and triple-damn. Even Doyle sounded shocked. Now it was time to go and hold her.

She wouldn't let herself be like that for more than a few moments. That was the strong Buffy again. Maybe the strong Buffy and the defeated Buffy were one and the same.

"We have somethin' to fight for" said Doyle.

"Yeah," said Buffy. "Angel, what time is it?"

The sounds from the next room had finally ceased. "Time to move."