The Brazilian Highlands gave the high ground to the demon army as it marched east. The cover of fog would leave that not-distant capital of Brasília and its 200,000 denizens completely unaware of the assault until the demon horde was on top of them. And the army of slayers, or what was left of it, was falling back. The heavy rain had made the slayers’ use of flame, essential to their battle strategy, an unreliable weapon at best.
Riley, his hair as peppered with white like the nearby mountaintops, stood hunched over a map in the command center. “Their flanking to your right,” he said into his com link.
“Right!” Kennedy yelled in the field. “Move right.”
“Fall back,” Faith yelled over her.
“Forward,” the booming voice of Illyria rang. She was moving forward on a giant rolling platform being pulled by dozens of large demons. “Drive this unworthy filth from my shrine. Make their blood and broken bone an offering to my greatness!”
“Unidentified hostiles are approaching from behind,” Riley radioed.
“Not too many of them. Must be the demons that disappeared into the rainforest last night,” Xander’s voice followed.
Kennedy turned and prepared to lead her women out a side path. It would be tight. If they didn’t move quickly enough, they would be crushed between the two armies. The small army from behind wouldn’t destroy them, but it would slow them enough for Illyria’s main forced to catch up and do the rest.
Kennedy heard Faith groan behind her. “What. The. Fuck.”
Kennedy turned and saw the sight that was confusing Faith. Two single file lines of men and women were marching forward. They wore what looked to be leather armor made from demons skins. Some held up poles adorned with severed demon heads. All had demon bones sewn into their armor. Whether this was decorative or to reinforce the armor, the slayers could not determine.
“Those ours?” Kennedy asked.
“Not unless we started recruiting men now,” Faith answered. “Psycho men, at that.”
“On the bright side,” Kennedy said, recognizing some of the severed demon heads. “Looks like the demons that went into the woods last night won’t be coming out.”
The small army marched past the slayers toward Illyria’s troops descending the mountain. Faith’s eyes settled on a man, dressed as the others but with many more demon bones, teeth, and horns hanging from his armor. Despite the heavy rainfall, his face and armor were covered with blood, dirt, and slime. Around his neck, he wore a necklace that matched his armor. It was made of demon bones and body parts. He was clearly the leader.
“Connor,” Faith whispered.
Kennedy quickly turned. Connor was glaring at the oncoming army. “They’re going to get killed,” Kennedy said as she watched Connor move to stand between then two lines.
“Left!” Connor called. The two lines moved left slightly. “Left!” he called again. Again, the two lines moved left. “Stop!”
They stood quietly, seeming so small in contrast to the approaching demon hoard. Suddenly, in a quiet voice, Connor growled, “Go.”
The two lines of troops charged forward, slamming into the demon front line. Connor’s troops charged hard, driving a wedge in the mass of demons. His men had pushed nearly five men deep into the demon army. They were quickly being hacked down, but they had succeeded in giving Connor a partial path to Illyria.
These men and women were not slayers or demons. They had no more than normal strength. But their fiercest weapon was buried inside them. Their desire to kill made their souls into a clever that Connor now wielded with devastating effect.
Holtz had taught Connor long ago all he needed to know about leadership. The godless filth that was the Moors could defeat Richard the Lionheart’s noble and godly crusaders because they were willing to die for that piece of dirt they called their home. Connor’s soldiers were men and women such as the Moors. Like Holtz, Connor knew that a handful of people wanting to kill and willing to die could overcome the best paid and best trained army in the world. This is why Illyria’s throng of demons was so fierce. This is why Connor’s troops were equally fierce.
Faith’s mouth dropped open as Connor’s troops redoubled their efforts. With another great push, they cut into the line again and drove another four men deep into the demon line.
Connor charged into the gap, running hard. He leapt impossibly high, sailing over Illyris’s demon troops. Illyria moved forward, sword in hand and ready to hack Connor down when he landed. But Connor fell short of her platform. He bounced off the ground in front of the platform and leapt again. Spinning in the air, so that he could land facing Illyria’s back, he hit the platform on all fours several feet behind the demon goddess come general.
Illyria immediately spun and charged to attack Connor. The two began swinging blades and throwing punches. Behind Illyria, the demon army was shoving Connor’s soldiers back from the platform. The shock and surprise had given the human army a foothold in demon territory. But now, superior numbers and superior strength were overcoming superior courage. Soon Connor’s troops would be slaughtered.
Faith scowled as she watched Connor’s troops battling hopelessly. “That kid has caused me more goddamn problems,” she sighed, not finishing the thought.
Kennedy nodded, understanding what Faith was saying. “Reform the lines!” she shouted. “Everyone! Quickly! Back into your lines!” The slayers had barely gotten back into their formations before Kennedy signaled to charge. The clatter of swords against armor sounded like thunder as the slayers crashed into the line of demons, pushing them back, but only slightly. Connor’s army, heartened by this unexpected assistance, swung their swords and maces with renewed vigor. Soon, the makeshift human army was cleaving a path through Illyria’s.
Illyria dodged a swing from Connor’s axe, spinning into a kick. Connor jumped back to avoid the kick. Illyria charged Connor before he could get his footing and slammed him into the ground. She swung her blade, just missing him as he rolled to his feet. As they stared at each other, Illyria got her first solid look at the dirty and skinny man who’d so fool heartedly attacked her. “You,” she said disdainfully. “The one who lusted for me!”
But Illyria was wrong. This was not Connor Reilly, born and raised in a loving California family. This was Connor Angel, born of two vampires and raised by a vengeance-craving puritan in a land of such nightmares that no human mind could comprehend, let alone imagine.
Connor had no memory of visiting Angel at Wolfram & Hart. He had no memory of meeting Illyria and wanting her physically. He could only think of the summer he spent living with Gunn and Fred. Hearing them during their intimate moments. Being a teenage boy, Connor could not help but image that he, not Gunn, was sharing Fred’s bed. Illyris’a invoking of Fred’s memory infuriated Connor. With a vicious growl, Connor punched Illyria with his left hand, a metal blade shooting forward and stabbing her shoulder.
Illyria laughed. “But a sting. Like the bite of a mosquito. Like a drop of rain on my-”
Connor’s right arm had swung out, raising his battleaxe. He swung hard, chopping through Illyria’s neck. With a thud, her body fell to the ground. Connor snatched the demon’s falling head in mid-air.
Almost immediately, a hush seemed to fall over the demon army. They could feel their general’s absence. They felt her defeat. Turning fatalistically to the platform, they watched as Connor stepped forward, holding the severed head of the goddess Illyria.
“Is this your demon god?!” he shouted angrily. “Is it?!”
Suddenly, the insurmountable army Illyria had spent ten years gathering, gave a great howl, and broke formation. They ran frantically, ignoring the fact they far outnumbered their human opponents. Rival demon clans suddenly resumed their animosity and began clashing with each other, oblivious to the quest that, only seconds before, seemed the sole purpose of their existence.
In the havoc, slayers were being shoved, trampled, and essentially ignored by the fleeing horde. Kennedy and Faith grabbed their girls and began pulling them. “Back!” they called. “Fall back!”
Connor, holding up his trophy of Illyria’s head before him, walked calmly through the fracas, as demons scurried out of his way. “Now you . . .”
**
Lorne sat on his knees with his head against the floor as if praying. The pain was still intense, but now only came in pulses. He clung to the one part of the vision on which he could focus. What he saw before Brazil made no sense. What came after was so fast and so violent he could barely recall.
The past was an assembly of bits and pieces out of order. The vision was contradictory and at times downright impossible. The vampire Darla giving birth in an alley matched with the lovely dark-haired woman at Stanford Hospital. A child of ten smiling with his sister on a swing set was matched with the same child of ten shouting in terror as a vicious-looking tree tried to plant its seeds in his shoulder. All this was his past. An impossible past and an idyllic one, parallel to each other. The only thing clear, the only thing of which Lorne could be sure, was the destiny meant to come. Finally, Lorne looked up at the boy in question.
Connor looked down at Lorne, realizing what had happened. That damn song getting stuck in his head. And now Lorne knew everything. “So, I . . . I guess we should talk, huh?”
Angel reached forward and gripped Connor’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”
Lorne shook his head. “Not now, kid. Now I just want to sleep. Then I need to talk to Angel.”
“I think you should talk to me before you talk to him,” Connor said insistently.
Lorne smiled. “You’re a good kid. Well, I think you’re a good kid. But I need to talk to Angel.”
Lorne slowly stood and shakily walked toward the stairs. “I’ll be in my old room. Angel, when you’re ready, come on up.”
Connor looked back at his father.
“It’s okay son,” Angel whispered. “I’ll be down soon.”
Angel walked after Lorne. Connor looked up to see Willow and Dawn staring at him as if he were an alien.
“What was that about?” Dawn asked.
“Nothing,” Spike said. “It was about nothing.”
Willow walked toward the door. “I still need to talk to Lorne about Dana.”
Spike’s hand shot out and gently gripped her arm. “Let’s just give them a moment, eh Red?”
Willow looked back and forth between Connor and Spike. Connor was feeling increasingly out of place. This is what he’d feared. What his father had feared. The lie was unraveling.
Connor turned and sullenly walked out the door. “I guess I’ll be in my old room, too.”
“You have an old room here?” Dawn asked sarcastically.
“Yeah,” Connor said quietly, fighting a tear back. “Yeah I do.” Connor turned and headed up the stairs.
***
Faith stepped sadly in to the lobby of the Hyperion Hotel. Dawn and Willow were so deep in conversation that they didn’t realize Faith was there until Spike’s boisterous voice boomed through the lobby.
“Faith!” he said with a grin, strolling toward her. “Bloody hell did you miss a lot. How did your Risen hunt go?”
Faith looked down sadly. She felt ashamed. “The Risen won’t be bothering us anymore.” She looked up and put a little more force in her voice. “I’m going to call Buffy. See about making L.A. our headquarters for a while.”
“But you’re like a wanted fugitive here,” Dawn said, feeling confused.
Faith shook her head. “Not anymore.”
“I’m confused,” Dawn said. “You mean, when we couldn’t find your criminal record, that was because it was . . . gone?”
Faith nodded.
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I, really. But the LAPD and the Risen One are both no longer problems.” Faith shrugged. “So, what’d I miss?”
“A lot,” Dawn said. “Spike brought a green singing demon . . .”
“Lorne?” Faith cut in.
“Yeah,” Willow smiled.
“Anyway,” Dawn continued. “He totally freaked out when he heard Connor sing. Angel’s upstairs talking to Lorne now.”
“Angel’s still here?” Faith asked.
“Yeah,” Spike said immediately, desperate to change the subject. “Eve and Dru apparently tried to do him in. Sadly, they failed. Eve’s chained up in the basement. Council’s sending someone to pick her up and ship her to England.”
“Anyone keeping guard?” Faith asked.
Willow looked around the room. “I thought someone was supposed to be down there, but . . .”
“I could use some time to myself,” Faith said, grabbing a crossbow form the weapons case. “I’ll take the first shift.”
Faith walked quietly toward the stairs, her head still hung low.
****
Angel stepped into Lorne’s room with all the stealth he could manage. Lorne was already done mixing his Sea Breeze. He quickly downed it in one gulp and began pouring another. Glancing in the window, he saw the reflection of the room and smiled as the door closed, seemingly on its own.
“What I saw,” Lorne began. He shook his head and fought the urge to vomit. “Darla giving birth. The alley. Everything after that.” He smiled again and turned to face Angel. “Never mind. You were there. You tell me.” Lorne flopped into a chair. “What happened the night Holtz burned my club?”
Angel frowned and sat across from Lorne. “What you saw,” he said, mimicking Lorne’s words and tone. “Darla giving birth. The alley. Everything after that. That’s what happened.”
Lorne laughed and poured a third drink. “I suspected. I mean, why would someone make up a life like . . .” Lorne gulped, again trying to prevent himself from throwing up. “Why would someone make up a life like that.” He suddenly bursting into tears.
Angel sat uncomfortably, not knowing what to do.
“I . . . I understand, Angel. I do. I can’t blame you from wanting to take that away form him. All of that darkness.” Lorne’s voice quaked. “All of that . . . horror.”
“Quar’toth,” Angel said, leaning forward quietly. “Tell me about it.”
Lorne looked up. His eyes were streaked with black tears, as if he’d been wearing mascara. “I don’t have the words to describe it,” he said, his voice still shaking.
Angel sighed and looked down. His only two hints as to Connor’s life in Quar’toth were Sahjhan’s calling it “the darkest of the dark worlds” and Connor’s own revelation that Hotlz tied him to trees to teach the boy how to track. He’d hoped Lorne’s vision would provide an opportunity for insight into his son’s past.
“Angel,” Lorne continued weakly. “Angel, when I worked for you, the reason . . . the reason I couldn’t work for you anymore.” Lorne shook his head and reached for his now empty drink mixer. “When I worked for you, I learned that sometimes, in the pursuit of, of good, people, or, um, demons, have to do things that are . . . that are horrible. Unconscionable under any other circumstances.”
Angel turned and glared at Lorne. “There a point in there somewhere?”
“Angel, Connor . . . your son. He’s destined to do things. Things he’s meant to do. Things he . . . he has to do. This he can’t do unless . . . Angel, that darkness you took from him. You need to put it back.”
Lorne hit the back wall of the room before he even noticed Angel had moved. He looked up to see Angel standing over him, glowering down at him.
“Angel,” Lorne said sadly. “I know what I’m saying is terrible. I know it-”
“No, you don’t know. You don’t know anything, Lorne!”
Lorne climbed to his feet. “You don’t understand what you’ve done. You can’t understand. You . . . stripped that boy of his destiny, Angel”
“Keep your voice down! You know what his hearing’s like.”
“Oh Angel, you know better than I that if Connor wants to hear what we’re saying, he’ll hear.”
“I did not take away his destiny,” Angel shot quickly. “His destiny is to go to school, get a job, and live happy life. Just as soon as I handle this thing with Drusilla, he should be set to go back to his real life.”
“That was his real life Angel! The life he lived that really happened is was real life. And that life laid the groundwork for his destiny!”
Angel was about to respond when he became aware of a presence behind him. Angel turned to see the thin frame of his son in the doorway. Connor closed the door behind him and stepped inside.
“Sorry,” he said with shy and modest grin. “I just figured that since you two were planning my future, or more accurately, my past, I figure I should be in on the conversation.”
Lorne stepped back away from Connor. Connor smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Stuff you saw must’ve freaked you, huh? But it’s cool. I get it. I wasn’t real nice to you back when . . . well, back when you don’t remember. But you just saw it. So now you probably kinda remember now. Right?”
Lorne nodded.
“Okay. So, sorry for trying to kill you. I always regretted that. Even when I was feral Connor. But I’m not him now. I’m . . . I’m different. And to be honest, I kind of like you, man.” Connor smiled and nodded at Lorne.
“Great,” Lorne said quietly. “And the catch is?”
“That catch is this. I like you. I also like my new happy boy memories. My father went through a lot of trouble to get them for me. And I kind of need them to be, you know, not crazy. So if you try to take them from me, I will kill you.”
Angel couldn’t help but smile at Connor’s calm tirade. “Go downstairs,” Angel said to Lorne. “Tell Willow what she wants to know about Dana. Then get the hell out of my hotel and don’t ever come back. Not ever. That was the original plan anyway, wasn’t it Lorne?”
Angel stormed out. Connor shrugged and smiled. “Don’t listen t o him. Come back any time you want as long as I’m here. Like I said, I think you’re cool, man. But remember that second part. Mess with my memories and I’ll killyou.”
A moment after Angel and Connor had left, Lorne crept cautiously into the hallway. Dawn marched toward Lorne.
“Are you alright?” Dawn asked soothingly.
Lorne smiled at the girl and nodded. “Yeah, sweetheart. Thanks a million for asking. Say, am I going wacky or did Angel mention something about Eve?”
“Yeah. He cuffed her in the basement.”
“Ah,” Lorne smiled. “The cuffs behind the lobby counter?”
“Yeah,” Dawn asked. “Look, about Dana-”
“Yeah, yeah, sure. Let me give you and Willow the full report and see what our favorite witch can whip up for our favorite haunted slayer. Well, second favorite haunted slayer. Don’t want Faith getting jealous, now do we?”
*****
Lorne descended into the basement where Faith stood watch over Eve. “Hey pumpkin.”
“Hey back,” Faith smiled without taking her yes off Eve.
“Just got done giving Willow and Dawn the rundown on Dana. Willow’s pretty sure she can help.”
“Cool,” Faith said, still eying Eve.
“Your aura is tad bit of the conflicted shade,” Lorne said, taking a seat on the bottom stair. “Care to share?”
“Had to do something I didn’t want to. I’ll get over it.”
“That would explain it.” Lorne nodded to Eve. “What about Miss Evil Lawyer Pants? Or Lawyer Skirt, I guess. What’re we doing with her?”
“Council goons are on their way. They’ll take her to a facility in . . . I forget. Somewhere.”
“I missed you kitten. Really did.” Lorne reached up and gently took the crossbow from her. “I still know how to work one of these. Why don’t you head on up? Grab a snack, chat with Will and Dawn. I can watch this one here.”
Faith shrugged. “Cold pizza sounds like a good idea right about now. Thanks, Green.”
Lorne watched as Faith walked up the stairs. Once she was out, Lorne laid the crossbow on the stairs and looked at Eve. He felt very out of place. Working with Angel had led his morality to places he never could’ve imagined. Yet even in comparison to that, this moment seemed like dangerously unfamiliar waters.
“So you tried to kill Angel?” Lorne said uncomfortably.
“This small talk or are you after something Lorne?”
Lorne nodded. “Why now?”
“Lindsey,” Eve said, her eyes dead and cold.
Lorne felt a chill. He wondered if suspected or even outright knew that it had been Lorne that had killed Lindsey. It had been Angel’s orders, true. But Lorne pulled the trigger. “So you’re after revenge.”
Eve rolled her eyes. “Duh.”
“I can’t let you kill him, Eve.”
“Didn’t ask you, too. Still. What are you doing down here?”
“You want revenge, I can’t let you kill Angel. But . . . but there’s more than one way to destroy a man.”
******
Faith was in the kitchen, wolfing down the cold pizza. Spike strolled in after her and headed for the fridge with the pig’s blood. “Looks like you and me are on the same page, luv.”
Faith put the pizza down and walked toward Spike. “You tracked down Lorne so he could help Dana.”
Spike shrugged. “Don’t know that there’s any helping her. But who knows, right? Red thinks if she can get an accurate read on what happened to Dana, she can fix whatever it is in her brain that’s broken.”
“Fixing broken things. That’s important.” Faith placed her hand on Spike’s chest. “I don’t want you to follow me around like some nocturnal puppy dog. Don’t want you acting like you did with Buffy.”
“What’re you talking about?”
Faith slid her hand down Spike’s chest, under his shirt, then back up. “After tonight. I don’t want you following me around.”
Faith leaned forward and kissed Spike. Were she more introspective, she might ask herself why she was doing this. Now that one father figure was essentially out of her life, she immediately latched on to an older lover. A much older lover. By replacing paternal love with physical intimacy, Faith seemed to be acting out some undead version of the Electra complex. But Faith was not introspective. She lived for the moment. And in this moment, she wanted comfort.
Spike, on the other hand, was introspective. He knew why he leaned forward and kissed Faith, sliding his tongue gently into her mouth. He knew that Buffy had rejected and emasculated him by sleeping with Connor. Having sex with Buffy’s rival, who happened to have aroused young Connor’s lust as well, would probably be more empowering than when he got that chip taken out of his head. In the morning he’d regret it. Spike knew that. But introspective or not, Spike was like Faith in (at least) one way. Spike too lived in the moment.
Spike pushed Faith’s shirt up as she did the same to him. Soon, they were tangled like flies struggling their way out of a web of their own clothing. Faith pulled free of her shirt and quickly helped Spike with his. Spike popped open Faith’s bra, exposing her ample chest. He leaned forward to kiss her, but the passion was interrupted by the sound of Willow’s voice from above.
“Spike, if you’re down there, come upstairs right away!”
Spike looked at Faith with uncontained desire in his eyes. Faith looked back at Spike, already panting from exertion and lust. Angrily, she swiped her shirt from the ground and pulled it on, leaving her bra where it fell on the counter.
“Go up ahead of me,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll be right up behind you.”
“Tonight?” Spike said in a desperate voice. He wasn’t sure he could get up the stairs without exploding.
“Tonight,” Faith nodded. “If we can get away.”
“Right.” Spike grabbed his shirt and pulled it on as he headed up the stairs.
Faith leaned her head against a cabinet. “Fuck,” she said under her breath. She wasn’t sure if she was cursing the interruption or verbally expressing what she wanted to do at that moment.
Faith grabbed her bra and stuffed it in a cabinet. Slowly she walked up the stairs and made her way to the lobby. There, Connor, Angel, Dawn, Spike, and Willow all stood in a circle. Kennedy had apparently arrived to take either Willow or Eve. Either way, Faith didn’t see what the emergency was. If Red wanted to say goodbye, she could have left a note.
Then, Faith noticed Angel seemed to be seething with rage. Connor was gripping the vampire’s shoulder. Whether the grip was showing Angel support or compelling Angel to show restraint, Faith couldn’t tell. Angel couldn’t be pissed about Faith and Spike, could he? “So what’s up?”
“Eve’s gone,” Connor said in an even voice that tried to hide much anger and worry. “And so is Lorne.”
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