* * *

"It’s Buffy."

Willow locked eyes with Angel, momentarily taken aback by his words. It was a statement, not a question. He knew. She tried to talk, to say something, but all the words she’d rehearsed on the whole ride to L.A. fled from her brain and she just stared into his eyes, watching as the grief formed there.

After what seemed like an eternity, Angel broke eye contact and without saying another word left his companions and walked quickly past Willow and disappeared through a door that opened off into the hotel lobby. She watched him until he was inside and the door closed behind him, then dragged her gaze back to the others. There were five of them; Cordelia, Wesley, and a black man, a dark-haired woman, and a green-skinned demon of some sort whom she didn’t know. Now her eyes came to rest on the most familiar face in the group: Cordelia’s.

Cordelia stared back, her eyes wide, her mouth working wordlessly as if she was trying to talk but couldn’t get the words to come out. Finally they did come: "Is it?"

Willow merely nodded.

"Oh God," Cordelia moaned, then looked to Wesley, aghast.

"Am I missing something?" That was the black man. Gunn, their partner, Willow remembered.

"Buffy, the Slayer," Wesley answered softly. "She’s dead."

Cordelia started crying then, and Willow stood there feeling somewhat redundant. She hadn’t yet said one word and already the message was delivered.

"Uh... Gunn, Fred?" the demon piped up, his voice curiously sing-songy.

"Maybe we should go get some tacos. Let these people talk."

"Yeah, right," Gunn replied, then took Cordelia’s hand and squeezed it. "I’ll be back later, okay?" She merely nodded, sniffling. He and the demon then ushered out the other woman, who looked completely lost and confused, leaving Cordelia and Wesley alone with Willow. They stood there a moment longer, the expanse of the lobby between them, until Cordelia finally broke the distance and hurried across the floor, sweeping Willow into a hug.

"I’m so sorry, Willow," Cordy sobbed into her shoulder and Willow started crying again. She wondered if there would ever come a day when she didn’t cry every five minutes. Then Wesley was there too, putting a reassuring arm on her shoulder. They stayed that way a moment longer until something sharp poked Willow in the ribs.

"OW!" she cried, pulling out of the embrace with Cordelia, who Willow just now noticed, was wearing some sort of weird costume, a bikini with metal coins hanging all over it. "Where you at a costume party?" she asked, wiping her eyes.

"No, we... it’s a long story," Cordelia replied.

They were silent a minute more, then Wesley asked gently, "What happened?"

"Also a long story," Willow answered. "Short version: a hell god opened the walls between dimensions, which would have destroyed the world. Buffy closed it by—" She broke off, unable to go on. "Buffy closed it," she finished.

"I’m sorry, Willow," Wesley said, his voice full.

Willow nodded, then turned toward the door Angel had disappeared through. "Should I? He should know what happened..."

Cordelia and Wesley exchanged glances. "I don’t know if he’ll want to see anyone right now," Wesley told her, "but he will want to know what happened."

"I’ll go then. Unless you want to come with me?" she added hopefully.

They both shook their heads. "He should hear this alone," Wesley said.

Willow nodded, resigned. "Okay then." She went to the door, stood at a moment, then knocked softly. She waited a minute, but when there was no answer she gingerly turned the knob and poked her head in.

The room was an office, completely dark except for the light spilling in from the lobby. She could make out Angel sitting behind the desk, his back to her. She stood in the door, hesitantly, not wanting to intrude on his grief but wondering if he even knew she was there. Finally he acknowledged her. Without turning to face her, he asked "How?"

"Really long story," she said, slipping into the room and closing the door behind her. "Do you mind if I turn on a light? I don’t have that vampire night vision thing going for me."

"Fine."

He didn’t indicate where the light was, so Willow fumbled along the wall until she found a lamp and turned it on. It was small, but it bathed the room in a dim glow, enough that she could see, and she made her way to the desk and sat down across from Angel in a chair. He still didn’t turn toward her, but repeated "How?"

Willow took a deep breath. "A hell god, named Glory. She was stuck here in our dimension, imprisoned in the body of a human, a man. She wanted to get back to her own dimension, and to do it she needed this Key. Turns out the Key was Dawn."

Angel turned around at this. He looked haggard, his eyes dark and tortured. "Dawn? Buffy’s sister?"

Willow nodded. "Except it turns out she’s not really Buffy’s sister.

These monks made her, out of Buffy’s DNA or something, we’re not sure. They made the Key into a human, into Buffy’s sister so that Buffy would protect her. Then they messed with all our memories so that we all thought Buffy had a sister. She really has only existed for a few months, less than a year."

Angel’s eyes widened. "Dawn has only existed a few months? But that’s not possible. She used to bug me and Buffy all the time, never letting us alone. I used to bribe her to get lost."

Again Willow nodded. "Yeah, we all remember stuff like that. Only it isn’t real." She paused, swallowing hard. "But Buffy loved her anyway. She wouldn’t let anything happen to her, not even if it meant the end of the world."

"Okay," Angel said, trying to absorb this. "So Dawn is this Key. Then what?"

"Glory finally figured it out and kidnapped Dawn. The ritual to bring down the dimension walls needed Dawn’s blood. Once they were opened, only her death could close them again."

"So what happened?"

Willow frowned, tears welling up. "We didn’t make it in time. Glory, she was really powerful, but we had her, Buffy pretty much had her beaten, but one of her followers, a demon, got to Dawn and started the ritual. Buffy…" She stopped, unable to go on.

"Buffy stopped it," Angel finished softly.

Willow nodded, crying now. "I guess she figured since they made Dawn out of her, that her blood would work just as well. She was right."

She stopped, unable to talk through the tears for a moment. Angel sat with her, completely still. Finally, after a long silence, he asked, his voice taking on a hard edge: "And the hell god?"

"Dead," Willow replied, wiping her eyes for like the millionth time.

"And the demon who started the ritual?"

"We don’t know," she shrugged. "Buffy knocked him off this really high tower, but we didn’t find his body. And he is a demon, so it might not have killed him. Spike fell from the same tower and it didn’t kill *him*-" She stopped short as she saw Angel’s reaction, internally berating herself for the mistake. Spike. She should have never mentioned Spike. This was going to open up a whole new can of worms and she really didn’t want to deal with it right now.

Angel glared at her, his face full of fury. "Spike?" he asked slowly, his voice low and threatening. "Spike was there? He had something to do with this?"

"Yes," Willow answered, wincing.

Angel’s hand clenched into a tight fist, his knuckles completely white.

Slowly, he rose from his chair and glared down at her. "He’s dust. You tell me where to find him and I will take... him... down."

"No," Willow protested, flying up from her own chair, panicking. "No, it’s not like that. Spike was helping!"

"Helping who, exactly?" Angel demanded.

"Us," Willow said as she started to pace nervously before the desk.

"Buffy and Dawn mostly...."

Angel brought his fist down hard on the desk and Willow jumped. "Spike doesn’t help anyone but himself. He’s been obsessed with killing slayers for a century. If he was there when Buffy died, you can be damn sure he had a hand in it. And he’s gonna pay."

"No!" Willow cried. "He had nothing to do with it. He tried to stop it..."

"Yeah right," Angel said firmly.

"No, really!" Willow cried, heat rising in her face. "Believe me when I tell you, he had no part in it. He tried to stop it, he was the only one who even came close to stopping it."

"You’re wrong," Angel told her heatedly. "You don’t know him like I do."

"No, you don’t know," Willow returned, starting to get angry. "You weren’t there. He didn’t want Buffy to die, he did everything he could to stop it."

"How can you be so sure?" he demanded.

Willow faltered. "I just know," she stammered, her anger melting away.

Oh please, let’s not go there, we so don’t want to go there.

"*How?*" Angel repeated, menacingly.

Willow sighed, resigned. "Okay, I suppose you’re going to find out eventually, might as well be now. But you have to promise you won’t get mad. And no dustings, no one is going to get dusty over this, okay?"

He didn’t respond, merely continued to glare at her from behind the desk.

"Okay then," she said swallowing hard. "Okay, the thing is, well, Spike sorta... he... well, he... he’s sort of in love with Buffy." She winced.

Angel didn’t move for a moment, and then he threw his head back and laughed. A merciless, ugly sound devoid of any humor at all. It reminded Willow a little too much of Angelus and it unsettled her. "You’re joking, right? This is some big joke. Because there is no way Spike…" He looked at her angrily and shook his head. "No, it’s impossible."

"That’s what we thought," Willow answered, still wincing. "It was all just so weird and surreal. But..." She looked at him then, her voice strengthening with her conviction: "Glory tortured him, Angel. He knew Dawn was the Key and Glory tortured him and he wouldn’t tell. All he had to do was say Dawn’s name and she would have stopped. Heck, he could have said any name, given her any innocent, someone a complete stranger, but he didn’t. He just... took it."

Angel glared, unmoved. "That’s not love, that’s fear. He knew Buffy would kick his ass from here to kingdom come if he gave up her sister."

"Oh, that’s logical," Willow retorted. "So he chooses the definite beating from the really powerful hell god who had him chained down over the maybe beating from the Slayer if she could find him. Yeah, that makes perfect sense." She stopped, her voice catching at the memory of how bad Spike had looked even several days afterwards. "Angel, you didn’t see him. It was—" she shuddered. "It was horrible."

"My heart bleeds for him," Angel sneered. "Do you really expect me to feel sorry for him? He tortured me once."

"And you tortured Giles," she shot back defiantly.

At this Angel finally faltered, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Fine. So Spike let himself get tortured to protect Dawn. Explain to me how this makes any sense. He’s a demon, Willow. He has no soul."

"I know. But he’s... he’s changed. I mean, not completely. He’s not all saving kittens or anything, but he’s not the same." She remembered his reaction to Tara when she’d opened the blinds on him in the RV when they were running from Glory, burning him in the sunlight. He hadn’t even been angry, he’d just soothed Tara, told her it was no big deal. Tears came to her eyes. "He’s not the same," she repeated.

"But why?"

Willow sighed again. "That’s another long story."

"Does it look like I have somewhere to be?"

"Okay, fine. Did Buffy ever tell you about the Initiative? The military group that was hunting demons? Riley, you remember Riley? He was with them."

"Sounds vaguely familiar."

"Well, they weren’t just killing demons, they were capturing them and experimenting on them and stuff. And about a year and a half ago, they got Spike."

"Good for them."

Willow glared at him, then continued, pacing in front of the desk.

"They put this chip in his brain and it keeps him from harming humans. He can’t kill or feed or even fight a human."

Angel’s eyes widened. "He can’t hurt humans? How do you know for sure?"

"Because I was the first person he tried to kill after he got chipped," Willow answered a little reluctantly, knowing that fact wasn’t going to help her argument any. "When he tried to bite me the chip shocked him. It hurt him so bad he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t hurt me."

"Okay," Angel answered, absorbing this information. "So he can’t hurt humans. But that doesn’t change anything, Willow, he still has no soul."

"No," Willow agreed, "he doesn’t have a soul." She paused, considering. "But Angel, what happens when a vampire doesn’t feed for a long time, more than a year?"

"They die."

"You know what I mean," Willow scolded. "*You* haven’t fed in years and you’re not dead. Spike hasn’t fed off a human since he’s been chipped. I wonder... could that make a vampire change?"

This made him pause. "I don’t know. I don’t think any vampire except me has ever stopped feeding. There are some vampire brothels where some really sick humans pay vampires to feed off of them without killing them, but I don’t think there are any vampires other than me who don’t drink from living humans."

"Spike’s been drinking pig’s blood for a year and a half," Willow mused, more to herself than to Angel. "Maybe that’s what’s changing him."

"He still doesn’t have a soul, Willow," he repeated, but he sounded a little less sure of himself. "And without a soul to fight the demon, a vampire will always be the same. The demon, the lust for blood and the kill will always win out. Spike may be able to play at being good for a while, maybe even a long while if it suits his purposes, but in the end he’s still a soulless demon."

"I don’t know," Willow shook her head, unconvinced, thinking again of Spike’s reaction when Tara burned him. "I know it’s not the same as a soul, and at first it didn’t change him. He was the same big pain in the butt he always was. He came to us when he couldn’t feed. We kept him chained up at Giles’ house for a while, hoping he could help us find out more about the Initiative. That was before we knew Riley was with them." She paused for a breath. "Eventually we let him go because, well, he was harmless and none of us felt right staking him that way. And then he found out he could still fight demons and other vampires, and you know how he loves a fight, so he started doing that. Really majorly miffed the demons and vamps, except for Harmony. He was with her for a while."

Angel laughed mirthlessly. "Harmony. Now this makes sense to me."

Willow continued, ignoring him. "And of course he didn’t want to have anything to do with the humans, except when we’d pay him to help us."

"You’d pay him to help you?" Angel asked, incredulous.

"Mmm-hmmm. But somewhere along the way he started offering help without us asking. And then he stopped asking for money, and then he was just sort of there, helping. It happened so gradually none of us thought much about it. And then we found out he was in love with Buffy."

"No, he was not in love with her," Angel insisted, shaking his head firmly. "He was probably confused from the chip. He’s been obsessed with slayers so long when he knew he couldn’t kill her, he let himself think his obsession meant love."

"That’s what we thought, until he got tortured. Everything changed after that. I mean at first he was all stalkery and creepy—"

Angel leaned in towards Willow, menacingly. "Did he ever touch her?"

"No!" Willow protested. "Well, when she wouldn’t talk to him, he chained her up for a little while, but he didn’t do anything, just tried to get her to listen to him."

"Chains," Angel smiled grimly. "See, that is a vampire’s idea of love."

"But everything changed after Glory tortured him, Angel. I don’t know, he’s been so different since then. Buffy forgave him because of what he did for Dawn, and after that he never pressed her, gave her distance. He seemed..." she paused, searching. "He seemed grateful, just happy to be a part of things, to be fighting on her side. And we needed him because of his strength. He almost stopped it, too. He was the one who got up to Dawn, who fought Doc, the demon who started the ritual. But Doc threw him over the edge of the tower..." she trailed off, unsure where to go next.

"And how do you know he didn’t lose on purpose? How do you know this whole stupid ‘love’ thing wasn’t another elaborate scheme to get Buffy to trust him so he could kill her? Especially since this chip prevented him from doing it himself." Angel paused, gaining steam, obviously liking his theory. "You have only Spike’s word that he really tried to stop this Doc guy."

"And Dawn’s."

"She’s just a kid..."

"No, Angel, she saw what happened. She told me how scared he looked just before Doc threw him over. He knew he wouldn’t die and he certainly had faced worse pain than a long fall. He was scared because of what would happen to Dawn, because he failed Buffy. He’d promised to protect Dawn for her. Besides," she paused, swallowing over another lump that threatened, "you didn’t see him when we found Buffy. He—he was devastated. I had to drag him out of the sun, he just wanted it to burn him to nothing."

Angel snorted. "*He’s* devastated? HE’S DEVASTATED? Well, excuse me if I don’t cry any crocodile tears for poor Spike."

Willow glared at him, angry at his coldness, but didn’t answer.

"I’m done with this conversation," he said abruptly, walking around the desk and past her to the door. He opened it, then turned back to her.

"Willow, listen, I know you think you know him, you think you’ve seen him act... human. But you don’t understand. You don’t know what evil is like—"

Willow stared at him, her eyes darkening, then abruptly turned her face toward the door behind him. It slammed shut so hard that Angel jumped away from it, surprised.

"*I* don’t know what evil is like? You’re going to stand there and tell me I don’t know what evil is like? Do you have any idea what we’ve been through the last few weeks? I fought with a HELL GOD. She took my lover and she turned her brain to mush and **I fought her.** She almost killed me, she almost killed Tara, almost killed Dawn, she did get Buffy killed. How DARE you!" She paused, gaining steam, furious. "How DARE you presume to tell me about evil! I am not in tenth grade anymore! I’m not some innocent child who needs a big, strong, soulful vampire to tell her about evil. I’m a witch, a powerful witch," she seethed, "and I have seen more evil in the last two days then I’d ever want to see again in my lifetime. Don’t you dare tell me about evil. I know evil, and Spike may not be good, but he is not EVIL, not anymore. You have NO RIGHT. You weren’t even THERE."

Angel stared at her, absorbing her wrath, until her last words. Then his face softened and he closed his eyes. "I wasn’t there. But Spike was."

Willow sighed, her fury melting in the face of his renewed grief, but she was still frustrated. "Angel, this isn’t about you. It isn’t about Spike, either. It’s about Buffy." She paused, waiting for her words to sink in.

"The funeral is the day after tomorrow. You should be there, you belong there," she said quietly, then added hurriedly, "well at the wake, anyway. The graveside service will be in the daytime." She stopped again, waiting to make sure he was listening to her. "But Angel, this time Spike belongs there too. And if you can’t deal with that, then you shouldn’t come. I will not have Buffy’s funeral turn into some stupid vampire pissing match and **no one** gets dusted. Got that?"

"Yeah," he replied, eyes downcast.

Willow sighed again, weary of all this authority she suddenly had to wield. She was used to being told what to do, not telling others. God, she missed Buffy. She stood there a moment, awkward, not sure what to say next. At length she said "I’ll see you in a couple days, then," hoping that would reassure him that she knew Buffy was more important to him than any grudge he held against Spike. Angel only nodded.

She walked past him to the door, stopping before him to briefly squeeze his hand. Their eyes met and they shared a moment of grief for the woman they both loved so much. Then Willow dropped his hand, opened the door and exited into the lobby.

Cordelia and Wesley were there, huddled together on one of the sofas. Cordelia had changed her clothes into something more appropriate for mourning, a dark sweater and jeans. They looked up at her when she entered.

"Is everything okay? We heard shouting," Cordelia asked nervously.

No, everything was not okay. Buffy was dead: nothing would ever be okay again.

"Yes," Willow lied. "Everything’s okay. I’ll let Angel give you the details, though. I don’t think I could handle reliving the story one more time."

"Of course," Wesley said, rising. "Is there anything we can do?"

"A ride to the bus station might be nice," Willow said gratefully. "I didn’t trust myself to drive here and no one else was up to coming."

"Of course not," Wesley said kindly. "Forget the bus, Willow. Sunnydale isn’t that far. I’ll drive you home."

"I’ll go too," Cordelia added.

"No, that’s okay. You guys should stay here with Angel. He’s had more than a few shocks tonight. He’ll need you."

Wesley and Cordelia exchanged glances, sharing something Willow didn’t understand, then Wesley said, "Maybe you’re right. I’ll take you to the bus, then." He put his hand on her shoulder and ushered her out into the warm night air.

* * *

The ride back from the bus station was silent, Cordelia and Wesley each absorbed in their separate grief. When they got back, Cordy finally broke the silence. "I’m going to go check on him."

Wes merely nodded, and Cordelia turned away from him and walked hesitantly toward the office. Knocking softly, she said "Angel, it’s Cordy. Can I come in?"

For a moment there was no answer, then she heard Angel’s voice, thick and low, invite her in. She opened the door and looked in, but didn’t cross the threshold.

The room was dim, lit only by one lamp in the corner. Angel was seated behind the desk, his hands folded as if he were praying, and his forehead resting wearily on his knuckles.

"I just..." she faltered, unsure what to say. "Is there anything I can do?"

He looked up at her, his eyes dark and wet with tears. "No, Cordy, thanks. I need to be alone right now."

"Are you sure?" Cordy asked, afraid to leave him alone, afraid that he would sink back into that horrible depression like he had with Darla. She couldn’t go through that again, she just couldn’t.

He smiled wanly. "I’m okay, Cordy, really." Then he shook his head. "Okay, not really. But I won’t go off the deep end this time, I promise. I just need to be alone a while."

Cordelia nodded, a little relieved. "Okay. Wes and I will be here if you need anything. I think I’m gonna stay the night, if that’s okay. It’s not like you don’t have enough rooms."

He smiled again. "That’s fine, Cordy, I’d appreciate that. Thank you."

She hesitated. "All right then. I’ll leave you alone. But I’ll be here."

He nodded and then she withdrew, closing the door. Wesley was seated on a couch in the lobby. She crossed over to him and sat down beside him.

"Is he all right?" Wes asked, concerned.

"I think so. I mean, as all right as he can be. He did promise he wouldn’t go off the deep end again, that he just needed a little time alone."

She pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. "It’s just so--*wrong,*" she said, hugging her knees harder, suddenly feeling really cold. "I mean, Buffy can’t be dead, she can’t be. I’ve seen her fight."

"Slayers usually die young," Wes replied in that maddening English calm. "Of course," he added, "when you get to know one it’s different. You want to believe she’ll be immortal."

Cordy leaned into him, suddenly very very tired. "Do you think maybe we came back to the wrong dimension? It looks like home but not really."

"I don’t think so, Cordelia."

She sat upright. "Or maybe.... One time I wished that I’d never met Buffy and this vengeance demon made it come true and I was stuck in this really horrible alternate universe where vampires ruled Sunnydale and Willow and Xander were vampires. Maybe this is someone’s bad wish, an alternate reality and all we have to do is break the spell..." She looked at him hopefully, but he shook his head sadly.

"I wish it were that easy."

Then they heard the outside door open, and Gunn appeared. "Hey," he said, seeing them on the couch. "How’s Angel?"

"He wants to be alone," Wesley replied, indicating the office door with a nod of his head.

Gunn frowned. "He’s not gonna fire us again, is he?"

Wesley frowned. "He can’t fire us, he’s not the boss anymore."

"Oh right." Gunn sat down beside them. "How you two holding up? Did you know her well?"

"I did, sort of," Cordy said sadly. "Most of the time I knew her I hated her, but I think we sorta almost got to be friends in the end. I hope."

"I hadn’t known her long," Wesley put in. "The Watcher’s Council had sent me to Sunnydale when Rupert—Buffy’s Watcher—was fired." He snorted. "I was incredibly green. In way over my head."

"Some things never change," Gunn quipped, poking him in the ribs with his elbow. Wesley smirked in reply.

They were silent for a moment, then Gunn asked, "So what now?"

"We wait for Angel," Cordelia said glumly. "I told him I’d stay the night here. You guys wanna make it a slumber party?"

"Why not," Wesley said. "I don’t feel like going home anyway."

"I’m in," Gunn said. "Beats the hell out of getting fired."

So they stayed, opting to sleep huddled together on the couches rather than use any of the rooms, so they might hear Angel if he came out of the office during the night. He didn’t, however, and Cordelia fought the worry forming in her gut. They wouldn’t loose him to the darkness again. They wouldn’t.

* * * * *

The next morning was somber. None of them slept well and around dawn Gunn left, returning half an hour later with donuts and coffee. Wesley took a glazed donut gratefully; they never did go out to eat last night like they’d planned before they found Willow in the office. Cordelia, however, declined the pastries, opting for black coffee only. Wes looked at her, concerned.

"You should eat."

"I’m not hungry."

He nodded, and they returned to their vigil on the couch.

"Should someone go in there and check on him?" Gunn asked, nodding his head toward the office door.

Cordelia looked anxious, but Wes thought better of it. "Let’s give him a little more time." She glared at him, but then relented, leaning back into the couch and sipping her coffee absently.

"So if I remember my Slayer lore right, there should be another Slayer called, right?" Gunn asked at length.

"Yes," Wesley said absently, then a thought occurred to him and he sat up abruptly, almost knocking Cordelia’s coffee out of her hands. "I don’t know."

"Hey!" she cried, sitting up indignantly.

"Sorry, Cordelia," he said hurriedly.

"What do you mean you don’t know?" Gunn prompted.

"Buffy already died once, remember Cordelia?" Wesley replied, first to Gunn and then turning to address Cordelia. "She passed on the call to Kendra."

"Who then died and passed it on to Faith," Cordelia finished, looking as if she understood.

"Buffy died once before?" Gunn asked, confused.

"Just for a moment. Xander brought her back with CPR," Cordelia answered. "Hey maybe?" she started hopefully, then looked downcast. Obviously she had hoped for a moment that this time was the same, but Buffy could be brought back again, but Wesley doubted it, even as Cordelia seem to realize it was unlikely. Buffy would have been dead a while before Willow would come all the way to L.A.

"The point is," Wesley continued, "she died and another Slayer was called. There are two Slayers now, there has been for four years now."

"So?" prompted Gunn.

"So, there has never been two Slayers before. There’s no way of knowing until now whether another Slayer will be chosen upon Buffy’s death or whether she only gets to pass on the Call once." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "In which case there would be only one Slayer again."

"Faith," Cordelia supplied.

"Yes, Faith. And she’s in jail."

"There’s a Slayer in jail?" Gunn asked.

Cordy looked at him, exasperated. "Try to keep up, Gunn. Faith is that girl that Angel goes to visit in prison every so often."

"What’d she do?"

"Murdered someone." She looked at Wesley then, somber, and Wesley tried not to think about the torture he’d endured at Faith’s hands. "And a lot of other bad stuff," Cordy finished softly.

"So what you’re saying is that the one and only Slayer is in jail?" Gunn asked.

"I’m not sure," Wesley replied, thoughtfully. He looked at them. "I’m concerned about what the Council will do."

"What can they do, she’s in prison," Cordelia said.

Wesley shook his head grimly. "The Council is rather unconcerned about the American justice system." He frowned. "If Faith is the only Slayer now, then they just might try something drastic."

Cordelia tilted her head. "You don’t think they’d try and break her out, do you?"

"No," Wes answered, a dread settling in his gut. "I think they might try and have her killed. Then a new Slayer would be chosen, presumably one more under their control."

Cordy’s eyes widened. "They can’t do that!"

"They just might try. Someone should warn Faith, just to be safe."

"Warn Faith about what?"

They looked up, surprised, to see Angel standing above them.

"Angel!" Cordy cried, jumping up. "Don’t do that!" Wesley stood up along side her.

"Hey man," Gunn said quietly, placing a brotherly fist on Angel’s shoulder. "I’m really sorry."

Angel nodded stiffly. "I’m okay. I mean, I’m not but..." he trailed off, then looked at Gunn. "You lost someone recently too, didn’t you?"

Gunn nodded. "Comes with the business, I guess."

Angel nodded with him, then clasped his hands together. He turned to Wesley. "What’s this about Faith?"

"I’m not sure," Wesley said, "but it just occurred to me that Buffy already passed on her call once. I’m not entirely sure if another Slayer will get chosen, or if it will now revert back to one."

"Leaving Faith the only Slayer," Angel nodded thoughtfully. "What do you think the Council will do?"

"That’s what we were talking about when you came in. I can’t be sure," Wesley said cautiously, "but I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to have her killed."

Angel grunted. "You’re right then, we should warn her, even if it’s only a remote possibility." He looked at Wesley carefully. "Wes, I know you have a hard time with her, but could you go? I just—" he faltered. "I don’t think I could... could tell her what happened."

Wesley put a hand on his shoulder. He hated the thought of visiting Faith, of the memories she stirred in him, but in this case he thought it would be better for Angel not to have to do it. "I’ll go. But what did happen?"

"Didn’t Willow tell you?"

"Just the Reader’s Digest version," Cordelia said. "But you don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to," she added hurriedly.

"No, that’s okay. You guys should hear." So he sat down with them on the couches and told them the story Willow had told him.

"The funeral is tomorrow," he told them when he was finished. "I can’t go to the graveside service because it’s in the daytime. Could you guys go for me?"

Wesley swallowed hard, moved by the request. "Of course we will, Angel."

"Of course," Cordy agreed readily.

"I’ll keep things going here while you guys are in Sunnydale," Gunn said helpfully.

"You’re welcome to come, too." Angel started, but Gunn shook his head.

"No, this is family time. You guys knew her. I’ll stay here."

Angel nodded, but Wesley noticed there was something else, something more than grief in Angel’s eyes, and then he realized what it was.

"Angel, you don’t blame yourself for this?" he asked, concerned.

Angel closed his eyes. "I wasn’t there."

Wesley and Cordelia protested together, but Gunn said "I know the feeling."

Wesley looked between the two of them. "You both sound as if we were sitting around drinking tea while others were going off and getting killed. We nearly got killed ourselves, don’t forget."

"But I’ll never know if I could have made a difference," Angel said softly, his voice thick. Gunn bobbed his head in agreement. Cordelia remained silent, watching.

"You’re right, you’ll never know," Wesley replied, addressing both Angel and Gunn. "But that’s not the point. We’re all fighting the same war, but we can’t fight the same battles. We saved Cordelia, don’t forget. Surely that’s not a less worthy goal."

Cordy snorted. "I should hope not!"

Angel looked stricken, his eyes turned towards Cordy. "Of course not, Cordy, you know that’s not what I meant."

"I know," she said, her tone softening.

"The point is, we did a lot of good where we were," Wesley continued. "There are always battles raging elsewhere and people dying. We can spend our time lamenting the battles we couldn’t fight, the lives we couldn’t save because we weren’t there, or we can rejoice in the battles we did fight, the lives we did save. Cordy, Fred, the Host, the people of his dimension. Your presence may or may not have made a difference for Buffy, but you know it made a difference where you were. And the same goes for your friend, Gunn. I know you feel you’ve left them behind, but you’re fighting the war here, too, and every vampire or demon you defeat with us is one less your friends will have to face. We’re all in this together."

Gunn nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks, brother."

Wesley turned to Angel, who looked less than convinced. "Thanks Wesley," the vampire said at length. "You know how much you guys mean to me, how grateful I am for your forgiveness, your friendship. But there will always be a part of me that knows I wasn’t there, that I let her down."

"You didn’t let her down," Cordelia said quietly, reaching out to grab his hand. "Wes is right, you were where you needed to be."

He nodded, understanding if not accepting. Then he rolled his eyes and shook his head, as if he’d stumbled across a great irony of life. At length he looked at them, Cordelia in particular, and said "There’s something else you guys need to know before we go, especially you Cordy."

"Okay," Cordy said nervously, but then considered. "If it’s about Willow being gay, though, I already know."

Angel looked at her oddly and Wesley suppressed a chuckle.

"No, this isn’t about Willow," Angel said, and then gave a small evil grin, "although thank you for that appealing mental image." This earned him a punch in the arm from Cordy and Wesley didn’t suppress his chuckle this time. Even Gunn snickered.

But Angel darkened. "No, this is something weird, and not a good weird.

Just an otherworldly hard-to-wrap-your-mind-around weird."

They looked at him expectantly.

"Spike will most likely be at the wake."

The name sounded familiar to Wesley, but he couldn’t quite remember who Spike was. Cordelia obviously did, however; she choked on her coffee.

"Spike?" she sputtered at Angel. "Bleach blond, punk, likes leather, that Spike?"

Angel merely nodded.

"Oh, well that makes perfect sense," Cordy started... "NOT!"

"I know," Angel said grimly.

Wesley and Gunn looked at each other then simultaneously turned to Angel: "Who’s Spike?"

"Spike..." Angel started, looking uncomfortable. "Spike was with Darla and Dru and me back pre-curse. Dru sired him."

Gunn snorted. "Vampire? Man, life was so simple before I met you all.

We just killed vampires, we didn’t run around with ‘em."

Wesley strained trying to remember what he’d heard of Spike. He frowned: "William the Bloody, right? He killed two slayers, didn’t he?"

Angel nodded and Cordelia gasped. "Did he have something to do with Buffy?"

Angel grimaced, but his expression looked more ironic than pained. "You could say that. Willow says he was helping them."

"Helping them?" Wesley asked. "Why would a vampire be helping them?"

"Why would that vampire be helping them," Cordy added. She turned to Wesley. "It’s his fault I got impaled that one time."

Angel rubbed his eyes. "That notwithstanding, according to Willow he has been helping them and he has promised to protect Dawn."

"Because vampires are so known for keeping their promises," Cordelia snipped, then Angel eyed her and she quickly amended "the ones without souls I mean." And then her eyes widened. "Wait a minute, did he get cursed? Did someone curse him with a soul?"

"Not a soul," Angel said, shaking his head. "A chip."

"A what?" Gunn asked.

"A chip. Some military types that were in Sunnydale last year, they were doing experiments on demons. Willow says they captured Spike and put a chip in his brain. It makes it impossible to hurt humans, gives him a shock whenever he tries."

Wesley frowned. "So he can’t hurt humans. But that doesn’t explain why a vampire, especially one with a history of killing Slayers, would be helping one."

Angel rolled his eyes and looked very tired, but it was Cordelia who answered. "He helped her before. I remember. He helped her against you," she said softly, looking at Angel.

His eyes fell, ashamed. "Yes. Spike has been known to throw in with whoever he needs to suit his purposes," Angel said quietly.

"So then what’s the catch here? What was his purpose this time?"

Angel raised his eyebrows and shook his head incredulously. "Trust me when I say, you don’t want to know. You really don’t want to know."

"Yes we do," Cordy said, but Angel shook his head firmly.

"No, you don’t."

Cordelia was unsatisfied, and Wesley was curious too, truth be told, but Angel seemed resolved on that matter. However, he did turn to Wesley and say "Have you ever heard of a vampire not feeding? Off of living humans?"

Wesley frowned, shaking his head. "Present company excepted, no."

"Willow says Spike hasn’t fed since he’s been chipped. He’s been living off of pig’s blood for a year and a half. She thinks it may have... changed him somehow."

"Changed him in what way?" Wesley asked thoughtfully.

"Weakened the demon maybe?" Angel shrugged. "I’m not sure. But she swears he’s different now, that he actually cares. Do you think not feeding could do that?"

Now Wesley shrugged. "I have no idea. I’ve never heard of anything like that, but then I’d never heard of a vampire with a soul until I met you. I suppose anything’s possible."

Angel sighed and leaned back, looking weary. "I’ve been thinking about this since Willow told me last night." He looked over at Cordy. "This is what we do. We gave Faith a chance, we gave Lindsey a chance. Now I don’t trust Spike and he doesn’t have a soul." He turned to Wesley now. "But we’re dealing with an unknown here, with this no-feeding issue. So I have to know: is it possible? Because if it is, then he’s my responsibility. I sired Dru, Dru sired him. I trained him. If it’s possible for him to be redeemed, then I have to give him the chance, show him the way if I can. But," he added significantly, "if it isn’t possible, if he betrays Buffy’s memory in any way, I will stake him."

They were all silent for a moment, absorbing this. Then Angel turned back to Cordelia. "You know him. Are you up for this? Seeing him when we go to Sunnydale."

Cordy thought for a minute, then shrugged. "I forgave you, didn’t I? You hurt me more than he ever did."

Angel blanched at this and Wesley felt a twinge of sympathy for him, but Cordelia’s gaze didn’t waver. At length, Angel nodded slowly, then let out a long breath of air.

"Okay. I seriously need some sleep. I’d like to go to Sunnydale tonight, rather than try and travel during the day if that’s okay with you two," he said to Wesley and Cordelia. "We can stay at a motel in town. I don’t want to impose on Dawn or any of Buffy’s friends right now." He then turned to Gunn he said "Thanks for being here." Gunn merely nodded.

They rose. "I’ll go visit Faith," Wesley said. "We’ll wake you when it gets dark."

Angel waved in acknowledgment, then headed towards the staircase and up to his room while the others stretched and walked out of the lobby into the bright Southern California morning sun. Wesley blinked in the brilliant light, so incongruous to what he was feeling. One slayer dead, another in jail; the sun shouldn’t be shining at all.

"It feels like it should be raining," Cordelia said, echoing his own thoughts. "Or at least cloudy. God, I hate L.A."

"At least it’s not Pylea," Wesley replied, and Gunn snorted in agreement.

"No," Cordy said thoughtfully. "But Buffy’s dead. If she can get dead..." she trailed off gloomily. Wes and Gunn each put an arm around her then, and they stood there silently in the sun. What more was there to say?

The End