13 - I Will Always Remember You

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CHAMBERLAIN, DARLA: Born 1588 in Wilshire, England. Turned into a Vampire in 1609 in British Virginia, America. Her Sire was the notorious Vampire Master Heinrich Nest. Darla became the Sire of Angelus (see separate entry) in 1753. After the Restoration of Souls she was by Angelus' side in his quest to help Vampires come to terms with their new state of being. Darla took over the leadership of the Vampirium after the death of Vampire Master Nicolai Alexandre Grigori and is the current CEO of the Vampirium Holding Company (commonly called 'Deadman Inc.').

Exert from 'An Inside Look at Vampire Society', written by Rupert Giles, first published in 2023 AD.

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Darla looked across the email Angel had sent her, explaining in brief details what they knew and intended to do about it. The entire thing sounded more like a part from some kind of science fiction novel, Darla thought with a wry smile. Then again, with the plains of Siberia lit by the lights of a million and more souls day and night, did it really sound so strange?

Angel wanted to go to Hell, while Buffy would make a trip to Heaven. It figured that her childe would not want his mate to be the one who had to go to the infernal place, though from what Wesley and Giles had told them she wasn't sure that Heaven was in any way a better place.

Heaven and Hell. Darla had thought a lot about these two topics ever since this crisis had begun. She had been raised a good Christian, despite her later career choice, and the existence of the demonic only seemed to confirm her religious beliefs. After the return of her soul she had spent many a day, sometimes months and years, pondering whether a place of eternal damnation might exists and, if yes, whether her place was there.

Now, ever since Angel had been visited by the creature called Samuel Morning, she found herself wondering about the nearly 300 years she had been a soulless demon. Where had her soul been? She had been a whore in life, by the standards of her time she should certainly have gone to Hell. She had never hurt anyone, never stolen, never killed, but did that mean she had been good? Good enough to avoid Hell?

She didn't know. She just didn't know.

Darla left the command trailer and looked out across the desolate landscape. Siberia wasn't anyone's idea of a vacation spot, that was for sure. Especially this place, where Nikolai Grigori had found his end so many years ago. Darla remembered the day he had tried to reverse the Restoration, send all their souls back where they came from, turn them back into soulless demons.

Had he succeeded, would this crisis have been avoided?

Without warning the Siberian cold around her grew colder still and Darla knew she wasn't alone anymore.

"Hello, Darla." Giles' voice called out from behind her.

"Anything new?" She asked him without turning around.

The apparition slowly drifted into her field of vision, Giles' feet never touching the ground. It was strange to see him in his tweed suit here, where the cold drove even the Vampires to wear thick coats or risk freezing up. Stranger still to see the landscape right through him.

"Willow and her staff will need some time to prepare the Stepping Disks." Giles said, his voice even and neutral. "Wesley's plan might just work. We will know in about a day or so."

Darla nodded. "Why are you here? I'll let Angel know the moment we find the book."

"Angel didn't send me here."

For the first time she met his eyes. Giles had been dead for over thirty years, but she still remembered his eyes. They hadn't changed.

"I wanted to talk to you, Darla." He continued. "Tomorrow I will be going to Heaven along with Buffy, so this might be my last chance."

"Talk about what?" She looked away from him again.

Giles took off his glasses. "I know my unexpected return wasn't exactly easy for any of you. I ... I had the opportunity to talk about a few things with Buffy. Some things that needed saying, things we should have said while I was alive. I ... I hoped we could do the same."

"Talk about what?" Darla asked, wrapping her arms around herself. "We have nothing to talk about."

"Really?"

Memories assaulted Darla, memories of sitting beside Giles' bed in the hospital, watching him waste away right before her eyes. She remembered tears, lots of them, most of them hailing from Buffy's eyes, but some from her own as well.

"It was funny, you know?" Darla said. "All these decades ago, when Buffy was all torn up about whether to become an immortal or not, I gave her this great speech on the pros and cons of eternal life. Then she asked me whether I ever considered offering it to you."

Looking up to meet Giles' eyes once more, Darla continued. "I told her no. I told her I was very fond of you, but not enough for eternity."

Giles nodded, understanding. "What we shared wasn't the kind of soul-deep love that some other people we know of have. But I wouldn't trade the years we had for anything."

"It hurt to let you go." Darla whispered, hugging herself tighter. "It hurt so much that I forgot all about my great speech and offered you immortality. I didn't want to lose you."

Giles gave her a smile. "I was tempted by your offer, Darla. Very much so, in fact."

"Then why didn't you take me up on it?"

"I'm not sure I can explain." Giles said, looking out at the desolation. "I just ... it wouldn't have been right for me. I had lived a long and good life, Darla. I was … I guess you could say I was ready to go on."

Darla closed her eyes, allowing the cold of his presence to wash over her.

"I loved you, Rupert." She said after a moment. "I think you were the first man I ever really loved. There was no one in my life as human and after the return of my soul I needed a century to figure out that I wasn't in love with Angel, at least not like that. Then you came along."

She reached out to touch him, though there was nothing but cold air where his flesh should have been.

"I miss you, Rupert. There have been others these past 30 years, but I never forgot you. I never will."

"Neither will I." He smiled at her.

There was silence between them for a long moment until Darla spoke again.

"Rupert, do you think ... Samuel Morning told Angel that his soul was ..."

"I know." Giles nodded. "Considering who and what he is, though, I wouldn't put too much faith in his words."

"I can't help it, Rupert. I was a demon for 300 years, my soul gone on to wherever it went. What if ... what if I was in hell?"

"So what if you were?" Giles asked calmly. "Neither you nor anyone else who had his soul returned remembers what happened to them during that time. It doesn't matter, because you are not the people you were before you became Vampires."

"Do you really think it's that easy?"

Giles came closer, a cold breeze brushing over Darla's cheek as his hand moved to caress her.

"I know that there are better places than Heaven and Hell out there, Darla. I know that a person as wonderful as you are doesn't have a place in those two realms. Heaven and Hell are not the same as good and evil, not even close. Just remember that. And the only standard you will be judged by is your own."

Darla looked up into the sky, where millions of souls were hovering like so many hungry bees. Maybe it was just her imagination, but they appeared to be more solid, more real than they were yesterday.

"What standard were they judged by?" Darla asked Giles. "What frightens them so that they are trying so hard to get back here?"

"It is a matter of faith, Darla." Giles sighed, looking up as well. "Somewhere deep inside all these poor souls believed that they deserved Hell. Or Heaven. Only the reality didn't exactly live up to their expectations, I fear."

"What about you? Where did you go?"

Giles smiled.

"A good place, Darla. With neither demons nor angels to worry about."

"You think I might get to that place one day myself?"

He moved his arm across her shoulders, a cool wind surrounding her like an icy lover's touch.

"I would like to welcome you there."

Together the Vampire and the ghost watched the soul-filled skies.

14 - All Slayers Go to Heaven

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PAN-DIMENSIONAL MODEL: This theoretic model of the known universe describes the various known dimensions, which are the Earth plain and the 47 so-called demon dimensions that are charted to various degrees. The dimensions are stacked on top of one another as layers in a larger plain of existence, much like the various floors of a large building.

Also described are the so-called between places, buffer zones between the dimensions, which are essentially not places at all but rather a complete absence of space. It is theorized that the Ethereal Threshold is, in fact, also a between place, though it does not simply separate different spatial dimensions but also different states of existence, and that the Ethereal Dimensions are stacked in a similar way as the physical plains.

Further theories suggest that, if the Ethereal Dimensions exist beyond the Pan-Dimensional Model of the physical dimensions, that other, even more different and remote plains of existence might exist beyond them.
 

Exert from 'A study of space and dimensions' by Jonathan Walsh, published at Humboldt University, 2041 AD.

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There was a strange feeling of displacement, as if someone had removed her body and submerged whatever remained of her in warm water. She felt herself drifting, slowly moving in a stream of searing kisses. Going through the Stepping Disk had caused sensations like someone running his hands up and down her body, taking special care to touch all the special areas that only Angel knew.

These Stepping Disks are going to be a hit, she thought dreamily.

"Buffy?" She heard Giles' voice, sounding every bit as disembodied as she felt. He was somewhere close at hand, but she didn't know how to open her eyes. Did she still have eyes?

"I imagine it must be quite disorienting at first." Her Watcher lectured. "Try to concentrate on yourself, Buffy. You are here. You are real."

Slowly his words pulled her back into the real world, or whatever place she might be in right now. Her eyes were there, or at least she imagined they were, and opened when she told them to. Slowly.

"Giles?" She felt her lips move.

The world around her was composed of gray swirls and a whole lot of nothing, or so it seemed to her. They floated, or maybe they fell, it was hard to tell. There were no fixed reference points, nothing to hold on to with her eyes.

Nothing except the apparition that floated right next to her.

"Did it ... did it work?" Her words sounded strange to herself, like little butterflies fluttering out of her mouth.

"We made it, yes." Giles nodded, a motion that made her a little dizzy just from watching.

Looking around at the gray nothingness, Buffy wasn't so sure this was the right place. Wasn't Heaven supposed to be ... heavenly? Beautiful? Or at least ... something? Instead of nothing. Something strange was going on with her thoughts, they seemed to keep slipping from her grasp like quicksilver.

"This is not Heaven." Giles guessed at her thoughts. "We are in one of the between places. Basically a strip of nothing that lies between different dimensions."

Buffy looked down at herself, seeing her body still in place. Feet, legs, hips, arms, hands, everything was where it was supposed to be. She couldn't see her own head, of course, but she was pretty sure it was there as well.

"Where is Heaven then?" She asked Giles. "We wanted to go to Heaven." After a second she added, "I think."

"Are you all right, Buffy?" He hovered closer, worry clouding his face. Or what was visible of his face. His body was even more unreal here than back on Earth, wherever that was now. He was little more than a silhouette with a glimmer of light surrounding him like a full-body halo.

"A little weird," Buffy mumbled, trying to stand straight in a place without a floor, "as if I'm tipsy."

"I imagine it's the stress of manifesting on this plain. It's not really meant to support physical entities."

Buffy moved her hands over her arms and legs. "I'm physical, ain't I? I feel physical."

"Let's move on," Giles just said, "the feeling should pass as you get more used to this plain."

It was a strange sensation to be taken by the hand by a ghost. Or a soul. Whatever. She saw Giles' fingers wrap around her hand, but there was no physical contact to be felt. Only a tingling, as if a soft current was running over her skin.

They moved, though the space around them didn't change. Buffy couldn't have said in what direction they moved, or what distance they covered. After an immeasurable amount of time something appeared in front of them. It didn't appear in the distance and grew larger. It was just there.

A large gate that seemed made from white pearl.

"We're there."

Buffy craned her neck to look at the giant doors. They were impossibly large, too large to even exist. Something like this should collapse beneath its own weight and could certainly never be moved or opened. Yet it was real. Or as real as anything was here in this place.

"Are we going to knock?" She asked Giles.

"I believe there is no need to." He answered, indicating somewhere to the side.

Buffy looked up, at least she thought it was up, and saw several winged shapes come toward them. They actually did appear to travel in a straight line and come closer at a normal rate. Was this any indication that she was getting more used to this plain or were they getting closer to an actually real place again?

With something akin to a thud one of the angels set down in front of her. It looked like a man, yet not. It wasn't just the large, feathery wings that folded together on his back. Nor was it his sheer size, he was easily a head taller than Angel, and built like a tank to boot.

It was the eyes, Buffy realized. They were empty. Completely, unbelievably empty.

"Mortal!" The angel hissed.

"More or less." Buffy replied smugly. Okay, so she was standing in front of the gates of Heaven. So what? She wasn't the young woman she appeared to be. She was 76 years old and had seen pretty much everything the world had to offer. She was blood-bonded to a Vampire, had saved civilization a dozen times over. She wouldn't allow herself to be intimidated by a big guy with wings and empty eyes.

Not much anyway.

"You have no place here!" Her opposite growled.

"I guess not. But neither do all those pesky souls you happened to lose have a place in my world, do they?"

Giles and she had gone over what she intended to say to the angels a hundred times. Giles had predicted that they would, at best, completely ignore him, so it was up to her. She had to give them the right impression.

"What do you want?" The angel asked after studying her for a timeless eternity.

"I want to talk to you. About what is happening, both here and on Earth. And how to best resolve this situation without burning everything down around our heads."

Again the angel studied her, his empty eyes seeming to look right through her skin and into every single blood vessel and cell. Buffy didn't fidget under his gaze, though. She had been stared at by a demon bigger than the Chrysler building once. This was small change in comparison.

"Very well." The angel said finally. "Michael wants to talk to you."

She didn't ask him how he knew that, figuring that angels probably had some kind of telepathy thing going between them. She simply marked that fact down for future reference and fell into step with the angel as he strode toward the gate.

Interesting thing about a place with no true physical dimensions, she noticed. She had no problem keeping stride with a guy at least three feet taller than she was.

"Do you have a name, too?" She asked him.

"Uriel!" He was spared further comment as the gates drew open in front of them and Buffy got her first glimpse of Heaven.

Despite Giles' warnings she was taken aback.

Childhood stories always described Heaven as a place of fluffy clouds, smiling angels in white togas flying through the air with harps and singing Hallelujah. No shadows or worry to be found, everything white and peachy.

This was not the place from the stories.

Uriel led her along a broad promenade of white-veined black marble and everything around them was sharp-edged, glistening steel, gleaming harshly in the glare of three suns up in the sky. The completely cloudless sky, Buffy added disappointedly. How could there be no clouds in Heaven?

She saw angels, lots of them, though none of them wore togas or carried harps. Most of them didn't smile, either, and those few that did looked like they were thinking of inflicting torture and waging combat instead of singing happy songs in eternal bliss. They filled the sky above her, swords and armor sparkling in the searing light like so many stars, harsh war songs reaching Buffy's ears.

Buffy didn't like Heaven.

"Look there!" Giles whispered to her. He was hovering by her side, his human image almost invisible in the glare of the suns, reduced to little more than a whisper in the wind. She could still see his hand, though barely, as it pointed toward a large building in the distance.

It was by far the largest structure Buffy could see. Seemingly built from nothing but black glass it towered into the spotless sky like a needle piercing the heavens. Something was moving behind the glass, she could just make out the motion. Something that churned and rippled, almost as if it was alive.

"What is that?" She asked Giles.

"I've never been inside Heaven itself," he whispered to her, "I have only seen it from a distance. But I believe that this is the Repository."

They walked closer, their unhurried steps bridging distances that had seemed insurmountable a second ago. The black glass tower grew quickly and, though it did not cast a shadow in the glare of the three suns, Buffy felt cold.

"Repository? Repository of what?"

"Souls, Buffy." Giles said, something akin to a shiver running through his form. "This is where Heaven imprisons all the souls that come here."

Uriel stopped, causing Buffy to start. They had arrived in front of another large door, though not nearly as impossibly huge as the first one. Two guards with flaming swords stood in front of it, but stepped aside before Uriel.

"Present your case, mortal!" He thundered at her as the door swung open. "You have the attention of the First Host."

With thoughts of imprisoned souls still swirling through her head Buffy found herself facing half a dozen grim figures with large, feathery wings, all of whom endowed with those same empty eyes and staring at her as if she was something very unappetizing.

"Here goes nothing." She murmured to herself and walked toward them.
 

15 - Let All Hope, You Who Enter Here

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FAUSTIAN DEALS: Popular term for bargains struck with demonic entities, named after the character 'Faust', created by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Bargains of this kind normally entail the demonic entity granting wishes to a human in return for the pledge of their soul.

An important fact to remember is that, in almost every recorded case of such a dealing, the human was screwed over by the demon.
 

From Bagley's '1001 Things to Know About the Supernatural', first published in 2033

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"Mr. Hart will see you now, Mr. O'Conner." The secretary said with a terribly sweet and likeable voice. Angel looked her over once, her scent clearly human, yet with a taint he couldn't quite grasp. Almost all the people in this building carried this taint with them. They seemed to wear it like a symbol of pride.

Being here filled him with revulsion.

"Thank you." He said with a convincing and totally fake smile, walking toward the opening office doors.

"Ah, Mr. O'Conner. Come in, please!"

Julius Hart, senior partner of Wolfram & Hart, rose from behind his dark mahogany desk, his hand out for a friendly shake. Angel took it, waiting just long enough to let the other know that he wasn't exactly thrilled about the experience.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Hart." He said in his best neutral voice. Three centuries of practice in maintaining a poker face and he suspected he would need every bit of it today.

By now Buffy was on her way to Heaven, he knew. He had stayed at Magitech just long enough to make sure that nothing went wrong with her trip through the Stepping Disk, then went on his own way. Not through another Stepping Disk, though that had been an option they had discussed. He felt that there was an easier way to hold talks with Hell than just manifest right in the middle of it.

Go through the lawyers.

"Please!" Hart gestured toward the plush seat in front of his desk and Angel sank into it with a friendly nod, though he wanted nothing better than to get out of this office as fast as possible. While the secretary outside had carried a tainted scent on her humanity, Hart himself seemed to carry a taint of humanity on something else. Something that was definitely not human any longer, if it ever had been.

"I have to admit I was a bit surprised to hear you call us." Hart smiled at him. "After that unfortunate business between you and our own Mr. Manners a few years ago."

"Water under the bridge." Angel smiled back. "At least for the time being. I am sure you agree that there are more important things to worry about right now than old grudges."

"Certainly. I have, of course, made an immediate call to Mr. Morning. He promised to be make room in his schedule as soon as he could arrange it."

"That was very kind of you."

"Nonsense."

For a moment the two men stopped the idle exchange of pleasantries and sized each other up. Hart knew of the troubles the Vampire in front of him had caused for his firm during the last few decades, though there had never been any kind of direct clash. Angel, for his part, knew that Hart was a dangerous man despite his almost innocent appearance.

"May I ask you a question while we wait for Mr. Morning?" Angel asked after a minute has passed in silence.

"Go ahead." Hart invited.

"Wolfram & Hart seems to have a close relation with the entities that Mr. Morning represents. I have to admit I am curious how that relation has come about."

A knife-edge smile flashed over Hart's features.

"Oh, if you knew how many of the staff here at Wolfram & Hart would like to learn that little story. I hear there are quite a few bets going on as to what the actual tale is."

"A secret then?"

"Oh no, I just like to cultivate a certain air of mystery among my employees. If you want to hear the story I would be glad to tell you. I have to warn you, though, it isn't exactly an epic tale. Quite short, actually."

Angel invited him to go ahead.

"It was in 1918 in France." Hart began, watching Angel for a reaction. The Vampire remained stoic. "I was but a soldier back then. Most of my unit had died in the trenches and I was busy losing my way among clouds of mustard gas. I was pretty certain I would not live to see the next sunrise."

Angel remembered that time only too well. But a decade after the Restoration and it had seemed as if the whole world had gone to hell, as if humanity itself had become all that more monstrous, now that the real monsters didn't threaten them anymore. The trench fighting had been a piece of hell brought to Earth and many a man, mortal or Vampire, had had lost either life or sanity, often both.

"That was when I first met Samuel Morning," Hart continued, "I didn't know what he was back then, of course. He was sitting at a table right in the middle of a desolated battlefield and challenged me to a round of Poker. He told me if I won he would grant me whatever I wanted. If I lost, then I would be damned to serve him for eternity."

Angel nodded. "You lost, then."

Hart broke into a huge smile. "Hell, no! I won."

With a touch of brimstone filling the air a door appeared in the wall beside Hart's desk. The deceptively young-looking man rose from his desk.

"Shall we?" He gestured toward the door.

"After you." Angel nodded back.

They ended up walking through side by side, the door big enough to accommodate them. Angel experienced the briefest touch of vertigo, which was the only sign that they had done more than walk into another room.

"Liam, how good to see you again."

Another office, not looking all that different from the one they had just left. Large desk, chairs, a mini-bar discreetly positioned in one corner, all the comforts of corporate life. Angel's senses weren't fooled, though. They were no longer on Earth or anywhere near it.

This place reeked of evil.

Samuel Morning rose from his chair as they entered, but didn't offer to shake Angel's hand, which he was glad about. The first time he had met this thing that looked like a man Angel had been too surprised to really size him up. Now, though, he was prepared and reached out with every sense he had, natural or otherwise.

He had expected evil. A stench of darkness like so many people in the building they had just left carried around with them. That stench was there, everywhere, it practically assaulted his senses, but now that he paid close attention he also noticed something else.

Underneath that stench of evil there was nothing. Just pure emptiness.

"How goes the search for the book?" Morning inquired amiably as they took their seats.

"We are working on it." Angel said, smiling. "I wanted to talk to you about a different matter, though. Concerning the preparations currently underway for a conflict between you and Heaven."

Morning's smile never wavered, but his demeanor changed. The farce of the friendly businessman fell away almost completely, replaced by cold scorn.

"I am afraid our competition is a bunch of brainless idiots." He said acidly. "Generally speaking they would rather destroy all of creation than take the risk of losing to us. Or anyone else, for that matter."

Angel raised an eyebrow at that last comment, but Morning continued.

"We have no interest in a war, Liam. Certainly not. War is bad for business, especially if there is nothing left after it. At the same time, though, we can not ignore Heaven's preparations. We must be prepared should they attack."

"I understand that." Angel replied. "Yet as you yourself said, a war between the two of you would benefit no one. Quite frankly we on Earth are not looking forward to being caught in the middle of it. You know, and by now Heaven knows, too, that the disappearance of souls is not caused by either of you, but in fact by a spell worked on Earth. You also know that we are doing our best to reverse what was done. There is no reason to go to war over this."

"Between two rational individuals as ourselves, Liam, that is, of course, quite correct. I am afraid, though, that rationality does not rate highly in Heaven. The winged warriors are deathly afraid of losing their precious reservoir of souls, so they figure that now is as good a time for Armageddon as any other. The oldest cliche, you know? If I can't play, no one's gonna play."

Angel was busy thinking about Morning's tone of voice. No matter his talk about rationality and not wanting a war, there was some kind of mild desperation in his words. Outwardly he projected a calm, cool, and collected façade, but things were brewing behind it.

Giles had told them that both Heaven and Hell collected souls like a child did marbles, keeping them prisoner in vast holding devices. Heaven called it the Repository, Hell probably had a fancy name of their own for theirs. What neither Giles nor Kendra knew, though, was why they did it. What did they need the souls for?

"One would think that Heaven wouldn't mind losing souls as long as you or anyone else doesn't get them." He decided to voice his question in a roundabout way. They needed this information. "Why are they pushing for war when they know all the missing souls are moving towards Earth?"

A mildly surprised look appeared on Morning's face.

"Why, Liam, with all the information you seem to have about matters beyond the Threshold, I thought you had already figured this one out."

Studying the thing in front of him, Angel wasn't sure how much of that surprise was an act. He didn't know if Morning knew about Giles and Kendra, or that they were using the Stepping Disks to send Buffy to Heaven. He certainly didn't intend to give any of that information away,

Angel said nothing, just gave Morning an interested look.

"To fill the gap in your knowledge," Morning said after a moment, "Heaven minds losing souls for the same reason we do."

Hart, almost forgotten in the exchange between Vampire and Demon, was leaning back in his chair. He knew the reason, of course, had known since that day on the battlefields of France. It was the reason he was here, the reason he worked with Samuel Morning despite winning that Poker game more than a century ago.

Because, knowing what he did about life after death, he didn't dare die.

Morning gestured and the room around them changed. The one thing that had differed from just about any other office building anywhere on Earth was the distinct lack of windows. Now, though, a large picture window opened in the wall behind Morning, the wall sliding apart like an opening lid.

Angel couldn't help but flinch.

He found himself looking out over a vast landscape, an infinite stretch of ugly desolation with no horizontal curve or any other visible sign that it would ever end. The sky above it was an angry crimson red, pulsing like a vat filled with living blood, mirrored by the numerous fires burning on the ground below.

Sitting right in the middle of the picture was a giant monstrosity of a building. A huge structure that had sprung from a gothic nightmare, twisting up into the crimson sky in a vast mass of spikes, edges, and pulsing veins the size of skyscrapers, topped by an obsidian crown of thorns that seemed to branch out across the visible firmament.

The belly of this beast rested on the ground, spread out over a base of at least a dozen square miles like a fat, well-fed parasite. It glowed from the inside, a glow that Angel was only too familiar with.

Souls.

"Souls are power, Liam." Morning said. "More power than you can even imagine. Why did you think every two-bit demonic entity tries its best to make stupid mortals consign their souls to it? Because it means power. It's a simple game, really. He with the most souls wins."

Angel looked at the obscene structure for a long time, before he shook his head. "That's all? That's what this is all about? A power play?"

"A power play, yes." Morning shrugged. "Granted, it might seem simple to the casual observer, but I don't think you understand the scope, Liam. We are not talking about the few thousand souls you took from us with the Restoration. As I told you before, that's small change. We are talking about billions of souls, which represent a power you can not even imagine."

Looking at the place where that power was contained Angel knew the consequence of what Morning had just said. Knew the consequences of the things he himself had to do.

If they restored the Threshold, if they managed to mend the barrier between worlds and send all the souls back were they came from, they would give Morning and his creatures that power once more.

He threw a side glance at Julius Hart and, for the first time, saw the barest of human emotions flicker across the man's face. Whatever remained human in Hart, it didn't like looking at that thing outside the window anymore than Angel did.

"Heaven will attack before their power runs dry," Morning continued, "and we will have to meet them in kind. There is no other way."

"Unless we find the book first." Angel added.

"I hope you do, Liam. I truly hope you do." A sigh went through Morning's body. "We won't strike first. You have my word on that, however much it might be worth to you. The angels will attack us, though. You can count on that. It's in their nature."

Angel went through the door again and took his leave from Wolfram & Hart after the exchange of a few more pleasantries. He was not really sure how much he had accomplished this day. The things he had seen and learned, though, sent a shiver down his spine.

These powers used human souls as so much fuel for their war machinery, reducing the essence of people to chips on a huge poker table. No matter that many of these souls might actually deserve the fate that befell them, it just wasn't right. That he should be forced to return them to this fate ...

Angel shook his head. No sense in pondering things he could do nothing about. He had the world of the living to worry about right now, he needed all his strength for that.

Giles had said that there were other places. Better places. Angel could but hope that the people he had lost during these long centuries had somehow found their way there.

Remembering that towering monstrosity in the heart of Hell, the alternative was unthinkable.

Go to Part 16