24 - Hell Hath No Fury Like an Angel Angered

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Hello, this is Julius Hart. Yes, I did not expect me to call you, either. Listen. It seems my association with Samuel Morning has come to a rather sudden end. How? Well, he basically said that Hell would not require legal services any longer, seeing as the world would soon come to an end. Yes, that is what he said. Anyway, I called because, well, Faustian deals aside, I find myself rather fond of this world. Plus I got a signed contract promising me immortality, which will be kind of moot if there is no world left to be immortal in, correct? So listen closely ...

Phone call made by Julius Hart, senior partner of Wolfram & Hart. December 6, 2057 AD

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Angel and his army were approaching Hell's Tower of the Damned, having broken through the demon's outer line of defense, when it hit him.

Buffy.

A terrible pain shot through him, a length of cold steel burying itself in flesh that might as well be his own. He dropped to his knees, clutching the wound that wasn't visible to anyone but himself. He heard his beloved scream through the bond, heard her death cry.

"What is it, mate?" Spike was by his side instantly, yet his childe's presence was barely noticeable through the pain, the worry on his face unable to touch him.

"Buffy!" Angel screamed, convulsing, blood gushing from his mouth. Buffy was dying, he could feel her life fading through the bond, her light going out. This couldn't be happening. It was supposed to be forever.

He felt her trying to protect him, trying to close off the bond so he wouldn't die with her. He tried to reach her through it, tried to push his own life into her, willing to die on the spot if only she could live.

Neither of them was successful.

"I am a bit disappointed, I must say." Angel was lost in the pain, but Spike looked up to see a man in a black suit standing right in front of them, between the army and the Tower of the Damned.

"Morning!" Spike growled. He had never met the demon himself, but Angel had told him enough.

"Hello, William. Tell me, if Liam here dies, will you try and lead this little suicide mission to its success?"

Morning looked up, seeing the conflict still raging in the distance. Three armies locked in a deadly embrace, unleashing violence the likes this world had never seen.

Even from here it was clearly visible that the humans and spirits were rapidly losing ground.

"Your big attack is failing, you know?" Morning said in conversational tone. "From Liam's reaction here I'd guess that his beloved Buffy just died, so it's a safe bet the attack on Heaven failed as well. And, sorry, but I can't allow this attack here to succeed, either."

Spike had half a thousand Slayers behind him, three hundred armed Vampires, and only this one demon stood between them and their objective. They could do this. He didn't like the look of smug confidence on Morning's face, but he wasn't about to be intimidated by it, either.

"We'll see about ..." He began.

Suddenly Angel surged back to his feet.

"Peaches?" Spike started back, taken aback by the anger and power suddenly radiating from his Sire. Angel's gaze locked with Morning's and the demon blinked.

"You are wrong on two accounts, Morning." Angel growled. "The attack on Heaven has not failed. And neither will this one."

Morning was obviously surprised, but didn't look any less confident than a moment ago. He smiled at the Vampire facing him, arrogance oozing from his every pore.

"Confidence is all well and good, Liam, but you don't honestly expect me to see the error of my ways and just step aside, do you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." Angel turned to Spike. "I will take care of this, Will. You take the others and destroy the Tower."

"Are you sure ...?" Spike began.

"I am. Go!"

Morning shook his head. "Better stay, William. This will only take a second."

Angel walked up to him, his blood pounding with the renewed life of his beloved. He didn't know what had happened to Buffy, but he knew that she was alive and well. He felt her live and breathe, felt her fight with a strength she had never had before, and that was more than enough to face Samuel Morning eye to eye.

"You can not defeat me, Liam." Morning said with a condensing smile. "You know that."

"No, I don't. And my name is not Liam anymore."

Then both of them moved and Spike and the others had to avert their eyes. Angel and Morning met in a glare of hellfire, scorching the ground around them. Spike screamed, calling out to his Sire, his friend, even as the army behind him sprang into action. Whatever happened in there, Angel had wanted them to destroy the Tower, was probably sacrificing his life right now to buy them the time they needed.

Slayers and Vampires streamed past the fireball that had consumed Angel and Morning, closing in on the towering monstrosity that had imprisoned so many of their fellow spirits. Spike joined them after but a moment, tearing himself away from the glare.

"Good luck, Peaches!" He whispered, running toward the Tower.

Spike was followed by the growling of the two fighters. One of whom had now shed all pretense of ever having been human. Morning grew in size, his skin turning a crimson red. Horns sprouted from his forehead, fangs grew in his mouth.

"YIELD!" The greater demon screamed, pushing against his opponent with all his unholy strength.

"NEVER!" Angel held his ground. The two were locked against each other, the much larger demon trying to muscle his enemy into the ground and finding that feat impossible to accomplish. Angel wasn't impressed by the hellfire surging around him, didn't yield to the demon's superior strength.

His face was still human, the Vampire face nowhere to be found, and Angel smiled.

"You can't face me!" Morning screamed, desperation creeping into his voice. "I am the Lord of Hell! No soul can face me!"

"I can!" Angel screamed back.

Just before the attack Angel had received a call on his cell phone. A call from one Julius Hart, something Angel hadn't expected. Or maybe he had. Maybe that glimmer he had seen in Hart's eyes when they had both gazed upon Hell's Tower of the Damned had really meant something.

Whatever his true motivation, Hart had decided to break client confidentiality (if there was such a thing after a business association came to an end because of impending Armageddon) just long enough to supply Angel with a few bits of information about Hell and its most prominent representative, Samuel Morning.

He added that he would deny ever having said anything if he were to be questioned, especially if said questioning would be done by demons.

Angel remembered now. No, remembering was the wrong word. Memories were physical, something stored in the brain. He felt it, deep in that place where his soul sat. Feelings of pain and desperation, a century and more of torture and cruel games. He had been here before. He had faced this creature before and existed in unending terror for 150 years before the Gypsies brought him back.

This time, being who he was and knowing what he did now, it was different.

"Been there!" Angel spat into Morning's face. "Done that! Hell holds no power over me anymore!"

"Impossible!" Morning surged with redoubled strength, but still couldn't move Angel. "I know your soul! I know you are weak! You have been mine for over a century, Liam!"

"But I am not Liam anymore!" Angel smiled and forced Morning a step backward.

Morning was powerful enough to smash a world to cinders. His every heartbeat was like a nuclear explosion, he could make the oceans boil with a gesture, could send a million mortals screaming in terror.

"All that strength," Hart had said, "hails from us, though. From the souls Hell has captured, but also from our own fear of him. Remember that we created Hell, Angel. Us mere humans. And what does the good old scripture say about Hell? It can't defeat the righteous. Very naïve, I might say, but that's made-up stories for you. And made-up worlds, too."

Angel had never really considered himself one of the righteous. He had so many things to be sorry for. So much pain and sorrow that he had unleashed upon this world. But things had changed.

Having seen Hell, having learned about the afterlife, had shown him, more than any abstract knowledge he had ever possessed, that his soul was who he was. Not the body, possessed by a demon. His soul had been here, in Hell, if for no greater reason than Liam's believing he deserved it.

He wasn't Liam any more. He wasn't Angelus, either. Those two were parts of him, but that was all they were. He was Angel, a person all his own, and though he didn't know whether he could honestly count himself among the righteous, apparently someone or something else was more certain of it than he.

The hellfire didn't burn him.

"How dare you!" Angel growled at Morning, whose demon face now expressed something he had never known before in his nearly eternal existence.

Fear.

"How dare you come here and threaten my people!" Angel forced him back another step.

"You can't defy me!" Morning yelled, unable to believe that he appeared to be losing this fight. "You have no place here! This is the final battle between Heaven and Hell and you have no part in it!"

"Don't we? Maybe it's time we mere mortals stopped giving you our power. Maybe it's time we stopped imagining your world into existence."

Morning paled.

"We know everything about you!" Angel thundered at the surprised demon. "We know you are nothing but a nightmare we dreamed into being. You wouldn't even exist if we hadn't wanted it so."

The Tower of the Damned shook as explosions bloomed at its base. In the skies above them the steel city of Heaven shuddered. And in a small room half a world away a circle of the world's most powerful witches, led by Willow Rosenberg, were using three pages torn from a book to invoke magic that was older than all the dimensions collapsing in on one another right now.

And a billion and more souls cried freedom.

25 - There Fell a Great Star From Heaven, Burning

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EMERGENCY NEWSFLASH: Sensor grid is registering an eruption of High Magic beyond all established scales. This is no doubt connected with the ongoing battle to repel the extra-dimensional invaders currently taking place in the Balkans. Satellite observation showed numerous explosions in the area before we lost all imagery. All citizens are advised to prepare for backlash effects (click to see a list of known backlash effects for High Magic events) and stay in their homes until an all-clear is given. We will keep you informed.

Download from Global News Network Omninet, December 6, 2057

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Faith did not stay to watch the battle unfolding in the skies above Heaven, though she suspected she would miss quite a show. Her job, as well as those of her sisters and the Vampires that accompanied them, was to destroy the black glass tower rising into the skies right in front of them and to free the souls trapped within. They were on a schedule here, tedious as it was, and couldn't afford any delay.

Faith's job was to blow something up, which was fine with her.

Gabriel was the Angel of Death. Her touch could kill a thousand men at once, her sword would never miss its mark or inflict a wound that was anything but fatal. Yet today it had failed her. Today one she had discarded as dead had risen and was now facing her in a battle the likes of which Gabriel had never even imagined. The Slayer had been restored by the dying ember of Raphael's healing power, and was given all the strength remaining inside of him. Given his wings, his sword, his link to the near limitless power residing in Heaven's Repository of Souls, and filled with a burning determination to preserve the world she had been born to protect.

And Gabriel, empty of everything but the desire to destroy, found that she had met her match.

In Hell Samuel Morning was driven to his knees by someone whom the fires of Hell couldn't touch. Someone whose soul had been in Hell once before, only to be wrenched from their grasp by a stupid Gypsy tribe. Morning had been certain that he knew this soul, knew the sniveling weakling he had played with for over a century.

Morning found that he had been very, very wrong.

From his office in Los Angeles Julius Hart watched the unfolding events and was quite content with what he saw. Granted, his clients (former clients) were losing the battle, but so were the angels and, seeing as that would leave this world he was so fond of intact, he found that to be a pretty good development. No one knew that he had given Angelus a little help in the matter, so Wolfram & Hart's reputation should remain unblemished. Losing Morning as a client was tragic, there had been many benefits involved in that relationship, but it couldn't be helped.

All in all, Julius Hart was having quite a good day.

The armies of Heaven and Hell, still locked in battle with what remained of the unexpected attackers from Earth, noticed that something was going very wrong. This was supposed to be the final battle. Armageddon. Ragnarok. The Apocalypse. Whichever name one gave it, this was supposed to be it. Yet instead of one of them winning, both sides suddenly felt their power weakening, their strength draining away. Even as Earth's defenders got a second wind and attacked with new vigor the demons and angels turned their heads toward their respective sources of strength, not believing what they saw.

Angels and demons both started to realize that they would lose this battle.

In Magitech Central, California, twelve of the world's most powerful witches were sitting around three floating pages, building up a spell the likes no one had seen since the creation. Magical power was thick in the air, suffusing every cell of their bodies. They barely understood what they were doing here, knew only that the Book of Borders had created the boundaries of the dimensions in the first place and could do so again.

Unleashing the primal power locked in the deceptively mundane-looking pages, Willow and her witches experienced the greatest rush of their lives.

In the Library the shelve which should have contained the eleven book collection that both the Necronomicon Nocturnum and the Book of Borders belonged to, still missing one of its number, could be seen humming and pulsing with power. The ten books, plus their missing counterpart, were connected in ways not even the Librarian fully understood. More, they were alive, or so close to it that the difference was indeterminable. After having rested here in the Library for eons they could sense that, for the second time in what was less than an eyeblink to them, the power they contained had been unleashed to serve its original purpose. Creation.

The books found that to be a very good thing and the Librarian could have sworn he heard them chuckle.

Heaven's Repository of Souls was the first to fall. In their near infinite arrogance the angels had never taken any kind of measures to protect their tower of black glass from attackers. No one would be so brazen as to attack Heaven, they had thought, and even if they did, they would surely be repelled by the righteous power of Heaven's defenders.

Only one of which was still standing right now, or flying rather, deadlocked against an opponent she could not defeat, leaving the Repository defenseless. Explosions bloomed at its base, cracks ran up its towering height like skeletal hands looking to tear it down, the black glass shattered under the strain. Gabriel screamed as the symbol of Heaven's supremacy collapsed and Buffy used that one moment of distraction to drive Raphael's sword home.

The Angel of Death fell from the sky, still screaming, as the Repository burst into a million shards of black glass and the lights of the imprisoned souls filled the skies as they burst free.

Hell's Tower of the Damned didn't last much longer. Samuel Morning was on his knees, helpless before his opponent, and forced to watch the towering monstrosity that held his power be consumed by flames. Its pulsing veins snapped, its razorblade exterior burst open, the night-black crown of thorns it had spread over the landscape Hell had claimed went up in flames.

The dark crimson twilight of Hell was driven away as a billion freed spirits rejoiced.

Morning felt his power fade away, strength collected over thousands of years disappeared in an instant, and Angel's finally killing him was almost an act of mercy.

For the observers on Earth things happened very fast after that. For weeks they had seen their skies filled with the lights of souls, fugitives from Heaven and Hell, looking to escape through the weakening Threshold to the Earth plain. Then the Threshold had ruptured, a gaping rend appearing in the heavens, and the lights had rained down on Earth. The havoc caused by millions and more ghosts had gone almost unnoticed, though, after the appearance of Heaven and Hell on Earth.

The convergence zone, where dimensions had started to collapse in on one another, was almost completely in synch with the Earth plain by the time it erupted into light. The brilliance exploded over half the globe, billions of onlookers had to avert their eyes or risk going blind, and the darkness of night turned bright as day. The network of observation satellites crashed and shorted out, their sensors overloaded by the glare, which was visible all the way to the Luna colony.

Only the slight difference in quantum vibration that yet separated Earth from the battlefield saved the planet from fiery extinction, instead giving it a spectacular but harmless light show. And, incidentally, giving the citizens of Luna the most spectacular Earth rise ever.

High Magic flooded over the globe, power unleashed at Magitech Central, a great wave of energy with billions of souls dancing on its crest. The Threshold, barely more than a shadow of what it had been, drank up the power like starved ground did rain. The gaping rend knitted together in the measure of a heartbeat, the gray swirls of nothingness disappearing from Earth's skies. The power traveled on, reaching into all the dimensions damaged by the power of the Necronomicon Nocturnum, and stitched the barriers back together.

The convergence zone collapsed, the dimensions being wrenched apart again as the barriers between them snapped back up. The survivors of Earth's attack force called a hasty retreat through the blazing portals of the Stepping Disks, even as millions of angels and demons found themselves swept away as the world literally fell apart around them.

Vampires and Slayer spirits ran from the crumbling steel city of Heaven, the black marble streets cracking under their feet. Hell was an inferno of erupting fire pits and air filled with brimstone, razor-sharp fragments of the Tower of the Damned raining from the sky. The engineers of Magitech did their best to open as many of their limited number of Stepping Disks to evacuate the warriors, but everything quickly descended into chaos.

Angel let the lifeless body of Samuel Morning drop to the shaking ground, looking around for Spike and the others. Vampires and Slayers were pouring out of the burning mess that Hell had become in small groups, heading for the nearest Stepping Disk. Angel saw a few familiar faces and shouted at them to hurry, but made no move for safety himself.

"William!" He screamed.

"What the bloody hell you still doing here, Peaches?" Spike was running for all he was worth, fire erupting half a step behind him. "Get your ass into the portal!"

Breathing a sigh of relief upon seeing his childe safe, Angel turned his eyes to the sky. He could just see the second Stepping Disk that had opened near Heaven, evacuating his people from up there. He was too far away to see details, though. Faith was up there. Luke, Kendra. And Buffy. He opened the bond wide, trying to find her that way.

"We need to get moving!" Spike grabbed Angel without slowing down, dragging him along toward the Stepping Disk. "Hell's going to hell, Angel, and I've got the feeling Heaven will follow suite. Our Slayers can take care of themselves and they're gonna kill us if we get killed down here. So move!"

For a moment perspectives shifted, his conscience expanding through the bond, and Angel found himself looking through his beloved's eyes. Buffy was alive and well, no trace of the earlier pain remaining, and heading right toward the golden Stepping Disk, accompanied by Faith and a few others.

Was she ... was she flying?

'Race you back home!' He heard her say through the bond, felt a smile on her lips.

"You're right!" Angel started running beside Spike, the portal coming closer. "Buffy and Faith are safe. And Buffy just dared us to race her home."

"You gonna let her win or what?" The two Vampires poured on the speed and dove into the portal.

Behind them the steel city of Heaven crashed into the burning remains of Hell, even as the two dimensions were wrenched apart again. The last thing Angel felt was the now almost familiar sensation of going through the Stepping Disk. It felt like someone showering him with ice-cold water.

These things are never going to sell well, he thought.

26 - Crossing the River of Souls

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NEWSFLASH: WE MADE IT!

The eruption of High Magic seems to have died down with minimal backlash effects and the dimensional convergence that manifested over the Balkans yesterday has faded. The authorities report a successful repelling of the extra-dimensional invasion with no damage done to the Earth. We are also happy to report that chaos and uprising in the face of the phenomena of the last two weeks have been minimal. While we are still receiving reports of ghost manifestations all over the globe, the rate of these appearances is decreasing rapidly, so we are positive that things will return to normal soon.

Download from Global News Network Omninet, December 7, 2057

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Angel studied the old monastery, thinking of times long gone. 150 years and he had never been back here. Not once. He wondered if some part of him might always have known that he would have to pay a terrible price for changing the world the way he had.

It had almost cost him all of creation.

"We did good, mate." Spike said, coming up behind him. He was not just talking about yesterday's battle and Angel knew it.

"Will, if we had known ... if we'd had some way to know that something like this would happen as a result of the Restoration ... do you think we would have done it?"

Spike lit a cigarette, shrugging. "I don't know what you're so upset about. We saved all of creation, brought down Heaven and Hell, made lots of souls happy campers. All in all, not a bad day's work."

"But we came so close to losing it all." Angel reminded him. "So close to bringing about the destruction of everything."

"Sure. But if we hadn't done it, then Golgotha would have torched the Earth back in '38. Or the Nimir would have wasted civilization five years later. Not to mention the millions of people that would have wound up as happy meals on legs. Sure, we caused this by working the Restoration. So what? This was our mess and we cleaned it up. That's what counts, Peaches."

Was it that easy, Angel wondered. Did the fact that they managed to avert the end of the world excuse them bringing it about in the first place? He was the first to admit that bringing down Heaven and Hell was not a bad thing. They had freed billions of souls from imprisonment, an accomplishment he was sure none of them would ever be truly able to grasp, but did that change the fact that it had been his careless use of a magic he hadn't even begun to understand that had brought the universe to the verge of collapse?

He wasn't sure. It would take a lot of time for him, for all of them to wrap their minds around all the things they had seen and done these past two weeks. God, had it really been just two weeks? Somehow it seemed an incredibly short amount of time for everything that had happened.

"Come on, Angel!" Spike said, slapping his shoulder. "We'll be late for the seeing-off party, so let's get going back!"

Angel nodded, giving the old monastery that had been the Necronomicon's resting place for so long one final look, then activated the Stepping Disk.

Two steps later Spike and Angel entered the lobby of the old Hyperion Hotel, cleaned up by some people Darla had hired for an express job, where everyone else was already waiting.

With Heaven and Hell gone the millions of souls that had fled to Earth through the crumbling Threshold were slowly beginning to disappear again, drifting back into the ethereal dimensions one by one. The Threshold was back at full strength, so that once again it allowed but one-way travel between the worlds of the living and the dead. Not even the Stepping Disks were able to punch through it anymore.

Which meant that, once Giles, Kendra, and Wesley left, they would never be able to return again.

"I wish you would stay a little longer." Buffy told Giles, raising her hand to where his chest would be. The cold air sent shivers down her arm, but she didn't care.

Giles smiled at her. "We said our goodbyes a long time ago, Buffy. I am glad that I could take this opportunity to see you again, but our place isn't here any longer."

"I know, I just ..." Her voice broke.

"Yes, Buffy. Me, too."

Angel watched his wife say goodbye to her father for the second time. It would be easier this time, knowing that Giles was going to be okay on the other side, but not by much.

Looking at Buffy, Angel remembered the little shock he had gotten when he had seen her wearing angel wings upon their return to the real world. A final gift from Raphael, she had told him. With the Repository of Souls, the source of Raphael's power, now gone, most of his gift had apparently faded as well. The wings had retreated into Buffy's back, leaving only a faint scar where they had burst forth.

Buffy had brought Raphael's body back from Heaven with her and they would bury him here in Los Angeles.

On the far side of the lobby Faith was chatting with Kendra.

"So you and the other Slayers are going to stay together?" Faith asked.

"Well," Kendra shrugged, "none of them will return to the White Room, that much is for sure. We are not yet sure where we will go, but I'm sure we'll find a place."

"I'm sure you will. And hey, if you should happen to find that afterlife with the willing legions of naked studs ..."

"I'll let you know, Faith. I promise."

Angel smiled. Maybe the thought of over 4,000 Slayers loose in the afterlife should have worried him, seeing as he knew the talent both Buffy and Faith had for getting into trouble, but he was sure the girls would be able to take care of just about anything that crossed their paths.

Giles came over to Angel. "I wanted to talk with you alone for a minute, Angel, before we leave."

"What is it?"

"Well ... shortly before this entire mess started I was busy travelling around the ethereal dimensions. That is how I met Kendra, among others. I also met someone you know. A certain Irish gentlemen called Patrick O'Conner."

Angel staggered back as if struck. Buffy looked up, feeling his distress through their bond.

"Angel?" She asked, coming over.

"My ... my father?" Angel managed.

Giles nodded.

"I met him. We, well, we talked and I told him that I knew his son. There are ... ways for spirits in the afterlife to keep tab on their relatives in the world of the living and your father has watched you, Angel. Ever since the Gypsy curse."

Giles put a hand on Angel's shoulder, a cold wind brushing over his skin, and smiled.

"We ... well, by then we didn't know what would happen, that I would return to the living world, but ... he told me he was sorry that the two of you never managed to reconcile while he lived. And that he is proud of you, Angel. Proud of the things you have accomplished."

Angel didn't know what to say. His father's disappointment in him, the anger between them, it had been part of his life for so long ... to even think that his father would actually ... that he would ...

"I'm sure he would want you to know that." Giles concluded.

Buffy had heard everything Giles had said. More, she could feel what his words caused in her husband. She knew how much of an open wound his father had always been for Angel. Buffy had often felt disdain for the man who had scarred Angel's soul this way, but that didn't change the fact that Angel still, in some small corner of his soul, yearned for his father's approval.

To now know that his father was proud of him ...

Buffy went over and took Angel into her arms, brushing away the tears that rolled down his face. She had never doubted that Angel was someone to be proud of. And now, maybe, Angel would know it, too.

"Thank you, Giles." She smiled at her former Watcher. "Thank you very much."

"Not necessary. I can emphasize with Mr. O'Conner, Buffy. We both have very much reason to be proud of what our children have accomplished."

Angel needed a few minutes to recover, but then he looked at Giles with a smile on his face.

"Thank you, Giles." He said as well. "And ... if you should ..."

"I'll tell him." Giles assured him. "Though I suspect he already knows."

Angel nodded gratefully.

This left but one piece of unfinished business. Angel went into his study and returned with the Necronomicon Nocturnum under his arm, the three pages from the Book of Borders in his other hand. Even now he could feel the power wrapped inside these pages whisper to him, telling him of things he could do with them.

Buffy heard them as well. They had worried a lot over how the intrusion of the Necronomicon into their bond might yet affect them. The Necronomicon controlled all the magic associated with all the creatures of the night. Vampire magic had created their blood bond. So far the only thing they knew was that it had deepened their connection, up to they point where they could actually hear each other's thoughts if they wanted to.

They could but hope it would remain the only side effect.

"Thank you for taking care of this, Kendra." Angel smiled at the Slayer, handing her the book and the pages. Though once again nothing but a shade here in the living world, Kendra had no problem holding them.

"I will bring them back to the Library." She promised. "I hope they will be safe there."

"And good riddance to them!" Spike added, toasting the books farewell with his flask.

"Hear, hear!" Faith toasted as well, earning consenting nods from just about everyone present. Angel would not cry a tear after the Necronomicon, that much was for sure. It had changed the world for him, that was true, but the world had changed enough for his taste.

He would be quite content if it stayed the same, just for a while.

"Good riddance!" He turned away from the book.

"Give our love to our sisters." Buffy said, Faith standing next to her. "Don't get into too much trouble, okay?"

"We will give our best." Kendra smiled at them.

"Slayers always get into trouble, B." Faith shook her head in mock despair. "When will you finally learn?"

"Good bye, Wesley." Angel said to his old friend. "Good journey."

"I think that is a given." The former Watcher replied. "Seeing as we have infinity to choose from."

More words were said, more good byes. There was no fixed hour for any of them to leave, so they took their time. Darla and Giles shared a moment of privacy, speaking words only meant for each other. Willow gave Wesley a message, just in case he should ever come upon Tara on the other side. Sally was by her side the entire time, taking the aging witch aside when the tears rolled down her cheeks.

Only when everything was said did the three spirits take their leave, waving a final goodbye to their living friends.

"Godspeed, my friends!" Angel whispered after them. "May we one day meet again ..."

"... on our way into the light." Buffy finished for him.

Epilogue: About the Return of a Missing Book

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"Angel?" Buffy murmured.

"Yes?"

They were standing on the roof of the Hyperion, looking out over the cityscape of Los Angeles. The lights below had changed a lot over the decades, but it was still one of their favorite spots. Especially with the sky above them filled with nothing but stars.

Buffy was snuggled into her husband's side, his coat draped over her own shoulders.

"One thing about this entire Necronomicon business still bugs me."

"What?"

"Well, this Librarian guy Kendra met told her that the book was stolen from his Library, right? And we know that it somehow wound up here on Earth later on, a place that's pretty far away from where it was from, I guess."

"You're wondering who brought it here."

"And why. I mean, I refuse to believe that anyone would just loose an object of such power while strolling along the scenery of stone age Earth."

Angel nodded. "I had some thoughts along these lines myself, beloved. And I'm afraid there is no way for us to answer these questions. We are lucky, considering the scale of what we went through, that we came out unscratched the way we did."

"You are not worried that whoever stole the book from the Library the first time will do so again?"

"A bit, I admit. I think, though, that it is safer there than it was in Newgrange. Or underneath Siberia. And if you are right and whoever stole it deliberately brought it here to Earth, maybe it has served its purpose."

"You think someone might have planned all of what happened?"

"Not really no. It was a rather long and unlikely chain of events that brought all of this to pass. I really don't know, Buffy. We can but hope that we have seen the last of the book. I will be a happy man if I can spend the rest of my life without that kind of power around me."

Buffy nodded and for a few minutes they were silent together, just enjoying the view and the feel of each other.

"Angel?"

"Yes?"

"Is not seeing the Necronomicon again all you need to be happy right now?"

Hearing her tone of voice brought a smile to Angel's lips.

"I could think of a few other things as well."

"That's good, because I have a surprise for you."

Buffy took off Angel's coat and closed her eyes in concentration.

"Buffy, what ...?" Angel's voice trailed off as ebony wings sprouted from Buffy's back, unfolding to the sound of a sweet music as the feathers brushed against each other. Two solid masses of raven black half-surrounded the two of them as Buffy opened her eyes and smiled.

"I figured out how to summon them again."

"Buffy, are you sure this is a good ..."

She left him no time to finish the sentence. Wrapping her arms around him, a single beat of the great wings took them both off the roof and into the dark sky above Los Angeles. Angel couldn't help but utter a surprised yell.

"Peaches?" Spike came to the roof a minute later. "I thought I heard ..."

He was cut off by something falling down on him from above. Cursing, Spike struggled until he managed to get it away from his face, quite surprised to find himself holding a pair of pink leather pants. One he was quite sure he had seen Buffy wear earlier.

"What do you know, looks like they're up to some new variations." He did not even try to figure out how these pants might have come to fall out of the sky. Shaking his head he went back inside.

"Faith? Where are you?"

#

"A very interesting place." Wesley said as they left the Library. "I don't think I've ever seen so many books in one spot before."

"Thinking of spending your next vacation here, Wesley?" Giles asked. "I know I would not mind taking some time to study a few of these books."

Wesley thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Not really. I have spent a lot of time in the company of books while I was alive. I think I want to spend my afterlife with other things."

Kendra slid her hand into the crook of his arm.

"Well, if you have nothing else to do, there are about 4,000 Slayers waiting for us. I think we could use a Watcher. Or two."

It brought a smile to both men's lips. The title of Watcher had, for large parts of their life, been something to be ashamed of. It was a remembrance of an organization of narrow-minded old men, who had refused to see that time had passed them by. But maybe there was still a chance to clean some of that taint away. Maybe a chance to undo some of the damage the Watcher teachings had done, especially to these girls waiting for them.

"What do you say, Rupert?" Wesley asked. "Are you ready to be a Watcher once more?"

Giles shrugged. Some day he wanted to return to the place he had spent the years since his death in. The good place he had told Darla about. But after the adventure he had just had, maybe it was the wrong time to settle back down. With an eternity ahead of them, what would a few decades or century matter?

"4,000 teenage girls." Giles shook his head, smiling. "I see myself longing for the 'quiet' times with Buffy."

The two English gentlemen laughed together and, with a Slayer in their midst, walked toward the first challenge of their afterlife.

#

The Librarian was feeling quite satisfied. All his books were back where they were supposed to be. The little spirit called Kendra had kept her word and returned both the loaned pages and the Necronomicon Nocturnum. He had put them back in their proper place with a feeling of deep contentment.

He had some thoughts about possible measures to prevent further theft from his Library, but for the moment he was just happy with the way things were.

There was a nagging thought somewhere inside of him, though, that one of the spirits that had accompanied Kendra this time around was familiar to him. Like a forgotten memory, something from a long time ago.

Time held little meeting here in the Library, of course. Sometimes the Librarian would meet past or future versions of himself between the shelves and they would spend some time comparing notes. Maybe this spirit was someone the Librarian had met a long time ago. Or would meet in the far future.

It might even be from a time before he came here. The Librarian remembered little of his life before coming here, so it was entirely possible. He could, of course, look up the memories of his own life in one of the books, should he so desire. Maybe he would do that. Someday.

For now he had to get back to his work. Taking but a moment to clean his glasses, a habit he found oddly comforting at the moment, he disappeared between the shelves again.

#

The players looked on as the ripples slowly faded, the book he had stolen from the Library now removed from the playing field once more. His single move had changed much, they all realized, had rearranged the entire board in a major way. It was a long time since any of them had seen changes of this magnitude.

He turned to face his fellow players, some of them still looking at the new situation that presented itself now. They had reached a turning point in the game, that much was apparent to everyone. Some players grumbled as their figures had been taken off the board altogether. The course of entire worlds had been altered irrevocably.

All with a single move.

Slowly, one by one, the other players looked at him. Some were happy, some grumbled, but each and every one of them had to recognize that it was a brilliant move he had made.

And so the space above the playing field of the universe was filled with the sound of silent applause.

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