War

8/5 (Angel cross over), episode 9.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Previously on Angel: “I promise we’ll do whatever it takes. The Malperts want to make war over this, then they’ll get a war, but we won’t let them hurt her.”

“But the senior partners,” Licksnip stuttered.

“Aren’t here,” Malpert replied. “They’ve had plenty of time for their little experiment. It’s time to take Wolfram and Hart back.”

“And Angel? The senior partners have plans for him.”

“So do I.”

Angel had gathered the entire crew in his office. Cordelia sat on the periphery, still unsure of her place. Spike sat in the window and kept watch for any demonic activity. Lorne, Gunn, and Wesley were seated in front of Angel’s desk.

“So here’s the situation – in anywhere from a few days to a few hours we’re going to be at war,” Angel announced.

“War? Like the card game war?” Lorne asked hopefully.

“No, like the slaughter of innocents,” Wesley said quietly. “Look, I know this isn’t going to be a popular suggestion-“ he started.

“No,” Angel replied. “You got any other suggestions, I’m all ears, but we’re not handing her over.”

“Do you think she’d want this? To be Helen in our little Trojan war?”

“I don’t care what she wants,” Gunn replied. “She ain’t dying. We don’t give in-“

“Yes we do,” Wesley said forcefully. “We’ve been giving in since we got here. We compromise so that we can fight again another day. If we do this we risk every advantage we’ve gained.”

Angel was silent for a moment. He looked from Gunn to Wesley, then over at Cordelia.

“No more compromises. We don’t give up on people,” Angel finally answered.

“Alright,” Wesley said, knowing there was no point in arguing, and a little relived that Angel was making it so simple. “We’re going to need -“

Wesley was cut of by Harmony’s voice filtering in from outside. “You can’t go in there. They’re having a meeting.”

Her protests went unheeded and the door swung open.

“-Buffy,” Wesley finished.

“Buffy!” Cordelia exclaimed and leapt up to hug her.

“Buffy,” Angel said. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you needed an army,” she answered. “The girls are downstairs. Do you still have that hotel?”

“How did you…?”

“I have my sources,” she said and looked over at Gunn. As her eyes swept toward him, she caught sight of a familiar figure in the window.

She stood there in shocked silence for a few moments then strode toward him. “How dare you,” she said with barely controlled rage. “You get out of his face this instant,” she said and cocked a fist back to punch through him.

“Buffy wait,” Spike said scrambling to get away from her. “It’s me,” he continued, searching for something to pick up. “Here, here – look - corporeal,” he said, triumphantly hoisting up a chair.

Buffy stopped and looked at him. Confusion overtook her, followed by anger. “You came back from the dead and you didn’t call me?”

“What? No,” Spike said, wondering how he always managed to piss her off. “I thought you needed space. Angel said-“

“Oh. Angel said,” Buffy replied and spun around to glare at Angel. “Angel told you not to call?”

“No, not in so many words,” Angel objected.

Spike was momentarily pleased to have the heat off him and on Angel. The moment was short, even by moment standards.

Buffy spun to face Spike again. “Do you have any idea how many nights I cried myself to sleep over you? When I came back from the dead didn’t I visit? Hm? Common courtesy. You get resurrected – you call the people who care about you.”

“You cried yourself to sleep over me?” Spike asked incredulously.

“What? No. I- I ah, have to go … call Dawn,” Buffy said and turned to flee the room.

“We do have phones in here,” Angel called after her.

“Uhuh that’s great,” she replied without pausing.

Angel stood gazing at the door. “And people give me crap about being emotionally distant,” he muttered.

“I guess some things never change,” Cordelia said.

“Yeah,” Spike agreed softly as he watched the place where Buffy had stood.

An hour later they reconvened in Angel’s office.

“So, the girls have all got rooms at least,” Buffy said as she re-entered the room with what she hoped was a more commanding air than the one she left with.

“Good, so we should talk strategy,” Angel said, desperate to keep things professional so he didn’t have to hear any more about how much Buffy’d missed Spike.

“Well, first off I’d say we need more intel,” Wesley said.

“Right,” Buffy agreed. “Powerful mercenaries isn’t nearly enough to go on.”

“Right. We’ll hit the demon bars tonight,” Angel agreed.

“Ah,” Spike interjected. “I don’t know how much good head bashing is going to do. What we really need is an informant.”

“Unfortunately our informants have a tendency to die rather suddenly,” Wesley said, looking pointedly at Angel.

Angel chose to ignore him. “Spike, do you think you could get Malpert to believe you’ve turned on me?”

Spike shook his head. “You maybe, but Buffy and I are quite infamous in the demon world.”

“Infamously disgusting,” Harmony shouted from outside.

“Point is, with her in the mix I doubt they’d buy it.”

“I might be able to,” Lorne said and sunk further into his chair.

“Be able to what?” Angel asked.

“Infiltrate,” Lorne said. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. Must be the sea breeze talking.”

“What makes you think they’ll believe you?” Wesley asked.

“Malpert’s people and my people go way back. He’ll assume I’m like any other Pylean. I could give him some story about working for the senior partners.”

Wesley was worried for a moment. It would have been a genius move on the part of the senior partners. Lorne was entrusted with weeding out the untrustworthy. He himself was beyond reproach. As soon as he’d thought it Wesley was ashamed. When had he gotten so suspicious?

“Are you sure you’re up for it?” Angel asked.

“Do you need to ask?” Lorne said with more bravado than he felt.

Angel looked at the violently shaking sea breeze clutched in Lorne’s hand. “Yes.”

Lorne put the glass on the floor. “Angel-pie, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. A little smoozin, a little boozing. I’ll have those guys eating out of my hand.”

“Or eating your hand off,” Spike said.

“Actually, they prefer brains and small intestines,” Wesley said.

Lorne’s bravado faltered.

An hour later Spike lay on his bed, arms out stretched, eyes to the ceiling. “Just come out already,” he shouted.

“I don’t think this is really me,” a small voice replied from inside Spike’s bathroom.

“That’s the point,” Spike replied.

Lorne finally opened the door and hesitantly stepped out.

Spike sat up and stifled his laughter.

“What? Too much?” Lorne asked, looking down at his leather clad body.

“No, it’s perfect,” Spike said. “You look…” he trailed off and bit his lip to keep from smiling. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to appear grim and evil guru-like.

“I’m changing,” Lone said dryly.

“No, you can’t,” Spike said and got up to stop him. “You’ll never pass for evil dressed like a Vegas act.”

“I had an act in Vegas once,” Lorne said wistfully.”

“Great-”

“Course, I was trapped by an evil Warlock.”

“Hate when that happens. Point is- You need to walk the talk.”

Lorne’s favorite movie was not The Godfather. Point of fact – it was The Sound of Music. As he sat in the posh and poorly lit study he decided that Malpert’s favorite movie was definitely The Godfather, one of the bloody ones with horse parts.

“So, tell me why I should trust a man who turns on his friends,” Malpert said as he entered. “Perhaps I should have you killed right now,” he said reaching out to shake Lorne’s hand.

“Think of it as trusting a man who knows where the power is,” Lorne answered. “My loyalty has always lain with the senior partners.”

Malpert took a seat behind the desk. “The idiots who caused this problem in the first place? Not a high recommendation,” Malpert said, poising his hand over a particularly ferocious looking paper weight.

Lorne got the feeling that his life hung in the balance. Should he slam the senior partners or was this one of those loyalty tests?

“The Senior partners have their reasons,” he said looking at his fingernails. Then he remembered that evil people don’t care about hygiene. He put his hands down and gripped the chair arms in what he hoped was a menacing manner.

“And you are privy to these reasons?”

“Yes,” Lorne answered slowly.

“Well,” Malpert said, taking his hand away. “Perhaps you will prove useful. You’ll attend the festivities tonight of course?”

“I’d love to doll-. I mean - It would be my pleas- I I I’ll be there,” Lorne said.

Wesley, Angel, Spike, and Buffy watched the girls run through warm ups in the wet ops training room.

“Do you think he’ll pass?” Wesley asked.

“I told him everything I know about being a bad ass,” Spike replied.

“So he’ll be a total fuck up who can’t follow through even the simplest plan?” Angel asked.

“Better than a drunk with delusions of artistry, mate.”

“You were both very evil,” Buffy said wearily.

“But I was eviler,” Spike said.

“Only cause I taught you,” Angel said.

Buffy turned to Wesley. “Are they always like this, or is it just when there’s something incredibly important going on?”

“Pretty much full time,” Wesley replied.

“Ok, if you two are going to keep Odd Coupling it, you have to leave. The girls need to prep,” Buffy said.

“I’m not-“ Spike started.

“Go.”

“Fine,” Angel muttered and both vamps left.

Buffy and Wesley turned their attention to the army’s training exercises. Buffy went to shout out the next drill, but stopped and turned to Wesley.

“Wanna give the girls the benefit of your experience?” Buffy asked.

“My experience turning slayers bad?” Wesley asked.

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“You certainly blamed me enough at the time.”

Buffy looked down at her feet. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s alright. I should have let you deal with it. You’re obviously better at training slayers than I ever was.”

“Sure, I’ve got a real knack for getting them into situations where they’re sure to die painful deaths.”

“They signed up for it.”

“True. Still, sometimes I wish I could go back to when it was just me. If I messed up it was just my life and the world on the line.”

“That seems like much less stress,” Wesley said sarcastically.

“Ok, so it wasn’t really.”

“Where’s Faith in all this? Couldn’t she take over general duty?”

“She’s holding down the fort in London,” Buffy said. “So, any strategy advice?”

“Well, we probably won’t be fighting in the streets.”

“Oh, but I had a whole dance routine planned, with jackets.”

“Sorry to disappoint. They’ll want the status quo back when this is all over. They can’t be too showy.”

“So, sewers?”

“Fraid so.”

“Poopy.”

Lorne walked into the ballroom, trying to look cool. “Think Bond. Not Sinatra,” he murmured.

He slid up to the bar and said, “Sea breeze, extra breezy.”

The bartender just looked at him.

“Heh, humor. Of course I mean martini, shaken not stirred.”

Apparently this was a sufficiently evil drink because soon Lorne found himself walking through the room, martini in hand.

‘Don’t arch backward.

Don’t point.

No sweeties.

Evil people don’t say ‘sweet cheeks’.

Think evil.

Drowning puppies.

Invading Poland-’

Lorne’s trail of thought was cut off by a Werflo woman walking toward him. ‘Dear God I hope I don’t have to Matahari this,’ he thought.

“Hello, hon- Hey you. What might- What is your name?” Lorne asked.

“Sivrash,” she answered with a leer.

‘Alright, time to make with the charm,’ Lorne thought.

“So what brings you to this dimension?” he asked.

“I’m head of the biological warfare department.”

Lorne spit his martini out through his nose.

He had a feeling that this was not how Bond would handle the situation.

“Oh sorry, so sorry. Ah, heh. I have an allergy to…diamonds,” he said looking at her jewelry.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know much about your species. I’ll go.”

“No, no. Don’t go,” he replied. ‘I need to question you.’

“The pleasure if your beauty far out weighs the discomfort of a few sneezes.”

‘Smooth.’

“Why thank you,” Sivrash replied, grinning coyly.

“So, hey, you know what I’ve always been fascinated by? Antidotes.”

“Got the sewer specs you asked for,” Spike said as he entered Buffy’s room.

“Thanks,” she replied and reached out to take them from him.

“Need any help?”

“Ah, sure.”

They both sat on the bed, spread out the maps and looked at them in silence.

After a few minutes Buffy couldn’t bear the silence any longer. “So this is weird.”

“Yeah,” Spike agreed. He wanted to say more, but instead he turned his attention back to the maps.

They were silent for another few minutes.

“I buy you things,” Buffy finally blurted.

“What?” Spike said looking up from the maps. “What things?”

“Shoes mainly, a lot of shoes.”

“Open toe, sling back-“

Buffy lightly whacked him with a map. It was so playful, so like something friends would do, that he was floored for a minute.

“No, actually for you. Combat boots,” Buffy said.

“You know the dead can’t actually wear shoes right?”

“I know, the one major drawback of heaven. If they had a suggestion box I’d definitely suggest more shoes.”

“Well, thanks.”

“I’ll send them when I get back to London. Unless you want to come get them.”

Spike looked up at her. What exactly was she offering? A visit? A job with the council?

“Ah, sure, I’d love to stop by, see your new set up.”

“Great,” Buffy said. She wanted to clarify, tell him that he didn’t have to stay with Angel, that there was always a place for him in London. But it seemed so presumptuous to assume that of course he’d what to be wherever she was. He obviously had a good life here, new friends, a job. He seemed to have flourished without her around.

“So, do you think they’ll attack W&H?” she asked

“I don’t think so. It’s too easy to defend ourselves in here. They’ll try to draw us out.”

“By attacking people.”

“Right.”

“I’d like to act before they have hostages,” Buffy said.

“You want to attack first?”

“You know me.”

“We’re at a disadvantage on their turf,” Spike cautioned.

“So we draw them out instead.”

“Demon hostages? They’re not known for their sentimentality, love. Unless we can get someone important-“

“How about something important?” Buffy offered.

“What are you thinking?”

“Their money comes from their trading business, right? If they’re trading inter-dimensionally they have to be traveling between dimensions somehow,” Buffy said.

“So we close their portal,” Spike finished and grinned at her. God, how he’d missed this.

“Getting anything?” Buffy asked.

“No,” Spike replied, shaking the gizmo in his hands. “I swear the portal should be right here.”

Buffy turned around and peered through the rain at the dingy alley. “You sure you didn’t just bring me here to seduce me?”

Spike smiled a little, “Sorry ‘bout the décor. Can’t be helped, pet.” He walked over to a trash can and started rooting around behind it.

“I don’t think the portal’s in there.”

Spike pulled out an umbrella, shook it off and held it open for her.

Buffy walked forward and stood next to him under the umbrella. It was awkward. She wasn’t quite sure how close to stand or where to look. She glanced up at him but he was looking down at the reader.

“Getting anything?” she asked.

Spike was a too distracted by her proximity to read the screen. “Uh, no. Maybe we’d better get back in the car.”

“Right.”

“Lorne, it’s Buffy. How’s it going?”

“Scary,” Lorne answered into his cell phone while turning to look around the ballroom. “Turns out, when they say ‘party’ they mean ‘ritual slaughter’.”

“Oh my God, of people?”

“No, animals. They seem to be going with the Noah approach.”

“Agh, sorry. Listen, I need you to spread a humor.”

“You got it, and pumpkin…”

“Yeah?”

“Ask snickerdoodle if it’s more evil to vomit in revulsion or faint.”

Buffy looked at Angel and Spike who, thanks to vamp hearing, already knew the question.

“Vomit,” Angel said.

“Go with vomit,” Spike concurred.

Buffy turned to the phone and thought about the extreme strangeness of her life. “We’re going with vomit. And I promise we’ll get you out soon.”

“And where did you procure this intel?” Malpert asked.

“The evil grapevine. Picture those dancing raisins but with horns.”

Licksnip leaned forward to whisper, “Mr. Malpert is not amused.”

Lorne decided on a different tactic. “I’m empathic. I understand the human mind better than you can imagine. Trust me. This Buffy chick has a thing for closing portals. And she’s got this friend, cute little red head, and boy does that doll face have power.”

Malpert considered Lorne for a moment. “Alright. I’ll assemble the troops. You may go.”

Lorne swaggered back into the ballroom, pleased as punch. Buffy’s trap was set, and he’d be out of the Corlioni’s den in no time.

He hadn’t gotten far when he saw Sivrash conferring with another demon. “The payload is in place Ms. Sivrash,” the servile looking demon said, bowed and walked away.

Lorne had seen enough spy movies to know that a payload wasn’t nearly as much fun as a Payday.

“Sivrash,” he said, turning toward her. “How’ve you been?”

“Wonderful. And yourself?”

“Desolate without your incomparable charm.”

“Oh, you’re too sweet.”

“So tell me, what have you got in store for those pesky little humans?”

Sivrash grinned literally from ear to ear. “I can do better that that. How about I show you?”

Spike and Buffy stood at opposite ends of the weapons room surveying the cabinets.

Spike wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to ask. Asking meant knowing and knowing meant incomparable joy, or, possibly, unbearable heartache. It was such a simple sentence, “Did you mean what you said?” But asking it was not so simple. He had almost convinced himself to at least mossy up to the topic when Angel appeared.

“Ready to go?” he asked, poking his head into the room.

“Yeah,” Spike replied and quickly looked away from Buffy.

“How are the girls?” Angel asked.

“They’re ready. Your people?” Buffy replied.

“We’re good.”

“We really haven’t had a chance to talk,” Buffy said.

Spike took this as his cue to leave. “I’ll just check the surveillance system.”

Angel waited till Spike was gone to reply, “No. Notice you’ve been spending a lot of time with Spike.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “He came back from the dead.”

“I came back from hell.”

“And did I not spend loads of time with you afterwards?”

Angle shuffled his feet a bit, “Yeah.”

“I don’t know why you’re all jealous. I came here for you, because I wanted to help you. Even if the girls had voted against coming I’d be here. I love you, you know that.”

“I know,” Angel replied softly.

“So, why haven’t you asked for my help before?”

“Well, you have your own thing and we are pretty competent here you know,” he said a little defensively.

“I know, I know. But… I just feel bad that your son was taken and I didn’t even know-“

“What?”

“Oh, right, Cordelia, um, told me.”

“Great,” Angel said, looking up at the ceiling. “She tellin’ everyone?”

“No, she just thought I should know about …”

“Darla.”

“Right. And I don’t judge,” Buffy hastened to add. “I just wanted you to know that if you need someone to talk to, or help you fight your way into a hell dimension, I’m your girl. Always.”

“Thanks,” Angel replied. “I’ll remember that.”

“Party time,” Caridad announced as she walked into the room.

Buffy’s team was the smallest. She liked it that way – fewer to look after.

“Ok guys, time to make some magic,” Buffy said as she led her group into the roller rink. “Caridad, Vi, set up the spell – the rest of you guard them.”

Buffy walked into the main office and hit the lights. She didn’t know how long they would have to wait so she leaned against the desk and began reviewing the layout.

“You worried about your boy?” Rona asked from the doorway.

Buffy didn’t look up. “I don’t have a boy.”

“Spike.”

Buffy looked at her. She so didn’t want to get into it, especially not with Rona. “He’s not mine. We’re friends, and yeah I’m worried about him. I’m worried about everyone. We’re at war here.”

“Yes, I did get that memo,” Rona said, hoisting up her broadsword. “Don’t know why you’re worried about the vamp though. Bastard deserves to die.”

Buffy took a deep breath to quell her anger. “You don’t know the whole story.”

“I know the important parts. He tried to kill all your friends. He tried to rape you-“

“Who told you-? Never mind. It’s more complicated than that.”

“How?”

“Listen…” Buffy said, suddenly overwhelmed at the thought of putting all that they had been into words.

“I’m listening,” Rona said and leaned up against the desk next to Buffy.

“Alright. Once upon a time I was fighting a vamp in an alley. And after I staked him a man came out of the shadows and announced his intention to kill me, which isn’t exactly a strange occurrence for me, but there was something about this guy…”

Lorne looked around the lab in horror. It was Dr. Moreau meets Tales from the Crypt.

“Impressive isn’t it?” Sivrash said, gesturing toward the heads mounted on the wall.

“Very. These all your handy work?” Lone asked, appraising the deformations.

“Well, the viruses do most of the work.”

“Of course.”

“This is what I have in mind for our friends at Wolfram and Hart,” Sivrash said and pulled away a drop cloth to reveal a corpse covered in boils.

“Boils,” Lorne said, trying not to vomit. “There’s a reason it’s a classic.”

“I know, I know, lacks a certain ... Je Nais- But it’s the fastest.”

“At least they’ll go quick,” Lorne said, still trying to steady himself.

“No, it’ll take days for them to die. I mean quickest to administer.”

“Of course you do,” Lorne replied. “How silly of me.”

“You see, the virus was installed in the original Wolfram and Hart building as a take over deterrent. All we have to do is access the trigger.”

“How long will that take?” Lorne asked, trying to sound casual.

“Already done,” Sivrash answered delightedly. “I get the word from Mal and it’s death by disease for the entire firm.”

“…And he just hung there whispering, ‘Buffy can we rest now, can we rest?’” Buffy said and looked over at Rona who, to Buffy’s surprise, was crying.

“H-he loved you so much…”

“I know,” Buffy replied, unsure of whether she should put her arm around Rona. She didn’t seem like the hugging kind.

“And you were such a bitch to him.”

Buffy took a deep breath and replied, “Yes, exactly. That was the point of the story.”

“What? You were.”

“Ok, but you caught the part where he cattle prodded me and tied me up to feed to his ex, right?”

“Yeah, but it was out of love.”

“Oh. My. God.”

“Are you going to get back together?”

“What? I thought I was such a bitch. Are you sure I’m good enough for him?”

“Well, yeah,” Rona said with a shrug. “I guess you’re ok. Are you in love with him?”

Buffy shrugged and replied, “Of course.”

Rona tried, but failed to suppress a smile. “Does he know that?”

“No. Probably for the best.”

“You are so infuriating,” Rona exclaimed and turned around to face Buffy.

‘Right back at you,’ Buffy thought.

“How is that for the best?”

“We’re better apart.”

“How do you know? You’ve never been together. You have to tell him.”

“No,” Buffy said and stood up. “Spike- Ok, first he lived for his mother. Then he lived for Drusilla, then he lived for me. And I took it, I was so selfish. I took everything he offered. It’s time I gave something back.”

“Your stupidity?” Rona asked.

“No, his freedom,” Buffy said and turned to look at the trembling glass of water on the desk. “It’s time,” she said and ran out to the main room.

Vi was well into the fake spell when the sounds of heavy footsteps penetrated the building. The slayers turned to look at the door in time to see the army burst through.

The Werflo flooded in and rush toward them. They stood paralyzed till the Werflo were in striking distance, then rose up, grabbed weapons out of the bags beside them and lashed out, easily slicing through the first line.

“Now,” Buffy called out and slayers flooded in from all sides.

“Sir, they’ve attacked but the girls are repelling them,” Licksnip reported.

“They’re not girls. They’re slayers,” Malpert replied, unperturbed. He picked up the phone and said, “Commence the second assault,” and hung up.

“Pardon me sir, but-“

“Little tip Licksnip; never trust a man who drinks a Sea Breeze.”

Below the city the bulk of the Werflo army was moving toward the Wolfram and Hart office.

Above the city on the fortieth floor, Gun sat at Gwen’s bedside.

In the library Cordelia tried to write a letter to Connor.

In his office Angel waited anxiously for word from Buffy. He was about to call her when he turned to glance at the monitors and caught sight of the army. He grabbed the phone and yelled, “Everyone – Code Red.”

The building security and the slayers who’d been left behind to guard Wolfram and Hart flew into action but by the time they got to the entrance the Werflo army had breached the doors and were on the first floor. They swept in, faces contorted in rage, brandishing weapons that’d gone out of style with chain mail. Security and the slayers halted in their tracks.

“Fall back,” Angel called over the railing. “Or rather, up.”

Everyone ran to the upper floors and barricaded the staircase. Angel ran to the phone in his office and dialed.

“Spike.”

“Got it.”

Lorne stared at his phone in horror. No battery. No phone. No phone, no way to warn Angel.

“Who are you trying to call?” Sivrash asked, coming up behind him and draping an arm across his shoulders.”

“Ah, my masseuse. I mean my – broker,” he said. ‘Do evil people brokers?’ he wondered. “Shall we return to the party?”

“I’m afraid I can’t. Any minute Malpert could give the signal. But you go. Enjoy.”

Lorne smiled in response. “No, don’t be silly. How could I enjoy the party without your wit to liven the evening?”

“Oh Lorne,” Sivrash said, stepping around to face him. “I feel so-“

“Hey – what’s this do?” Lorne said, ducking away from Sivrash and Sivrash’s odor.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Spike called out. The thirty slayer before him grabbed their weapons and sprinted toward the Wolfram and Hart building. Inside the Werflo were preoccupied with dismantling the barricades and didn’t notice the slayers behind them until twenty or so stragglers had been picked off from the back.

Angel watched from the second floor. As soon as the Werflo abandoned the barricade and turned on Spike’s team in force, he called out, “Fourth wave now.”

The slayers pushed aside the barricade and attacked from behind.

“Right, of course,” Sivrash murmured into the phone as Lorne watched anxiously.

She hung up and turned to face him. “Guess we’re going to have some excitement after all.”

Lorne wasn’t sure what he was more terrified of – the thought that she meant sex, or the thought that she meant biological warfare.

“Really? Great – what kind of-“ he said, trailing off as she walked toward the Wolfram and Hart trigger. Lorne found it almost comical that the trigger was a large red button.

“Hey, no need to rush,” he exclaimed and hurried over to her. “You should wait and make sure. What if he calls and it turns out it was all a wacky misunderstanding?”

Sivrash smiled. “You’re very strange.”

“Yes, I am. Let’s discuss the strangeness of me.”

“Alright. As soon as I deliver the virus,” she said and reached her hand out over the button.

Lorne’s hand shot out quicker than he thought possible and grabbed her wrist.

She smiled at him for a moment, thinking it was a game. “What are you doing?”

“Stopping you.”

“What?” she said, still confused. The confusion quickly turned to anger. She ripped her arm away and struck out with her other fist, catching him square in the nose.

“Ow. Listen, this doesn’t have to be a big thing,” Lorne said staggering backward. “Just say it didn’t work.”

Sivrash stepped closer to him, “And be a turn coat like you?”

“Turn coat’s such an ugly term.”

Sivrash responded by kicking his knee in. As he crumpled to the floor, she whirled around to walk back to the trigger.

The pain was worse than anything Lorne could have imagined. His vision blurred as he struggled to stand up. He stumbled forward and another bolt of pain shot up his leg and exploded in his back.

He tried to focus on Sivrash. He concentrated wholly on her form – her arm once again raised over the button.

“Oh God,” he whispered as he hunched lower. He grabbed the knife Spike had insisted he carry and steadied himself.

“Think evil thoughts,” he murmured and rose up to take two excruciating steps and plunge the knife into her back.

Sivrash arched backward and slowly collapsed onto the floor. The movement was almost graceful, almost beautiful and for a moment Lorne was captivated by the balletic quality of her fall.

Sivrash’s eyes wandered the room, not really focusing on anything, then they found Lorne.

She didn’t speak. No ‘give my love to my mother,’ no recriminations, just a last ragged breath.

Lorne watched her. He watched her fall, he watched her die, and he continued to watch long after she was dead.

Back at Wolfram and Hart, a few of the Werflo had managed to push through the slayer line and attack the upper levels.

Gunn heard them before he saw them and rushed out, ax in hand.

There were three of them and only one of him. He liked those odds. They attacked in unison. He reached out and neatly sliced the first one through the chest. Before he could pull back for another strike the next two were upon him. He ducked out of the way of their swings and found himself landing hard on his ass. He looked up, eyes wide. The demons loomed over him for a second, then cried out in pain and collapsed, revealing Gwen.

Gunn gazed up at her and smiled. She stood before him, gun in hand, hair wild, dressed in a hospital gown and looking gorgeous.

“Hey babe,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows. “Sleep well?”

“Like an infant,” she said, lowering her gun. She turned her head to listen to the far off clash of metal striking metal.

“What’s going on?”

“Small war.”

“Why?”

“You.”

“Good,” she replied. “At least it’s something important.”

Lorne turned slowly to see Malpert standing at the door, knife in hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t mutilate your body. Your head will make a nice conversation starter.”

“No, no I don’t go with your décor at all,” Lorne protested.

“So I’ll redecorate,” Malpert replied.

“How about I redecorate for you,” Angel said, stepping out of the shadows behind him.

“Oooh, interior design threats,” Malpert replied, turning to face him. “I think you’re slipping.”

Angel shrugged and continued to look around. “I think maybe I’ll give the place to Wesley. He needs a bigger house. And this one’s got the cool house of horrors basement. He’ll like that.”

Malpert’s face fell. “What are you talking about?

“You haven’t heard?” Angel asked. “We won. Your company is mine.”

Malpert smiled. “I know the portal spell was a ruse. I’ve sent an army to attack Wolfram and Hart while the slayers are away putting on their little show.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why we kept the bulk of the army there and lured your army into a trap. War’s over. To the victor go the spoils.”

The girls were on the plane, the stewards were announcing last call, but still, Buffy couldn’t bring herself to walk away.

“Anyway,” she said, finishing her story, “that’s how we ended up with a haunted house.”

Spike smiled. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten lucky enough to be the one to take her to the airport, but he wasn’t playing dentist with the gift horse. He listened delightedly as she babbled for two hours while they checked all the baggage and bought souvenirs. She was full of stories about London life and time with Dawn. Lite Brite had been right, she was so much better off without him.

“Well, I guess it’s time,” she said, looking back at the gate.

“Yeah,” Spike replied, choking down the lump in his throat. “Have a good flight.”

Buffy nodded and reached out to take his hand. They interlocked their fingers and pressed their palms together in unconscious mimicry of their last parting. But this time there was no fire, no destruction. They were just two people parting ways in an airport.

Buffy walked backward a few steps, slowly pulling away. Their hands were almost apart when Spike pulled her hand tight against his once more.

He searched her face. “You’re happy, right?” he asked.

Buffy smiled back. “Yeah, I’m happy. You be happy too, ok?”

He nodded and she turned to go.