The Road Home Series:
In the Silent Depth
by Gem

Part Two

When the storms roll in and they make me lose my place.
Slow and black I watch them creep across your face.

“This is a nightmare,” Kate sighed, pushing away a dusty tome chock full of demons, monsters and things that go bump in the night. “I never knew there were so many different kinds of…things out there, just walking around.”

She wearily ran her hand through her short blonde hair and tried to remember exactly how many cups of Cordelia’s coffee she had drained so far. Obviously not enough to kill her, she reflected, but she had to be close to the saturation point by now.

“Welcome to my world,” Cordelia responded with a slightly malicious grin. “Demons by the bagful, and most of them looking to take a piece out of Angel or Buffy. And, of course, anyone else who happens to be around them. It’s lucky for you that Angel hasn’t needed any police help lately.”

Cordelia had understood from the very beginning why Angel felt drawn to Detective Lockley, even if he didn't. Understanding it and approving of it were two different things, though. And now that Buffy was back to reclaim her errant boyfriend, Angel certainly didn’t need any slightly aged Buffy-clones hanging around. It was time to take the overly confident cop down a peg or two.

Kate grimaced, but chose to ignore Cordelia’s barb. She was a grown-up, above fighting with children. She would not sink to schoolyard squabbles.

More importantly, after only an hour with Cordelia, she'd realized she'd never win.

“All I know is we’ve been at this for a day and a half and we’re still nowhere.” Kate stood up and stretched, trying to avoid any movements that would turn her head towards the closed door which barred access to Angel’s apartment below. “We’ve looked through these awful books over and over, you’ve sketched all of my informants we couldn’t find pictures of, and what has it gotten us? Nothing, that’s what.”

“You’re just not looking at this from a professional demon-hunter’s perspective,” Cordelia replied, her good humor undiminished. “Now we know your guys are all different types of demons, and the ones we could identify are both good and bad. That means the demons that are after them aren’t trying to save the world or anything. They’re just evil.”

Kate looked at her closely she wouldn’t put it past Cordelia to make this stuff up just to yank her chain. The dark-haired girl seemed perfectly sincere, however, and she actually looked rather pleased with her deductions.

“So you’re saying there are good demons and bad demons, and we should be happy that my informants were some of each.” Oh yeah, now it all makes perfect sense.

“Well, it's better than thinking we're fighting the good guys. Believe me, you do not want to get in the way of someone who's trying to save the world. Quick trip to hell in a handbasket, or sometimes in a really ugly statue just ask Angel.”

“But demons are bad,” Kate insisted. “That’s why they’re called demons.” Cordelia seemed to be deliberately ignoring her point.

“Actually there’s probably some Latin reason why demons are called demons, but you’d have to ask Angel about that too. Anyway, they aren’t all bad. Buffy told me you know about Angel. He’s a good demon.”

Cordelia didn’t add that she was a little miffed to have missed Kate’s initial reaction to the news. No need to give Kate any points in this game of one-upsmanship.

“So you know too. And you can still come in here every day and just act like everything is…normal?” Kate just didn’t understand these people.

“Everything is normal.” It was Cordelia’s turn to be confused. “Angel’s been a vamp since I met him. As long as he doesn’t lose his soul again and become Mr. Scourge of Europe, what do I care what he has for dinner?”

“Scourge? He was one of them?”

“Please. Like they’d have him.” Cordelia’s patience was being sorely tested, but she persevered. “Vampires aren’t pure demon, don’t you know that? No, he was his own little plague o’ death for about a century and a half. But now he’s good, so we like him.”

And end of backstory, as far as Cordelia was concerned.

“But he’s killed people, a lot of people. And he’s not human. You mean to tell me that means nothing to you?” Kate was trying to think of all the arguments she had used on herself these past few weeks, but they seemed to be having as little effect on Cordelia as on herself.

“So he’s not human.” Cordelia shrugged as she got to her feet to investigate the snack situation in the mini refrigerator. “He used to be, and from what he’s said he’s a lot nicer now than he was when he had a pulse. Besides, he already went to hell for a few hundred years, so I think he’s probably in the time served category when it comes to penance. The past is totally in the past.” Unfortunately, she noted, so was all the ice cream thanks to Doyle.

“And is that Buffy’s excuse too?”

Cordelia glanced shrewdly over her shoulder at Kate. “What are you really asking me, Kate? Why Buffy loves him, or why you do?”

“That’s out of line,” Kate answered stiffly. She turned her back on Cordelia and pretended to study an old book on top of one of the filing cabinets. “I never had any interest in Angel other than as a friend, and now that I know what I know about him…” She whipped around to face Cordelia as the rest of the younger woman's words were processed. "What did you say about hell?"

“You’re still jonesing for him.” Cordelia abandoned her search for a snack and perched on the corner of her desk. "You've been hot for him since that first night you met him in the singles bar, and knowing his Bloody Mary’s used to be the real deal hasn’t changed how you feel a bit. Well, except now you think you’re some sort of necrophilistine or something because you want a dead guy.”

“Necrophiliac, and you don’t know what you’re talking about. I feel nothing for Angel but…”

“Blind lust,” Cordelia interrupted with a grin. “To tell you the truth, I have both been there and done that myself, a long, long time ago. And if I couldn’t get his attention away from Buffy, you certainly won’t be able to.”

“I just want to take care of this…demon problem I seem to have developed and then get on with my life. Alone.” Kate only hoped her resolve could remain as firm as her voice.

Cordelia tried very hard to smother the compassion she could feel stirring within her heart. She had never liked Kate, and she wanted to revel in her downfall, but there was no mistaking the hunger in the other woman's eyes when she looked at Angel, or the catch in her voice when she said his name. The detective truly cared about Angel, even if she would rather be bitten than admit it.

Too bad it wasn't going to do her any good.

"Kate," Cordelia began with a sigh, and little idea where to go from there.

“Is Doyle coming back any time this century with those hamburgers?” Kate moved restlessly around the room, trying to escape Cordelia’s penetrating gaze.

"I really hope you’re not interested in him, Kate.” Cordelia tried again to offer what Angel-wisdom she had. “That tattoo on Angel's back might as well be Buffy's brand. He's been off the market since the moment he first laid eyes on her.”

"Cordelia…"

"I agree the relationship makes no sense." Cordelia shrugged her slim shoulders at the vagaries of love. "But you are so not going to be able to affect it. We're talking nothing on heaven or earth here. Not wind or rain or sleet or dead of night or, wait, we don’t actually get sleet in LA, but the dead of night part fits. There is a dead of night part, right?”

"Cordelia, I get the point," Kate snapped, whirling around to face the younger woman.

Kate's protest was interrupted by a knock on the outer office door. Cordelia motioned her to stop talking before she cautiously approached the door.

Buffy surveyed the assorted weaponry spread out on the tables and chairs with some dissatisfaction. It was an elegant collection, but a little on the archaic side for her taste. Almost nothing was even spring-loaded, except the wrist-stakes and crossbows, and most of it could easily have come from the walls of Angel's childhood home in Ireland. It served as an uncomfortable reminder of a gap they could bridge, but never erase.

"Honey, we really need to get you a subscription to 'Guns and Ammo' or something. You and Giles are so alike when it comes to this stuff it scares me."

Angel came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her firmly against his body. He nuzzled her hair for a moment, then whispered in her ear, "That better be the only way I remind you of Giles."

She grinned and rested her head against his chest as his lips slid down from behind her ear to the column of her throat. There were times when she was decidedly grateful for the difference in age and experience. She certainly reaped the benefits of his hard-won patience and expertise.

"Mmm, trust me, that's it," she murmured, swaying slightly in his embrace.

Neither of them heard the door open at the top of the stairs, but Cordelia's loud hello was an undeniable reminder of the real world beyond their little hideaway.

"Okay, time to uncouple," she called out in warning as she clattered down the stairs. "We've got some unexpected company, or at least Buffy does." Cordelia waved her hand up the staircase at the man slowly following her, as Buffy and Angel turned slightly to greet their latest interruption.

"Daddy," Buffy said flatly when he came into view.

Angel glanced from the blond man walking down the stairs to that man's daughter resting securely in his arms. He started to release her, slightly embarrassed to be caught spooning, but Buffy held him fast.

"Angel, this is my father, Hank Summers. Daddy, this is Angel. My fiancé."

With those few words, Buffy's past and future finally melded.

"I tell you, Doyle, the tension down there was so thick you couldn't have cut it with Angel's broadsword," Cordelia reported some minutes later, from the safety of the outer office. "I got out of there before you could say 'stake me,' but I really wish I could hear what was going on. Darn thick floorboards." She stamped one fashionably high heel to no avail. "Where's all that shoddy modern craftsmanship you hear so much about when you really need it?"

"Sorry the building is too well-made to suit you, darlin'. We'll have to speak to the landlord." Doyle glanced affectionately at Cordelia as she filed her nails in a blatant attempt at casual. "I'm surprised you left, though. I'd have thought you'd want to be right in the middle of things. Helpin' like."

She grinned at him and tossed the nail file onto the desk. "I wanted to. I even offered, but Angel said 'go,' in the deep dark voice. You know, the one that says 'I used to kill people for fun and profit.' So I went. Fast."

"So Buffy's da shows up without a warning." Doyle looked speculatively at the door to the stairs, then slid a sidelong glance at Kate, who was sitting on the couch flipping through a book of spells. "Wonder what brought him front and center after all this time. I got the feeling he and Buffy aren't close."

Kate looked up quickly from her book and shook her head, denying any resposibility. "Hey, I didn't even know the man's name until a few minutes ago. I had nothing to do with bringing him here. What would I have said, anyway? 'I'm sorry, Mr. Summers, but I think you should know your daughter is dating the undead?' How would I know he isn't one too? Or a warlock or a werewolf or something?"

"That's Oz," Cordelia said, paying only token attention to Kate's tirade. "No, my money is on another interested party. Trust me, this has all the earmarks of mommy-Joycest."

"You think?" Doyle wasn't sure if that was good or bad for his pal Angel.

"Oh yeah," she replied slowly, reaching for the nail buffer she kept in her top desk drawer. "Joyce is making one last stand, and old Hank is the cannon."

"And Angel has a great bloody bulls-eye painted on his chest," Doyle finished grimly.

* * * * *

At the moment, cannons, or at least guns, weren't far from Hank Summers' mind. Once his initial shock at Buffy's announcement had passed, he had begun to look around Angel's apartment to get a sense of the man's character. What he saw terrified him. He had never before seen such a large collection of openly displayed weaponry outside of a movie screen.

Angel and Buffy both saw Hank's stunned expression as he took stock of his surroundings and it didn't take a genius to divine the cause. Without a word, they each grabbed blankets and towels to toss over the assorted axes, swords, knives and bows strewn about the room.

Unfortunately, it wasn't quite quickly enough to forestall parental anxiety.

"What the hell…all of this…" Hank sputtered as he waved his hand to include the contents of the apartment at large. "Are you some kind of arms dealer or something?" He looked around frantically for the only missing piece of the picture. “Guns. Where are the guns? I don’t see…oh thank god at least I don’t see guns.”

"Daddy, chill," Buffy said firmly. She bundled a half dozen swords of varying sizes into a red blanket and placing it on the floor to clear off some room on the couch. "Angel is a collector, not a dealer. All these things are out because he…"

"Has a show coming up," Angel swiftly took up the lifeline she had cast him. "I show them, and I buy them, but I don't sell them. I don't sell them," he repeated desperately as he attempted to stuff several crossbows under a Tibetan meditation mat.

"There, all cleaned up." Buffy felt as if her face would split if her smile were forced any further across her face. "Do you want to sit down and tell us why you're here, Daddy?" She moved across the room to take Angel's hand in hers, as she waved to the couch with her free hand.

"It is a little unexpected," Angel added mildly. "Not that I haven't been wanting to meet you," he hastened to reassure their guest, "but I thought…that is we thought…" He stumbled miserably to a halt and looked to Buffy for help.

"We thought you'd call first." Buffy’s mood suddenly switched from embarrassment to severe annoyance when she realized this was the second unanticipated, and frankly unwelcome, visitor this weekend. There was only so much good hostessing in her, and Kate's continued presence was pretty much exhausting it.

Hank flushed slightly. The sneak attack had not been his idea.

"Well, princess, I wanted to surprise you," he said weakly. He shifted slightly on the leather cushion, trying to find a comfortable place to rest his prickling conscience.

"And you did. Was that the only reason?"

Angel squeezed her hand in warning, but Buffy was not in the mood for the soft-sell approach today. The clock was ticking away precious hours of her time with Angel, and she had no patience with empty ritualistic pleasantries.

"Your mother called me last night." Hank flung caution to the winds and met his daughter's wrath head on. "She was very upset that you two are back together, and she thought I should know exactly what you're doing with your life."

Angel could now see that Buffy's devastating directness, as well as her coloring, was a gift from both parents. If temper was also part of the deal, he was really going to regret picking this morning to do a weapons check.

"So Mom decided it was time you wore more than just the absentee-dad jacket, and you figured what the heck, it's Saturday. You'll only miss a half-day at the office."

Buffy made no more attempts to hide her anger at her on-again/off-again father. For all her capacity to forgive, she had little to spare for the parent who alternately played with, and discarded, her as carelessly as Drusilla did Miss Edith.

"Now wait just a minute, young lady. I may not have been able to be with you as much as I'd like since your mother insisted on moving you out of LA, but I am still your father. Maybe I haven't talked to you as much as I should either, but your mother keeps me up-to-date on the big things in your life, and apparently this is one of them." Hank drew a deep breath and tried to calm down. Anger would only alienate his daughter, and cement her attachment to this man.

Buffy's anger suddenly vanished, leaving behind only an icy calm. She nudged Angel to sit down on the only other free chair in the living room, then perched on the arm. His hand was still tightly clasped within her own.

"That's right, this is a big thing," she replied evenly. "Angel is the biggest thing in my life. We are in love, we are getting married, eventually, and we're going to live our life as we see fit. Does that fill in any gaps Mom's story might have left out?"

"Honey, your mother and I are just concerned that you are rushing into things. You're only 18 you need to experience life before you make a commitment like this. And this man," he looked at Angel for confirmation, "Angel, right? You are a good deal older than Buffy, which also concerns us. Did you ever think that in my absence Buffy might be looking for a…well, frankly a…"

"Father figure," Angel offered quietly. "Is that the phrase you're searching for, Mr. Summers?" He didn't look at Buffy as he spoke, but he could feel the fury beginning to hum through her body again. He gently ran his free hand up and down her arm, trying to soothe away some of her tension before she exploded.

"Honestly, yes. After meeting you, I can understand some of Joyce's reservations about this situation. You're in a far from stable line of work, you're several years older, and apparently you've maintained a relationship with my daughter since she was only sixteen years old. That's enough to give any father nightmares."

"He is not a father figure," Buffy snarled at last through gritted teeth. "I have one of those, and I don't mean you. I'm not looking for someone to tell me what to do. I want a partner, and I found one. And for the record, I'm 19, Dad, not 18. My birthday was in January, remember? Oh that's right, you didn't."

"I sent you a gift, Buffy. I couldn't be there, but I didn't forget."

Hank's voice was small, in keeping with the way he felt at the moment. He was furious with Joyce for throwing him into this situation with so little warning about what he would be facing. From the way she described the situation, he had thought he would be dealing with his little girl helpless in the thrall of a middle-aged pedophiliac biker. Instead he was cast as Nardo in the LA revival of “West Side Story,” trying to keep Maria from her Tony. And why didn't Joyce tell him they were already engaged, for God's sake?

Angel wanted to smooth things over before they got any worse, but he wasn't sure if it might not already be too late to salvage this parent/child relationship. Still, there was nothing to do but try.

"Mr. Summers, we understand that you're concerned, and so is Mrs. Summers. But what Buffy and I have is something quite special." Angel did glance up at Buffy this time, his smile igniting her own. "It's not something most people understand, but it's very strong and very real. I can make her happy, I know I can."

“You already do,” she murmured, tracing the outline of his claddagh ring with her finger.

"This all sounds very romantic, Angel, and obviously that’s part of the appeal for my daughter. But if you look at it from my perspective…"

Hank's perspective was delayed by the sudden clamor of footsteps on the stairs.

"Angel, Buffy, we need you quick. Doyle just had a vision…" Cordelia faltered when she reached the bottom of the stairs and suddenly remembered their company wasn't part of the club. "A vision problem," she hastily amended. "He just, umm, blacked out, and he said he saw all these weird and scary things while his vision was really, really bad. I really think we need to look into this."

Fortunately, Cordelia's attempts at subterfuge only confused Hank, rather than alarming him. He was, however, surprised by the speed with which his daughter and his prospective son-in-law responded to the crisis.

"Where?" Angel asked tersely as he began unwrapping the swords that Buffy left on the floor.

"Well, he's upstairs," Cordelia began carefully, "but I think he wants you to go to that old brick warehouse by Pier 8. There's, umm, an herbalist next door and she has this really great eye cream or gel or something that he thinks…"

"How many?" Buffy broke in, more concerned with being properly armed than protecting her father's innocence. She tossed a duffel bag to Angel for the swords and began retrieving the crossbows from under the meditation mat to pack in another bag.

"Lots," Cordelia replied flatly. "He needs lots and lots, but he said there's always more where they, I mean it, comes from. Trust me, there will be plenty to go around."

"Why are you packing weapons to get eye medication?" Hank asked suspiciously.

"Trade." Angel didn't look up from his packing. Even after all his centuries of practice, his human soul squirmed with discomfort when he lied to someone's face. Especially when the face bore the same hazel eyes as Buffy did.

“Trade? Okay, sure.” Hank stood up and began edging towards the door, trying to figure out a way to extract his daughter from this pandemonium without her calling the police. He was certain the police would be involved eventually, but he didn't want Buffy to be there when they came looking for illegal weapons and drugs.

"Herbalists don't sell their medications, at least this one doesn't. She takes stuff in trade and then sells it herself. Earns her better karma." Buffy didn't share Angel's compunction against lying to her father. After all the broken promises, she figured she owed him a few lies in return.

"And you're going with Angel to get this medicine? Shouldn't you just bring your friend to a doctor?" Like normal, law-abiding people do, he wanted to add, but he restrained himself.

"Dad, Doyle won't go to a doctor. So I'm going with Angel…because he's a lousy bargainer. He always overpays because he's so generous. Major guilt." She looked sternly at her lover, then remembered they were not alone to continue that particular discussion. "Umm, rich parents. Now can we chat about this later?" Buffy zipped up the duffel bag and grabbed her backpack. Angel was also finished packing, leaving them both gazing expectantly at their unwelcome visitor.

Hank looked from one set face to the other. While the war might yet be won, this battle was clearly over. Unless, of course, he felt like putting his daughter over his shoulder and forcibly extracting her against her own wishes as well as those of her rather large and heavily armed boyfriend.

Right, Hank. Battle over.

"Well, I can see you want me to go so you can take care of your friend. This conversation isn't finished, though.” Hank looked sternly at his little girl, hoping against hope he was doing the right thing by leaving her here with this man. “If you two are really serious about getting married, I need to know more about you, young man. I think we should have lunch tomorrow, all three of us."

Buffy and Angel shared a quick, worried glance.

"Make it dinner on Monday and you've got a deal," Buffy replied for them both. "We…work through lunch."

"All right, dinner it is. Seven o'clock at Le Petit Choud on Vale Street." He started backing up the stairs as he spoke, still keeping a watchful eye on his daughter and her fiancé.

"Fine, great. We'll be there." Buffy waved briefly. "Bye Dad."

Hank could still hear them talking as he followed Cordelia though the doorway at the top of the staircase.

"Sure, make me sound like the financial clueless wonder," Angel was grumbling as he slung his duffel bag over one shoulder and hefted a sword with the free hand. "I've been handling my own money since long before I met you, Buffy. Really long before."

"Angel, how much did you pay for that sword?"

There was a sudden guilty silence from the apartment below.

The warehouse Doyle had seen in his vision appeared to be abandoned. A streetlight gleamed feebly from across the poorly paved alley, and not even the stray dogs bothered to search for scraps of food in this dark and lonely place.

Buffy and Angel approached the building cautiously, motioning the others to stay back until it was safe. Doyle and Cordelia were prepared to follow instructions, but Kate was used to being the one in charge. She slid out of the car and caught up to Buffy and Angel before Doyle could even protest.

"Don't you just love a rookie?" Cordelia placed her hands on her hips and glared at the detective who was forcing her to battle demons while wearing a wrap-around skirt. Doyle tugged at her hand, reminding her they needed to catch up with their erstwhile companions. If Kate was going to get into the fray, someone needed to keep an eye on her, and apparently Cordelia and Doyle were elected.

"Kate, you know she only means…" Doyle began only to be silenced by a glare from Buffy.

"Quiet," she hissed, motioning to the open window Angel was creeping towards.

Silence reigned as Buffy and Kate joined Angel at the window. It was a high window, and Buffy felt a stab of jealousy when the taller Kate easily peered in over her shoulder. Then Angel's cool hand came to rest on her back and she suddenly felt the world resume its proper proportions.

"Oh my god," Kate breathed. "This can't…I can't be seeing this." The detective stumbled back from the window, her face so pale it looked blue in the faded glow of the streetlight. Her mind was fighting to deny what she thought she’d already accepted: demons were real, and they were in that building.

"What's going on? What did you see?" Buffy forgot her jealousy when her slayer instincts took over. She leaned into the crumbling stone window ledge, trying to see as much as possible without giving away her presence. What she saw stunned her as much as it had shocked Kate, though she doubted it was for the same reason.

"Angel, tell me I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing. Tell me this is just a chorus number in the demon version of 'Cabaret' and they're up to Dress Rehearsal." She looked to her lover to reassure her, but his somber gaze held no promise of a happy ending.

"What?"' Cordelia whispered impatiently. "Let me see." She pushed past Kate, who was leaning up against the side of the building trying to catch her breath.

"Wow, they are Nazis." Cordelia turned to Doyle and gestured for him to come take a look. "I was kidding before, but they really have the 'seig heil' look down pat." She turned back to the window to verify her first impression. "Of course, in the movies the Nazis don't look like they've been the victims of bad plastic surgeons, but those costumes are a dead giveaway."

"They're not costumes, Cordelia," Doyle replied heavily after he had looked for himself. Those uniforms represented danger to a part of himself he'd been running from for years. In the end, he was right back where he started.

Angel shot another quick glance in the window, trying to store up as many impressions as possible for use in the coming battle. While part of his mind was cataloging the number of warriors and their displayed weaponry, another part of him was reliving memories of events these children only knew about from history books. The tight-fitting grey uniforms and tall black boots, the precision of the warriors' formation, and above all, the fanatical glow he saw on every misshapen face gave him a deeper chill than his own blood cells.

"We have to get out of here." Doyle had seen enough for one night, and one lifetime. "They'll be coming any minute and…"

Even as he spoke, the warehouse doors began to swing open and the Scourge poured forth onto the street.

"Get back!" Angel grabbed Cordelia and yanked her back against the wall as Buffy shoved Doyle around the side of the building to become one with the shadowy corner. No one spoke, or even breathed more than necessary until the stampede of boots faded into the distance.

One by one they stepped away from the building and into the street. Buffy threw back her head and drew in great gulps of air, hoping to cleanse herself of the miasma of evil she sensed in this deceptively quiet place. When she finally felt some measure of peace, she turned to Angel.

"I never thought there would be so many. I think we have a little problem here." Worry clouded her features. "We don't know all of their weaknesses yet, or actually any of them, besides ego. How are we supposed to take out that many when we don't know what make them bleed?"

"It is your blood that counts, human," growled a voice from shadows.

In the moment it took Buffy and Angel to assume fighting stances, they were surrounded. The last squad had doubled back to investigate a noise and lucked into a street fight, much to their grim enjoyment. They wanted to savor the moment, to bask in the smell of human fear, which meant a lot of circling.

"We have to get the others out," Angel said in a low voice as he glanced from one tightly drawn mask to another. "They're not up to this fight."

"I'm with you there, honey. We'll have enough to do to protect ourselves." Buffy froze as another thought struck her. She quickly slid over to stand flush against Angel's side, the better to whisper in his ear. "Angel, whatever you do, no 'grrr face,' promise me. They can't know." She whipped around to face one of the Scourge, sensing he was about to spring.

The Scourge fought fiercely, but they were surprised by the strength of their opponents. Having judged them to be mere human beings, the warriors took too much time to adjust their opinions, which gave Buffy and Angel the advantage. The Scourge began to fall under the combined forces of the Slayer and her mate, clearing an escape route to the car. Cordelia took the opportunity to run back for more weapons, while Doyle and Kate stayed to fight.

Buffy was unwillingly impressed by the policewoman's relative skill in martial arts, but she would have been happier to have all the "civilians" in the car. She turned to push Doyle towards safety, with an eye to sending Kate along as escort, when a sudden blow to her back sent her barreling into Angel. They both tumbled to the ground, Angel trying to break Buffy's fall. Despite his best efforts it was a hard landing, and for a moment they both saw stars.

The warrior who shoved them to the pavement moved rapidly towards them, his heavy nightstick raised to deal a crushing blow. He suddenly arched his back and grunted as a bullet from Kate's gun slammed into his torso. Turning slowly, he prepared to stalk a new prey.

Kate aimed her gun carefully and let off another shot at his chest as the demon approached her. He stepped back a pace from the force of entry, but he didn't stop coming. She lined up her weapon once again, taking deep breaths and focusing on the target rather than the creature as a whole.

"Aim for the stomach, Kate!" Doyle called from behind her as he fought with another of the demons. Cordelia hit the creature squarely on the head with a car jack, dazing it enough to allow Doyle one good thrust to the abdomen with one of Angel's knives. The creature fell lifelessly to the ground. "The heart’s not where you think it is. They're not human, you know." Another demon landed a blow that knocked him off his feet and ended his tutorial for the moment.

"Not human. Not human." The words screamed through Kate's skull, whipping around in circles of increasing velocity until she couldn't think or speak or even breathe. What she was facing, what was going to kill her, was not human.

Buffy suddenly realized what was going on. It had been a long time since she fought her first demon, but she knew what happened when denial met reality in a dark alley.

"Oh swell," she mumbled as she painfully got to her feet. "Time to rescue the damsel in distress."

"Buffy, wait!" Angel tried to stop her, but he couldn't hold onto her from his vantage point on the ground. By the time he stood up, she was running towards the demon, and into the path of Kate's gun.

"Kate, don't shoot!" Angel cried out as he launched himself after Buffy.

The shot seemed to echo forever.

Part Three

Feedback is always useful (and appreciated)

Go here for more of Gem's stories.

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page