It has been forever, and for that I am sorry! I'm not going to waste space and time that is better wasted writing *wink* to list all the reasons (a lot of you already know most of them). I am however going to thank everyone who had took the time to feedback this little baby of mine (not so little now, oh well) and guilt me with puppy eyes and threaten me with long detailed emails *love*... so thank you!! You made this girl who almost gave up because she lost everything she had jotted down on a half-dead pc, well, not give up. *snuggles*

 

Hope you like! :D

 

Title: Splinter
Rating: 17
Pairing: Spike/Angel (eventually), Spike/Raven(OMC)
Summary: Spike decided to stay in L.A. and work with Angel and Co. in Wolfram and Hart now known as A.I and Co. However, Angel still has a bit of a grudge towards Spike. Spike gets hurt... Angel is responsible in away. Another vampire wants to give Spike what Angel isn't giving for some silly reason, but what it entitles is big. How will that work out I wonder? 

Thanks to lusciousxanderand lexa4227for the great beta! *love* And a wink from Cordelia to uncouthbrkit whose poetic words I promised I'd snag. ;)

 

Previously  http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=lusciousspike&keyword=Splinter+%28Spike/Angel%29&filter=all

 

To view it with all writing styles visible go here:

http://lusciousspike.livejournal.com/85996.html 

 

 

 

"Bloody son of a bitch long-haired pansy…"

 

Raven silently walked a little behind Spike as the vampire continued to rant, exiting the elevator and stepping into the underground parking lot.

 

"He thinks he can pull one over me, well, I’ll show him! Find his eerie castle and bloody mud and feed it to him."

 

"Really, William. You act like…" Raven smirked as he unlocked his car. "---your favorite mutt had been run over."

 

"Close enough." Spike pouted around an unlit cigarette. "You don’t know…" He frowned and with a sniff returned the cigarette into its full packet. "I could’ve made Harris do anything, anything. Vlad the Imp didn’t mention me having to recharge no naffing thrall. What do I know about mind control?" he said, slamming the door as he got in.

 

Raven winced at the abuse of his custom-made, modernized Austin Martin. He fought back the urge to slip out and make sure the black paint wasn't damaged by irate vampire acts. Instead, he started out of the building and chastised the youngling on something else.

 

“Might I remind you of your sire whom with you’d spent a century-plus time roaming the lands? Surely you could have picked up a thing or two from her, other than an immaculate way to apply kohl.”    

 

Raven gave Spike a warning glance when he had made a move to play with his lighter. "What in the world did you plan to do with the boy? He seemed useless... even more so, tryingly verbose in a mindless manner."

 

"Well…" Spike trailed off with a dreamy look on his face, lighter completely forgotten. He let out a ragged breath that caused Raven to frown disgruntled.

 

"William," Raven said coolly to snap him out of his daze.

 

"Wha- oh." Spike had the dignity to look sheepish, unconsciously running his right hand over the leather interior. "Can't help but picture Droopy boy dropping to his knees, professing his utter love and insane lust then tackling a soggy one on ol’ Ripper’s lips before the spell breaks –on tape and copies to spare." He shrugged, twirling his finger in the air. "And placing an ocean between me and Harris is a plus – even if he's proven himself a tad less of an annoyance than before."

 

Raven let out an indignant, "Doubtful."

 

"Still, being around him brings back all kinds of memories I rather stay locked and buried in that torched coffin of a Hellmouth."

 

Raven took in the poignant pause with interest, but didn't press. He took a chance to note the look on Spike's face before the light turned green and he pressed the car forward. It wasn't ten minutes before they found themselves standing inside Raven's residence.   

 

"Unless they fancy it!" Spike said out of the blue with a clear shudder. "Ugh, that’s nasty."

 

Raven proved that he retained the ability to look refined whilst rolling his eyes. "You are a strange one, Leif."

 

"So I’ve frequently been called." Spike walked towards the windows. He could see the dark sky and the colors of the bright city clear through the wide slick glass. The unmistakable light of a plane soaring somewhere he could not bother contemplating caught his eye, and he absentmindedly spoke, "But, not strange enough to chase away, eh?”

 

"Never," Raven said as if it were the thousandth time he asserted it today and it by no means weighed less in truth. He tilted his head to get a better look at that silent glass. If vampires had reflections, he knew he would be looking at one of a fair-haired vampire grinning in silent amusement. "If worst comes to pass none could label you as dull."

 

Spike lowered his head, still facing away. Raven made no attempt to move from where he stood and waited. Finally, Spike turned around - his head still inclined - and approached the blue-eyed brunet. Tilting his head up, he caught Raven's unwavering gaze, his own searching. Spike's palm found itself on a smooth pale cheek, but his eyes never left the ones in front of his, even when his thumb brushed lightly against the skin. Spike blinked and Raven found himself mimicking it, subsequently feeling as if he were freed from a trance.

 

"And here you said you don't know your way around thralls---"

 

Raven didn't continue, having been cut off by Spike's lips against his own - grazing softly before pulling away.

 

Spike held up a hand to stop Raven's words. "Let me have a go. You're thinking 'If I had a breath in me – it would've been swept away'," he mimicked Raven's accent exuberantly ending it with a snort. "You're such a poof."

 

Raven raised an amused eye brow. "Am I now?"

 

Spike nodded, exasperated. "You are. Bloody annoyingly romantic in the fairiest gestures." He threw his hands in the air. "And yet, I'm not run off. What does that say about me?"

 

"What?"

 

"Bloody hell if I know." Spike smiled.

 

Raven's lips were tugged into a matching grin.

 

A moment of joint reflection before Spike jumped into movement, startling his companion. "Well, I'm off." He headed towards the door but on his third step, he found himself turned around and caught in an iron hold.

 

"Indeed, tonight, you are." Raven bared sharp fangs and bit lightly at Spike's lips, hastily lapping at the twin drops of blood. He enjoyed the dark hoe that the blue eyes had taken on before tugging Spike towards the bedroom. "And I am to make sure you partake in every second of it." 

 

Spike let out a sigh as the door closed behind them. "Behold, Ray… Sovereign of the Fairies."     

 

 

Angel groaned as he entered his office. Eleven-plus hours felt like a week. He not only spent all his time to and fro England, nervously looking out the plane window - awed and not a little anxious about a heavy block of metal with inanimate wings soaring thousands of feet above hard ground and depthless water - but he also had to fight relentless warriors who protected the tree gateway to the Deeper Well by himself. If it had not been for Drogyn intervening, Angel's wounds would have been more severe.

 

"I'd say that's enough."

 

"I could've taken them…" Angel said, biting back groan, and using a sword as a crutch. That smack against the tree must have bruised his ribs. He ignored the disappearance of the armored men, and instead nodded towards the man at the entrance of the Well. "So, you are the Keeper of the Well."

 

"You're here about Illyria. Walk in," Drogyn replied, nodding for Angel to enter. "You seem unsurprised to see me."

 

Angel threw the sword he held behind his back and raised his shoulder, popping it back in place. He sure had taken a beating. Nevertheless, the serene feeling that befell him after the fight had left him thinking that he had been under some kind of stress, needing a manner of release. Inside a dark passageway, Drogyn leading the way into the Deeper Well with a lit torch, Angel answered the earlier implicit question, "A friend of yours told me about your position."

 

Drogyn cocked an eyebrow and Angel elaborated, "Hrafen."

 

Giving Angel a tight smile, Drogyn replied, "Hrafen of Hravolen is no friend of mine."

 

After a short tour into the Well, a pause on a bridge that left Angel's chest aching for some obscure reason, a rather fruitless background check into what Raven had mentioned delicately accomplished without a single question to rouse Drogyn’s irritation, he knew his job was done. Angel had made sure his old friend replaced the sarcophagus and was ready to return to the jet and down useless tiny liquor bottles that only left him needing before the bruising started to show.  

 

Other than returning a potential threat into its rightful place, Angel got one thing out of this trip. As he had been walking him out, Drogyn had casually motioned that Hrafen of Hravolen was a perfectionist. He didn’t regard Angel’s questioning look but spoke as if he was relating a tale. “Whilst some have a high regard for it, others chose to heed it. Before his death, his turning, Hrafen was the strategist of an undefeated army, or so the stories tell. Like many vampires long ago, he was fed the blood of the undead and left adrift to roam throughout the hours of darkness. Not long after his change – barely a century in time – the sect of Hravolen grew into a master Order.”

 

Angel knew better than to ask his friend. The fresh night greeted him as he stepped out of the hallowed tree. For some reason, perhaps his throbbing ribs, his shoulders felt the need to bend. He nodded to Drogyn before moving away.

 

Drogyn had parting words for Angel, "I know nothing more to tell you, old friend. But, Hrafen came and entered the Well in a manner of a man who was eyeing out the adversary. And it was not I he came to see."

 

With a painful hiss, Angel slid down into his leather chair, his hands bracing against his desk. He would wait a little before pulling himself up and taking a shower and dropping into bed - in that very particular order.

 

He needed to sort some things out.

 

 

Spike breathed hard, letting the air out of his dead lungs in gray smoke. He was looking out the window. Through it, he could see sure signs of the sun’s intent to great the still latent world. If he concentrated even a little, he could see in the glass the large bed in pale reflection; empty. But it wasn't empty. Not by the very least. Under the 100 count Egyptian silk sheets slept Raven. Spike knew he was asleep because there was no way he could have lit a cigarette without being castrated. Literally.

 

Spike smirked. He was nowhere near modesty - Raven's sated state was mostly thanks to his excellent performance. With a purse of his lips, Spike graciously acknowledged that Raven had something to do with that happening as well. He smirked once more, at least he knew Ray's limit to teasing now. Who knew a vampire's tolerance was stronger than a self-righteous Slayer's?

 

An internal snort reminded Spike of his current 'predicament'. He turned, leaning against the glass, naked backside not flinching from the cool glass, in fact, he found it fairly soothing. He gazed at the sleeping Raven, his smile gentling and gaining some amusement in its depth. Raven held himself with such refinement and coolness of demeanor that spoke strongly of his status on top of the stiff pole stuck up his arse. However, when he slept, his features—they changed. It wasn't as if in his conscious state he was frowning with an inseparable broodiness similar to he-who-would-not-be-named-less-all-the-fun-be-sucked-out-of-the-room. It was an air he carried with him. An air that was missing when he slumbered-- utterly relaxed. Spike was actually tickled that he was privy to what was clearly such a rarity.

 

Spike put out the cigarette in his palm without thought, a grin full blown on his lips when Raven shifted on the bed. ~ Who would've pegged Ray to be a huge cuddler? ~ He shook his head at the image of a vampire Line leader hugging his pillow.

 

 

 

Angel awoke with a start, something in him screaming for him to getup. He blinked lazily, noticing that he had somehow slept on his desk and that the sun was brightly shinning in. He rubbed the back of his neck for a few moments, getting his bearings. He then picked up his phone and pressed a button. Two seconds later, Wesley's voice greeted him, and he replied, "It's done. Drogyn has it secure back in place."

 

"Ah, so Raven was telling the truth," Wesley commented into his ear. Angel could hear him sipping something. He guessed it was coffee. He wanted coffee. "Was there anything else worth noting at the Well?"

 

Angel vaguely thought back to Drogyn's last words. He shook his head even though he knew Wesley couldn't see him. He really hated it when people got ambiguous on him. "Other than standing at the pit of a hole in the world, and thousands of interred Old Ones waiting for a chance to wake up and terrorize the world…"

 

Wesley interrupted with a chuckle, "Very well, we'll make sure we keep an eye on the Deeper Well."

 

Angel sounded grateful, "Ten eyes would be better."

 

"Ten it is. Anything else?"

 

Angel scratched the back of his head and winced. "Yeah, find wherever Harmony is not being a secretary and have her bring me a couple of pints of blood. And coffee."

 

Wesley hummed. "That bad? Perhaps you should've taken along some backup. I'm sure Spike would've…"

 

Angel cut in, "It’s nothing. Scratches, really. I'm just hungry..."

 

"That won't do then!" Wesley said with a laugh. "I bet your assistant is conspiring some more with Cordelia, I'll let her know."

 

"Thanks, Wes." Angel placed the phone back in its cradle. He leaned back in his chair and swiveled towards the bright day outside the windows. It still amazed him that he could be bathed in sunlight and not feel a thing. He doubted he would ever be used to the experience. The demon inside of him was always more alert in such times, no doubt twitching at the absurdity of it all. It was how he woke up in the first place.

 

"A vampire sunbathing…" Angel, eyes half closed, murmured to himself.  

 

"Wonder if you'll freckle…"

 

Angel abruptly turned towards the sudden intrusion, half angry at himself for letting his guard down and half angry at …

 

"Xander. What are you doing here?"

 

Ignoring him, Xander continued into the middle of the room. "I so owe Dawn for teaching me her signature sneak-age. I walk in on the weirdest things, although Andrew losing in strip-poker with a straight face and a handful of trainee slayers is both a thing to behold and fear." He grinned widely, clearly pleased at surprising Angel. His finger scratched over his patch – an unconscious habit he became prone to do in certain situations. "I bet she'd also have a kick at the thought of a vampire basking in the sun. Mind putting our Blade vs. Sun Block debate to rest?" Xander grinned helpfully.

 

Angel had no idea what the mouthy human was yapping about. He could not care less what Xander Harris thought. In fact, at this time, he could do without him all together. Cordelia would say he was "cranky" but he just – really – didn't like the boy.

 

"Leave."

 

"Well, as someone we both know would say 'rude much'. Woke up on the wrong side of the coffin?" Xander placed his hands on his hips and pretended to pout. "And here I was being all nice enough to come and say goodbye."

 

"Goodbye," Angel said, not missing a beat. He really couldn't believe how the years haven't lessened how much he resented this kid. He couldn't pinpoint 'exactly' what it was… 

 

Xander continued as if he wasn't interrupted, "Willow and Faith secured the missing Slayer-slash-Witch running around L.A. But I think Witchy-slayer –her name's Sabrina can you believe that?!- could've handled being separated from her warlock boy toy better. Willow took a beating with that energy whatchamacallit pulse, but we make a good team." He puffed his chest. "And Willow's clothes look right off the rack, no singe-age or anything. Nifty what you could do with a wave." He chuckled. "Cordy would love it if she was so lucky! And Buffy, too… now she's focusing more on her tan than her nightly strolls through lively graveyards with her questionable undead company."

 

~ Oh, right. ~ Angel thought, laying his palms flat on his brand-new desk. It was all coming back to him now.

 

"I was all about sticking around after the girls leave, seeing what L.A. life is like. But I think I have everything I need for Giles' twenty questions."

 

Translation, it isn't working out with Cordelia. Angel snorted before that last part caught his attention. "You're involving the Council after all?"

 

Xander held up his hands. "Hey, I don't trust Crow as far as I can through him, which is two feet more than I could last year. But, if Willow has given it the three-over and found nothing suspicious other than Fangs 'R Us trying to cover their backs from a slayer’s times-a-thousand stake to the heart, then why not?"

 

"It will save lives," Angel said more to himself. He felt as he was repeating something he was being told.

 

"You certainly have nothing better to offer." Xander smirked. "Buff only trusted you in your move to corporate land only when Cordelia of all people vouched for you. And now, Armani vamp comes into town and steals it all from under you… I'm thinking justice here." He sniggered. "Karma does come in handy once in a blue moon and I think through the toxic air of Los A, last night's moon looked indigo-ish."   

 

Angel leaned back against his chair and wondered where Harmony was with his drink. If she was going to take long, he might as will head up to his penthouse, clean up and maybe get some peaceful sleep in his bed. There was nothing worthwhile keeping him in this room. He should do that now before he started fantasizing about his stapler and Xander in various intimate situations.

 

"So, spill." Xander rested his hands against the back of a guest chair. "Did you always have a kink with the blonds?"

 

Angel felt something twitch on his face.

 

"There's Buff of course," Xander started ticking off on his fingers. "Darla, Cordelia but only after she tried blonde on for size –sniffing after Cordelia, tsk, tsk. Yeah, your people are big gossips – oh, and the pièce de résistance -" he said in a butchered French accent, throwing his hands up in the air before leaning in.

 

"Tell me - is this 'thing' between you and Spike just a bunch of fireless smoke?" Xander titled his head as if curious. "Saying ‘yes’ will be much appreciated."

 

 

"When are you going to stop playing hard to get and realize that emotionally constipated, grouchy old Angel needs bright scarlet signs to know what he wants?"

 

"Hm, even crank-callers know Angel’s finer qualities. Well, ta."

 

"Spike!"

 

"Stop bloody calling already! It's bedtime for some you know," Spike snapped into the phone. "And some are trying to decide what to pack and what to give to the destitute to throw in the gutter."

 

"Oh, don't mind me. I just thought you would've wanted to know that the Big Bad That Could've is back home to your old home an ocean far far away," Cordelia replied sarcastically with an angry edge to her voice.

 

Spike rolled his eyes.

 

"And that Willow and Faith have tracked down their missing recruit from a teenage sitcom and will be leaving tonight."

 

"Good on them." He pulled away the phone from his ear, intending on hanging up. Spike closed his eyes at her well-placed pitiful sigh, ringing clear through the distance. With a groan, he placed his ear back on the receiver.

 

"I'm hearing an 'and' at the end of that, pet. Out with it already."

 

"Xander's going with."

 

"My condolences for running another one off. Or is that congrats? Done?"

 

"Hilarious. I'm laughing so hard its above snarky self-tormenting bleached vampires' hearing," Cordelia countered icily. "They're leaving, Spike."      

 

He exhaled noisily. "And what, there's a going away bash? Sign my name on your card."

 

"You know what that means. Other than Xander is a big yellow clucky chicken who's high on baby slayer worship."

 

"First love's candle can't be rekindled. Sad. How about you focus on that, eh? Maybe unearth some of those dusty country albums?" Spike hedged

 

"Pfft, like I care about that." Cordelia pressed on, "They're going to tell Giles about the Treaty. It'll be a done deal then."

 

Spike dropped his head. "It's already a done deal now." He knew it always came back to this. "I'm busy."

 

"You're packing," it was more of an accusation than a question. "To go to him."

 

"Yes."

 

"Buffy'll find out, one way or another, you know. No way can they keep 'the vamp in question' a blank for her – and she'll come running so hard that high kick is going to scar forever. And who’ll want you then?"

 

"Bringing her into this now?" he snarled back.

 

"She's always been in it. In between is where Buffy lives, she likes it there, she's subletting it as we speak until she gets back." He could see the firm nods. "She hurt him. She hurt you. He hurts you. You hurt him back. You hurt you. It's a cycle. I bet she's what's been keeping you and Angel apart and…"

 

"Bloody Hell, Cordelia, give it a rest!" He growled, having reached his limit with unsubtle interventions from an ex-prom queen. "There is nothing there but you OD-ing on one too many porny nancy-arse novels." 

 

"Pa-lease! We all saw you two in the elevator cameras. Can you honestly tell me that you two never---?"

 

"Romped, shagged, fucked? Yeah, we did - shared a meal in between, too. Don’t catch your breath all offended, luv," he said, pointedly. "We’re vampires. It’s what we do. You think that me and ho Darla never had a go or six? Doesn’t mean that we are some legendary star-crossed lovers, one sinking into a watery abyss for the other. Got to live in the real blasted world, Delia." He growled. "The real world where you are the one kicked out into the watery abyss, racing the rising sun to the shore. In the real world where I won’t be remembered as the vampire who took out two slayers - as the vampire who torched the Anointed One without a blink at what his kind would think. The vampire who was neutered and degraded by humans. The unholy creature of the night, who helped a slayer, fell in love with her and willingly desecrated all that is unholy by fighting to get his soul back. And certainly not as the vampire who died in burning flames saving the world. No. I will be remembered as the vampire, who as headyboy says: one of the worst recorded second only to that by-default Master Angelus, who was renounced of blood. Not deserving so much as a stake through the heart, or a word of distaste before being cast out to another Order."

 

Steady breaths were the only thing he could hear from the other side of the line.

 

"So, you see, Kitten, the sooner you get that through your pretty little human head, the sooner you would give up this romantic notion of yours. The Titanic sank and it didn't even get to where it was going."

 

Spike relished the feel of sending his cell into the wall – it was a mistake to divulge that much and to the biggest mouth of them all. He felt shudders run through his body, not knowing what had brought it all to this breaking point and shocked himself at hearing such revelations. Twisting his hand around the cord, he jerked it out of the wall, causing plaster to fleck the floor then pulled the other end out of his phone cradle for good measure.

 

Packing could wait. He was insanely glad that he had restocked the JD in his fridge.

 

 

Xander took in the staggered look on Angel's face. He felt he had to explain.

 

"Three seconds after I cordially informed Cordy that I'll be heading back to Watcher HQ, she got this scary look in her eyes, I felt I owed myself as the Slayer's right-hand to make a quick exist. She reached for the phone…" He winced as if he remembered something painful. "Short story shorter, as I was safe behind slightly ajar doors, she was Marriage Counseling Spike on the phone. And your name came up… that’s when I ran away to hide at Wesley’s of all places." 

 

Angel cut him off with a rumble. "Just because you can't go back to high school with your ex, doesn’t give you the right to nose in my affairs."

 

Xander snorted. He had seen things scarier than Angel's intimidating face. "Really, “affairs”? You could've just said 'no'. Not like I won't be haunted with the sight of Spike and his sugar-bumpy snogging."

 

"What Spike does…"

 

"Doesn't affect you? Apparently all anybody can talk about here is the office romance. I’m not as slow at catching up now." Xander puffed up his chest. "I work out. But, c’mon, going at it in the building? Shame, shame. The boss with the blond at work, and it's not his bubbly secretary. That's a violation of something." He shook his head. "Although, seeing as it is Harmony…" 

 

It took Angel a few seconds to catch on. Did the boy always ramble on like that? "What?" He growled interrupting him, standing up. How the Hell did Xander know about what happened in Angel's bedroom?

 

"Hey, don't growl on the messenger. Apparently, there were cameras and tapes and everything. Was it the trapped in the elevator cliché?" Xander raised his hand. "No. I don’t want to know. Cordelia’s up-at-arms about Spike 'doing the move'; I could hear her from outside letting it out at her War Council. I think she's all about getting you together with Spike for some insane reason." Xander scratched the back of his head. "Wonder if this is a nightmare of Buffy's." His forehead knotted. "Or some fantasy, you know, I really need to stop talking…"

 

Angel jumped in Xander's personal space, his face halfway to its vampire visage. "*What tapes*?"

 

"Elevator cams. Ring any bells? Sure doesn't for me although now I'm temped to take the stairs down." Xander shrugged. "But that's just me."     

 

Xander misinterpreted the reason behind Angel’s fiery glare for he explained, "Gunn was talking with Wes about this tomb thing needing a nanny, I was mentioning that we could have slayers on the watch, when Cordy came in dragging Fred and kicked me out. She was angry, saying that they should’ve kept the tapes for proof and that “Angel’s a jerk”… and since I knew all about that story, I came here." He shrugged.

 

"Get out," Angel snarled. ~ They know. ~ They knew what happened between himself and Spike, at least a small part of it. It was all making sense now, those weird glances and words he was getting from his people in addition to Cordelia's annoying zeal and manipulation regarding the two of them. To think he never even noticed. "NOW, Harris."

 

"Hey, don't get huffy on moi. I'm just letting you know what you apparently don't know about your friends. Sheesh." The functioning eye narrowed. "You know, Spike was never my favorite person, but I sure like him better than you… even without the soul. " Xander wasn't intimidated by Angel's obvious rage and instead got more into his face. "And to think I almost felt guilty for telling Buffy to kick your ass… having sent you to Hell and all. Almost."

 

Angel's eyes turned yellow with anger.             

 

"Don't get me wrong, I don't mind it. Anything that keeps pointy-teeth cooties away from Buffy is good enough for me. I say have at it you two. Send me postcards from sunny Boca."

 

"You were always envious of me, whelp." Angel stepped even closer. "And now you're telling me how to live my life?"

 

Xander raised his finger. "Don't you mean unlife… 'Dead-boy'? "

 

Angel let out a vicious growl. If ever he was in the mood for this, it was not now. "So you constantly keep reminding me." He took hold of the lapels of Xander's coat. Out of the vampire's perception, Xander pulled a stake from his back pocket. Twisting his arm up and quickly pulling it down, he plunged forward.   

 

"Separate!"

 

They turned their heads in time to see Lorne along with Faith and Willow crowding the open door. Willow's eyes had changed to black and her hair to a darker shade of red, heightened by the white stripes running through it.

 

Xander closed his eye, waiting for his body to fly across the room. He had been here before. He knew what to expect. After a few seconds, when nothing happened, he opened it to be greeted by the sight of a dazed Angel. He didn't know why that was until he saw the vampire reach towards him… and… through him?

 

"What the…?!"

 

"Now this is interesting."

 

Everyone had their gaping eyes glued to the source of the amused exclamation, for behind Angel stood another Angel. The second Angel looked at each of them before his eyes settled on his counterpart and his smile turned wicked.

 

"Ah, we meet again."

 

"Angelus," Angel spat but couldn't hide the hint of dread that it held.

 

"Oops," Willow cringed.

 

"Oops? No, no, no oops. Fix!" Lorne pointing a shaking finger at the grinning Angelus. "Change him back! Put Humpty Dumpty back together again, Glenda. Now!" 

 

"Willow!" Angel gritted out.

 

"C'mon, Red. Do your Wicca thang!" Faith said. At the same time she took a couple of steps into the room, taking her fighting position but her eyes held a little hesitance. She still remembered her last encounter with Angelus, how it had almost killed her.

 

"I'm trying!!" Willow said her eyes closed as she tried to summon the power. Nevertheless, her concentration was wavering as memories of her youth and Angelus surfaced, her hair reversed already to its regular amber-red color and her complexion was a pale white.

 

"Oh, no, you don't, minx!" Angelus pushed forward but Faith knocked him back with a roundhouse kick, sending him head first through the desk. Out of the broken wood, Angelus - face fully transformed - jumped out and rushed forward this time dodging Faith's attempt at hindering his advance. Lorne was in the way of escape, therefore, he was promptly knocked out by getting flung at a wall, taking down Willow in his path. From behind, Faith came at him with a stake in one hand and a large shard from the desk in the other. She threw the shard at him, yet, with quick footing, Angelus swerved, landing a kick on her back causing her to drop the stake and twisting his arms on her neck, he started choking her.     

 

Faith was trying to kick him off of her but her gaze was quickly being overcome by dark spots as Angelus squeezed harder. All a sudden, the weight off her was thrown off of her and she was coughing roughly, forcing breaths into her burning lungs. When the water from her eyes lessened enough, she noticed Xander standing over her with a stapler that had a distinct dent in it.

 

"Thanks," she said in a barely audible voice. 

 

"Think of it as déjà vu but we've all been recast."

 

"I never said…" Faith said, her voice scratchy and weak. "I'm really sorry, Xander."

 

Xander smiled and shrugged, helping her up. "Nice to hear."

 

"Look out!" Angel's voice called in warning enough for them to duck as a chair was thrown into the glass frame. They barely caught the sight of Angelus jumping through the opening created, outside the office and into the building.

 

"What happened?!" Cordelia rushed into the office three seconds later quickly followed by a wide-eyed Fred, Gunn and Wesley.

 

"Willow, are you okay?" Wesley asked with concern, noticing the young girl slowly get up from the floor.

 

Willow nodded, rubbing her arm with a glowing palm. She repeated the treatment on Lorne's head. The green demon gradually came back to consciousness. "We came to say goodbye but this wasn’t our idea of a going away party, sorry." She moved forward to Faith who mumbled that she was fine but Willow healed her despite of her protests. 

 

Gunn and Fred supported Lorne as he rose.

 

At the door, Harmony poked in her head, checking the scene. Lorne drew her attention. "Harmonica, spread the word… Angel has split… or well, Angelus has…"

 

Harmony gasped and stepped further into the office. Her face overwhelm with horror and disbelief, a hand reaching up to her mouth. "Oh, God." She extended her hand in a shaky gesture. "You broke the desk… again!"

 

 

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