deborah, that's really good.

Willow's face is eggshell pale in the moonlight, fragile and unspeakably precious as understanding belatedly dawns.

Fay, this is so visual to me. I can see Willow's face in my mind, breaking open with light. Lovely.

Part Twenty-Five: The way we were

Walking across dimensional barriers was like having electrical current pulse through your veins, and the effort left Ethan tremendously dazed. Wesley had little sympathy. The two of them were tremendously vulnerable, here. “So why didn’t we bring the bloody tin soldiers?” asked Ethan, annoyed.

“Two reasons,” said Wesley, scanning the city’s seemingly infinite skyline. “In the first instance, there’s some sort of spell on this place, it seems. Only those marked by evil can pass into the city. That leaves Finn and his soldiers out.”

“But not us,” sniffed Ethan.

“I’m dead and you’re a supervillain,” said Wesley. “It seemed natural.”

“And what’s the second reason?”

“I didn’t want them to get hurt,” said Wesley, now walking on. Ethan sighed and hurried after.

“So where the bloody Hell are we?”

“It’s been known by many names,” said Wesley. “When Illyria controlled it, it was called Vahla Ha’nesh. When she was trapped in the Deeper Well, her forces stayed here in stasis, until they passed, too. The shades of these creatures were reflected on Earth as nightmares. In opium-fueled dazes, writers and shamans would see reflections of it—one city that hid the ghosts of everything sacred and everything terrible buried in the recesses of their brains. To them, it was called R'lyeh.”

Ethan froze. The two walked another minute in near silence, save for Ethan grumbling underneath his breath.

“Come, now,” said Wesley. “You’re not scared, are you?”

“Nonsense.”

“You should be.”

Ethan looked up to see Willow, crackling with power, hovering above them. The air—totally still since their arrival—was now swirling around them. Ahead of them stood Amy, her eyes jet black, dust dancing in a swirl around her.

“Well, now,” said Ethan, his forehead sweating. “Looks like our Amy is all grown up.”

Ethan and Wesley flew backward with sudden force.

“The name’s not Amy, buddy,” said the young woman. “It’s Catherine.”

Ethan and Wesley struggled to their feet, but an invisible force was holding them down.

“Catherine was her mother, right?” said Ethan.

“Yes,” said Wesley. “I guess you did pay attention in briefings.

Willow landed on the ground next to Catherine, and the others followed suit. Faith and Justine first, walking side by side, brandishing weapons. Then the werewolf Oz, snarling at them, primed to pounce. Finally Xander and the demon Eyghon.

“Hello, Ripper,” said Ethan, quietly. The demon wearing Giles’ body loomed above them, smirking.

“Ethan,” he hissed. “Didn’t think we’d have a chance to connect. You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

“You’re completely outnumbered here, Wes,” said Faith, stepping to the fore. “You lost your entire team already. But then, that’s pretty much what you do, isn’t it. Lose people.”

Wesley lips pulled into a thin, dangerous smile.

“Hello, Faith,” he said. “What are you so happy about?” she asked. “You lost your entire team and then came in here with a past-his-prime Houdini knock off? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” said Wesley. “Figured I’d just roll the dice.”

Suddenly, Oz turned and leapt on Faith, his weight pinning her down. Instinctively, she lifted her arms to shield her face from his fangs.

“Trickster Gods,” invoked Ethan, flinging dust from a pouch tied to his belt. “I bid you now, rid these forms of the spirits who ride them.”

Amy’s and Giles’ bodies convulsed, and they both fell quivering to their knees as dark energy rose out of them. Willow, confused, rose her hand to cast a spell, but she was stunned as the butt of a pistol slammed down on her head, accompanied by the sound of maniacal giggling.

Wesley rose quickly to his feet.

“Amy,” he said. “If you’d be so kind.”

Dazed, mumbled words dripped from her mouth, as Oz leapt between her and the remaining combatants. Suddenly, there was a flash of light, and she, Oz, Ethan, Giles and Wesley were gone.

“Hello, Ripper,” said Giles, quietly. The demon wearing Giles’ body loomed above them, smirking.

Is there an Eyghon-Giles and a non-Eyghon Giles? One with Wes and Ethan and one not? Why doesn't Ethan go over to the other side? Is Wes controlling him? Does FE have to force its people over?

Also, is Wes immune because he's dead? Or doesn't the stuff that happened in "Billy" count as going evil?

“Hello, Ripper,” said Giles, quietly. The demon wearing Giles’ body loomed above them, smirking.

The first Giles in this sentence needs to be an Ethan, I suspect.

“I don’t know,” said Wesley. “Figured I’d just roll the dice.”

This reads to me as much too Yank-speak for Wesley. Perhaps one of our UK contingent might have some ideas.

Other than those bits, it's lovely, Victor. Looking forward to more.

The first Giles in this sentence needs to be an Ethan, I suspect.

Yep, and changed. I agree with the Wesley quote, but not sure what to do with it. Will ponder.

Why doesn't Ethan go over to the other side? Is Wes controlling him?

Well, among other motivating factors, Ethan will get blown to pieces if he betrays the team. Of course, we last saw the trigger device with Oz. Hmmm.....

Does FE have to force its people over? Also, is Wes immune because he's dead? Or doesn't the stuff that happened in "Billy" count as going evil?

The FE's not the one doing it, it's Doc, with power given him by the FE, and he needs to make physical contact. As to whether Wes is vulnerable or not, well... we'll have to see....

Part Twenty-Six: Shelter

“So it’s true,” said Giles, rubbing his forehead. “You’re alive.”

“Not quite,” said Wesley. “Although I can see where you’d make that mistake.”

The team had taken shelter in what appeared to be an immense temple, the walls adorned with seemingly millions of diamonds, each one glistening despite the relative lack of light.

“Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,” whispered Oz, as memories came back to him. Oz thought of the time he first met the ex-Watcher, about how he was willing to sacrifice Willow to stop the Mayor’s Ascension. “So you’re the mysterious mastermind?”

“Yes,” said Wesley, who seemed to be absently looking at the glistening walls. “And since you’re too polite to ask: no, I don’t intend to throw any of us to the wolves this time. Pardon the expression.”

“No offense taken,” said Oz. “Glad to be clear. But why us? Why me?”

“We don’t have time for that now,” said Giles, cracking a kink out of his neck. “We need to worry about …”

“No,” interrupted Wesley. “We have a moment. I needed you, Oz, because I needed somebody trust worthy with the team, and who’d be able to resist Doc’s power.”

“How’d you know?”

“About the training you undertook in Tibet? The training that allows you to control your transformations? I knew that would allow you to circumvent the spell. You alone, out of everyone here, are in complete control of yourself.”

“So how do we get Willow and Justine back?” asked Oz.

“We don’t,” said Wesley. “I knew I could drive the possession away from Amy, and catching Giles was just pure luck. If we’d been a bit quicker, we might have been able to save Xander, also. But that was all my planning, right there. We won’t get another shot.”

“But I thought you said … ” started Giles.

“We’re not leaving any of them behind,” said Wesley, testily. He was all too aware of how little trust he’d engendered with these people. “What we need to do is interrupt Doc’s drain on Illyria’s ambient power.”

“And how do we do that?” said Amy.

“You, myself, Ethan and Rupert are mystics,” said Wesley. “Do you know where we are?”

No one answered.

“This entire planet is one structure,” said Wesley, “A house of many mansions, if you will. One giant temple to Illyria, carved in a small sliver of time thinner than a pinpoint. In a very real sense, we’re also standing in downtown Los Angeles right now. But this particular mansion has a special purpose. In each of these diamonds is a sliver of every god or ancient one who touched the Earth. From here, we can reach the fold in time where Angel and the others are trapped.”

“We can rescue them,” said Giles.

“Yes,” said Wesley. “But we four need to stay here to work the magic.”

Wesley turned and looked Oz in the eyes.

“You need to go in and bring them out.”

“Alone” asked Oz. “This is doing my head in. You want me to go in and bring them out by myself? And what about Dawn and Connor?”

“You won’t be alone,” said Wesley. “And as for our young friends … That’s taken care of.”

Part Twenty-Seven: Out of place

There was a piece of Justine that observed herself from a distance—the feral stance, the wild, side-to-side nervous glance. She was wound like a spring, ready to fight, but something was missing.

Faith fascinated her, she watched the power in her stride, the way her every movement sent small ripples through the air. There was something about her power that was … familiar. There was something there she wanted, but couldn’t articulate.

The two children tied to the stone were barely conscious. The girl was unfamiliar. The boy … yes. She had seen the boy somewhere, but couldn’t place him. And she hated him. That much she knew. If she were able, she’d slit the boy’s throat right now. Why did she feel that?

Not for the first time, she thought of Holtz, and clenched her hand so her nails cut her skin. She wanted to run away from all this, these people. But she was compelled to stay—she didn’t know how or why, just that it was important. That Holtz wanted it.

The strange man, Doc, was looking at his watch and watching the sky. She tried hard not to think about time—it seemed wrong here. The other two, Xander and Willow, had been gone for what seemed like hours, searching for Wesley. Outside her own head, she could see herself slitting the man’s throat like it was minutes ago, but it had to be longer than that. He looked so different. So pale. Someone said he was dead. Maybe he was a ghost. She didn’t know.

The boy, Connor, was stirring, looking up at her now.

“Justine,” he said. “Do you remember me?”

“No.”

“No,” said Connor. “Didn’t think so.”

“Should I?”

“Yeah,” said Connor. “You should. I’m Angel’s son.”

“Angel … has a son?”

“Yeah. You helped kidnap me. I got trapped in another dimension. There was a spell. Everyone forgot.”

“I didn’t … “

“Heh. You’re confused right,” said a sing-song voice that seemed to come from nowhere. “Poor little lost girl, her memory is gone. All gone.”

“Who’s there?” said Justine. “Who the fuck…”

“You’re out of synch,” said Connor. “I get that. Not only has the spell screwed up your memory, you’ve also been moved through time. Things have changed, Justine.”

“Nobody loves you here,” said the voice. “Nobody loves Justine.”

“I don’t know what …” started Justine, but she was haunted by a giggle that came from nowhere. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Justine is losing her miiii-nnnd,” sang the voice. “Justine is losing her …”

“STOP IT!!! STOP … ”

Justine couldn’t see the gun being held to her head, but she could feel it.

“Don’t move,” said Connor. “The voices in your head are about to get tetchy.”

Justine froze, and looked at Connor. His manacles were undone, as were Dawn’s. The two of them were rising shakily.

“Like I said,” said Connor. “I know two things. You’re head’s not all there….” An invisible pistol smacked against he back of Justine’s head. “And you’re not a slayer right now, are you?”

Justine fell. Connor fell beside her to make sure she was all right.

“That’s gonna bruise,” said Dawn.

“Yeah,” said a voice. “So is this.”

A fist was slammed into Dawn’s jaw, and she fell on impact. Connor turned to face Faith.

“Well, kid,” said Faith. “Looks like it’s you and me.”

Bloody hell, this is good.

Bloody hell, this is good.

Thank you!