The characters, concepts, places, and things belong to their respective owners.This warranted a rewrite. There may be some spoilers for the book "Queen of the Slayers," set post-Chosen. Not much of one, mind you, but a few details, a few scenes, have been changed. Let me know what you think.InterventionPrologue
Angel ran down the alley, carrying a broadsword. This was where he was supposed to meet his friends, if they survived their assault on the members of the Circle of the Black Thorn. This was where they were supposed to rally for a last, big showdown.
There was nobody there. Was he the only on that survived?
"Boo." Angel turned. Spike was standing in a shallow alcove, sheltered from the torrential rain.
Spike shook his head, stepping from the alcove to join him. "Not so far," he said. "You feel the heat?"
Angel frowned. "It's coming."
Spike nodded, looking up at the sky, uncharacteristically thoughtful. Lightning flashed across the dark clouds. Angel couldn't help feeling that the weather was appropriate.
"Finally got ourselves a decent brawl," Spike said, a slight smirk tugging at his pale lips.
Gunn came running in, carrying his home-made battle axe. He stopped, out of breath. "Damn! How did I know the fang boys would pull through?" He said, smiling. "You're lucky we're on the same side, dogs, 'cause I was on fire tonight. My game was tight."
Gunn almost collapsed. Angel and Spike caught him, helping him to a stack of crates. He slumped down. His shirt was red with his own blood.
"You're supposed to wear the red stuff on the inside, Charlie boy," Spike chided. There was concern in his voice.
Gunn nodded and smiled weakly.
Angel looked around. If Gunn survived, then the others should've too. "Any word on Wes?"
Illyria jumped down from the chain-link fence, landing heavily. Her royal blue hair clung to her face, and her body armour was slick and shiny with the rain, and maybe blood.
"Wesley's dead," Illyria reported. Her voice was shaky, strained. "I'm feeling grief for him. I can't seem to control it. I wish to do more violence."
The distant rumbling of thunder almost seemed to echo her sentiment.
"Well, wishes just happen to be horses today," Spike said.
"Among other things," Angel added darkly.
The sound of an oncoming army separated itself from the sound of the weather. There were thousands of them, demons of all shapes and sizes. Even what looked very much like a dragon.
"Okay. You take the thirty thousand on the left..." Gunn joked weakly.
"You're fading," Illyria told him, her voice harsh. Maybe it was because of her own loss. "You'll last ten minutes at best."
Gunn stood up again, on shaky feet. "Then let's make 'em memorable."
The small group prepared to do battle.
"In terms of a plan?" Spike asked. They didn't have long.
"We fight," Angel said, his eyes on the enemy.
"Bit more specific," Spike said.
Angel tightened his grip on his sword. The demon army was almost on them now. "Well, personally, I kind of want to slay the dragon," he said, smirking slightly. "Let's go to work."
They smashed into the first wave. The next few minutes were a confused blur of chopping, slicing, and bashing anything that came at them.
Somehow, they managed to hold on. Somehow, they managed to drive the first wave back, over piles of their own dead.
It wasn't over.
There was really only one way this could end. The demons would keep coming and coming and coming until they were all dead.
It was so surreal. Angel would never have thought he'd go out fighting side by side with Spike, or an Old One like Illyria, or a someone like Gunn.
He was strangely content. He knew that they were good people. He knew that they were where they were meant to be, doing what they were meant to be doing.
The dragon roared, swooping down to attack.
Lightning burned it abruptly from the sky. It smashed into the alley wall, before crashing to the ground between the two sides in a shower of broken bricks and mortar.
An unearthly silence settled on the alley.
Buffy Summers shot them a smile. She stood, not two feet from where the dragon's burnt and broken remains sizzled in the rain.
She was surreal, radiant, an image of everything that Angel fought for. Even if they hadn't exactly been on speaking terms lately.
"Buffy? What are you--"
"What I should've done a long time ago. I'm gonna get in so much trouble for this, but I figure if I'm gonna break the rules I might as well do it big," she said, smiling. Her tone softened. "This is worth it. I love you guys."
Buffy's hands began to glow brilliantly, her skin, her hair. She's never had this power before.
They were in the eye of the storm, surrounded on all sides by brilliant white light, radiating outwards, enveloping everyone, everything.
Buffy glowed brighter still. She seemed to become the light itself.
That light became brighter and brighter, until it was overwhelming. Angel was forced to shield his eyes. When he was able to look again, the demon hordes were gone, washed from this world. Buffy was gone too.
They were alone in the alley.