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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to TammyAsh666, shelly, closetgeek2000, cordykitten, PhotographyNut, guest and IamGhost for reviewing the last chapter!
On his way back to the house, Rowan had been going through the plan over and over again in his head. Although a part of him dreaded the idea of having to go back and face Morou, he couldn’t help but start feeling strangely excited. Because one way or the other, it would all be over soon.

Rowan wasn’t stupid, nor was he suicidal. He didn’t have a death wish. And the seriousness of the situation wasn’t lost on him; he knew that he would have one chance, and one chance only. Should he fail, should Spike turn out to be wrong about how to destroy Morou, he would most likely not be walking away from this.

Suddenly his cellphone buzzed in his pocket, causing him to jump. Silently cursing himself for not remembering to turn the damn thing off, Rowan did his best to block the annoying sound out. Whoever was calling him couldn’t possibly have chosen a worse time. The last thing he needed right now was to be distracted.

“Are you not going to answer that?” Morou asked behind him. “It could be important.”

Determined not to show any sign of being taken off guard, Rowan forced himself to turn around slowly. “There you are. Was starting to think you wouldn’t show up.” He was pleased to find that his voice wasn’t trembling at all.

The demon ignored his comment. “Morou needs a new toy. The last one was taken away.”

“I know.” Rowan raised his head to meet Morou’s dark eyes. “Listen up. I won’t be bringing you any more demons to play with. It’s over. I’m done.”

For a moment, the beast just stared at him. Rowan wasn’t sure of what kind of reaction he had expected, but he was surprised when Morou’s thin lips curled into an eerie smile. To tell the truth, he would’ve almost preferred an outburst of some kind. That smile just made his skin crawl.

“You fool.” Morou’s eyes flashed into red. “It is not up to you to decide. Morou owns you. You have no choice.” As if to prove his point, the evil creature raised a hand, and in the next moment, the pain almost made Rowan drop to his knees. But somehow, he found the strength to remain standing, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out.

“That all you got?” he hissed, suddenly furious. For the first time, he didn’t see an intimidating and powerful being in front of him, instead there was just a pathetic bully who was desperate to get what he wanted. In that moment, Rowan didn’t feel any fear. So he took a step forward. “You don’t scare me anymore, you bastard. Guess what? I’m gonna make sure you can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

Taking another step towards Morou, Rowan raised the gas can without hesitation and splashed the flammable liquid right into the demon’s face. The gasoline was dripping down his body onto the floor, creating a small puddle by his feet. Without even thinking, Rowan tossed the empty can away and reached for the matches.


~ ~ ~


“You’re not listening, Spike. I’m not suggesting you should’ve run after him, or even tried to talk him out of it. I’m just saying you should have called me the minute he left,” Angel grumbled into the phone as he hurried through the lobby.

Spike resisted the urge to bang the small cellphone against the table a couple of times, suspecting that Buffy wouldn’t appreciate him destroying it. “Might have, you stupid git, if I could see the bleeding numbers!”

Angel opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Right,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling stupid. However, he quickly recovered. “Look, Rowan’s obviously in way over his head. He can’t possibly defeat this creature just like that.”

“Maybe not. But there’s nothing you can do about it.” Spike was tapping his fingers impatiently against his leg, itching to get up and start pacing the room. The only thing stopping him was the humiliating idea of him running straight into the wall. After spending the last couple of days in bed, he was starting to get more than a little restless. “It’s not your fight, Angel. Just let it go.”

“I can’t do that.” Angel sighed. “He may have screwed up, but Rowan’s still our friend. I can’t just sit here and let him get himself killed. I know how you feel about him, and I realize you probably don’t agree, but-”

“How I feel ‘bout Rowan ’s got nothing to do with this.” Spike rolled his eyes. “Believe it or not, I don’t hate him. The point is, he has to do this by himself. You can’t help him.”

Angel knew that Spike was right, although he didn’t like it. “I’m not talking about fighting his battle. But it doesn’t feel right to just stay here and do nothing while Rowan’s over there all alone.”

Spike was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, I know.”


~ ~ ~


While Rowan fumbled desperately with the matches, Morou let out a furious hissing sound and lashed out, knocking the small matchbox out of his hand. Rowan could do little more than watch in horror as the demon crushed it under his feet, and he was hit by the painful realization that he had been far too optimistic.

Okay, now is time for plan B, Rowan told himself sarcastically as he fought back the panic, knowing perfectly well that no such thing existed. Having been so certain that he would be able to pull it off, he hadn’t bothered to come up with a back-up plan. What had he been thinking, bringing a single box of matches? He should have brought a fucking flamethrower.

“Did you really believe it would be that easy?” Morou now asked, his voice low. “You are nothing but a weak, pitiful human. Morou was around long before you were born, and will still walk the earth after you are gone.”

Rowan opened his mouth to object, then stopped himself, realizing with a sinking feeling that he didn’t have a witty response. Nothing he could come up with would change the fact that he most likely had mere seconds left to live. Because there was no way in hell that Morou would spare him now.

Still, Rowan refused to simply lay down and wait for the inevitable. Over the last couple of hours, he had been building up a fury inside him that he had never felt before. Fury towards this creature in front of him, as towards the Senior Partners. None of them had the right to play with his life like this.

Although he supposed he should be afraid by now, he couldn’t find it in him to care. Any fear he might have felt had quickly conceded to burning rage. Rowan wanted to hurt this monster, make him pay for all the pain he had inflicted merely for his own amusement. He wanted to avenge Spike, not to mention all those poor defenseless demons who were no longer around. He wanted to make things right.

“Just because you can kill me doesn’t mean you’ve won.” Rowan found himself standing in front of Morou, their faces mere inches apart. “For one thing, you’ll be lacking a servant. No more ‘toys’ for you. And I’ll finally be free.”

“There will be others,” Morou stated calmly. “And how much freedom do you believe you will have in Hell?”

“Hell?” Rowan echoed, his face fell. “What the fuck are you talking about? Why would I be going to-”

He was cut off as a cruel laugh escaped the beast. “Did you expect the devil’s servant to end up in Heaven?” Rowan just stared at him, suddenly feeling very small. “Enough talking,” Morou declared. It all happened so fast, Rowan didn’t even get the chance to react before he was thrown across the room. The air was knocked out of him as he crashed right into the brick wall, and everything went black.


~ ~ ~


“Finally!” Spike exclaimed, sitting up straight as the door opened and he immediately recognized Buffy’s scent. “Was starting to think you’d never come back. Buffy, I really need-“

“Spike? What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” Buffy interrupted him, the concern evident in her voice as she rushed over to him.

He held up his hand to stop her ramblings. “Relax, luv, ‘m fine. Just in a desperate need for a smoke and I can’t find my bleeding fags. You seen my coat?”

Buffy let out a sigh of relief before glaring at him in disapproval. “God, Spike, don’t scare me like that! Jeez! I threw your coat in the washer...” Seeing how he opened his mouth, she hurried on, “after making sure the pockets were empty. No cigarettes. Sorry. You must have dropped them.”

“Bloody brilliant,” he grumbled, slumping back against the couch.

“Aw, poor baby...” Sitting down next to him, Buffy had to smile at his miserable expression. “I’d offer you some nice Slayer blood instead, but I guess that’s a poor substitute for your beloved nicotine,” she teased, patting his hand.

Spike snorted. “Don’t patronize me.” Then her words registered, and he cleared his throat. “Course, if you’re offering...”

She giggled as she climbed onto his lap and tossed her hair over her shoulder, pleased with not having to coax him into biting her for once. “You know it, baby. I’m all yours.”


TBC





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