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Author's Chapter Notes:
CHAPTER 25: Something Must Break

CHAPTER RATING: T (Character Death Warning continues for the next couple chapters!)

CHAPTER PAIRING: Angelus/Drusilla, Angel/Buffy

TIMELINE/SPOILERS: AU after AtS "Not Fade Away"

DISCLAIMERS: All BtVS characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions. I'm just fixing their mistakes! Ha!

CHAPTER CREDITS: n/a

CHAPTER NOTES: Ahh, another cliff-hanger! Enjoy!
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Giles couldn't believe he was going to follow through with this. His rational mind was screaming at him to come to his senses, while his usually-ignored intuition was telling him that Drusilla was right. What had he encouraged in his Slayer? To trust in her instinct. It was time he took that same advice.

He dressed slowly, feeling the effects of having been fucked and fed on for quite some time. But deep down he was still Ripper. Drusilla reminded him of that. And (as crazy as he knew it sounded) if something as powerful as her could see the strength in him, then he was able to do this.

Putting a pot of tea on, Giles set to work. He understood that Buffy was a lost cause for him at the moment, so he went to step two: research mode. Dru's discussion earlier brought the long-neglected details of that obscure prophecy to the forefront of his mind. Although the scroll was now lost, he remembered enough of the document in his photographic memory to reconstruct some old notes he took. He had dubbed the text the "Khoisan Prophecy" as the writing appeared to him to be an attempt at transliterating an African 'click' language. It was like Proto-!Kwi if the speakers knew Ubykh as their first language and spelled their words using runes and the Bamum alphabet. Easy peasy. Only, that was a far stretch as stretches go, and the only thing that even remotely corroborated his hypothesis was a few out-of-context notes in the Pergamum Codex. And who knew what happened to that book in the craziness that was Sunnydale.

As best as he was able to determine, the Khoisan Prophecy discussed the eternity of the Slayer lineage. His loose translation was that the Slayer line would be elevated/promised/endowed (he wasn't sure which word was meant) with a sort of power that would ensure it lasted to infinity. Drusilla's understanding of it, however, was more specific. As she said it, the eternity wasn't referring to the Slayer line but to the Slayer, herself.

Giles shivered. This, indeed, changed everything. He heard Dru's voice echo in his head, repeating all that she told him of the prophecy. Everything she said matched what he had translated, but she went a step further than him, either understanding the language enough that she could determine parts of speech better than he did or interpreting some of the words more concretely than he had even considered. How did he not see this back then? Surely he was more focused in those days on his studies and on prophecy in general.

He had to get in touch with the coven in Devon. They were his saving grace when it came to dealing with Willow in her crisis, and he knew they'd be his best hope in this one. Somehow, he had to make sure Buffy remained safe...and, dare he say it...Spike, as well. If Dru was right, he had to keep them protected. But protected from what?

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After Ryk's hulking body slumped to the floor, Spike turned to Willow. She was in a pile holding her leg, whimpering and shivering with pain or fright—both sensations smelled the same to him at that moment.

His body was strumming so full with adrenaline that he didn't even know he was still in game-face as he rushed over to her. He fell to her side and gathered her in his arms tightly, clutching her like a child that had been missing.

"I'm okay," Willow said in reply to his unspoken question. Her heartbeat was racing and she knew Spike could feel it, but his face morphed back to his human one despite the obvious temptation.

He was shaking, but he didn't let go of her. If he had been just a moment longer, he could have been too late.

"You're hurt." Tara's fingers reached out to Spike, solidifying as they hovered over his tortured skin.

He loosened his grip on Willow then. "I'll get over it."

Tara smiled lopsidedly, glancing at Willow. Both of them placed their hands on Spike and began a simple healing spell to help speed things along. Physically, at least. It was clear he was not okay, but what the witches didn't know was that he was in more danger now than ever before.

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Madame Polina had felt a lot of things in her unusually-long life. Some of that was the result of living in a hard-luck place like Cleveland. Some more of it was the result of that hard-luck place also being a Hellmouth. But most of it was due to her being one of the most powerful witches the modern world had ever known. Oh, she didn't flaunt her prowess. In fact, she made herself out to be a half-baked fortune teller in order to keep any genuine suspicion off of her. She'd lived long enough to know that power made her a target for abuse and control. So she hid herself in plain view and stayed anonymous to everyone but a chosen few.

Which is why she was caught off-guard by the bokor's curse. Her energies lately had been concentrated on that witch who had come for the vampire. Something was familiar about the girl, but Madame Polina couldn't seem to place it. She had mostly been drawn to what made the girl peculiar. For such a young one, the little witch was overwhelmed with power. Power that felt drawn from a well of hurt. Polina's heart ached for a moment from the sensation. She could draw from that same well, of course—root system and all that rot she and the rest of the coven always taught the youngsters who were too big for their britches. Oh yes, that one was familiar to her somehow.

So when the fits hit her, Madame Polina was unprepared to fight. She had just warned that odd demon about the attempt on his friend's life (or, unlife, as the case was) when she dropped the phone, shuddering in her settee. It was almost like a seizure, but when it stopped she was trapped inside herself, her body frozen. Even her mind had been dulled to a steady hum so that she couldn't cast a counter spell or even locate the source of interference. Her eyes glazed over, and she saw nothing. She was, effectively, entombed. Who could have captured her like this? And for what purpose? She had no known enemies. (None that were still alive, at any rate.)

She seemed to be locked inside herself waiting for an order. But the order never came. Instead, when her eyes cleared, the face of a man who looked to be her real age hovered before her. It was the infamous Papa Jean, who, surprisingly enough, she had never met. Mostly, that was because she thought him merely a legend. Cleveland had many of those, from the alligator demons in the sewers to the voudon oungans, beings that just didn't fit here in the Midwest. But Papa Jean was definitely real (though the vibes she was getting off him made her wonder if he was man or demon or god). And after he broke the curse, he explained in detail how to properly dispose of the talisman and cleanse herself of all traces of the evil. He had offered to find out who had cursed her, but only after the angry Kailiff demon threatened him with a creative disembowelment. Interesting. Somehow, she sensed that this whole production was tied to that vampire. Madame Polina just didn't understand how she got involved.

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Angel had gotten to Buffy's flat too late, apparently. He could smell the faint trace of her in the air, heading towards the city center. But it was early days yet, and whether she was partying or patrolling, she'd be back by dawn. He could wait until...Dawn. Of course. The little sister who wasn't allowed to do anything. Angel knew Buffy well enough to know that old habits die hard. Her sister wouldn't have joined her for any evening activities.

He rang the doorbell once, then twice. The lights in the rooms facing the street were off, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Waiting a respectable amount of time, he rang once more. Still nothing.

Except a tingle down his spine. His nostrils flared and drew his attention to the alley next to the building. He fought a bit with his body's reaction, but eventually the slightest of smiles thinned his lips and he approached the area.

"Are you going to come to Daddy, or are you going to try to pretend that I won't notice you're there?"

For a moment there was no sound, then the clicks of thin heels echoed an approach.

Drusilla feigned a childlike look, enough that Angel was apparently convinced, judging by the lowered tension she just felt. "My Angel..."

She had been hiding out in the alley in case her sire had caught the Slayer off-guard. Dru was ready to be the Watcher's back-up plan—even if that meant she was fighting side-by-side with the Slayer. Her poor heart ached with such responsibility, and her lucid mind finally appreciated the many moments of madness she was plagued with as they provided a respite from the knowledge of how drenched in loss both her life and unlife were. But she understood destiny and fate—perhaps better than anyone—and she accepted her role in it now.

Angel held his hand out to his childe.

Dru swayed a bit as if dancing with the shadows, still approaching but slower.

To Angel, that was a tell-tale sign of the madness capturing her. His soul warred in both delight and pity at his role in that. But, he was in a perfect position right now to resolve this century-long problem.

"I see you took care of the Watcher, eh?"

Dru took his hand lightly, stroking the veins. So, he thought she had killed the old man? Good. Very good. She looked up at his face to gauge his reaction.

Angel saw the emotion battling in Dru's eyes. She didn't want to admit this. "I didn't like him much, anyway."

Dru smiled then, knowingly.

"Moving on to the Slayer now?" he continued.

She cocked her head at him. He knew she didn't seek out Slayers. What was he...?

That thought was interrupted by Angel's large hands at her throat. His sudden movement had surprised her, enough so that he had positioned her thin body against him to his advantage.

Dru heard his countenance shift, and she clutched at him, trying to pry his fingers away. He was still stronger than her, so all her effort did was allow his skin to be sliced up from her long nails.

It had been a long time since he'd had his hands on her. Gripping her again, Angel could see easily why he had turned her, and why she was his greatest conquest. Her whimpers delighted both Liam and Angelus. Oh, he was still going to do what he had planned to do to her, since he had discovered she was here in London. But perhaps he'd take his time with it now that she reminded him of why he had adored her.

Angel leaned down, inhaling the sweet smell of her sudden fear.

"She's gone," Dru whispered before he crushed her windpipe. "Gone to the States... for you."

Her sire's head snapped up and his eyes narrowed. "Is that right?"

Drusilla squirmed against him, hoping that threw him a bit. It didn't.

"Oh, Dru... you've always helped Daddy with your visions, haven't you?"

He began moving them both deeper into the shadows of the alley. It just wouldn't do to have an audience for this.

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