- Lets get to work, Angel said, sword high, ready to meet his doom.

He didn't even feel dramatical or clishé when he thought it. They were outnumbered by many, even with Illyria on their team, but if they were to die, they had to make their deaths matter. Also he *did* look forward to take on the dragon.

He felt the newly drunk blood rush as an additional power, making his jump to the right window ledge a lot easier, from there he was close enough to reach the dragon in only one jump. He didn't have time to think, to react, to even wonder how his peers were doing. He could only react, avoid its flaming breath, attempt to drive his sword through the thick shells.

Hamilton wondered why he still fought with no reward, he fought with other reasons, reasons he hadn't had in mind since the time he first came to LA to make a new life. His reasons being the people around him, people who needed his help. He had no reward in front of him back then and now when he had signed away his Shanshu he had none now, but the fight wasn't about him, had never been about him.

He heard screetches, screams, yells, the sound of swords meeting, but he paid no real attention to it, the minute he started he would be dead. He'd rather find out when he was no longer part of this world.

The dragons breath stinged him, his arm felt fiery hot and in one minute he was sure it would burn up, leaving him only one arm left, but quick thinking put the fire out before any real damage happened. Its tail turned and pierced his foot and for once he were thankfull for his immortality, if he had been anything else than a vampire he would have been poisoned, dead in minutes.

He turned drivign his sword in between the shells of its tail, the dragon screetched, attempted to smash him, but it was stuck to his right foot. He drove his sword back and turned to the back of the dragons head and finally managed to push the blade in between the shells and right through the head of the dragon. It lost controle of its central nerve system and dived straight down into the crowd, it was the first time Angel even had a moment to spare to see how his peers were doing. The sight below him was not something he had anticipated. Instead of his 3 still living members of his crew he saw an army of young girls divided into teams, working side-by-side with his friends.

- Team 3 needs back-up, any team with slayers to spare, send them to your left. Willow, how's the status on getting this bitch sealed up?

He always knew he'd be happy to hear her voice again, he didn't even care to wonder how she'd known, he should have realized that despite all things that'd gone on this past year he could always count on her. He pulled his sword out of the head of the dragon as it crashed into the flow of demons coming out of the torn piece of reality.

He landed sword first on a demon, but didn't manage to avoid the demons own sword piercing his gut. But for some reason the pain was unnoticeable. There was too much adrenaline going through him, too much of Wolfram & Hart blood running through his veins. His head didn't stand a chance in counting the number of demons his high speed body was slaying. Carcas upon carcas. There was no sense of any count, not even time. He should have felt the sun approaching, but his mind and body was too much into the fight, into winning this fight for the world, for Buffy, for his friends that would make it, for those that didn't. To atone for his past.

The rays of the sun, as the clouds quickly uncovered it, hit him the minute he chopped off the head of the last demon. He felt the stinging surging pain going through him, his body being on fire and the screams from his remaining peers, from Buffy, in his delerium he even thought he heard both Fred and Wesley screaming his name. The moments before death were with no sense of reality, it felt as everything he knew meshed together, voices from the present, voices from the past, he was even sure there were voices from the future. He knew he was dying, but he refused to die screaming, he only wanted to make out the voices in his last few moments. And then he felt himself burn up and he lost concience...

His body was aching as he was coming to, if he could he would have chuckled. Home sweet hell, where he had always known he would end up. No deed would ever make up for everything he had done in the past, he had known it, but he was ready to meet it. He wasn't afraid, he had spent hundreds of years in hell before, he knew he was destined to eternity of torture. Let them start, he thought. Then he heard voices. No, not voices... voice. Her voice... He felt like screaming. No, no, NO! *He* was meant to be here, not her, she was at the wrong destination, they had torn her out of heaven, she was supposed to return there, not join him in eternal torment.

- Angel, he heard her soft voice saying.

He couldn't see her, he didn't feel her. Maybe it was a dream of her haunting him, maybe it was part of his torment. After all, they had done it before. In his hundreds years in hell, his torment, part of it had been her, seeing her bleed, bruise, cry... seing her suffer. It was only a dream, he decided. She wasn't there. She was somewhere upstairs. Either she'd just witnessed him burning up, or she was further up, together with his friends. Happy and complete. Like she once had been. As long as she was happy, he didn't care which. He'd stay forever in torture just to know that she was smiling.

He heard her voice again, refused to listen to it, he refused to prepare himself to see her suffer. His eyes no longer saw black, some light was piercing through, soon he would see it, soon they would force him to see her scream. He tried to close his eyes, but his muscles refused to do his bidding. Of course... he wasn't to get his wishes fulfilled, he was to get his nightmares come true.

The ligth hurt his eyes. Too bright. But that was probably the meaning of it. He saw nothing, but shapes... blurry shapes. As if he had new eyes, the sight sharpened. He braced himself to see her tears... what he got was her smile...