Faith came to slowly. Even before she opened her eyes, she knew two things immediately: She wasn't alone, wherever she was. And she was bound by chains. Of course. Her skin prickled and she ached- but she pushed away the bile rising in her throat to deal with her present situation. No point playing possum, chained up as she was. She opened her eyes, and saw that it made no difference to do so, for it was blacker than black. She could hear the other one breathing - she was sure there was only one. Not *him*, she didn't think. Only one way to find out:

"Who's there?" she demanded steadily.

"Faith?" Finn's voice. Relief swept over her.

"I'm chained to the fucking wall," she told him. "You?"

"Just tied up. You okay? Did they hurt you?" he asked with genuine concern.

"Hold on, Finn." Her chains were just that much longer than they needed to be, so she flipped herself around to face the wall, arms crossed in front of her. She grasped the right chain close to the wall and, bracing herself with her foot, yanked forcefully. Motherfuckers were strong. She wasn't feeling any give, but she knew it wouldn't hold. She just had to keep at it. She was pulling with all her strength and her entire weight, both feet pushing off the wall now. Grunting with the effort, she kept at it, just pulling and pulling, until her shoulder popped, and then she felt the first give. She was almost there, so she psyched herself past the pain - ~Come on, Faith, there is no body~ - but those were *his* words, and while that made her mad, it almost made her give up, too. Then she thought of her favorite movie: ~There is no spoon,~ she told herself, and laughed inside with renewed strength as she really dug in. Without warning, the chain came free suddenly and she fell to the cold, cement floor with a thud and a clatter.

"Faith?"

"Almost there, Finn. Just hold on." She got up, feeling her shoulder gingerly. It was dislocated, no doubt about that. She took a deep breath to steel herself and counted to three: ~One, two~ - She slammed herself against the wall at just the right angle to pop the shoulder back. ~I knew you were gonna do that!~ she told herself with a grin. As she rotated her shoulder cautiously, feeling out her limitations, the chain still attached to the cuff at her wrist clanged along the ground. Thatwas going to be annoying. But, maybe, useful as well. If she got a chance to use it.

She let the chain lie on the floor as she grabbed the one still holding her left arm to the wall, tugging it experimentally. Her body screamed in protest at the pain that shot up her right arm, and though it was a welcome relief from her other pain, she knew it was pointless. The shoulder was useless for the time being. But no - no *way* was she going to stay chained up like a dog! She shaped her hand into a cone and tried to pull it through the cuff even though she knew that wouldn't work. After a moment, she pushed the cuff as far up her arm and off her wrist as it would go, and placed her hand against the wall, thumb-out. ~On the count of one,~ she told herself, standing at an angle to the wall, her right leg pulled back. ~One,~ she counted, and didn't move. ~Fuck, Faith, this is no time for hesitation!~ She stepped back from the wall, shaking herself out like a fighter preparing for a championship match. Then in one fluid movement she placed her hand against the wall again and slammed her heel into it with all her power. She bit down so hard to keep from crying out that she drew blood from her lip. She turned her head to wipe it on the shoulder of her shirt, gently trying to pull her hand through the cuff. One or two bones were still intact, impeding her freedom. She didn't hesitate this time as she crushed her hand between her boot and the wall, and the pulpy mess slid through the metal cuff easily.

She cradled her hand to her chest, ready to focus on Finn now. She knew he was over to the left somewhere. "Marco!" she called out.

There was only the slightest pause before his voice came back to her. "Polo!"

That was all she needed. Good man, Finn. Quick and clever. She went towards him, feeling her way along the wall. His voice had come from the floor, where he must be lying. Reaching him, she knelt down. "You okay?"

"Yeah, except for these ropes," he said, then added, "and a couple of broken bones, I think."

"Where?"

"Kneecap, the right one," he told her. "Hip, too. Maybe a rib."

She reached for him and as her fingers touched bare skin she realized he'd been stripped of his shirt. At least she'd been left her clothing. His skin was cold, colder than her hands. She wondered how long he'd been in here. She felt along his rib cage gently, carefully, and he winced slightly despite her care. "I think it's just bruised. You'll live," she tried to make her tone light. ~Or at least, you won't die of these injuries.~ "Are you in pain?"

"I'll get through it. I'd just like to get out of these ropes!" he laughed a little then, a welcome - if slightly desperate - sound.

"Can you sit up?" She slid her "good" hand under his back and helped him sit, hearing the pain in his breath as he shifted his leg and ignoring her own. Her fingers moved along his arms in search of the ropes, and even though her touch was light, she felt the scars. Bite marks. She's seen the one on his neck before, but had had no idea it went to this extent. Now she knew why he always wore long sleeves, no matter what the temperature. He flinched silently and she murmured an apology as she continued to move down his arms, not even touching him anymore but hovering a hair's breath above. She came to the thick rope wrapped several times around his wrists and hesitated, not sure how to proceed. Finally, she said, "I don't think I can untie you." He didn't respond immediately. "I could probably bite through it," she offered.

He remained quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Okay."

She tried to bend straight forward behind him, but it was an impossible angle. So she shifted around to lie on her left side, the cement floor chilling her through her clothing, her mashed hand carefully held out of the way. She shivered, taking the rope between her teeth.

She lost track of time as she chewed through the rope, and at last got through enough of it so that he could break out the rest of the way. He thanked her as she helped his settle more comfortably against the wall. Once she was satisfied they were both free and okay - or as okay as could be expected - she allowed herself to consider their surroundings.

Her skin was crawling, and it wasn't just the chill air. It was so familiar. Familiar, but not identical. So she paced off the room, starting at the corner by Finn. It hurt to walk, but the pain was really no worse than what she'd felt before. She got to the far corner and turned to measure the adjacent wall. Ten feet square. She laughed mirthlessly.

"Faith?"

"Five by five," she said in answer to his unspoken question. ~Still alive. Ten by ten, survive again.~

+++

Standing by the window at Gate 33 in McCarron Airport, Angel was starting to worry. It had been hours. She should have been back by now. He was certain he'd sent her to the right place. But maybe she'd had to tail them to another location. He told himself to relax. Everything was under control, everything was fine. He could count on her. Faith would come through. She had to.

He was so lost in thought that it took him a minute or two to realize he was being paged. He smiled slightly - he knew he could count on her! He went quickly to the white courtesy phone at the pillar and was connected to his call.

"The deal is off," the crisp voice said through the receiver. "And the game, as they say, is afoot. You were such a clever boy for getting my first clue. I have every *faith* you'll be a worthy opponent." Angel wondered if he imagined the emphasis, it was so slight. "I look forward to playing with you, Angel." And then the line went dead.

+++

It was a set-up. She hadn't gotten a good look at the figure outside the Elysium construction site. But even though it had been - what, eight years? - she'd recognized his voice from that one sentence. And if she had any doubts about the voice, the pain between her legs removed it. This was all for her, and she wondered just when it had begun. Fleetingly, it crossed her mind that Angel was in on it.

But that wasn't possible. He'd never allow this to happen to Finn.

Faith adjusted to the scale and located the door quickly. It was airtight, and if her fingertips hadn't known what to feel for, she easily could have missed it. No way to open it from this side, but good to know where it was nonetheless. She kept going and found the water seepage, just enough so they wouldn't die quickly of dehydration.

"There's water here, Finn," she said, trying to sound upbeat. "Do you think you can walk? We should move you over here."

"Yeah," he replied. "A little help, though?" He couldn't even shift his leg without a searing pain, and there was no way it would bear any weight between the knee and the hip. He knew he was lucky that was all they'd done to him. Of course he'd been scared, but once he'd realized what they were doing, he hadn't been too worried. Because he knew Angel would come for him.

She was by his side now, trying to support his leg and guide him as he slowly shifted himself across the floor. They had to stop a couple of times. He knew she was injured and trying to hide it from him, so he didn't press her. He was starting to worry a little more now, only because Faith was worried. She kept calling him "Finn," which she hadn't done since the very beginning of their friendship, before she trusted him.

"He'll come for us, Faith," Riley said quietly, reassuring. As it had periodically since she'd freed his hands, Riley's fingers came up to touch the dried blood at his neck. He was oddly stirred by it. And disgusted with himself. This was no time to think of that.

She didn't respond as she helped him over to the wall near the water. No, Angel definitely wasn't in on it. He was a target, too, like her. ~There you go, Angel, another thing we have in common.~ But she couldn't count on him the way Finn was. Riley. Caught in the crossfire. He didn't deserve that.

She had to stay focused. To get them both out alive. The stakes were too high this time. Dimly, she heard a cat's meow... she suddenly felt light-headed -

+++

Angel had been on eleven and Faith had been his queen when he'd sent her to get Riley. He'd doubled-down but the Crisp Voiced Man had hit blackjack.

Dawn was imminent, and he only had enough time to get back to his room at the Rio. When he arrived, there was another tape waiting for him. So they knew he was at the Rio, and he wondered how much else they knew. He had to make special arrangements to get a video unit, and during the agonizing wait had time to call Jake. He made the call from the lobby, assuming his phone was tapped.

"What the fuck did you get me into?" he asked as soon as Jake picked up.

"Yeah, I heard about your kids." Nothing travels faster than bad news. "I'm sorry about that. Real sorry." The gravelly voice sounded sincere, at least.

"Did you set me up?" Angel demanded quietly.

"No," Jake said, a little surprised. "It's just the chance you take with these guys." When Angel didn't say anything, Jake asked, "You know who they are, right? I mean, who did you think you were going up against?"

After a moment, Angel asked, "It's the mob?"

"Yeah," Jake confirmed. "I thought you knew; I thought it was obvious."

"It is now," Angel said grimly as he hung up.

When Angel returned to his room, the VCR had been hooked up. He put the tape in and after a few tormenting seconds of static, the picture came up.

Riley again. Still in the chair. One of the thugs was hefting a sledgehammer in his hand. As Angel watched, he air-swung it experimentally a few times before smashing it against Riley's knee, which caved in visibly. There was no sound, but Angel knew Riley'd cried out: His face was a mask of pain.

Then the picture changed. The room looked the same, but Riley was gone. Instead, Faith was lying on the floor, unconscious and bound. This time it was the vampire who moved in, one hand behind his back. He wedged his foot between her legs, nudging them open. Slowly he brought his hand forward, producing a cattle prod. He grinned at the camera, electric currents flickering visibly as he switched in on and off. ~No,~ Angel thought, recoiling slightly but unable to look away. The vampire turned his attention to Faith and pressed the prod between her legs, pushing it as far into her as her clothing would allow, and flicked the on switch. Her unconscious body arched reflexively. The vampire held it there for a long ten seconds before switching it off and letting her body fall back, still unconscious. Again the vampire fixed his gaze on the camera, smirking at Angel as he pressed the on switch again.

Angel had seen enough and turned off the tv, sitting down heavily where he'd stood, shaking. This had gone beyond the zombie issue now. They were showing him the videotape to drive him crazy. Because there was no offer, no opportunity. Just Riley and Faith in pain.

+++

Sleepless and captive to the sun, Angel finally risked getting to the Bellagio. It took some doing, but he managed to arrange for a limo - the only car with darkly tinted windows available on short notice - to pick him up for covered parking garage to covered parking garage service. Even then, he wrapped himself with a Rio blanket in the back seat. He didn't know what the driver thought, and he didn't care.

Once he got to the Bellagio, he asked around about his "associate," and from the carefully neutral look on the desk clerk's face when he used that term, it became apparent to him that anyone who had seen them together knew Riley was his lover. Angel had just wanted to make Riley happy then... an indiscretion he felt remorse over now. Although many of the staff remembered them, no one remembered seeing anything out of the ordinary.

With the trail gone cold at the hotel and the sun preventing him from getting to the Elysium, Angel grew almost nauseously restless. More calls to various of Jake's downtown associates turned up nothing. He *needed* to get to the Elysium! But it was almost completely exposed and there was no way for him to move around the site in the daylight hours. The Strip casinos, though, were all close up on each other, and many of them were even connected internally. So he prowled through them, taking chances on dashing between them. He was risking drawing attention, but a man covered in a literally smoking jacket was no cause for notice or alarm in a town like this. If they were watching him, they were watching him anyhow regardless of how suspicious or obvious he behaved at this point. But no one knew anything, anywhere he went.

Finally he returned to the Rio the same way he'd come, hoping for another message, another tape, anything. But there was nothing. He forced himself to lie down in his room, emotional exhaustion seeping into his active mind. He knew he needed to rest, to be alert mentally as well as physically. But his thoughts kept racing, going over all the details again and again, searching for something he might have missed.

Eventually he turned to meditation techniques, clearing his mind, slowing his thoughts, easing himself into a calmed state....

+++

She'd been in this room before, with the clean white linens, and Buffy was here with her again. But she seemed distracted and out of focus, looking out the window. Faith didn't know how to get her attention.

"Hey, B. - Ri's here with me," she finally said.

Buffy turned to her and said, "Good. That's good, Faith. Keep him with you." Then she turned back to the window and her last words were almost lost. Awakening immediately, Faith wasn't sure whether Buffy had said, "He'll be safe with you" or "You'll be safe with him."

She shifted and sat up. What had happened? Had she fainted? Appalled at the lapse, she berated herself for her weakness. She'd have to stay stronger than that, alert and ready.

She still couldn't see anything, even when her eyes had adjusted to the dark. She couldn't even make out shapes, but she could sense them. Riley was close to her, and by his breathing he was awake. He sensed her shift immediately.

"Faith?" he asked. He sounded concerned.

"How are you holding up?" she asked.

"I'm okay," he replied dismissively. "But, what about you? What happened?"

She didn't answer him right away, gingerly feeling her left hand. She wished there were something around to make a splint out of because the hand was a mess and it was going to heal all wrong.

"Faith?" he asked.

"Yeah, sorry," she said. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"No, I was going to ask you..." Riley hesitated. She seemed very sure of this place, somehow. He knew she hated talking about herself and her past. But he wanted to know what she was holding inside that was causing her to act like this. "Is this - is this what prison was like?" He thought maybe she'd spent time in solitary, and this was flashing her back.

She almost laughed. "No. It's like." She stopped. He didn't think she was going to continue, but then she said very quietly, "It's not like prison."

They sat quietly apart for an indefinite period. Riley wished she would just talk to him, but in the silence he found himself contemplating their predicament, trying yet again to assess it despite a lack of any new information. There was no food, but there was water. He wasn't sure about the air situation, but it was probably trickling in with the water. They were not meant to die quickly, whatever was going on.

"What do you think they want with us?" he asked her. When she gave no reply, he answered himself, "I think they're holding us for Angel. I think we crossed the wrong people with this job." He wanted her to talk to him, but he didn't know how to get her to. Finally, he mentioned something he wasn't going to before, since he'd thought it would just upset her. "They want to watch us. There's an infra-red camera in the corner." He pointed automatically, even though he knew she couldn't see him.

Even as he lifted his hand, she replied without a trace of surprise, "They want to watch us suffer."

They sat in silence for several minutes. Then Faith came over to him, leaning into him for mutual warmth which he accepted gratefully. It wasn't cold enough to freeze, just enough to be miserably uncomfortable, probably around 50 degrees Fahrenheit. After a little while, she said softly, "You'll tell me, right? If it gets too much for you, you'll tell me."

Riley was startled but not alarmed, hearing something beneath her words. Something, he realized, that was protective, not threatening. Slowly, he said, "I'll tell you, Faith."

*****
Part 5:

Faith wanted to get back to the room with Buffy, but instead she was at the hotel with Angel. He was saying something about Riley, about entrusting Riley's happiness to her. He looked so sad, not his usual brooding, humorless self but downright and flat out *sad*. His sadness was overwhelming, seeping into her, and she couldn't stand it. She thought music might make him feel better and reached for the radio. As soon as she pressed the power on, everything seemed to shift and she suddenly felt slightly out of her body. ~Natalie Imbruglia,~ she noted, recognizing the song. ~This isn't likely to cheer anyone up!~ Before she could change the station, something came into her peripheral vision, and the dread in her chest told her it was *him*. She tried to focus on him, to catch him, but everything went fuzzy. And then Angel was turning away, walking away. She turned the volume all the way up to get his attention, but he'd faded beyond her.

She woke with a start, jerking upright. ~He'll never forgive me,~ she thought. ~He'll never forgive me.~ It wasn't until she felt Riley's arm coming around her, asking her who, that she realized she was speaking out loud. "Angel," she said, more to herself than to Riley. "He'll never forgive me." Then she added, "Angel will never forgive me for doing this to you."

"But you didn't do this, Faith," Riley told her.

"No, but I let it happen." Then she pulled away from him but didn't go far. Even awake, she couldn't shake the image - ~Get out! Get out of my life! Get out of my head!~

Riley was alarmed at the dull thuds as she began banging her head against the wall. His only concern was Faith as he scrambled over to her, ignoring the shooting pain in his leg as he reached out for her. She flinched at first but then allowed him to pull her in, holding her close and stroking her hair soothingly. He felt warm wet drops on his skin and knew she wascrying. He'd never seen her like this, and hugged her tightly as she lay curled up on his chest.

"It's okay," he told her softly. "It's going to be okay, Faith." But she was inconsolable, her breath ragged with the sobs now wracking her body. Riley was afraid, not knowing what had triggered this. He began rocking her a little, hoping the motion would help soothe her, but her tears continued unabated. He decided to focus her on something practical: "You can't cry so much, honey, or you'll dehydrate."

Either the advice or the unexpected term of endearment got through to her, for she began to calm down. She tilted her face up to his and whispered, "Sorry." He stroked the hair back and with his thumb brushed away the tears that still flowed down her face. Then he bent to kiss the tears away gently. It was so cold and dark, and dank like a medieval dungeon or something. He just wanted some solace and contact. And she must have, too, for she not only allowed his touch, she returned it with a tenderly open-mouthed kiss, surprising him. Before he could fully react, she sensed his slight hesitation and withdrew.

"Faith?" he reached for her, but she was already up and moving.

"I'm okay, Finn."

He sighed internally at the appellation. He still wanted to comfort her, but she was beyond him.

+++

I'm all out of faith,
This is how I feel,
I'm cold and I am shamed,
Lying naked on the floor,
Illusion never changed,
Into something real,
I'm wide awake and I can see
The perfect sky is torn

Angel awakened with a song running through his head. He didn't know how it got there and didn't know the song. It was somewhat familiar, something he thought he'd heard before - around the office maybe; it sounded like something Cordelia would listen to. It was the chorus that was stuck in his head, he thought. The words were so clear. But it was only the chorus, repeating over and over with an alternating variation. He couldn't shake it. He was disturbed by it.

I'm all out of faith,
This is how I feel,
I'm cold and I'm ashamed,
Bound and broken on the floor,
You're a little late,
I'm already torn

At least the sun was going down now and at first dark, he rushed to the Elysium site.

As he approached the unfinished structure, it erupted in flames with a loud boom that knocked him to the ground, debris flying everywhere. Getting to his feet, Angel stared in uncomprehending shock, not sure what he had just witnessed. He whirled around at the sound of laughter and saw a man approaching him. Angel knew who he had to be even before he spoke.

"They do say the three things that matter in business are location, location and location," the Crisp Voiced Man said conversationally, tossing the detonator aside. "And in Vegas, if you're not on the Strip, you're nowhere." He followed Angel's gaze, turning to stare at the fiery remains. "Oh, don't worry, they weren't in there."

Something snapped inside of Angel despite the Man's words, or perhaps because of them. With a snarl, he let his human mask slide away as he turned from the flames deliberately and moved with swift determination towards the Crisp Voiced Man, nails extended, fangs bared. Still laughing, the Man bent down to retrieve something from the bag at his feet.

Angel was nearly within striking range when the vampire appeared out of nowhere, swinging a metal pipe that must have been at least four feet long. The pipe connected with Angel's head, knocking him to the ground. When he tried to get up, the vampire kicked him in the face backwards; as Angel fell on his back, the vampire drove the pipe through Angel's mid-section, harpooning him.

The Man straightened up with a blow torch and an uncapped can of gasoline. Angel pulled frantically at the pipe pinning him down. The Man smiled wickedly as he approached, letting a long flame extend from the mouth of the instrument.

Then he turned and without warning tossed the gasoline at his companion, torching the vamp in the same movement. Howling, the vampire crumpled to the ground. The Man stood over them both, lips still curled in a vicious grin. He let his vampire roll and stagger up before swiftly striding to him and turning the blow torch to full power, running it all over the vampire until he burst into flames; and even then the Man didn't stop until he'd singed every ash from the air.

Expressionless, he returned to Angel, who had nearly worked himself free of the pipe. They locked eyes in a deadly stare, neither one flinching. Then the man seized the pipe and forcefully drove it back through Angel into the ground.

"And he was on my side," the Man said. "Can you just imagine what I'm doing to your boy and your little girl?" He let loose another sinister chuckle as he smashed the blow torch against Angel's forehead, knocking him out.

+++

Riley felt the bugs crawl over his bare skin, and took hope in the fact that something besides them was alive in here. By the end of the second day or maybe it was the start of the third - it was hard to tell time in here - Faith began catching them for food. She prepared a mash for him, but when he realized what it was he was reluctant to eat it. He told her he wasn't that hungry, but she was silently insistent. To assuage her agitation, he forced the mash down. He tried to make a little joke: "Hey, isn't this how Renfield started out?" But Faith, the girl with the quick wit and ready comeback, was beyond humor now.

Or maybe she found it funny, but she just didn't tell him. She didn't speak anymore. She'd kept mostly to herself since the crying episode, and he heard her pacing frequently. When she allowed herself sleep, it was restless and fitful. Riley found himself dozing in the chill darkness more often than he wanted to. He wondered if he might have a concussion, but he didn't remember being hit in the head. It was probably just his body coping with injury and exhaustion in general. He would usually awaken warmed by her body heat, and sometimes he'd even catch her as she slipped away. He shivered every time at the loss of warmth.

Riley wasn't sure what was going on with Faith because while their situation was bad it wasn't the worst ever. But something was giving her nightmares and sending her on a bad trip. He wished she'd talk to him.

+++

The delivery man got on his bike, pushing up the kick-stand with his foot. Before he could mount, however, he felt an arm around his throat, yanking him backwards by his neck.

Angel held him with one arm, his other hand holding up the just-delivered videotape.

He'd been alone when he'd regained consciousness. He knew the Man could have killed him, but apparently it was just part of a game that wasn't over yet. So when he'd freed himself from the pipe he'd come back to the Rio, sure another tape would be waiting for him. He must have made better time than the Crisp Voiced Man had expected, for he'd beaten the messenger and had lain in wait for him.

"What have we here?" he asked. Angel tightened his choke hold when the man tried to speak, leaning close to explain, "That was rhetorical."

A short time later, Angel had him trussed up in the room, hands tied behind the back of the chair, feet tied to the legs, a precautionary gag in his mouth. Satisfied the man could not escape, he turned his full attention to the latest tape.

Angel was already on edge even before he put the tape in. He knew that they knew everything about him: They knew Riley was his lover, and he feared deeply for the boy.

So it came unexpectedly that it was the Faith card they played. True, Riley was physically injured - but as far as Angel could see, he seemed to be holding up okay; his military training no doubt had prepared him for POW scenarios. But Faith -

The two of them were together, in a different room. It must have been completely black, for they'd been filmed with heat-sensitive equipment. It was a time-lapse tape: "The Best of Faith," as it were. Or the worst. Faith had gone feral. He watched her beat her own hand into a pulp to free herself. Inexplicably she was pounding her head on the wall. She was wild and sort of freaked out, pacing constantly. She was lost.

He turned calmly to his captive. Not a vestige of humanity clung to his features or his body as he approached. The man recoiled in fear, trying to scream behind his gag. Angelus crouched down to be eye level with him and grinned, revealing his elongated fangs.

"Don't worry. I know you're just the messenger. I'll be merciful." His grin widened as he reached out and grasped the man's hair, yanking his head straight backwards until the neck snapped.

+++

The goddamned song that had been nagging him was finally gone. But now he had Riley's voice in the back of his mind, confident that Angel was coming to rescue him. That Angelus was Angel, protective. He could see Riley saying it. Mentally, he backhanded the boy, bloodying his lip and knocking him to the floor.

~Best not to think of a bloody Riley,~ another voice said from deep, deep inside him.

Then Riley again: 'If you want to hurt me, then why are you doing this? Is it because *you* want to hurt me? You want to be the one to hurt me and no one else?' Angelus refused to answer Riley in his mind. After a moment, the voice continued so softly he almost didn't hear it: 'Look at what you do for love, Angel.'

~I'm not Angel!~ he snarled mentally.

'You're lying to yourself,' the voice said.

~Good,~ Angelus replied. ~You see how I'll murder the whole world then, by action and by word.~

Growling aloud, Angelus made his mind completely blank for the rest of his ride. He'd received an anonymous tip that he should look into the migration habits of the downtowners. He'd considered that it might be a set-up. ~Are my enemies' enemies my friends?~ he'd asked himself. ~Or are my enemies' enemies also my enemies?~ It was a no-brainer: he had no friends.

So he went downtown. He was prepared for them. And he didn't think they were prepared for him.

He watched them from the shadows: Vile little creatures, scurrying about as they packed up, congregating for one last time at the Golden Spike. They were clearing out of Vegas until this all blew over and the mob forgot about them again. That must be the deal they had cut.

But he wasn't the mob. He didn't forget and he didn't cut deals.

He entered unobtrusively through a back entrance and moved in swiftly. He knew they hadn't seen him coming. They had no time to defend themselves, and some of them didn't even have time to understand what was happening. But he preferred for them to know it, to see him coming and know there was no escape: he fed on their fear and resistance. He moved through them more slowly now, snapping some in half with his bare hands, slicing others open from their throats to their sternums, shredding their flesh, gouging their vital organs, ripping out their entrails. He began to laugh, taking something darker than pleasure in the death and power.

One of them pulled out a cross and held it outstretched, as if that would stop him. Angelus roared with laughter as his fingers closed around it to wrench it from the man's grasp. It burned so that he flung it across the room. He laughed madly again - he liked the pain. He fucking *loved* it, a rush which got him going even more. He picked up the man, broke his back over his knee, and flung the body after the cross.

He left them all ruined, broken and bleeding on the floor. All but one.

Angelus moved to him silently, and the man did not protest or try to defend himself. He seemed to understand and accept his fate, and a part of Angelus almost admired him for that. He reached out and began squeezing Jake's neck, crushing out the breath and the life, until the man's eyes began to bulge and tiny veins popped out all over the whites. Jake kicked out and struggled then, and Angelus smiled in grim victory - rare was the man who went to his death as dignified as he resolved to. Angelus put his other hand around the man's neck, lifting him off the ground as he strangled him. When the body hung lifeless before him, Angelus dropped it to the ground heavily.

He looked at the strewn wreckage of human bodies, all that blood everywhere. He looked at his blood-encased hands. He felt regretful.

He should have let one of them live just long enough to be his dinner. Now he had to go out and hunt.

Deep, deep down inside, the voice he was suppressing whispered that he was glad Riley was not here to see this. Angelus laughed at the whispering: he only wished Riley could see him now.

+++

Faith stopped her pacing and faced the camera. She stared it down. She stared *him* down.

Slowly, she gathered up the chain she still dragged from her right wrist. She began twirling it overhead, ignoring the discomfort in her shoulder as she whipped it with increasing speed, never blinking as she stared down the camera's eye. Then she let loose, lashing the lens with the bolt on the end of the chain. She knew she'd cracked it, but wasn't done yet. She gathered up the chain again, and again whirled it overhead before letting it fly at the camera lens. She repeated this until she was satisfied the camera was blind.

If they wanted to see her now, they'd have to fucking come in and get her.

+++

Angelus returned to the Golden Spike in good spirits after feeding, again slipping in unnoticed. He'd plucked off two juicy young things. They hadn't put up much of a fight, but he hadn't needed one - all he'd wanted was their sweet, rich blood filling him, satiating the hunger.

Now it was time to clean up his mess. He believed he understood the not-so-subtle hint his opponent in this little game had given him earlier.

Standing down the street several minutes later, Angelus fondled the detonator in anticipation - and then was rocked back on his heels in reward as he observed with deep satisfaction the obliterating explosion released. ~This is how the world ends,~ he mused triumphantly. ~Not with a whimper, but with a bang!~

Then that accursed voice spoke to him from his darkest depths: 'If I were gone, your world with end?' Enraged, Angelus refused to answer. Riley pressed him: 'Admit it. This is for me. Angel said you'd kill me if you had a chance - but you won't, will you? You want me....'

~OK!~ Angelus conceded abruptly. ~You're right.~ He couldn't fight it any longer. He wanted Riley as much as Angel did. ~Now if you're a good boy and keep quiet, I'll turn you when I find you.~

And Riley was quiet after that.

Returning to his room at the Rio, Angelus fell into a sound and exhausted slumber.

+++

The blaring ring of the phone awakened him.

"You have a delivery, sir," the desk clerk informed him. "It's marked urgent. Shall I send it up?"

Moments later, he tore open the large envelope and found a small note card. Inside was handwritten, "Just a little thank you for playing so nice." Below that was an address.

When Angelus arrived at the place, he found two body bags waiting for him. Unhesitating, prepared to rain down hellfire and brimstone on the entire city of Las Vegas, he ripped open the first bag and stared blankly at the cold, dead face looking back.

Riley's face.

But when he touched it, he felt the rubber of a molded mask, and tore it off. It was one of the thugs from the videos. He found the second thug in the other bag.

Relief and confusion washed over him, unexpectedly flushing the demon out as he crouched in the corner, puking gallons of blood until he was just dry heaving desperately.

He felt cold and damp inside, his skin prickling all over in absolute despair. He tried to muster up Angelus again, to take action. But he just had nothing. He heard Riley's voice again: 'See Angel? It's only you. It's always been only you.'

But he didn't feel like Angel anymore. He didn't feel like anything. He couldn't feel anything. He searched inside and only found fading traces of fear, desperation, and a small clinging hope.

A thought came to him, a cruel mocking echo of his words the last time he'd made love with Riley: "there is no Angel." He was just a shell. No soul... and no demon. He sat numb.

*****