Cassandra sat up in bed, her chest heaving as she searched for the sword beside her bed. By the time the mere tingling started at the base of her skull, she was already standing, her eyes frantically looking around the small cabin she called home. Even though she knew what was to come, what she had seen for the future, she wasn’t about to give in to it. Her eyes darting to the door as it flew open, she growled, "You don’t have to do this. My death won’t mean anything, especially now that the chosen ones have come into being. They will be both of your ends."

Eyes glowing a strange orange hue, as the wind seemed to blow around her, causing her blond hair to fly about her, Cassandra’s visitor drew her sword. "With the power of an ancient behind me, the chosen ones are as good as dead." In a single blinding blow, knocking Cassandra’s own sword to the floor and then cleaving her head, the arrival laughed as Cassandra’s quickening tore through her. As the lightening died down, a single voice could be heard, "Thanks for the help, dear teacher."

Part One A (Willow and Graham)

* Flashback Memories*

Knocking on the attic door in front of her, Willow smiled as a small voice emitted from the other side, "What’s the password?"

Laughing quietly, she spoke through the door, "No girls allowed."

A small face peaked around the door, staring up at her with green eyes. Her seven year-old son smiled at her, a few of the freckles on his nose getting caught up in small wrinkles made from his somewhat large toothless grin. "You can come in, but you can’t tell anyone what you see, not even daddy."

Willow knelt down to where her face was at his level. "I won’t say a thing."

Sticking his hand out the door, with his pinky sticking out, he asked, "Do you pinky swear you won’t tell, knowing that if you do, your hair will turn puke green and your eyes will cross and you’ll have a huge wart on your nose, for everyone to see?"

Linking her pinky with his small one and shaking once, she nodded, "I swear."

Opening the door, he proudly motioned her inside. "Today, my comrades and I are studying wild lions in their natural hab… hab…"

Smiling, Willow asked as she looked around the large room, her eyes roaming over how he had decorated the room to look like the planes of Africa, even adding a few lions at the other end, "Habitat?"

Nodding, he answered, "Right, habitat."

Moving to a lone desk in the room, where a computer sat, Kyp crawled up into the seat and then played at the keys, his almost canny use of the computer for a seven year-old child not bothering her at all, being he was already three years ahead in his schooling. Willow moved behind him as he pointed to a lion cam on the web page he had been visiting, set up by a scientist studying the familiar make up of a pride in Africa. "See, today they are following a female on the hunt."

"And what about you? What lion are you stalking here, on this great plane of Africa?"

Clicking off the screen and jumping out of the chair, he reached up and grabbed a pair of binoculars. Pointing to the other side of the room, where two stuffed toy lions Graham and Willow had gotten him for his new interest sat, he answered, "I’ve spotted two subjects over the hill there."

Placing the binoculars to her eyes and playing along, Willow nodded, "Wow. They are beautiful. Are you sure you don’t want to share this with your dad too?"

Kyp shook his head. "No Mommy, this adventure can be just for us."

**

Willow sat, watching in awe as the beautiful woman on stage, her fifteen year-old daughter, was swept up into the arms of her partner. Music swelled as she was lifted into the air, her features poised so that she looked as if she could easily take flight. The lights from the stage shined onto the fine white material of her dress, somehow causing a rainbow of shimmering color to wash over the surface. Mesmerized by it, Willow hardly felt the touch of her husband, reaching over to wipe a single tear from her cheek, caused by the pure emotion of the moment.

One of the great mysteries to Willow was how her children turned out the way they did, especially the one on stage. Out of everyone, Skyla seemed to bloom. She had some of the most beautiful features, and the simpler she tried to be, the more elegant she became. Willow would often look at her and then think of herself at that age. There was so much of a difference. How in the world had she ended up with such a daughter puzzled her.

If there was one low point when it came to Willow, it was how she used to see herself. She was always the nerd, the reject that no one seemed to want. With her quirky taste in outfits, sometimes ones that left matching to the imagination, she had set herself up as different. Being dressed in what was popular was never at the top of her priorities, but yet, in the back of her mind, she wished she were as beautiful and popular as some of the other girls, like Cordelia. It wasn’t until she was with Oz that she realized she might not be as bad as she thought and that being your self was completely okay.

Willow was a Plain Jane. She just came to terms with it. There came a point where she convinced herself she didn’t care anymore. Then, there was Graham. In this world, she had felt so unsure of herself at first. It wasn’t like she was his type. He was way out of her league, but then he chose her. Graham Miller actually wanted to be with her, and together, they had this wonderful family. And everyday he would remind her of how beautiful he thought she was and how much he loved her. Yet, in all this happiness, she still thought, "How did someone as average as me have such beautiful children and a wonderful husband?"

On stage, the recital was ending. Her daughter, Skyla, was at the end of her dance, and a wave was taking place as the audience stood to applause, praising the young dancer for the spell she had cast on them. Willow noticed Skyla’s bright blue eyes searching through the lights to the crowd. As Graham placed his arm around her waist and drew Willow to stand up beside him, Skyla’s gaze met theirs’. Smiling at her parents, she curtsied beside her dance partner.

Beside her, Willow felt Graham reach down and take her hand. Squeezing it gently, he got her attention as he leaned towards her. Lips so close they were tickling her ear, he commented, "Now I know why people say she is your daughter and not mine. She is becoming as beautiful as you every day."

* end of flashbacks*

**

Graham shifted in his sleep, something drawing him from his dreams. Slowly opening his eyes, he could feel the heaviness on him, pushing him down with a great sadness. At first it seemed to overwhelm him, but then he sifted through it, this feeling that was becoming more and more familiar. Turning over, he let his eyes drift over her body, even though he knew every niche of it, loving the way it glistened in the moonlight, causing a halo to surround it. Reaching out, he let his fingers gently brush over the soft curves of her back. "Willow?"

Willow turned around slowly, eyeing him from her tear stained face. She had tried to shut him out this time, so as not to wake him. It was one thing for her to feel this sadness, but for her to subject him to the pain in which inhabited her heart, this she could not do. "You do realize we killed them, don’t you?"

Pulling her down to him as pain stabbed deep into his heart, Graham remarked, "They were already dead."

Shaking her head against his chest, feeling the hot tears pooling there, she sighed. "No. There had to be more that we could have done. I mean, if we’re supposed to be some kind of heroes, supposed to save the world, then why couldn’t we save our own family. There had to have been a way, and we didn’t give them the time they deserved."

Graham had heard these words before. They had started about six months after they got married, and since then, in the last year or so, they had seemed to become more frequent. The truth was, he was starting to believe them, that there could have been a way to save the children they could have had – Skyla and Kyp. Placing those thoughts to the back of his mind, where they seemed to stay lately, he commented, brushing her hair gently with his fingers at the same time, "Willow, we have discussed this. Don’t you think I have played it over and over in my mind, looking for something else we could have done? There wasn’t, Willow. I know that, and I know deep down, you know that."

Leaning her chin on him and looking up as he wiped away her tears, she asked, "Do you ever feel I let you down, Graham?"

"What do you mean?"

"That because of me, you won’t be able to have the life and the family we dreamed of?"

Graham’s own eyes seemed to water as he heard the pain in her voice, knowing she felt like it was all her fault. It hurt his heart so, seeing her so. "Willow, none of this was your fault. It was destined to be, and every day I thank the gods that I have been lucky enough to still have you."

"But we were so happy then…"

"And we are happy now, in this world, not one we dreamed up."

Willow nodded. Goddess, he was right. They were happy, except late at night, every once in a while, when all she could think of was her lost children. He was her everything, and if anything, she was happier here, with him. She just wished things could be different, that they didn’t have the burden ahead of them and that she could feel the soft bundle of her own children in her arms.

One B (Methos and Dora)

*Dream flashbacks*

Methos stepped into his home, a tent on the edge of a small oasis, the hot desert air beating up against the durable fabric, causing the heat to radiate through the cloth, giving Methos a baking feeling. Unwrapping heavy robes from his body, worn for the sole purpose of protecting his skin from damaging wind blown sand, he dropped them onto the dirt packed floor. Outside, the wind howled, but he paid it no heed, tired from a day of working outside in the oasis, herding a small flock of sheep that belonged to the gypsies he traveled with, pinning them later on in a cave the lush oasis offered. Washing his face in a basin of clean water, which he had brought in earlier, he slowly removed the sand caked onto his skin, sand that had still found its way in from the cloth meant to protect him. Reaching to his side, he drew a towel to him and dried his face, staring ahead at a mask that greeted him every day, a mask from his past.

From the front of the tent, a soft lithe voice commented, "Until you find forgiveness in your own heart, it will always be there, staring."

Turning to the owner of the voice, Methos dropped the towel. A young woman was standing there, at the entrance to his tent. Her dark, black hair fell onto her chest, almost covering the fact she was wearing a small bright blue top. Around her waist, right below her well-toned stomach, was a silky blue wrap, falling to her bare feet. Her violet eyes sparkled at him, and for a second, he almost overlooked the fact that she had been untouched by the harsh sands outside. "You aren’t from around here, a part of the clan."

Nodding, she entered the tent slowly. "Why don’t you keep your tent with the rest of the gypsy clan in the oasis?"

"I don’t belong to any clan." Methos pulled his only chair from the table and sat down.

Moving to where she was right in front of him, she asked, "Why? Because you’re a killer or because you’re immortal?"

"I’m not a killer," he spat vehemently.

Pointing to the mask, she asked, "Is that why you keep that, to remind yourself you’re not? I don’t believe that is it at all. You keep it because you believe you are. After sweeping across the land, slaughtering those who got in your way along with those who didn’t, in the name of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, you keep it as a reminder, to tell you what you deserve and don’t."

Methos studied her for a few minutes. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"We want you to give this up, to remember the person you were as a mortal, if only to recall the good inside of you. We want you to live, grow strong, fight another day, because in the end, you have a purpose. Only by being the oldest, the one who carries a great multitude of power, will you be able to face the task, to teach the chosen."

Shaking his head, Methos remarked, "Those words have no meaning for me."

The woman moved to his lap, straddling him as she whispered into his ear, "You still think you’re him, Death, but you’re not. There is so much you can be - will be. The gods see it, and I see it." Pulling slightly away, she added, "Understand us, we have chosen you, and only after starting down the right path, will I seek you out again, in the city of Alexandria under her reign."

Slowly leaning forward again, she brushed her lips against his. Methos’s eyes fluttered shut as his hand sought her head, fingers weaving through her hair, pulling her to him even more. Something seemed to awaken in him at her touch – a feeling of continuance, of need. It was at this second a voice in the back of his mind stopped screaming accusations and Methos found himself at peace.

**

Methos hurried through the rooms of the palace in Alexandria, not paying much attention to the activities taking part around him. Quickening his pace, he muttered to himself, speaking quietly enough that no one could make out what he was saying. He had just come from council with some of those higher in the hierarchy of order. They seemed to turn a deaf ear to him, not truly taking in the situation. If anything, Methos knew about sneaking in for the attack using false allies, only to conquer another nation. Stopping in his tracks, he wondered for a second if the reason they were not listening is because they already knew. Could it be that Cleopatra had already considered this?

Stepping into his living area, he made his way to his bedroom, stopping as he let the curtain barrier drop behind him in the doorway. Suddenly, everything seemed to disappear from his mind as he looked upon her. Lying amongst soft sheets and pillows, she smiled at him as she traced a faint line up her side. Not seeming to mind in the least she was nude, allowing him a glimpse of her perfect figure or creamy white skin, the woman sat up, her dark hair falling amidst her breasts. "Have I been gone so long that you have forgotten me?"

Making his way into the room, he answered, "How could I forget? You showed me there was more than the monster inside."

She slowly nodded. "The Powers are pleased with your progress. They have decided that you truly are the one they seek."

Methos shook his head, not understanding. "I don’t understand. Why do they seek me?"

"You will grow strong. Your knowledge will expand. Ages will pass, centuries, and your name will be a myth upon the lips of your kind – Methos, the oldest immortal. The powers have foreseen it."

"Me? The oldest immortal?" Methos laughed at the idea.

"Yes, the oldest – not the last, but for a while, the oldest."

"So, what does being the oldest have to do with the Powers?"

"The chosen will arrive." Closing her eyes, she slowly recited, "Above the Hellmouth, at the turn of the century, they shall meet after torment and soon become one. Together, the sad witch and honored warlock will become one in soul. Their powers combined will also become one as they. Together, they will help fight the oncoming darkness that shall plague the earth."

"That still doesn’t answer my question."

"I answered that before, a long time ago when we first met. The Powers want you to train the chosen. We want you to learn all that you can, to grow in power, so when they get here, you will be capable for the task."

"So, at the turn of a future century, I’m supposed to search the chosen out and teach them? How will I know when or where to look?"

Approaching him, she tapped his chest and then his head, "You’ll know in here and in here."

Reaching up and grasping her hand, he asked, "And what about you? What role will you play?"

"I am a messenger for the gods, and when the times come, I will also seek out the chosen, to teach them the things you can not."

"So, I’ll see you again."

Gently moving her hand from his grasp to his cheek, she remarked quietly, "No matter how many times I relish your embrace, in the end, nothing will become of it. We weren’t meant to be together, for your heart will falter for another, and it is her you would die for."

*end dream flashbacks*

Methos turned in bed, his eyes opening as a memory of the past haunted him, a memory he had almost forgotten. Staring ahead, he studied the woman in front of him, from the soft curves of her body to the way her nose twitched in her sleep. His fingers slowly moved towards her, caressing her face as he watched her sleep. Smiling, she moaned as she opened her eyes and took his hand in hers. Eyes meeting, reading him instantly, she asked quietly, "What’s wrong?"

"I just remembered something you told me the second time we met, when you told me that we weren’t meant to be together."

Dora seemed to stiffen as she heard his words. Closing her eyes, she slowly breathed out and then chewed on the bottom of her lip. Opening them again, she nodded, "I remember."

Shaking his head, he stated, "And if that was one of your prophecies, then why am I laying here beside you, as I have for the last year?"

Voice almost small like a child’s, she answered, "Because you have yet to realize her, and I know that when you do, I will no longer occupy your dreams, for she was meant for you."

"And the part about me dying for her?"

"The future is now hazy there, for events have already stirred up that which was set. When I try to see that outcome now, all I can see is blood, and whose it is, I do not know."

Part One C (Katie and Spike)

Katie swayed her hips seductively to the music as she milled through the crowd, holding a drink above her head on the way to her table. People seemed to bump into her from all around, but somehow, she kept from spilling any of the precious drink, the clear liquid mysteriously staying still, not a ripple appearing as it jostled about. Smiling as she approached her friends, Katie slowly brought the drink down to the table. Across from her, Maureen – a friend of hers from the circle – commented as she nodded towards the other side of the loud, darkened club, "It looks like you have collected an admirer, and he’s breathtaking."

Taking a quick swig of her drink, Katie laughed. "Isn’t it a little early in the night for me to start looking?"

"It may be, but he seems to be heading this way right now."

Laughing once again, she turned to have a look herself when she felt her knees seem to give way. Her heart quickened and she felt her breath catch in her chest as her eyes met his. Cold, scrutinizing blue eyes turned warm as he smiled at her. Hand playing at her very exposed silky neck, Katie almost didn’t even hear herself as she remarked, "Spike." There had never been a denial by her that she always had a crush on him as a child, but now, years later, after not seeing him since she was nineteen, Katie wondered if the crush had been a prelude to something even greater.

Her skin seemed to sear at his touch as he reached out, gently brushing his fingers over her bare arm. The warmth spread all over her, leaving trails of tingling. It amazed Katie someone who essentially should be cold could cause her to feel as such. His steely voice penetrated her hazy mind as he asked, "What are you doing here in LA?"

Snapping back to reality, she frowned. This was Spike, and if anything, by his question, it was apparent he still thought of her as that little girl, the one who would beg him for piggyback rides as her little voice lilted, "Please, Uncle Spike." Reaching behind her, Katie picked up her drink and sipped at it as she answered coolly, "Taking a break for the weekend. Why? Does Uncle Spike think I should be home with Mommy and Daddy, safely tucked in, away from all the big baddies?"

Spike’s eyes seemed to study her, and Katie tried not to react nervously, even as her hand seemed to shake. What had she been thinking? Not only was this a man she had grown up with as an uncle, but he was also someone with a dark past, someone who was known for leaving a trail of blood across Europe. Plus, even though her mother considered Spike as family, her father saw him as that killer at times. Could she stand that look in her dad’s eyes if he found out what her mind entertained?

All this was wiped from her mind as she felt Spike reach out again, this time taking her drink. She could feel his gaze as it lingered at the top of her dark red dress and then moved down to her darkly tanned legs. As it moved back up, he stepped closer, his mouth resting near her ear. Part of her marveled at the fact she couldn’t feel hot breath on her neck, while the other part gasped in surprise at his words. "Spike would rather you be with him tonight." Stepping back slightly, he studied her again, waiting for a reaction.

Slowly nodding, Katie looked back at her friends, a smile playing at her painted lips. "I’ll see you guys later. Don’t wait up."

Following Spike through the crowd, her fingers interlaced with his, she wondered what she was getting herself into. As soon as they stepped away from the club door, the music wafting into the street, Katie asked simply, "Why?"

Spike led her into an empty alleyway, pressing her body up against one of the walls with his own. His face turned to that of a blond woman’s. In almost a child like voice, she commented before sliding her elongated fangs into Katie’s neck, "Your blood marks the beginning."

Katie found herself screaming but then stopped as she saw the darkness around her. Her mind cried out in terror as she realized where she was, a state that was neither here nor there. The darkness seemed like a blanket around her, covering her to such an extent that every pore upon her seemed to bellow for air. Opening her moth, she went to yell but found her voice couldn’t even work as she started to drown in the darkness. Batting at the darkness, she tried to desperately push the blanket away, her arms flailing about.

A tap on her shoulder calmed her enough to think straight. Turning, Katie found herself once again looking at Spike. Leaning in, he kissed her, and then, laying a finger on her lips, recited, "Above the Hellmouth, at the turn of the century, they shall meet after torment and soon become one. Together, the sad witch and the honored warlock will become one in soul. Their powers combined will also become one as they. Together, they will help fight the oncoming darkness that shall plague the earth."

Katie tried to move back even more as Spike’s face once again changed, but this time, it switched to that of her mother, the mother she had known from her world. Smiling at her daughter while a tear lazily made its way down her cheek, she continued, "Before she brings her destruction, a distant voice will call. Ancient rites, hands joined as one, souls shall meet as the door is opened and the key to their immortality arises, bringing forth the birth of the accumulation of two great powers joined as one. Together – as one – they shall fight her. The sire is here. She will bring with her destruction, that will follow even after her own."

In a blink, it seemed as if everything melted away. A hand rested on her shoulder, and she turned to see Methos, Dora and Cordelia. As one, they intoned, "The final chapter has been rewritten. Time has woven a different future, for now two are combined into one in the key – their blood, her blood, the same. The sire is here, and she will bring with her destruction. It will be the beginning of the end. The key will fall, her destruction not as final as the path set before her."

**

Katie sat up with a start, a single black sheet falling from her form. Looking down beside her, she met Spike’s concerned gaze. He slowly reached up, tracing the edges of her silk gown as he asked, "Is everything okay?"

Shaking her head, Katie felt something inside of her break. She was supposed to be the strong one who didn’t falter. However, at this time, fear and sadness started to take over, followed by anger for her weakness. Something was going to happen. This hadn’t been just any dream. Katie could not only feel it in the pit of her stomach, but through out her. The powers were trying to tell her something, to warn her of what was to come. Leaning into Spike, she asked, "What would you think of going back to Sunnydale?"

"I thought you didn’t want to go there, that it made you think of home and what you had."

"Something is going to happen Spike. I can feel it. And, for some reason, I think that we need to be there, that I need to go home and get answers."

Spike nodded, hugging her closer to him. "Then I guess we need to book a flight to Sunnydale."

"Then you don’t mind?"

"What? Why would I mind seeing your Mum or giving your dad hell? If you want to go to bloody Sunnyhell, then off we go."

Katie smiled as she looked up at him, suddenly not afraid of what was ahead of her. Spike was here with her. He might not be the one she had fallen initially in love with, the Spike who stole her heart as he approached her from the other side of a club one night, but he was Spike, and in him, she knew she had love and unconditional protection for what was to come.

Part One D (Cordelia and Angel Investigations)

Cordelia shook her head, trying to shut away the visions before her. Even without enhanced senses, the smell of blood assaulted her with its tangy coppery edge. It was everywhere – splattered on the walls, pooling on the floor among the dead. Her mind seemed to buckle as she realized even though the few nuns lying in the room were strangers to her, she seemed to know whom they were. She had fled to them, prepared to give her life to God, if only to stop the visions of the monster who had killed her family. Then again, they weren’t her visions, were they?

Scooting back against the wall, Cordelia cried as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. She could feel his eyes boring into her as she did so, stabbing into her soul, breaking her mind even more. He was a killer, a monster, and a demon and for some strange reason, his sharp eyes spoke to her, even as she tried to flee from him and his gaze. He was her boss, her sire, her friend and her enemy. He was Angel. He was Angelus.

A woman entered the room, speaking to Angelus. Cordelia disregarded her at first, not listening as Darla spoke. Her words seemed to be slurred together, making no sense to Cordelia as her mind started to blur even more.

Trying to cut through the haze, Cordelia looked up and met their gaze as they spoke about her. The monster’s eyes kept on cutting through her. It was at this time Cordelia found her voice, but it wasn’t quite hers. "Black sky. It wants a little wormy me." Cordelia watched on as Darla and Angelus stopped talking and turned to her for a second, only to start arguing for a short time, Angelus’ eyes still boring into her, "Eyes like arrows – like – like needles… Snake in the woodshed. Snake in the woodshed. Snake in the woodshed! Snake in the woodshed!"

Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, everything seemed to black out. Her surroundings were different as things came back into focus, and she found herself in a new room. Sobbing seemed to echo off bare walls and Cordelia turned in circles, trying to find where the familiar sound was coming from. The sound got louder and Cordelia covered her ears, calling out as it hit her who it was, "Spike!"

Suddenly, the sound stopped. Uncovering her ears and opening her eyes, she found herself eye to eye with Darla. They stood there, staring for a second, each not moving. Cordelia could feel her heart pounding in her chest, trying to get through. Part of her wondered how it sounded to Darla. Could the vampire smell the fear radiating from her, even if this was a dream? Slightly moving, she whispered, "A snake in the woodshed, moving in and striking before anyone knows."

Darla smiled. "The sire is here, and I bring with me destruction. I am the beginning of the end. The key will fall, her destruction not final as the path set before me."

Cordelia shook her head. "I don’t understand."

Before her, Darla disappeared, and Cordelia once again heard the crying. Turning, she found Spike, a mane of curly red hair in his arms. As Cordelia hovered above him, he pulled away, giving her a view of the woman in his arms, Katie. Looking up at her as streaks of tears poured down his face, he said simply, "She’s dead."

Shaking her head, Cordelia fought the tears rushing to her. "No. She can’t be."

Spike said quietly as he stroked Katie’s pale face, "The key will fall."

Softly placing her hand on Spike’s shoulder, Cordelia remarked, "We can save her."

Katie’s eyes snapped open as her hollow voice commented, "The key will fall. It has to be."

Cordelia gasped, caught off guard by the unsuspected movement. Then, as her heart seemed to beat closer to its normal rhythm, it suddenly halted, stopped by a hand on her shoulder. Turning, Cordelia screamed as Darla grabbed her and bit into her neck. Cordelia’s voice rose as she yelled out, "Snake, snake in the woodshed!"

**

Angel sat at Cordelia’s computer, skimming through the demon database as the secretary slept behind him, suffering from a headache. In the neighboring office, he could hear Wesley flipping through books. Other than that and his tapping on the keys, the office seemed dead, which made sense, being it was almost three in the morning. Turning back to the monitor, Angel returned to focusing on the job at hand as a voice broke his concentrations, "The key must fall. It has to be."

Moving from the computer, Angel sat down beside Cordelia and tried to shake her awake, "Cordelia."

In a heartbeat, Cordelia sat up, screaming as her wide eyes met Angel’s. "Snake, snake in the woodshed." Her words numbed him, and Angel felt himself taken over by fear as Cordelia reached out and gently touched his cheek. "His eyes were like needles. I could feel them prickling into her, but yours, your eyes are so warm, so caring, so sad."

Placing his hand on hers as Wesley entered, Angel asked, "What about the snake?" This was something that always bothered Angel when it came to Drusilla’s ramblings, but hearing it from Cordelia’s mouth made him wonder if he might understand it now.

"Darla’s the snake, Angel, and I think she has come back."

Angel shook his head. "Darla is dead, Cordelia. I killed her myself."

From behind him, Wesley remarked, "Wolfram and Hart. We never found out what they raised in that box."

Staring past them, towards the door of the hotel, Cordelia sought something that wasn’t there. "The sire is here and with her, she brings destruction." Looking back up at Angel she added, "It is the beginning of the end."