Part II

As soon as they were inside and Angel had made sure no one followed after them, the dark-haired vampire turned to confront his Childe, ready to take the Guardian from his arms.

Spike snarled at him and vamped out.

"I stay with her. Don't argue with me. You can rip me a new one later, but right now I need to put her in bed, somewhere warm."

Taken aback by Spike's outburst, Angel thought about confronting the younger vampire and making him relinquish Morghane by force. But it was quickly becoming obvious that Spike would not go quietly - and that he didn't intend to harm the Guardian just then.

With a tight nod, Angel led the way to his apartment. Deciding to forego the freight elevator < wouldn't want to end up trapped in a small enclosed space with my unpredictable Childe >, he went down the flight of stairs, Spike and his precious cargo behind him. Doyle and Cordy quietly brought up the rear - mute in the face of Angel's stormy expression. The older vampire opened the door and let everyone in past the caged-in desk clerk. With a slight nod of his chin, he ordered Spike to follow him into the bedroom.

Without taking the time to survey his surroundings, Spike went straight for the bed. Holding the Guardian with one arm, he drew away the white and gold striped duvet and arranged the pillows before depositing his unconscious burden on the mattress. The small mewls of his leather duster were the only sounds disturbing the peace; Morghane was barely breathing.

She looked otherworldly. Her pale face, her fiery hair, like an escapee from a Gustave Moreau fantasy. An exhausted Salome. Or Lilith after the Fall. The one whose name Genesis had erased.

Spike proceeded to ensconce her securely inside the covers, then, satisfied, turned around to face his Sire.

Angel was deeply disturbed - on several levels - by what he had just witnessed, but decided to wait until they were back in the living room to start a conversation that could quickly become heated.

Tacitly, they all agreed to retreat to the study in silence.

Angel kept his voice level. "What the fuck is going on?"

Cordy flinched. Angel never swore.

As it was, Doyle decided it would be fun to add his two cents to an already confusing situation.

"How's the Guardian doin'?"

Angel froze, then turned to stare at the half-demon, nonplused. "You know Morghane?"

The smaller man shrugged nervously, fidgeting. "Yeah, I... I work for her sometimes, like Whistler, ye know."

Angel opened his mouth and realized he had a million questions to ask. Yet none of them were important just now.

"Who's Morghane?"

Angel exhaled deeply. Cordelia had been uncommonly subdued so far and the state of grace was over. "She's the Guardian. Kind of like the Slayer, except that she's a mage and she's 1700 years old. I'll explain the details later, or Doyle can fill you in." Turning his back on a very bewildered Cordy, the older vampire faced Spike once more, trying to fight the impulse to torture the answers out of him.

The standard master vampire procedure.

"Explain."

Spike didn't beat around the bush. "Two nights ago in Sunnydale the Guardian was attacked by a powerful warlock and an army of vampires. They used the Sepulcher. She's dying."

Angel didn't have the time to express his shock. Doyle moaned softly beside him. "Oh God."

"What?"

"Morghane was here three days ago, in L.A.. She wanted to see ye, see how ye were holding on after the whole Amara business, ye know? But I had a vision. A black Mage in Sunnydale, and she left. She made me swear not to tell ye she had been here or where she was goin'. She didn't want ye gettin' into trouble. She said she would come back once she was done. The vision didn't show anythin' about... that." Doyle seemed genuinely distressed. "I swear, Angel, I would never have kept quiet otherwise."

The vampire clenched his fists and nodded stiffly. "Don't worry, Doyle. She made you promise. I know how Morghane can be." He fought down the overwhelming nausea that rose from his stomach to his throat at the thought of Morghane having to face the Sepulcher alone. "What is your part in this, Spike?"

The blonde vampire shrugged, falsely disinterested. "The Guardian was too weak to protect herself any longer and there are things that still need to be done. She used a spell to bind me to her, so I would act as her bodyguard."

Angel nodded. He knew of such spells. Yet, although it explained some of Spike's behavior, it didn't account for all of it. So many mysteries and no time to get to the bottom of it. One of his best friends was slowly and painfully fading away in his bedroom and Angel was growing increasingly frustrated.

"She was in Sunnydale. What about Buffy? I know Morghane's policy concerning the Slayer, but if this doesn't qualify as an emergency, I don't know what does."

Spike growled, a deep rumbling sound, but Angel knew instinctively that whoever was the target of the vampire's ire, it wasn't him.

Doyle and Cordelia, however, always the cautious pair, took a step back.

"The Watcher threw her out of his house before she could explain. She didn't share the details. She... she has been in and out of consciousness for the past two days." In the midst of his anger, Angel noticed Spike's uncharacteristic hesitation and stored it away for future reference. "I think the Watcher was pissed off because she was the one who sent you to Sunnydale. We all know how her little initiative nicely backfired... And I don't think he's aware of what she did when you reverted to type."

Angel winced deeply but ignored the confused glances his associates sent his way. God. Bringing everyone up to speed was going to take ages, not to mention dredge up a lot of angst. As it was, he couldn't think for the undiscerning rage that threatened to rip away his hard-won control - as his Childe explained why the people in Sunnydale had basically sent Morghane away to die. His shoulders were hunched - tight, poised fury obvious in every feature, every muscle, every nerve of his dead body.

"You're telling me that Giles refused to help her because she didn't know about the clause, and simply decided to let her die?" he ground out, his jaw clenched.

Spike shook his head. "She didn't have time to tell him about the Sepulcher, that she was dying, that a new Guardian would be called soon and need the Slayer's protection. He didn't want to listen. She wouldn't come to you, but when she passed out in my arms I had to make a decision so I brought her here. I didn't know where else to go."

The younger vampire seemed disturbed by that thought.

Angel took a moment to try and reassure his Childe. "You did good, Will."

Spike groaned. "No, not you too..."

Angel ignored him and went straight for the phone, his stride confident and even. Stalking - the long, smooth, lithe, lustrous form of a tiger in his natural habitat. The shadows of the dim apartment clung to him like unsatiated lovers.

No one dared stand in his path.

He picked up the receiver and dialed Giles' number from memory. The Watcher answered after the third ring, sounding slightly rattled.

"Ah... Hello?"

"Giles, it's Angel," announced the vampire, fighting to keep a civil tone.

Silence on the other end.

Stunned silence to be precise. Angel hadn't been in touch with anyone back in Sunnydale even once since he had left after graduation - besides Oz of course. Cordelia handled most of the necessary communications. He could understand that the Watcher was taken aback, but he didn't have the patience to properly handle anyone's feelings right then.

Least of all Giles'.

"Uh... how are you doing, Angel? We heard about Spike's..."

"Morghane is here."

No. No patience at all.

Giles cleared his throat noisily. "Angel, I'm sorry but I can't deal with her right now. Whatever the matter is, I would very much... appreciate it if you could take care of it. Buffy can't afford to take on more responsibilities..."

"Cut the bullshit, Watcher." Cordelia had followed only half of the conversation, but she could just picture Giles keeling over, his omnipresent cup of tea crashing on the floor. "Buffy's duty has nothing to do with this and we both know it. You can't forgive Morghane for sending to Sunnydale the man who fucked up so much of the life of YOUR Slayer."

"Now, Angel, there are things you don't know about. This has nothing to do with what you confided in me last year. Although I wasn't... overjoyed, Morghane's decision can be defended."

"Then what is it?"

"Did you know that Jenny contacted the Guardian to help with the curse? Morghane did not come to Sunnydale and perform it herself, she just sent her the means to translate it. We both know how THAT went over. I... I will never forgive her for this. Never."

Angel closed his eyes and gripped the phone tighter, swaying slightly.

Familiar feelings grazed the surface of his consciousness. Guilt, for killing Jenny of course. And shame. But most of all anger. The Watcher blamed Morghane, yet he had no idea of what had really transpired in Sunnydale before and after the tragic death of the computer teacher. Of course, no one knew but Angel, Spike, Morghane and Drusilla. He wasn't angry at the Watcher for ignoring the facts. He was angry at him for judging Morghane so quickly, not giving her the chance to explain. Sentencing her to die alone.

Giles was still rambling on in his ear. "I'm surprised she kept this fundamental piece of information from you," he added nastily. "Why don't you go ask her about it?"

Angel's face was so much a reflection of Angelus' at that moment that even Spike shivered.

"Oh, I would just love to ask her about it, Watcher. Except for a couple of things. I already knew. And Morghane is dying."

"What?!"

The vampire didn't know which statement Giles was reacting to, and he didn't care. "You wouldn't be so surprised if you had let Morghane put two sentences together last night. She went to Sunnydale a couple of days ago to battle a warlock and fell into a trap. He caught her unprepared, went after her with the Sepulcher. She put a gais on Spike so he would protect her in the meantime. She went to you because she's going to die soon and a new Guardian will be called. She probably thought she would give you and Buffy a fair warning before the Council came after you both to handle baby-sitting duty."

"I... I didn't..."

"I don't want to hear it, Giles," Angel interrupted coldly. Deadly. "You will come to L.A. right away. Take all the books you'll need to save her. If there's anything you require, I will provide it for you by any means necessary. And one last thing, Watcher." Angel bared his teeth in an unconscious gesture of dominance. "You can hold me responsible for everything that went wrong in Sunnydale, for the death of your lover, for Buffy's pain and your suffering. I will take whatever punishment you see fit to inflict on me. I will never be able to repay the debt I owe you. But you will never speak of Morghane in this way in my presence or show her such disrespect ever again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Very clear, Angel," Giles bit out.

"You better be here tonight, Watcher, or I'll come after you. And if you think you've seen the worst of me... think again."

With that, Angel slowly hung up the phone.