The Four Champions

Four champions stood in the alleyway as hell itself marched towards them. The temperature was rising rapidly despite the merciless rain that had been hammering down over the past hour. None of them expected to survive for more than a few minutes. In the past evening, these four figures had destroyed more evil than most champions would in their entire lives, and now they were about to face the consequences of their actions. The Senior Partners were no longer in control of the fate of humanity, and this made them furious. Less than an hour ago the four champions (along with three others), had destroyed the Circle of the Black Thorn; a secret organization that acted as the Senior Partners instrument on earth. As far as humanity was concerned, the Senior Partners were now blind, deaf and dumb; their final apocalypse delayed thousands of years.

Illyria had the best eyesight of the four. She surveyed the approaching army with contempt. At that moment she thought of nothing more than inflicting as much pain as possible toward the approaching army. Never before had she felt so truly alone. Wesley; her Wesley was dead. She tore her eyes away from the army of the damned and glanced briefly at her comrades. None of them would ever truly understand her. Charles Gunn, the wounded African-American mortal had only been alive for around two decades. Angel and Spike; the two vampires had only been around for a few centuries. She was the only being on the planet who knew how it felt to have existed since the dawn of time. Back then she was almost a god. She was feared and worshiped by her demonic brethren. Then the humans came and took her planet from her. Now here she was, thrust back into a world that she no longer recognized trapped in a frail human shell.

The demonic army marched closer still. Illyria could now make out several distinct facial features. Claws and tentacles gripped steel blades whilst a huge dragon soared overhead. She sneered in disgust. The army was made up of at least a dozen recognizable breeds of demon, and not one of them was as pure or as ancient as her. These creatures would have held her in revere back when she was in her original form. None of them would ever recognize her now. She was to be torn apart by her own kin, for the sake of a species of mammal she was repulsed by.

She thrust out her pale blue arm and offered it to Gunn for support. He gratefully accepted it, and gave a slight nod of thanks. Like Illyria, Gunn had also undergone a radical metamorphose over the past year. Charles Gunn had been born into a poor family on the bad side of town. He dropped out of high-school shortly after his family was murdered by vampires. His whole life he had aimed for nothing more than survival. Then in an instant, thanks to the Senior Partners, he was able to sign away his former self and become their most highly esteemed lawyer. An extensive knowledge of the legal system had been downloaded into his brain, transcending him from his former self. The Senior Partners were no doubt disappointed that Gunn would begin his final battle already so badly wounded. They had given him everything that made him special, and he chose to throw it back in their metaphorical faces. In his final moment, Charles Gunn truly embraced his former self. His real self. His business shoes had been replaced by old sneakers, his suit with a hooded jacket, and his briefcase with an axe.

Gunn shifted his weight so that he could stand on his own. One hand clutched his stomach to slow the bleeding. He knew that he was going to die, yet at the same time he was able to feel a certain peace that he had not felt in his entire life. Thousands of lives would now be spared because he chose to sacrifice his own. He staggered forward, arms trembling because of blood loss. The demons were now upon them. He swung his axe, sinking it deep into a horned skull. Gunn's vision was now starting to blur, and his head begun to spin. To his left he could see Angel and Spike working together to cut a bloody swath through a cluster of demons.

The smell of blood and sweat mixed with the sulfur, rain and other smells of Los Angeles. After disposing of the Black Thorn, those that survived were all supposed to meet here in the alley for one last battle. Angel, Spike Illyria and Gunn had made it. Wesley and Lindsay were dead. Harmony had betrayed them. Who knows what happened to Lorne.

Gunn hacked the head off one last demon before being brutally stabbed from the side. He died before his body could hit the ground. Illyria hissed and turned to tear the head off the demon that had murdered Gunn. It was no surprise to her that the human had been the first to die. The two vampires would no doubt be next, then finally her. She turned to slam her fist through the face of another demon.

A wall of fire blasted behind her, illuminating her slender figure before the flames vanished under the heavy rain. She heard a loud reptilian bellow and she knew that Angel had killed the dragon, just as he had promised. Up until quite recently she had not thought much of vampires at all. They were the bastard offspring of demon and man, incapable of bearing children of their own. They weren't true demons like she was, yet neither were they in any way human. They were a remorseless, selfish, murderous race of beings, their only possible purpose being servitude for the Old Ones.

Vampires appeared on the face of the earth shortly after the humans. According to legend, the first vampire was created when a demon savagely mauled a human and mixed their bloods. The man's soul left his body upon his death, and the corpse rose again as a monster. The curse was then spread on to other humans, turning them into vampires as well. Vampires chose to keep their existence unknown to humans in order to ensure their own safety.

Angel and Spike were different from other vampires. At some point in each of their unlives, each of them had their human soul restored; rendering them once again capable of human feeling. They now had to bear the burden of remorse for all their past sins; all the lives they had taken or destroyed for their own sick pleasure.

In his glory days, Angel had been legendary among other vampires. The great Angelus was sired by the vampire Darla in Ireland 1753. As soon as his young drunken, whoring soul departed from his body into the ether, it was replaced by a monster like nothing the world had ever seen. Angelus often spent hours contemplating the true nature of evil. He strived to make every human he killed suffer just a little more than the last. Nobody was exempt from his perverted tortures. The tyrant Angelus destroyed everyone from infants to the elderly. His reputation surpassed many of the older vampires, including Darla. In the years that had passed, Angelus had been the subject of much discussion among the Watchers. It was often noted that the demonic bastard had only one consistent redeeming quality; an undying urge to protect his family. Of course, as far as he was concerned, his "family" excluded anyone who did not share his vampiric bloodline. His human father, mother and sister all met bloody death at his hands, but Drusilla, Darla, Spike, Penn and many others were sacred to him. His vile blood burned in their dead veins and they were his family. Like any family, Angelus would often have quarrels with his kin; Spike in particular, but anyone who meant to cause harm to his kin usually met a very slow and agonizing death.

Angel sliced at another demon with a sword in one hand. Spike snatched a wooden beam out of the air that was aimed at his heart. With both hands the blonde vampire swung the beam and impaled several demons before turning and tearing into the next. Angel had trained this childe well.

Back in "the day", Spike had always been a fascination for Angelus. Spike always seemed to posses a ghost of humanity that Angelus could never quite stamp out. Angelus both loved and hated Spike for this. He was sorely tempted to dust the younger vampire on the spot when they had first met. Who was this pathetic excuse for a man? Whatever Drusilla could see in this miserable wretch would always remain a mystery to Angelus. In the end, he attributed her affections towards the boy as a by-product of her madness and thought nothing more of it. But, the boy had become family, and no matter how dismal this young vampire was, Angelus took it upon himself to train and toughen young William.

For years the vampire known only William hated his new fatherly figure. The aristocratic air in which Angelus would strut about, the way he would have Drusilla whenever William's back was turned filled the Englishman with rage. William the Bloody soon discovered how powerful an ally rage and hatred could be, and before long William had not only earned a fierce reputation of his own, but the nickname "Spike", for his fascination with railroad spikes and the many places they could be forcefully inserted into the human body. Spike and Angelus were the best of friends and greatest of rivals. As much as Spike loathed Angelus, he never stopped following in his footsteps, always gaining pace and hoping to someday overtake his adored and despised grandsire.

Angel swung his sword in an arc, decapitating a wart covered demon. With his free hand he reached into his coat pocket and clutched a small metallic object –his hidden weapon, the object that would tip the scales in this battle. Too bad it would kill both Spike and Illyria in the process. Spike would be sure to "get over it" though, he always did. Angel smiled as he realized his hundred year quest for redemption was almost over.