“Oh. So this is…” Willow‘s words fail her. Angel is just as stunned by what they’re seeing. “Yeah, the place nobody dares to go.” Faith, without looking at either of them deadpans with “Y’think?”, sarcasm dripping through the words. Only Connor isn’t phased. He looks out at the dimension of Quor’toth. Faith says it doesn’t look like Xanadu to her, but the entire place is oppressive.

As far as the eye can see, the sky is a dirty grey. Skulls of various demonic looking creatures hang from jagged, unnatural-looking trees. Chasms filled with green liquid bubble and lurch unending across the surface and there’s a strange howl on the air that almost sounds like it’s alive. The tear in reality, bright and blue, is still open on this side, flashing large and stable behind them. “When you grew up here, it was like this?” Angel asks Connor, surprised by the volatile surroundings. “Yeah,” Connor tells him, whispering that it looks exactly the same. Angel wonders how Holtz even survived in this place, but Connor reminds him that Daniel Holtz was a pretty determined guy.

He remembers being strapped to his back as Captain Holtz charged his way through a large group of demons, not long after they arrived in this dark dimension. Angel looks guilty and starts to talk, but Connor tells him that his time here was not his fault, or Wesley’s fault even. He’s fine, he tells his father, but he won’t be able to put up with any of Angel’s usual ‘woe-is-me’ crap. Willow, who’s been silent this whole time, whispers Angel to her side. She’s smiling. Her hand is aglow with an orange energy, a fireball forming in the centre of her palm. “It worked,” she says with tears forming in her eyes. “My magic’s back.”

Angel tells her that’s great, but urges her to finish so they can return to Los Angeles. There’s a slight hesitation in Willow’s voice. “That was the good news. The bad news is that the magic here is different than on Earth. Even if I wasn’t rusty, it’d take some getting used to.” She conjures some water, and the fireball in her hand steams away into nothing. Angel is angry – she never mentioned anything about hanging around, getting ‘used to’ things! Willow disagrees: she told him she needed backup to stay alive long enough to finish! She needs to open another rift from Quor’toth to somewhere else. “This was never going to be a cakewalk, Angel! I need time, concentration…” She’s interrupted by Faith trying to get their attention. “Guys,” she says, somewhat urgently. “Border patrol.” They have company.

Large, succubus-like creatures, with round mouths and a gnashing maw of teeth, fly up to the cliff-side they’re perched on. They have large wings with which to fly with! They eagerly refer to the group as food. Angel yells at Willow to run, but she refuses. She attempts a defensive spell, but all she manages to conjure is a bunch of flowers: her magic is still not stable enough. Connor jumps in between her and one of the flying creatures, but suddenly, as he raises his axe, the hideous creature curls up into a foetal position. He looks at Connor horrified, words hushed, recoiling and whispering in horror. Then it screams. “In the name of all that’s damned,” it says in abject fear. It takes to the skies in complete panic, shouting at the top of it’s ragged voice. “The Second Coming! The wrath of the Destroyer! Woe upon us all,” it cries, over and over, echoing across the void.

Angel gives Connor a nudge: it looks like the locals remember him. Connor says that the way time moves here, it’s been centuries. Faith tells them that usually, in her experience, locals screaming usually brings local law enforcement and suggests that they should find cover. Angel doesn’t want to leave the portal, but Willow, despite her unstable magic, reverses the polarity of the tear. The colour of the tear changes from a pale, bright blue to a darker, blood-ish red. Willow feels like it worked. Angel throws one of the demon creatures, now dead, towards the tear, and it’s body disintegrates as soon as it touches the threshold: now no creature that’s native to Quor’toth can pass through and Gunn will be safe whilst watching the other side. Angel approves and they head into the nearest, dank-looking forest.

The forest is not lush and green. It’s black and dingy, with sharp thorns, distorted trees and strange flesh-eating plants. As Angel and Connor go on ahead, clearing a path, Faith has a hushed conversation with Willow about Angel: Faith’s trust in the vampire is waning after being lied to too often and is questioning what else he could be hiding. She’s also been told about Pylea, where Angel vamped into a demon. To assuage Faith, Willow tells Angel not to vamp out, which he agrees. Willow turns back to Faith, smiling gently. “I know you have been kinda butting heads lately, but whatever else may’ve happened, we need to be able to trust each other in a fight. We learned that a long time ago, right?”

Faith looks at her. “Yeah, you ‘re right. Good job. Five by five,” she says, not satisfied in the slightest, angrily breaking branches as she storms forward. They soon come across a dwelling, clearly of something native to the woods. Entering the ram-shackled and clearly-cobbled together home, Angel asks Willow to start what she needs to, while they hide out. Connor warns that some locals live isolated for their own safety – nothing has a very long morality rate in Quor’toth. Looking around the hut, he finds an image of himself on a cloth, hung on the wall, clearly revered by whoever lives here. In the image, he’s younger, as he was as a teenager, animal skins on his skin, demon body parts worn as trophies around his neck.

Revered yes, Angel says. Faith asks if that means they worship Connor, but Angel thinks it’s more like an image of the devil – it’s not revery, it’s fear.

Suddenly a large creature, with fur all over, walking on all fours, rages into the dwelling, clearly the inhabitant. He has armoured bone spikes on his back as a defence mechanism and his mouth, resembling that of a equine of some kind, has incredibly sharp teeth! Faith immediately fires an arrow at it from her crossbow, which has no effect. Angel also struggles to soothe the creature. Connor suddenly comes straight at the native with intense speed. “It’s heart’s in its stomach,” he says, plunging his fist straight into the creature’s chest. The sound is sickening, and the demon doesn’t have time to roar: it drops dead with a thud. “Not so hard to kill when you know how,” Connor smiles, holding the heart in his bloody hand, leaving Angel and Faith somewhat surprised, and clearly, slightly concerned at Connor’s violence.

He looks at them both and catches them eyeing him. “We should move on,” he says, casually throwing the heart to one side and moving outside the dwelling.

Angel struggles to keep up with him as he walks down an icy looking embankment. “How did you know about the demon’s heart?” he asks his son. “Dad, I mean Holtz, figured it out.” Connor replies, instantly annoyed at his slip. Angel ignores it. “He protected you. I have to give him that,” he says, trying to offer comfort to Connor. “He never left you.”

Connor turns around and pushes Angel away with his bloody hands. His voice is raised. “He left me all the time! In the Ash desert or the Bleeding Forest, to find my way back! The guy… look, he might’ve loved me in his own twisted way, but he was crazy! I never realised how insane it was growing up here until I got to Earth. You gave me memories of a happy childhood so I wouldn’t fall apart.”

Angel moves closer to his son, talking quietly, soothingly. “But it’s all fake, Connor. That’s why I didn’t want you to come back here. I was afraid the good memories would, I don’t know, seem less real.”

Connor sneers at him. “They were magic,” he says, defiantly. “They’re already gone.”

Angel stops. He didn’t realise that without the Seed, the memories would go. Something else I’ve ruined for him. Connor says he sort of remembers, like a movie he saw years ago. But it doesn’t feel like his life anymore. “Which is good, because the people who thought they were my family, don’t remember any of it.”

Angel realises how much Connor has lost, again. “It’s okay,” Connor tells him. “I’m not going back to crazy-suicide-bomber Connor. If this had happened a couple of years ago, I might have, but I don’t need fake happy memories. I’ve made enough real ones. Thanks to you.” He smiles at his father, calming down. “You gave me what I needed to survive until I could stand on my own. That’s what a parent does, right? A good one, anyway.” Angel, still concerned about his son’s anger, turns to Willow: the dimension is having an effect on them, isn’t it? Willow confirms that he’s right: “My diagnostic spell shows that Quor’toth influences those who come here. Brings out their darker qualities to the forefront. My magic must have protected me.” Angel nods. “And I fight my dark side every day. Faith, it doesn’t seem to have bothered you.” Faith looks guilty for a moment. “Maybe a little.”

Angel tells them they need to get out of this dimension as soon as they can. Willow tells him that she’s closer now: she’s understanding the energy more, maybe five minutes, she asks? Faith is more concerned about cover, feeling more ill at ease every minute. She pulls her jacket around her, as if she’s cold, even though there’s no wind. “Five minutes is plenty of time to get killed!”

The last word is a yell, as the demon creature returns, this time en masse with a horde of the creatures. They have an unholy mission, the main one commands the others: “Slay the Destroyer and we will sit at the left hand of the Old One for Eternity.” They have orange globes that they’re throwing at the heroes, which explode like bombs when they hit their target. As explosions start ripping the ground up around them, the group flees, pursued by the demons. Willow throws a lightning bolt at one creature, frying it. “Not helpless,” she states calmly.

The demons enshroud them, closing the group in. They prepare to fire their globes, adamant that the only thing they can do is die. Just as they are about to throw their ballistics at the team, a strange whistle like sound echoes on the air. All their bombs suddenly implode in the creatures’ hands and the demons themselves are caught in the blast, completely incinerated. When Angel asks what happened, Connor tells him that the globes were made from a crystal that can be shattered when hit at the right frequency. Willow points over to a precipice not far from them: Several demons, resembling canines, are standing above them, chanting. “The whispers were true, it is him. The Destroyer returned!”

Faith looks at them as they move towards her. “Here we go again,” she sighs. The demons, all with metal spears, crowd around them. They instantly bow before Connor and call him ‘Master.’ “Or not,” Faith retorts.

Connor is immediately horrified, begging the creatures to rise to their feet. He demands to know who they are and why they’re calling him that. The head of the pack explains, in reverent tones. “Our insignificant lives are beneath the Destroyer’s notice. Allow me to explain with apologies for the pathetic nature of…” Connor tells him to hurry up. “Yes Master. In the centuries since your magnificent reign of terror, you have gained followers, converts to your ways.”

Connor looks puzzled. “My ways?”

The creature continues. “And lo, as all Quor’toth quaked in fear beneath the heel of the Destroyer, one lowly supplicant sought to learn the source of his unparalleled might. Trembling, he followed the Destroyer to a campsite.”

“As he watched, from the shadows, the truth was revealed.” The supplicant had come across Captain Daniel Holtz and Connor, then known as Steven, hiding in the woods, roasting their meal on a fire. “You did well today son. I’m sorry you had to fight alone. I know it’s hard. It will continue to be. But remember this, and draw strength from it: I love you. I will always love you.”

The demon continues his tale, getting louder, revealing that with that tender moment observed, the citizens of Quor’toth learnt of love. “The most reviled of all emotions. Punishable by death! This is the key to the Destroyer’s power!” Since then, several tribes, theirs included, have practiced the ways of love, mercy and compassion, awaiting Connor’s return so that he may bring his lessons to the rest of Quor’toth – delivering them from evil.

Faith strains herself trying not to laugh. “Look at you, hipster Jesus,” she grins at Connor. He’s speechless, just about able to ask the leader how many of them there are. Since his departure, the creature says, there have been thousands. Unfortunately they’ve nearly all been slain, martyrs to his holy cause. Guilt appears instantly on Connor’s face.

Angel tells him he didn’t know, and that none of it is his fault. Connor is more concerned about how many are left behind. He’s told perhaps two hundred, but most of them were captured the day before Connor’s arrival, held by the enemy for execution. “But now you have come. You, who values life as none in Quor’toth do,” he says eagerly, a clear vision of hope written all across his dog-like face.

They’re interrupted by a joyous yell from Willow and a piercing blue light from her direction: she has successfully opened a portal out of Quor’toth. Angel wants to know where it leads before they jump, and Willow tells him that the world it leads to is like theirs, except they don’t have shrimp for some reason. And there won’t be demon hordes trying to kill them there.

Angel turns to Connor’s followers, telling them to follow the light and they’ll have a new home, where they can live in peace. As they thank him as a friend of Connor, Angel informs them that he’s Connor’s father. They begin to hail his name, but chant Holtz instead, getting his name confused with their legends. Angel is not amused, so changes the subject to Willow.

Willow will go with the followers and close the tear behind her. The others will head back to the other tear and return to Earth. Before anyone can object, the leader of the demons asks about his imprisoned brothers. Surely they cannot just leave them there, prisoners of the enemy? Faith bluntly points out that they’re probably dead, but the leader tells her no. “The feast of agony must take place at the new sun,” implying that they still have time. Faith is reluctant, trying to explain that they’re not all powerful. Willow asks the pack leader what they would be up against, and he simply replies “Quor’toth itself.”

Willow looks saddened, and explains to the creatures that while they would like to help, they barely have enough power to help themselves, let alone anyone else. Angel agrees and prepares to move out, wanting to take advantage of the fading light. Connor tells him no. He’s not going.

Angel is obviously annoyed, instantly questioning his son. “Connor, you got the ones who saved us out. There’s no time to go after the rest. It’s suicide.” Willow backs up Angel, telling Connor that their entire world is at stake right now. Faith tells him he doesn’t have to take responsibilities for anyone else’s decisions. Connor stops them all.

“You’re right,” he says. “I didn’t mean to inspire them, but I did. The rest of you go ahead. I’ll be fine. I’ve been here before.” Angel looks proudly at his son. “If you’re staying, so am I.” Faith smiles as Willow grins. “Okay,” she states, cheerfully. “Let’s stage the great escape from Hell.”

In London, at the front door of the former residence of Rupert Giles, the townhouse that is currently the home of Faith Lehane, the silence of the early hours is shattered by a sound not entirely unlike screeching alley cats. It’s Lavinia and Sophie Fairweather, exiting their taxi cab, arguing profusely. “I want you to know Lavinia,” Sophie is saying, slightly worse for wear and slurring her words. She struggles to bend down and help her sister from the back seat of the car. “I’m unbearably cross with you. I’ve wanted to shag Morrissey for thirty bloody years. And when I finally get my chance, you have to ruin it!” Her sister, now half way up the porch steps, is in just as bad a state. “Of course I did,” she lurches, holding onto the nearest wall. “‘Out of my way, you vapid slag’ is a clear invitation to coital congress,” she stammers, “but we did promise to look after the house, didn’t we?” Sophie looks back at her as she fumbles in her bag for her keys. When she finds them, she finds the door ajar. “That’s odd,” she says, sobering up almost instantly. “I could have sworn I locked the door.”

They enter the property and find the place turned over. The furniture is in disarray, and someone or something has clearly ransacked everything, obviously intent on finding whatever it was they were looking for. “Oh bother,” is all Sophie can manage. As Lavinia points out the obvious, Sophie tells them that technically, it’s Faith and Angel that have been robbed, but Lavinia is more upset. “No, Sophie. We’ve been robbed. Our family. Look at this! All of Rupert’s magical items, gone!” Sophie is aghast, pointing out that that shouldn’t even be possible: even with magic removed from the world, the magic still stored in those artifacts could still be potently dangerous to anyone who’s not well versed in the arts.

Sophie suggests checking the security system, only to realise in annoyance that it wasn’t turned on by either of them before they left. They begin to argue over who’s job it was, but they’re interrupted by a voice that tells them plainly, that it honestly wouldn’t have made much of a difference anyway.

Whistler stands in front of them. He has a bag, presumably full of magical artifacts over his shoulder. Pearl and Nash hover around him, grinning with evil. The sisters realise the danger they’re now in. “Oh buggeration,” they say in unison.