Perched on a vantage point above the fortress they need to break into, Angel asks the leader of Connor’s followers if it’s really that simple: get inside, survive and get out alive. The canine demon nods. “Yes, do you foresee any difficulty?” Angel simply looks down.

The fortress below them is straight out of Hell. Demon birds squawk in fury and wrestle each other over discarded body parts, some pulled from corpses, some just lying around. Other unfortunates are hanging from a metal bridge, with demons crossing it. They’re enslaved, chains linking them all, hanging around their necks. There’s hundreds of them, walking along crudely created walkways towards the bridge, towering high above them. The smell is horrific, with fumes coming from the fetid chasm below, green liquid bubbling, sending up an unsettling green smoke. Whatever is burning nearby in a furnace stinks of meat. The guard escorting the prisoners seems to be nothing more than a glob of green goo, with no discernible feature save what appears to be an arm, dragging the long chain behind him with a monotonous movement. This is the true nature, the capital if you like, of Quor’toth.

Angel thinks they can do this: there aren’t many guards, despite the demons. They obviously don’t get many breakouts. He thinks they can get as far as they can, without being seen, and once their cover’s inevitably blown, they should strike hard, strike fast and get out. They begin, on Angel’s orders, to make their way into the valley below, closer to the stench. Faith keeps her distance, taking her time, making decisions. She has a lot to think about as she moves.

He’s crazy. He’s got us fighting a whole dimension – to save demons. Who are probably already dead. That’s all he does! Drags me into crap and messes up my life. And now he’s going to get me killed. Unless I kill him first.

They come across two demons, eating some remains. Faith watches as Angel, quickly and silently, kills one, while she fires an arrow from her crossbow at the other. Cut off his head. Knock out Connor. Run for the rift back to Earth. I could do that before anyone knew what was happening. I could…

Faith stops and puts her hand to her head, as if the thoughts are getting too loud. No. We had the chance to leave. I chose to stay. It’s this place. It gets in your head. Angel said so. Unless he was lying…

No! Hold it together. Ignore the crazy voice. That’s not you anymore. This must be what it’s like to be him. This is what it’s like for him all the time.

Angel himself interrupts her thinking. “Faith? You okay?” he asks tenderly, concern etched on his face. “Five by five,” she chimes. She moves forward, reinvigorated, clearly not wanting to speak to Angel.

As they approach one of the bridges, Angel sees demons, armed and dangerous, running towards them. “We’re spotted,” he yells, urging the rest of the group to arm themselves. One of the canines springs forward with Connor.

Connor tells him that he doesn’t have to be here, but his follower tells him that there would be no greater honour than to die here, in Connor’s name. As Angel moves forward, sword letting his thoughts be known, Connor looks back at Willow, using her magic to block further attacks. He then sees the canine, and it’s fellows, launching into the fray, with no hesitation, some clearly injured and dying as they fight through the army of creatures.

This is all my fault, Connor thinks. I inspired them to practice love, mercy and compassion in a world where they’re punishable by death. The way time passes here, it’s been centuries. How many died because of me?

Thousands? Hundreds? Hundreds of thousands?

No. Don’t go there. Fight, or lie down and don’t get back up.

He looks over at his father, fighting for his life and for those around him. No wonder Angel runs. No wonder he isolates himself. No wonder he grabs for the slimmest hopes. Grand gestures that will never work, hoping to fix everything.

I wish he could forget it all. Just let it go. He stands back to back with his father now, weapons raised, striking as one. As if he ever could.

The demons begin to recognise Connor and flee, yelling that the Destroyer has returned – and brought his mad father with him! Faith smiles at Angel about his rep, but Angel tells her that they believe he’s Holtz. When Faith mentions that the guy must have been glutton for punishment, coming here after kidnapping Connor, Angel tells her about Holtz’s twisted plan of revenge. Faith says that if obsession was Holtz’ thing, then she can see the resemblance between the two. Off Angel’s look, she apologises instantly. “Sorry. This place makes me bitchy.” Angel says that he understands, but considers that with the way he’s been acting lately, he really wouldn’t blame her. He can imagine how it looks.

Faith, killing another beast as she talks, tells him that she’s not taking it. “I mean, yeah, your kinda obsessed. Always have been. But you were ready to chuck your whole quest for your kid. And you’ve gone months without trying to save the world. You’re just trying to save one guy. I mean, sure, he’s dead, but that’s kind of progress, right?”

Faith stops talking, and Angel looks at her. “Faith, trust me. Pep talks aren’t your thing.” He pauses. “Help me kill the other one.”

Finally, after reaching what appears to be the entrance to the complex, Angel orders Connor and Willow to break into the prison, whilst he and Faith keep watch up above. Faith resumes her ‘pep’ talk: “Okay, I’m not the chick for halftime speeches, but I’ll tell you this: sounds to me like Holtz was all about revenge. You’re about redemption. And I would sell my soul to have my dad love me like you love Connor.”

Angel remembers what he said in Los Angeles, about her last meeting with her father. She tells him to forget it: they’ve both been snipy with each other lately. Stressful times, she says. “But your still as crazy as a bag of badgers,” she says as she walks towards Willow and Connor. They share a brief smile.

As canine demons begin to run free from the cells, they are stunned that the Destroyer has returned and saved their lives, which, of course, they now devote to him. They begin bowing, and Connor, once again begging them to get up, starts getting flustered. Angel turns to Willow, who’s rubbing her head. “Can you open another rift?” he asks. Willow nods, but asks for a few minutes. “Oh crap,” says Faith, making Willow painfully aware of how unlikely that is by bringing their attention to in front of them. “Hey little guy,” she asks one of the followers. “When you said we’d have to fight ‘Quor’toth itself,’ what did you mean?” she says, her eyes widening in horror.

The canine says that Quor’toth is the name of the demon who gives this dimension it’s name. Faith doesn’t look at him, but mumbles. “I kinda thought it was a metaphor.” When the demon asks her what that is, she tells him that it doesn’t matter. A huge shadow is creeping over them.

As they watch, the entire complex, no, the earth and the ground beneath them, starts to squirm and move! Breaking free from wherever it was slumbering a huge, gigantic demon, it’s brain visible, oily black goo dripping from it’s upper jaw, teeth sharp, begins breaking apart through the bridges that were accessways to his domain.

At the London home that Angel and Faith currently share with house guests Sophie and Lavinia Fairweather, the two sisters have sobered up remarkably quickly. Pearl and Nash hover just above them off the ground. Sophie looks up at them, her face devoid of fear. You could even call it ‘mild irritation’.

“Pearl. Nash,” she begins, saying the words as if they’re dirty. “I can still see straight up your noses. They do wonders with rhinoplasty these days, you know.” Her nose sniffs, and she even rolls her eyes. Lavinia is just as brave, folding her arms and looking Whistler up and down, distastefully.

Nash is just as unimpressed. “Sophronia and Lavinia Fairweather. I believe I still owe you agonising deaths.” Lavinia looks up at him, arms still folded. “Yes, well, as attractive a proposition as it was to be your sister/wives, there was a sale on at Harrods we simply couldn’t miss.”

Pearl snaps in, angrily. “You absconded with the Rings of Narcissus!” she proclaims. Lavinia isn’t phased in the slightest. “Etiquette on returning rings after a broken engagement is a bit of a grey area,” she smiles.

Whistler takes this all in, a look of amusement on his face that threatens to turn to boredom quickly. Pearl warns Lavinia about her tone. “You are going to be a bit of a grey area, on the wall,” she threatens, both siblings’ eyes now glowing that eerie, green aura.

Whistler stops the conversation dead. “Hold up. These lovely ladies aren’t going to give us any trouble. Besides, I’ve been wanting to get a message to Angel and they can deliver it.”

Nash insists that their corpses can deliver a message just as easy, but he’s stopped by Whistler’s grip on his shoulder. Unable to move, Nash turns and threatens the demon. “Take your hand off me before I burn it to a stump!”

Whistler looks Nash straight into his eye, his tone suddenly deep and evil. “What did you say to me?” he says to Nash, his eyes completely black, raw blue energy surrounding his hands.

He waves his hands towards Pearl and Nash, sending them reeling into the nearest wall, enough to make the concrete of the foundation crack. His voice is no longer Whistler’s voice – it sounds like dirt being scrunched on by boots and it echoes into the room with a bellow: “I’m going to pop your heads like zits, you little maggots!”

He grabs Nash by his collar. “I’m trying to save the world. The future. And you waste my time with schoolyard crap?” Nash can barely speak, and he’s choking. He begs Whistler to let him go, saying that they’re sorry. He drops them both to the floor with a thud.

“Well. Alright then.” He turns to the Fairweather sisters, attitude jovial, as if nothing he just said or did in front of them even happened. “Ladies. I know you might consider the stuff we took family heirlooms, but trust me, it’s for a good cause. The best.”

Lavinia sarcastically tells him that they can see that he feels quite strongly about it. “May I ask what you’re planning on doing with them?” she asks Whistler, referring to the artifacts. “Same thing I’ve always done. Keep the balance. Good and evil. Magic and science.”

He looks at her, power around him now fading, his voice completely normal. “I’m gonna take humanity, the whole planet, to a higher state of being. The next step in our evolution.”

Sophie looks at him, “Isn’t that what you were trying to do when you ruined magic and made a dog’s breakfast of everything?” Lavinia closes her eyes, partly out of embarrassment, but also, given what she’s just witnessed, this time fear.

Whistler glares at Sophie, but then smiles. “I like you kid. You got moxie. Two differences,” he starts to explain. “It was about getting better. Now it’s life or death. And last time, Angel went off book. This time, I’m driving the bus. Not the way I usually like to do things, but desperate times, right?”

He picks up Nash and Pearl off the floor, by the scruff of their necks. “So no more sitting on the sidelines for me. And these days, when I ask people to do stuff, I ain’t asking.” He tells Pearl and Nash to grab the magical artifacts. “Speaking of our favourite ball of angst,” he says, handing an envelope to Sophie, “tell him we need to talk. I’ll be at this address, on our anniversary.”

He calmly opens the front door, allowing Pearl and Nash, both struggling to carry heavy bags of artifacts, to walk out the door. He casually waves at the sisters, telling them ‘Ciao,’ and is suddenly gone before they can respond.

Sophie looks confused. “Our anniversary? That’s why Angel hasn’t hit on me,” she exclaims. All Lavinia can do is roll her eyes at her sister’s ineptitude.

In Quor’toth, the creature formally known as Quor’toth bellows a voice like death itself. “Who disrupts my feast?” it demands. Angel taps Connor’s shoulder. “I love you too, Dad,” Connor says. Angel looks at him. “Did you just?” Connor simply smiles, knowing how long Angel has wanted to hear it.

A massive surge of energy comes from the creature’s visible brain and Willow barely has time to shout a warning and erect a force field in time to save their lives. Faith asks if she can open a tear in reality and get them out of here, but Willow says she can’t do that and fight the creature at the same time! When Angel asks Connor what he knows about the creature, Connor shrugs: he thought it was a myth. The canines tell them that for ages, Quor’toth slumbered, sustained on hate and death. It is their actions that have caused him to rise, their leader claims.

“Your compassion, your love, are as knives in its belly. It has tried to corrupt you. It has failed. Instead it will end us all.” The creature fires another blast at them, and Willow’s shield fluctuates for a moment. Angel tells Willow to take strength from them if she needs to, but Willow looks at him, doubtful. She doesn’t think they have the power to stop an Old One this powerful. “We don’t have to,” Angel tells her. They just need to get away from it.

He turns to Willow, who’s sweating now, struggling under the creature’s power. Angel talks to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Willow, you brought us here to protect you. But this is on you. You came here to get the power. You have it, now use it. You have us. You have the Scythe. Fully recharged, now that you’re in a world of magic again.”

He’s trying to reassure her, telling her she can beat the monster back, that she is strong enough to buy them time to get back to Earth. She can do this.

Willow breathes in, struggling to talk. “I can’t,” she whispers to him. Angel tells her to think about what’s at stake, but Willow tells him that it’s not working.

Angel keeps pushing her, standing right beside her now. She’s holding the Scythe, energy streaming around her. She’s desperately trying to connect, reaching out with every fibre of her soul, to touch the magic she knows is there, just beyond her reach – a little extra power that she must have conserved inside somewhere. Just a little bit. Please Goddess. A little?

Angel is still in her ear. “Think about what it’s like to be powerless. You hate it. And ask yourself, how that’s any different from what you are right now.”

Willow screams violently and a massive surge of energy comes from her. She hovers in mid air, the energy engulfing them inside her shield and reaching out, back along the tendrils of energy that come from Quor’toth.

The Old One yells. “Pain! Alien! Wrong! Kill everything!” It’s voice gets quieter and quieter as it falls backwards. The group race across the bridge and Angel asks Willow which one is better to open: a rift away from here to Earth or to anywhere? Willow says she needs to be standing still to work, and that would get them killed right now! Angel asks Faith what their lead is, but she says it’s not enough and looks back briefly enough to see the demon Old One fire a massive blast of black eldritch energy at them.

They’re almost clear, almost back to the tear and Connor tells Willow to cancel the protection spell that reversed the polarity. They need his followers to be able to get to safety. Willow does this quickly, but she has no intention of going through. “If I go to Earth I’m right back were I started! Powerless in a world with no magic!” Angel reminds her that she was the one who said they couldn’t open a new rift, but Willow is devastated at the possibility that she’s come this far for nothing.

Faith urges them to hurry up, as the creature roars. “Death,” it cries, so loudly that every living creature in the dimension can hear it, Angel and the others covering their ears as the sound rattles their very bones. “All death. All dark. All mine.”

Angel recovers as the voice quietens. He turns to Willow, telling her that they may need her to hold off the Old One. He asks if she’s up to it, but doesn’t get an answer. Faith turns to Willow and asks if she’s okay. but Willow is on her knees, rocking on the ground, shaking and trembling. “Guys,” she says, her voice deeper, trembling almost as much as she herself is. “We’ve got a problem,” she says, her hair darkening, her eyes jet black and dark veins growing underneath her skin on her face.