Angel‘s back is stinging. He can’t see it, but he can smell the burnt flesh and see the wafts of smoke from behind him. He’s held in place, off the floor, by his throat, by someone he could have gone a long time without seeing again.

Half of her hair shaved off, Pearl now sports a hairstyle not unlike the one once preferred by her brother Nash. Her very dead brother Nash, Angel recalls. Not that Pearl has any problem reminding him as she holds him fast.

“In memory of Nash, I’m happy to say this is going to hurt.”

As she prepares to strike, Corky the Pixie flutters down on his leathery wings and points at Pearl at the side of her face, warning her. “Oi, remember what I said, lass. Keep the gloating to a minimum and get on with it. This one’s been too much trouble.”

Pearl aims her punch and throws it forward. Angel is barely aware that it’s coming, but he feels it, especially as he goes careening backwards, hitting the filthy warehouse floor with an almighty thud. Pearl chuckles as she speaks and walks slowly towards the vampire. She’s savouring her moment.

“A pity. I was hoping Faith would be here too. I’d so looked forward to killing both of you.”

At the same time, a continent away, Faith stares at the gun on her nightstand. There’s a pad of paper next to it. Faith stands there, zipping up her bags. She has no intention of writing a note. She wouldn’t even know where to start.

With her bags packed, she takes one final look at the gun, as if it’s a symbol of her decision.

She walks out of her room, into the corridor and ignores the two Slayers that are strolling along. They both note her, stare after her as she walks, their eyes burning a hole in the back of her head as she heads downstairs.

When she gets to the lobby of the building, she doesn’t look at anyone. She simply walks to the large glass doors and goes outside. She slings her bag to the ground and stares at the streets in front of her, drenched in the evening sun. She takes her phone and dials a number.

“Hello? Yeah, I’d like a cab please.”

In London, Angel suffers another blow, this time knocking him off his feet. This time he doesn’t hit the floor though. This time he falls back against some battered wooden shelves, filled with crates of the glass bottles, each containing the liquid – the magic elixir that Corky has been peddling. Pure magic. Enough to level most of the known world.

Corky panics now, shrieking at his hired help as he sees crates crack to the floor, the precious drops spilling everywhere. “Careful, Pearl! That’s pure magic in them bottles. You hit them with one of your green zaps and who knows what happens?”

Pearl, readying another punch, hears the Pixie, but she mouths back at him with barely contained hatred. “You want me to kill Angel? Don’t tell me how to do it, you fussy little insect. But if you’re worried, I’ll do it the indirect way.” She lowers her punch now and, instead, her eyes burn that green colour and the energy coalesces in her hands. She fires the bolt, stronger than before, at Angel.

The blast hits a wall behind the vampire, who has moved with a speed that surprises Pearl. The blast causes debris to fall and smoke to rise, and she struggles to see her target. She fires blindly, without care.

Angel grabs a hold of two of the teenagers gathered and drags them to one side before part of the ceiling can crush them. “Look out!”

As people around her start to scream, Pearl ignores Corky now, firing at anything that moves, cackling with pleasure. “Yes, scream for me children! Your fear is delicious!”

Angel gets up from saving another, younger boy and looks up, his fangs exposed, his tone a low growl. “Go. Get out of here!”

In his attempts to get the boy free however, Angel has exposed himself to Pearl. She turns to look at him, and opens her mouth. She taunts the vampire. “Ah, Angel… The good vampire who saves children. If you’d put more effort into saving yourself, maybe…”

But the demon has underestimated Angel. Now, she’s not just ticked him off. She’s unleashed the anger inside him, and his vampire visage looks at her as if she’s nothing. He stops holding back and backhands Pearl with the back of his fist.

She’s caught by surprise and stumbles back. But before she can even get up, Angel is on her again, slamming into her and headbutting her square on her nose. She screams in pain, holding her face.

Getting up again, she spits the blood from her mouth and wipes the rest away from her lips. “Plenty of fight in you. Good. All the more satisfying when I break you in half.”

Now it’s her turn to take Angel by surprise. She turns at him with speed and it’s enough to tumble into him, tackling him. For a moment it feels like they’re both hitting the floor together, but Angel feels the air beneath him move.

Pearl has grabbed him and, going at tremendous speed, smiles as she crashes through the brick wall and out into the London smog. She uses Angel as a battering ram and as he’s floating back down to London like a meteor, she flies up to him and telekinetically holds him in place with her energy. “I’m more powerful now, Angel. In case you hadn’t noticed. I like to think that Nash is still with me in spirit, adding his power to my own. Or maybe that’s silly. Either way, it’s a Hell of a lot of fun!”

The energy cascades around Angel, swallowing him in it’s glow. He writhes in agony, but now refuses to give Pearl the satisfaction of hearing him scream. Throughout it all, watching his face contort in pain, Pearl can’t resist gloating at him.

“I really wanted to be doing this to Faith for what she did to my Nash. But you’ll do for now. You played your part, didn’t you? We both know you deserve this.”

Angel struggles to speak, but he stops short of begging. “Pearl, it doesn’t have to be like this. We can…”

She interrupts him by firing another bolt of energy, surrounding him more and more now, adding more pain to Angel’s now glowing form. “Shut up! You’ve got one job, Angel. Float there, and DIE!”

Angel reaches into his coat pocket, fishing for something. He pulls out an object and lets it fall. Catching the object from the glint in the light as it drops, Pearl realises it’s a bottle from the Glass Blower – one containing pure magic.

The energy surges around the bottle for a moment, but then the bottle goes off, as bright as a flash bomb.

Pearl is thrown back from her floating position in the air and screams backwards in pain, wailing. She pulls her hands to her face, struggling and calling out in pain.

“My eyes! I’m blind!” Not realising where she is, she fires out blindly, but is then caught in the grasp of her own energy, which surges through her now. She again screams, the power too much. NO!”

She tries to reach Angel, but the energy is too much, and she struggles to contain it. “Angel. This isn’t over. I’ll kill you. I’LL KILL YOU!”

These are the last words Angel hears as he begins to fall like a stone from the sky. Pearl flies off into the night, a green glow all that remains of her presence.

Angel goes through the roof of the warehouse, shattering through the tiles on the ceiling and colliding with the floor. A table, covered in glass bottles, breaks his fall.

As he tries to get up, Angel hopes for a minute, but he doesn’t get it as that annoying Irish accent sounds around him, echoing from somewhere above him. “That’s a right shame, it is. I thought Pearl was mustard. You want somebody killed proper, I guess you kill ’em yourself, eh? Give him the lumber, lads.”

“What the?” By the time Angel realises what’s happening, the Pixies are now all around him, swarming him with an array of everyday objects in their hands. Scissors, planks of wood, any sharp object they can find. They pelt Angel repeatedly and the vampire struggles to avoid their blows.

Corky cackles as Angel is hit, again and again. “I’ve entered into a partnership recently. And the one thing that can bollocks it up, is you. I’m sitting on the greatest stockpile of magic in the world, and Corky knows just who can put it to use. Nobody will ever call Corky Smallwood a little man again!”

By now, Angel’s anger is getting to him again and eventually he gives in to it and even he is surprised by the ferocity of the growl that comes deep from the back of his throat. He picks up a reel of wire that the Pixies were tying him with, still attached to his wrist. He unreels it and uses it as a whip, throwing and swinging it around the room. It slices through everything it touches, battering and knocking Pixies aside, killing some of them with the sheer speed it hits them with.

Corky yells at him, taken by surprise but avoiding being hit. As Angel swings the reel back towards him, he smacks another Pixie and yells a warning to any creature who can hear his words, loud and filled with rage. “Anyone who doesn’t want to get squashed like a cockroach better clear out now!”

He sees Corky from the corner of his eye, and, reaching out with the slightest effort, catches the Pixie by his toes. “Not you, Corky!”

Less than an hour later, Angel stands in Nadira’s back room. She looks down at Corky, safely squeezed in Angel’s hands. By pixie, she was expecting something… cuter.

Angel chuckles. “About as cute as a Nether Beetle. With rabies.”

Corky does not appreciate the insult and yaps, squeaking from his place in Angel’s grip. “Shove off.”

Angel explains to Nadira what Brandt told him about Corky Smallwood, that he was a petty crook, not respected at all around Hackney. “When Corky was human he was just a pickpocket and a purse snatcher. Now he’s responsible for… well, a lot worse. I was tempted to put an end to him as soon as I got my hands on him.”

“Why didn’t you?” Nadira’s tone suggests to Angel that she already knows the answer.

“The truth?”

“All I can get.”

He thinks for a moment and then looks at her directly. “My instincts have seemed a little off lately. But when I follow your cue, things seem to work out, more or less. I thought I’d bring Corky here and get your opinion.”

Nadira doesn’t acknowledge what he’s said, holding up one of the bottles against the dim light of her candle-lit room. “And this is one of the glass jars the Glass Blower made?”

Angel nods. “Full of pure magic. Fallout from Whistler’s scheme.”

Nadira studies the bottle and it’s markings, admiring it. She thinks it’s beautiful. Then, for just a moment, she seems to talk to a voice Angel can’t hear. “What? Pull the cork? Why, yes. I am curious what will happen.“

Nadira opens the bottle, removing the cork and watches, not surprised at all, as blue smoke unfurls from the bottle.

Corky takes one look at it and starts to yell, panic etched on his face. “No, now hold on – wait a minute! Let’s talk this over, eh? No! No!” As he screams, the blue smoke comes alive around him and tethers itself to him. Angel lets him go, and the Pixie rises up, desperate to get away.

But the smoke doesn’t quit and grabs Corky as if the smoke itself was alive. It pulls Corky towards the bottle and then, as quick as it first appeared, the smoke returns to the bottle, taking the pixie with it. Nadira stops, satisfied. She replaces the cork on the bottle and smiles at Angel.

“There. Now we know where Corky is if we need him.”

Angel takes in what he’s just seen, It’s not often that he sees something brand new. “How did you do that?”

Nadira smiles and shakes her head at him, a grin on her face. “Me? I didn’t do anything. The magic did.”

Her eyes closed, letting the fading sun shine on her face, Faith’s thoughts are interrupted by the unmistakable voice of Kennedy. “So you’re just taking off?”

Faith opens her eyes and turns to her friend. “Kennedy. Hey. Look, you know me. I’m not up for the big drama. Better to just scoot on the down-low with minimal fuss. I sent you an email.” A cab pulls up and Faith barely waits for it to stop before heading towards the back of the vehicle.

Kennedy reaches after her, and Faith notices yet another file in her hand. “I stuck my neck out bringing you onboard. I suspected there’d be an adjustment period, but I thought you were worth it. You owe DeepScan a little better than this.”

Faith looks back at her, angrily. “You said it was my choice, remember? I didn’t even want to hook up with DeepScan, okay? I just didn’t have a lot of other irons in the fire. So I’m sorry. I’ve got to get going.” She places her bags in the trunk of the car, closes it shut.

Kennedy looks down at the file in her hands. She looks at Faith. “That’s a shame. Because I think what’s in here might convince you to stick around.” She extends the file.

“Points for perseverance, but I don’t think…” Faith looks at her, rolling her eyes. She does not appreciate Kennedy’s repeated attempts to get her to stay, but Kennedy shakes her head. “Just look at it.”

Faith takes the file reluctantly. She opens it as she flicks through it. She doesn’t noticed anything that stands out. “I don’t see what could… Oh.” She’s found a page that contains someone she knows.

She looks down now, scanning the images and the words in front of her. There are statements about missing people, missing in far off places. Marked with the word ‘missing’ is a large picture of a man Faith instantly recognises. The missing man is Riley Finn.

“Yeah, okay. You got my attention now.”

Angel returns to the warehouse after leaving the bottle with Nadira.

It was never about the Pixies.

Okay, maybe it was a little about the Pixies. But it was more about the magic. Even when Whistler’s explosion created Magic Town, the residue collected in gutters and corners. Corky coerced kids into collecting the stuff into special bottles made by the Glass Blower.

The result was a stockpile of magical weapons of mass destruction. Not the kind of thing you want to leave lying around.

“You didn’t call me here to look at this empty warehouse, did you, Angel?”

Before Angel even turns around, he recognises the Inspectors’ voice. “Brandt.”

“Last time you called me out, you were off like a hound after a squirrel.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Fact is, I was hoping to arrange some trucks to take away something that doesn’t seem to be here anymore. Huh. I wonder why she didn’t tell me.”

“She?”

Angel sighs. “Now, I’m doing it.”

Brandt grins at his new ally. “Oh Nadira. Mad as a March Hare, that one. You put any stock in her, do you?”

Angel is surprised by the police officer’s tone and looks at him. He surprises himself with his next words.

“Actually, yeah. I do.”

As the early morning sun rises over London, unseen on the quiet streets, two pixies once loyal to Corky are struggling to walk upright. They’re trying, without much success, to carry a crate of the magic-filled bottles to another location. They’ve seemingly moved the rest before Angel returned to the scene.

“Get a move on you lazy git.”

“Bloody thing’s too heavy for flying. I’d gotten used to winging it everywhere.”

“Just keep moving. We’re almost there. And this is the last one.”

One of the creatures sighs. He sees steps ahead. Another obstacle. To distract himself, he looks about, watching to see if he’s overheard by anyone else. “You think it’s true? About Corky?”

“Don’t know. But he’s gone, isn’t he? And the rest of the lads have scattered.”

Inside the property now, having managed to get up the steps and through the front door, they move through the lobby, heading for the stairs. “Maybe we should hoof it too. Magic Town’s not safe with Angel and that mad woman around.”

“Don’t be daft. We work for this new one now and she’s got power!”

Finally, they arrive at the top of the building, the furthest place from the bottom of the street. “We made it!”

His partner is relieved, dropping the crate to the ground with a shaky clink of glass. “Finally. My back’s breaking!”

The other pixie yells at him, tells him off. “Careful now! Break one open and who knows?”

There are other pixies around them, placing bottle after bottle, filled with magic, on shelves behind them.

Without warning, a white rodent jumps over the group, causing one to yell at his brothers. “Look out!”

The one who lugged the crate up the stairs stops a bottle from smashing, putting it back in place. He looks up in the shelves’ direction. “That was clumsy. Sorry about that.”

The rodent is gone. A woman talks back to the pixie now, placing a robe over her slender shoulders. “I hate being a rodent. But I need to keep an eye on Angel – and I don’t trust you little jerks to handle it.”

The pixie looks at her, bowing down, curtailing to the woman’s whims. “Old Angel won’t know what’s hit him, will he?” When he doesn’t get an answer, he addresses her by name.

“Amy?”

“That’s Ms. Madison to you, bite-size,” the former Sunnydale resident says, grinning evilly. Behind her the shelves are full.

“But you’ve got the right idea. There’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, and now, I have more then enough power to do it.”