Ahhh! Sorry for the lack of updating! I love this story and I love you guys, but I can barely find the time to update anymore, my new Dollhouse and Firefly fanfics claiming most of my time, so sorry, sorry, sorry! Anyways hope you like this chapter! BTW, on a side note, I was watching Supernatural - awesome programme that - Season 1, the episode Faith, and who should I see guest starring, Julie Benz! I practically screamed the house down.

DISCLAIMER: I’ve been writing this for what, 48 chapters and I still don’t own a thing, it all belongs to Joss.

Life of the Party Part 8

“What now?!” Angel demanded, in an irritated tone, the doors to his office bursting open once more, this causing him and Darla to once again break apart from their hungry kissing, the passion of their embrace still clinging to the air despite their momentary separation.

The brooding vampire started when he inclined his head enough to see just who the intruder was, the infuriated tenor his voice had taken on when he had first addressed him not helping the situation, especially when one considered how the being already felt about him. “Archduke Sebassis,” Lorne acknowledged him, when the words became lodged in Angel’s throat, the Pylean, leaping to his feet, bowing his head slightly in a mark of respect, his mind reeling as the determined expression Sebassis wore indicated that this visit was not to congratulate them on a fantastic party.

The demonic ruler ignored the empathy demon, instead focusing his attention on the vampire he had classed as an adversary long before their first meeting, “Vampire,” he spat scathingly, “with a soul,” he added, hatred lacing each of his words, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

His gaze fell on Darla, a distasteful smirk adorning his ghostly white face, “You’re sire, vampire?” His nostrils flared as he snorted sardonically at the very idea, “the one the Master held so dear? Human. Pure. How the mighty hath fallen.”

“Just you wait,” Darla growled softly, her hands clenching into fists, “and you’ll see just how the ‘mighty’ will fall, Sebassis.” She added with a sickly sweet smile, the demonic sovereign frowning at her insolence.

Motioning inconspicuously to one of his guards, he watched with anticipation as his ruthless sentinel advanced with inhumane speed, a heavy, powerful fist launching itself at Darla, it punishment for her disrespect, only to have the seemingly weak human woman catch it inches from her face, she twisting it around until she heard the satisfactory snap of his wrist, signifying that she had broken it. Angel, Lorne and even Spike who had paused in his admiration of the window pane to watch the unfolding scene gasped in genuine shock, each gazing at her in questioning.

“Oh, didn’t I mention that the PTB allowed me vampire strength,” she said with false innocence, relishing their surprised stares and the injured demon’s pained moans.

“Seize her,” Sebassis demanded, and immediately two of his guards advanced, grasping Darla and holding her in their iron grip, he walking forward, one white eyebrow, it near invisible against his skin, raised in mild interest.

“A child of the Powers That Be,” Sebassis snorted, Darla holding his stare relentlessly, refusing to be intimidated.

“One with fire,” she corrected, grinning victoriously despite the situation.

“Still she cannot help you, vampire,” the demon sneered, leering down at Angel, who allowed his gaze to flicker from his sire to his opposition, “Get dressed, half-breed, and prepare yourself… for your execution.” He finished on an air of triumph.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Lorne interjected, unable to just stand by quietly at this turn of events, “on what charges.”

“The murder of my manservant and no doubt countless other demons,” Sebassis retorted, glaring at the green-skinned demon before him, yet another lesser being who dared to show insolence in his presence, “Bring him out when he’s clothed,” he instructed two more of his terrifying sentinels.

And with that he had swept out of the room, allowing no protests to tarnish his accusations, however false they were.

***

Angel was forced out into the main foyer of Wolfram and Hart, the music having died down and the guests pressed against the walls, fear shining in some of their eyes, victory and anticipation glinting in others – the majority of which belonging to enemies of the ensouled vampire. Two sharp blows collided with the backs of his knees, the pain penetrating even his vampiric body, his knees buckling beneath him, making him kneel degradingly before Sebassis. A heavy silver battleaxe was passed to the sovereign, he running a long-nailed finger along the blade lovingly.

Gripping it tightly, he prepared to slice it through Angel’s neck, decapitating him, the brooding vampire’s senses heightened even more so than usual as he thought these to be his last true moments of existence. Surprisingly, his main regret was not that he had not yet achieved redemption and therefore his Shanshu, in fact his major sorrow was that he didn’t get the chance to tell his friends just how brilliant they were and how much they had changed his life, he didn’t get to see Cordelia wake up from her coma and tell her how he felt and he didn’t get to tell Darla… But, he reminded himself, she already knew what he desired to say to her in his seemingly final seconds.

The battleaxe was raised slightly in the air, even its minute movements one of deadly grace; Angel preparing himself for the inevitable end, when suddenly screams reverberated about the lobby. From the overhanging balcony, the body of a relatively benign demon was thrown, he crashing into the snack table with frightening force, chips and cheese cubes flying in every direction. The demon shuddered slightly, before it lay motionless atop the table, it undeniably dead.

Glances scoured the lobby as following the incident, deep, rumbling footsteps echoed throughout the foyer, Darla sneered at her seemingly formidable captors, they’re restraint on her loosing slightly as their attentions were claimed by the oncoming foe.

“It’s coming,” she hissed darkly.

***

Wesley flicked casually through a ring binder file he had found associated with the removal of Lorne’s sleep, he blissfully unaware of the fear instilled in the party guests below. Fred was twirling around on the spot drunkenly, trying to determine just how dizzy she would have to be to throw up, both of them seeming to have forgotten, or at least buried in their minds, their previous moment of intimacy.

As he absentmindedly skimmed an entry in the record, he felt a strangled gasp escape his lips as he read something that was most disturbing, “What?” Fred asked as she stopped spinning and waited for the room to do the same.

“It appears,” Wesley swallowed, “that when an empathy demon gets his sleep removed, all his subconsciousness can physically manifest… into something…” he trailed off, raising his eyebrows meaningfully at his female companion.

“Manifest, ma – ni – fest,” Fred giggled, her intoxicated mind failing to grasp the seriousness of the situation at first, as she toyed with the word before shrugging her slender shoulders, “Nope, not that funny… Wait, does that mean, Angel an’ all are in danger?!” She whispered, leaning in close, their faces inches apart.

Wesley gulped.

***

As the rumbling grew nearer, the sentinels’ grip on Darla gradually got looser, they not seeing her as much of a threat anymore that is until finally she saw her chance. Elbowing one in the face, she synchronized it with a kick to the other’s abdomen, their skin appearing to be fashioned of some granite-like material, yet she felt no painful reverberation from her attack. The former of the two seemed to recover from his injury quicker than the latter, he barrelling forward, arms outstretched as he prepared to grab her, though she kneeing him in the groin before he could proceed any further, he falling to the floor in pain. The second narrowed his eyes at the petite blonde, as she curled her hand into a fist and punched her adversary with all of her old vampiric strength behind it, the force of the blow smashing his nose, the green blood that flowed from it staining the chalky white skin of his face. Clutching his nose, he cursed her in his native tongue, retreating from a battle clearly lost.

Beaming with false sweetness, she strode determinedly towards her childe, who like the others was gazing at the balcony from which the rumbling was originating from, this disappointing her slightly as no one had seen her, in her opinion, amazing opposition against Sebassis’ guards, well, except, the masked man in the shadows beside Eve, who she knew to be Lindsey. She shuddered at the thought of him watching her.

Sliding her hand into Angel’s, she helped him up, he so preoccupied by the intrusion he had forgotten to resign from his kneeling stance before Sebassis. Angel allowed his brown eyed gaze to flicker down to Darla, they still clasping each other’s hands, “What’s coming?” he whispered, the rumbling now deafening, indicating its closeness, the screams louder as the few remaining people on the balcony saw exactly what they were facing.

“You’ll see,” she grinned, as a large figure came into view, though as it was still shrouded in shadows the finer details were indistinguishable.

Leaping over the railings the figure jumped into the main foyer and into the artificial lighting, the floor shaking violently under its titanic weight, “That is one bitchin’ big suit,” Spike gasped, beaming broadly, Lorne’s spell not allowing him to experience any other emotion but delight at the situation.

Angel shot a shocked glance at Darla, who merely smiled, as standing before them they saw quite plainly the large rumbling figure had taken the shape of… Lorne.

Woop, Darla kicks ass. I just thought it was time she got SOME action, (other than the sexual kind) and I’ve been writing so many fight scenes for Dollhouse that I *think* I’m getting better. So tell me what did you think of that chapter? Please review! Love you guys so much! Until next time!

P.S. the bit where Sebassis discovers the slaughter manservant is added on to the end of chapter 46.