Part Thirteen

Light of darkness shines in her eyes. She fears, not for herself, but for the loss of herself. Death does not frighten her, but surrender does. Pain is her ally, frienship her fear. She was born to fight but only in the absence of the fight can she help humanity and fight against the End of Days.

‹The Diary of Edward Radcliffe, 1838, on his vision of the Dark Lady

Angel

I died.

I remember what it was like, the first time. For one moment when Darla drained my blood, I died. Just for a split second before the blood once again flowed in my veins, but I have never forgotten it. No vampire ever does. We donıt talk about itŠbut we remember.

When we stepped into the Hellmouth, we died. Or I did anyway.

Itıs almost impossible to describe. Thereıs no physical place, but you donıt even notice. Itıs like your soul is the place, the entire universe. You know only yourself and you canıt even imagine anything else. At least, thatıs what it was like for me. Both times it was only for a moment, so what happens after that I cannot say. But for that momentŠ

I can describe all this, but it is impossible to really know what I mean without being there. Suffice it to say, for a moment I died.

And outsider intruded on my consciousness, and yet she wasnıt outside at all. She was part of me. I know I said that I was all and there was nothing else, and itıs a contradiction to say that Buffy was there as well, except that she was me and therefore there wasnıt anything else. She belonged in my soul. We were one.

Dead, of course, but together all the same.

I didnıt regret, or perhaps I didnıt know how to in that not-place. Regret is not an option when you donıt know anything outside of yourself. What is there to regret within your own mind?

Plenty.

And then, as quickly as the peace had come, it was gone again, vanished like smoke into the night sky. We stood, hand in hand still, in the Hall of Lost Souls where the Oracles may be found. But it wasnıt the Hall at all, for the edges blurred and shifted and beyond them the fires of Hell could be seen, licking the edges, waiting for a chance to consume us all.

I shivered. Not my favorite vacation spot.

We turned and they were there, all of them. Whole, healthy. Though Buffy looked perfectly fine and we had just died. We were probably still dead, even as we stood there.

Itıs a hard thing to comprehend, death. Far beyond the human consciousness. Or even the vampire.

Still, Doyle and Cordelia standing there, their eyes slightly anxious, their hands clenched together, was an amzing sight. A good sight.

Buffy made a little sound beside me and my hand tightened over hers.

"Hi guys," Xander said. "About time you showed up."

"Weıve been waiting," Giles said. "But Iıd hopedŠhow did you die?"

"We walked into Hell," Buffy said. "What do we do now?"

That was the question. Silence descended, smothering us and one of the walls flickered translucently, revealing horros beyond. The room, whatever it was, wouldnıt hold long.

And then someone answered.

Buffy

"You must join together," an unfamiliar voice said. From Ozıs mouth. I looked at him sharply and took a step back when another face flickered across his.

"Only then can you fight," another voice said. A strange womanıs face flickered scross Cordeliaıs, spoke, then dissapeared. Cordelia yelped and felt her face frantically.

"The Oracles," Angel said beside me.

"What Oracles?" I asked, watching the others warily. I wanted to throw myself into Gilesıs arms, to hug Willow and Xander and hell, even Faith. But what if it wasnıt really them? What if this were a trick?

What would it really matter? Weıd already died.

There are some things that once if definitely enough.

"Theyıre connected to the Powers That Be," Angel answered.

"What are they talking about?" Cordelia asked.

"Dinner?" Xander suggested. Cordelia gave him a withering stare.

"To fight the Lords, you must become One," the male Oracle said, appearing over Gilesı face. Xander shuddered.

"God thatıs freaky," he muttered.

"A Lord?" Willow asked, confused.

"No, one person," I said absently, somehow getting what he meant, though I canıt for the life of me say how. Itıs not like he was being super-clear or anythingŠIf this Oracle thing was really a "he" at allŠNow I was just confusng myselfŠ

"UhŠhowıs that gonna work?" Xander asked.

"Would you shut up?" Doyle demanded. Cordelia gave him a look. I rolled my eyes. Here we were dead, about to be consumed by the fires of Hell and they were squabbling. By the way Doyle and Cordelia held hands, I had this feeling that Doyle was jealous. Now if only Anya was hereŠthings would be really interesting.

"You must surrender yourselves to them," the Oracle said from Willow. Her eyes widened (once they were hers again).

Okay, I admit, it was really freaky. Not that the past week had been exactly normal.

I wanted to start crying, but I didnıt know if it was happiness that they were there, or pain that they werenıt really. That we were all dead.

How could we be dead? I felt like Iıd always felt. I didnıt feel dead.

"Woah, that doesnıt sound good," Faith said, shaking her head.

"Itıs the only way," the Oracle said, flickering across Xanderıs face.

"Would you stop that?" I snapped. Angelıs hand tightened on mine, trying to soothe me. But how can you soothe something like that. We were dead, and the people I loved werenıt them, or they were, but these Oracles‹

"H-how exactly are we supposed to do that?" Willow asked in a tiny, nervous voice. Oz moved closer to her, looking protective.

"Touch them," the voice said, moving too quickly for me to see whoıs mouth it spoke from. It was as if the thing was everywhere at once. "And let go."

We stood in silence. Somehow we all knew that by "them" they meant Angel and I. We were the ones that would have to fight.

"But weıve already lost," I whispered, looking up at Angel.

"Maybe not," he said softly, his eyes caressing my face. The room around us shuddered and I caught a glimpse of fire. Searing heat wrapped around us for a second, choked away the air and was gone before our skin could blister, before our hair could singe.

"All right," Xander said, taking a step forward. I realized that they were all ranged opposite us, only Angel and I were separate. I stepped towards Xander, releasing Angelıs hand. He smiled at me softly. "I always wanted to be a part of you," he said, and reached out to clasp my hand. Our fingers intertwined and then he was gone‹but he wasnıt, really. I could still feel him there, I could still see his smile and hear his voice. But he wasnıt standing there next to me. He was in me.

"Xander?" Willow said in a small voice.

"Heıs still here Will," I reassured her. Giles came up beside me.

"I wish you were truly my daughter Buffy. I love you as one," he said, when I turned to look into his eyes.

"You are my father Giles, in the ways that count," I replied. "Thank you for everything."

"Fight this," he said, "and win." And he touched my face and was gone, and not-gone. I swallowed and licked my lips, turning back to Angel. He walked up beside me.

"Ah Hell man, Iım just along for the ride anyway," Doyle said, walking up and clapsing Angelıs hand. He vanished. Cordelia made a little sound.

"If he can do it I can do it," she said firmly, walking right up to Angel. "But you better get us through this!" He smiled slightly and touched her hand. Cordy was gone. Oz kissed Willow softly.

"I love you," he said. Angelıs hand found mine. They two of them walked forward. Willows hand found mine and she gave a tiny sweet smile before she dissapeared. Oz shook Angelıs hand and was gone. We turned to stare at Spike and Faith.

"No way," Faith said, taking a step backward. "There is no fucking way." Spike watched her and then shook his head.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, walking up to Angel. "This doesnıt mean I like you. Either of you."

"Right Spike," I said softly. Angel and Spike shared a long look, sire to childe, and then Spike was gone. We both turned to look at Faith.

"Iım not surrending myself to anyone!" she yelled.

Anyone, the hall echoed back. Anyone, anyone.

Faith

"Faith, you donıt have a choice!" Buffy snapped. "You think I want to fight whatever this thing is?"

Did she think I gave a crap whether she wanted to fight it?

"Well then let me fight it! But Iım not giving myself up to anyone. I can take care of myself!" I exclaimed. "Being dead isnıt bad enough, I have to surrender myself to some little wimp who canıt even get up the nerve to kill me!"

B went white and shut up. Which was kind of what I was going for.

Fire licked in through one of the walls. Time was obviously running out. But I couldnıt let go. I couldnıt. A long time ago, when my mom started drinking, I realized that I was all I had. A couple of times I let myself be lulled into thinking someone else cared, but they never really did. Or even so, it didnıt matter. No one ever stuck around long enough to show it. My Watcher died. I realized again, I was all I had. Buffy acted like a friend, but she never really was. She never really told me things. I was all I had.

And thereıs no way in Hell Iım ever giving myself up.

Of course, we were in Hell.

"Please Faith," Buffy said quietly. My head jerked up and I looked at her. "Please. We canıt do it without you. Weıll all die. The world will end. Iım strong, but Iım not strong enough. Please."

God damn me, I couldnıt help it. I let myself think, for a minute, maybe she did care.

One freaking minute too many.

I stepped forward and let my fingers touch hers, and let myself go. And then I was gone, and the Hall dropped away, leaving us in Hell.

Part Fourteen

The First Rule of Life is Balance. For every joy there is pain. For every light there is darkness. One cannot exist without the other. Every creature on this earth has measures of both. To reach Enlightenment, one must first realize this. The Path however, is not that simple. There are always exceptions to every rule. One will be born who exists only in the Light, for their path is to be the balance, the hold back the Dark.

The birth of this One shall presage the coming of the greatest Dark ever seen to man. And before the One can triumph, they too much learn the First Rule.

‹The Seven Rules of Life by Míng-Hóa, 342 A.D.

Buffy

I was scared. I was frightened out of my mind.

I was kind of hoping I wasnıt in my right mind. Better crazy than standing in Hell facing a sixty foot monster with a sword, right?

Come to think of it, Iım a little confused as to where the sword came from. But Angel had one too, which wasŠa plus.

Hell was pretty much exactly what youıd think itıd be like. Fire and brimstone and all that. Except more of the fire than is possible to imagine when not actually standing in it. Which I was. Not a comforting place to be. The fire never touched us, really, but the heatŠit was like being smothered to death, but instead of just not getting air when you took a breath, it was like breathing in fire. The heat would race through your throat, scorch out your insidesŠI felt like I was being baked from the inside. And outside.

Good thing Angel doesnıt feel hot and cold, or weıd both be staggering. This way, it was just me.

Oh, thereıs a comforting thought.

"Buffy, donıt think about the heat," Angel told me. "Itıs in your mind. Hell isnıt a place, itıs a thought."

"What?!" I demanded, not in the mood for philosophy.

"We are where we believe we are!" he yelled over the roar of the fire.

I believed I was being burned alive.

"Oh Hell," I muttered and closed my eyes and thought very hard about being somewhere else. Anywhere else. About being cold.

Snow materialized around us. I swore. "I didnıt mean that cold!"

"Well itıs not supposed to be a fun place to be," Angel reminded me. "It is Hell." I shivered.

"Thanks for the warning," I snapped. I looked up at the monster that was, by the way, still right there, and laughing. "Can we just fight now?"

"Not here," Angel said, twining his fingers with mine. "This has to be more even."

We were in a room. It wasnıt really a room, because there werenıt any walls. It was more of this long white plain. It wasnıt hot. It wasnıt cold. The monster was still there.

"We just fight it?" I asked. "This is the Lord of Hell?"

The thing laughed. There is no sound as evil as that laugh. I can still hear itŠIt takes all the dead, the decaying, the pain, the horror in the worldŠAnd makes it into sound.

I fell to my knees beneath the onslaught, and when I looked back up the monster was gone. A man stood there instead, looking perfectly normal. Just any man you would see on the street. Except his eyes. His eyes burned.

"Voila," he said, his voice rasping of things better unknown. "Here I am."

"This is a physical embodiment of one of them," Angel told me, pulling me up to my feet. I stood, unable to look away from the terror of those eyes.

"Wrong," the thing laughed. "Iım all of them."

And he was.

He was all around us, copies of the same thing, the same man, maybe twenty of them. They spoke together. "I am Darkness. I am Pain. I am the End. And you are going to die."

I hate it when they tell me that. I lifted my sword in readiness.

"Wrong," I said softly. "I am the Beginning."

Angel

We werenıt fighting the physical men surrounding us. We were, but much more importantly, was the mental fight, the emotional fight. Which became immediately apparent when we were able to beat back twenty men with two swords.

That was the high point of the fight. From there, things started to go down.

Hell, Iıd been taught by Darla, was the physical embodiment of your nightmares. But you controlled your nightmares, and if you could see the truth, you could change it.

Seeing it was the hard part.

I spent three hundred years in Hell, and I never saw the truth, even knowing it. I never believed. But with Buffy beside me, I did. Together we could see the truth.

Divided, we fell.

I was alone, with the Lord of Hell, or all of them, if he was telling the truth. I knew Buffy was beside me, I knew it with all my soulŠbut not enough apparently. I began to doubt.

"What? Youıre just going to stand there?" he taunted. I raised my sword.

"Try me," I answered, darkness against his darkness. He lunged forward and our swords clashed. I staggered, though the physical blow wasnıt a hard one. As our swords met, so did we, and the vastness of that evil is enough to fell many a greater man.

‹Donıt you dare give up now!‹ Cordeliaıs voice sounded inside my mind. I steadied myself and my sword lashed out, snaking around his. He twisted away and I followed, the sword alive in my hand, a living tool of light, to drive away the darkness. Every thrust, every lunge every cut was countered by one of his own. Every good memory I had was countered by one of pain, one of darkness. The one man became many and I slahes at them all, my sword here to block a cut, there to thrust into a stomach that vanished along with itıs owner the second my sword touched it. I disarmed two and kicked out behind me, sending one flying backwards just before ducking beneath another slash. I rolled and thrust upwards as I stood, catching an apparition on the steel. It vanished and another appeared behind me.

"You can never win," they laughed. "You cannot kill us. We are Darkness. We are Despair. We are Death."

"Iım immortal," I replied, and skewered one of them through.

‹Atta boy,‹ Spike prompted. ‹Give Œem Hell.‹

‹They are Hell,‹ Doyle replied.

"Shut up," I said, and spun around, slashing one in the face and ducking beneath a thrust.

They began to laugh. Terror followed the sound as night follows day, the natural consequence. "Itıs no use fighting," that terrible voice purred, and they all dissapeared. I spun, my sword up, and saw nothing.

"Fight me!" I growled.

"I donıt have to," it laughed from the air around me. "Your little loverıs already lost the battle."

The world collapsed in on me and I screamed. "BUFFY!"

Faith

B did pretty good at first. I mean, sheıs definitely got the sword moves down. It was weird being in her like that. I could see out of her eyes, and feel what she was doing, but I couldnıt control it.

I hate that.

I could even feel some of what she was feeling. I rooted for her when she beckoned them to the fight. I thought maybe sheıd chicken out, yı know? But not B. She asked for it.

And then she got it. Which wasnıt very good.

When Angel dissapeared, she freaked for a second. One minute he was there, and the next he was gone. She rolled to her feet after ducking a swing and‹he wasnıt there. Just a whole heck of a lot of guys with swords. Guys that all looked the same.

Wicked freaky.

She got back into it though, didnıt let it wig her out too much. One of them knocked her sword away, but she punched the guy and kept fighting. She ducked under another sword, then grabbed the next one to thrust at her and turned it on the guy holding it. She kicked another one twice and sent him flying, then dived for her sword.

It was gone when she got there. So were all the guys except for one. "Looking for this?" he asked in a drawl.

"You want to give it back?" B asked, standing up and turning to look at him.

"You want to take it?" he asked. She cocked her head for a minute.

"Yeah," she said. "Okay." She jump-kicked him, then spun when she landed and kicked his legs out from under him. He hit her in the knees and she went down. He kicked her and stood up. She grabbed his arms and twisted, flipping him down and grabbed the sword, then stood on his chest, glaring down at him. He smiled up at her, as if he wasnıt about to be headless.

God, that smileŠWell, Iıve seen some bad things in my time but thatŠ

And then they came, like killer waves, except made of terror instead of water. Memories, feelings, assaulting us. Mostly B. I could feel them, but kind of removed. Still, it wasnıt exactly pleasant.

It was worse than you think, whatever you imagine it to be like. It was way worse. It was all those things you think could never happen to you, all rolled into one. It was the memories of young mother watching their children butchered, of women being brutally raped, of a baby starving to death. It was a man in a war, watching his friends die. It was a man in a war killing, losing his soul with each child he blew to bits. It was despair and fear and hopelessness and evil, terror and death and pain.

It was Angelus, smiling at B. It was thrusting a sword into your loverıs heart. It was dying at sixteen.

It was worse than you think.

Buffy staggered back as if she was physically punched, though the guy didnıt touch her. She dropped the sword, and then dropped to her knees, unable to cry or move or think beneath the horror assaulting her without pause.

Slowly, leisurely, he stood up and walked over. A sword materialized in his hands and he smiled, standing over her with that evil grin as she convulsed in terror before him.

"I told you," he whispered. "This is what I am." He lifted the sword.

Iıve never been a religious person. But I decided it was time to pray.

Buffy

I was screaming, but you couldnıt hear it. It was inside. It wasŠimpossible to describe. I wanted to die, or surrender or anything to make it stop. To make it go away.

But it doesnıt go away. Thatıs what Iıve learned. The Darkness is always there.

Luckily, thatıs not all Iıve learned.

I heard him scream my name. That was the first thing I heard since it started, since the pain came. I heard Angel scream my name. And then Xander, and Willow and Giles and Faith. They were calling me.

The horror continued unabated.

‹You have to fight!‹ Xanderıs voice said beside me, in my mind.

‹You canıt fight this,‹ I thought, and knew he heard.

‹Yes,‹ Faith said, ‹you can.‹

I saw myself, through Xanderıs eyes. Strong and beautiful, smiling brightly and laughing at him. I saw summer days eating ice cream with Willow and I, childhood games with Jesse. I saw Cordelia in her prom dress, and Anya in her bunny suit. Laughter and bad jokes and love filled me.

I saw Xander with a barbie and all of us in the library. Oz playing guitar, the Bronze pulsing with music and romance. Myself again, fighting, Ms. Calendar smiling, people Iıd never met who still made me feel warm inside. A woman with dark hair braiding a little girlıs hair, a park, and me, out on patrol. Playing Anywhere But Here, goofing off in the halls, patrolling at night. Sleepovers and movie nights and pumpkin carving. And from my own mind, I found winning an award, saving a life, lying in Angelıs arms.

But still, the Dark came. And it wasnıt enough. There were good memories, yes, but for every good there were ten bad. The pain never ended. It was overwhelming. I knew I had lost.

And then I heard Angel again.

‹Think of the good things, Buffy. Think of happiness,‹ he urged me. I almost laughed. This coming from him?

I couldnıt think, I couldnıt feel. I could only despair.

‹Buffy, remember when you came to see me? There was more. There was a day together, lost. I was human and I loved you. You have to remember.‹

I couldnıt think. But I could heard his voice. I clung to it, a life line through the sea of pain I was drowning in.

‹Buffy, I love you,‹ he whispered into my soul.

I remembered. I remembered Angel walking into the sun, his lips on mine. I remembered going to sleep with him, making love to him, eating chocolate and peanut butter in his bed. I remember planning futures in my mind, dreaming of sleeping in his arms and waking to find I really was.

Maybe I would never have that again. But I wasnıt going to let someone destroy a world where happiness like that was possible, even if it was only for other people.

"And I told you before," I said softly, looking up to meet his eyes. "This is what I am."

Before he could move my hand tightened on the sword and I surged upward, driving it through his heart. Those dark, terrible eyes widened, and he lookedŠsurprised for a minute. And then he was gone. And everything went white.

Go to Part 15