Chapter Twelve

She had woken up surprisingly relaxed late that morning. After a satisfyingly huge breakfast, armed with a note from her mother as to why Buffy was late for school that day, she made her way to her second period class. After a longer then expected pit stop at Snyder's office to deposit said note she was finally ready to face the day.

"Buffy!" Willow cried with artificial joviality from her seat by the snack machine, "look Xander, it's Buffy. Isn't it great to see Buffy?"

"Hey, Buff," Xander sounded as glib as usual, but to Buffy's attuned senses the thin note of tension in his voice was glaringly obvious. "You missed out on everything you never wanted to know about the insides of frogs and other fun filled facts this morning, you lucky dog you. Where've you been?"

She shrugged casually, maybe they'd just be able to gloss over what happened last night. After all, what was one more elephant in the room? One look at Willow's disapproving expression, though, said she'd have none of that. "Mom let me sleep in this morning, but I would've managed to get to science class on time if Snyder hadn't shot off at the mouth for so long. He even started to recycle threats and insults, I think he called me a degenerate miscreant at least twice, and I'm pretty sure he mentioned suspension more then once."

"Buffy," Willow started off, a scowl had begun to form on her pretty face.

"Is it just me or does that guy look more and more like a ghoul every day?" Xander asked, neatly deflecting Willow's pure intentions. Buffy sighed with relief, Xander didn't feel like talking about last night any more than she did. "Maybe you should ask Giles's permission to slay him? We don't want evil walking around free to do as it pleases, do we?" The usual merry twinkle in the boy's eyes was marred. By guilt, Buffy wondered, or was it accusation still?

"Xander!" Willow's scowl had matured into a full-fledged frown, which was now focused entirely on the innocent-eyed boy beside her.

"You could always ask him " Buffy replied blandly, "get him to look at you disapprovingly. He likes that. So, Will," Buffy went on quickly as the pretty redhead's eyes slowly narrowed to glare at her dangerously, "how's Oz doing?"

"He'll be fine, thanks," Willow replied from between clenched teeth. "He's got the wolf's surprise appearance thing to work on, but Giles is looking into that. Other then that we still need to hammer some things out," Buffy swallowed hard at her friend's choice of words, an angry Willow was not a pleasant Willow. "But I think we're going to be okay once we've talked," she looked at her two friends pointedly. Buffy was innocently examining her nails and Xander had bent down to take a closer look at his shoelace. "That's it!" Willow fumed, they both stared at her innocently. "You two need to talk, now!"

Buffy rose to her feet, "look, Will, I got to get my notes before third period, so maybe we could do the talking thing later?" Why did Willow insist on rehashing this delicate issue? So what if there was an elephant in the room? They could just tuck it neatly under the hideous carpeting and no one would be wiser. They didn't have to work on all their problems, did they?

"You, sit!" Willow commanded, her resolve face firmly in place. With a dejected groan Buffy obeyed, Xander concealed his smirk under a well-placed hand. "And you," she pointed at Xander, whose smirk suddenly evaporated, "are going to apologize for what you said last night." Her tone lightened slightly, but was still commanding. "You are going to work this through," she informed them, "I'm not going to let you two walk around like this. Now remember people, use 'I' statements only; 'I feel', 'I think'. And we communicate with our mouths, not with our hands," this was directed at Buffy whose face flushed slightly. Was all this really necessary? But Willow's eyes were pleading and her expression seemed to say 'no matter what he says don't hit him, you're bigger then he is'. The pretty redhead turned to leave, "you may talk now," she informed them as she strode proudly away.
 
Her two slack-jawed friends watched her go, then couldn't help but chuckle, "she would have made a great kindergarten teacher," Xander said.

"I was sort of thinking tyrant."

The boy frowned in thought, "mine was really both," he said. "She ruled that playground with an iron fist." They both laughed shortly, politely, after which an uncomfortable silence prevailed. "Buffy," Xander started quietly, awkwardly, "last night, after I finally got around to calm down and get at that huge foot I had lodged in my mouth, I realized just what I'd said to you." He shook his head guiltily, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said those things, I shouldn't have blamed you for what Angel did. We all knew the risks when we set him free."

"You were upset," Buffy interjected. Her friend was obviously suffering for this, he was sorry, she was sorry, they could just let it go at that. "It's okay, I know you didn't mean it."

A pair of serious brown eyes lifted to look at her and Buffy miserably realized they were not going to let it go at that. "See, that's the thing, I did mean it. Not the blaming you part," he added hurriedly.

"The Angel must die part," she said softly. So Xander hated Angel, that wasn't new. Then why did her shattered heart ache so much? "Look, Xander," she said intensely, then lowered her voice to a harsh whisper as students passing by began to stare, "you don't know everything, you can't understand everything that's going on with him."

"What don't I understand?" There was an aching bitterness in his voice, but no accusation. He didn't lie when he said he didn't blame her. "That he came out of hell torn apart? That he's being manipulated by some nasty force that's healed him and done God knows what else to him? That he knows the only reason we got him out of hell in the first place is to save our asses from aforementioned nasty force? Oh I understand, I understand that he's got so much pressure coming at him from so many angles he's flying apart at the seems. Trust me, I understand perfectly."

Buffy's jaw dropped, when did Xander become Mister Perceptive? "Then why," she began.

"That's exactly why," he hissed back. "He's going out of his mind with the pressure and so far he's vented it on Willow and some kids back at the Bronze, but who knows what he's capable of? Buffy, he has no place in this world anymore, he's insane and he hurts people. That's why."

Buffy shuddered despite herself as she found herself missing her immature, obstinate and witty friend. This new, serious Xander was disconcerting. "He's supposed to save the world," she said softly, lamely.

"Only nobody has any idea how, and so far he's doing a pretty nifty job of just the opposite," Xander countered. He sighed wearily, suddenly looking like a man much older then his tender age of seventeen, "look Buffy, I've given this a lot of thought, all last night actually."

"And what have you come up with?"

"Nothing," he admitted. "It's a catch twenty-two, if we kill him the world ends, if we let him live he could end the world all by himself. The only solution is getting him under control, stabilize him somehow," he shrugged and Buffy winced internally. Too late for that, she thought morbidly. "Maybe we should get him a therapist." He grinned and suddenly he was back to being immature old Xander, "you think we could find one that specializes in recently released from hell undead?"

"I'll look it up in the yellow pages," she replied dryly. "Are we okay, Xander?" She asked, her heart in her voice.

He gave her a glowing smile, and she breathed her relief, Xander was never one to hold grudges, not towards the living, anyway. "I'm your bosom buddy," he chortled, then looked her over suggestively, "I'm buddy to your bosom. Ouch!" He cried out as she elbowed him none too delicately.

"Hey, I said words people," Willow chastised them from across the hall. Had she been eavesdropping? Buffy couldn't help but wonder, Willow's face was innocent as always, though. She looked around at the empty hallways and gave Buffy a guilty look, "looks like you're missing third period as well. We might as well go hide out in the library before Snyder gives you a rerun of his recycled threats."

"Don't forget the insults," Buffy reminded her, "he wouldn't by the Snyder we all know and try to avoid without the insults. It's okay, Will, I wanted to see Giles this morning anyway. See if he's made any progress on the Cirta Angel thing yet."

Willow nodded as they all walked together towards the library, "oh, I almost forgot, I checked out that plague thing for you last night," she said.

"Ebola's in again?" Xander joked. "Why didn't anyone tell me? See now I have to take my bacteria proof suit to the dry cleaners, and it's always ages before they return that thing."

They ignored him. "Thing is," Willow continued, "it wasn't a plague." She swallowed hard and Buffy felt the familiar tightening in her gut. Something was very wrong. "It was Angelus," Willow finally blurted out, "him and his clan. They killed over three hundred people in one night."

The knot at the pit of her stomach grew instantly into a fist, and she felt the gall rising in her throat, "Angel?" She managed to say weakly, "are you sure?" Her stomach was churning insanely and she felt like she was about to vomit.

The pretty hacker nodded slowly, her face mirroring her concern at the Slayer's reaction. "I checked it several times, give or take a century either way, that was the only time a large number of Watchers died at about the same time." She gave her friend a puzzled look, "this happened a long time ago, Buffy. This was Angelus not Angel, he's changed since then."

"More then once," Xander muttered quietly to himself. "Say Buff, you're looking kind of green there, are you okay?"

Oh God, he'd lied to her! She shook her head slightly, but even that small motion was enough to send her nausea raging, "h-how?" She croaked.

Willow had stopped walking and was staring at her friend with worried eyes, "burning, biting, running people through with pointy things, I don't know, this happened nearly a hundred years ago! Buffy what's going on?"

"Oh God!" She managed before clasping her hand to her mouth and trotting off towards the bathroom.

Willow gave her one startled look and started after her, "go to the library," she told Xander. "Don't tell Giles," she added as an afterthought.

Willow was greeted by the uninviting sounds of retching as she stepped into the girl's bathroom. Gently she held Buffy's hair back as the Slayer surrendered to another fit. "Oh God, Will," Buffy panted.

"Wash your face," Willow instructed as she turned on a faucet, "breath."

Dazedly Buffy obeyed, she splashed cold water on her face and took several deep breaths, but that did little to calm the storm that was crashing through her. "I've made a mistake, Will," tears began flowing freely down her face. "I've made a horrible mistake and now I've lost him for nothing."

"Who have you lost?" Willow asked gently, but the Slayer was lost in a hell all her own.

"He lied to me, and I was stupid enough to believe it and now I've lost him," Buffy leaned on the sink, her arms trembling and suddenly Willow feared she would fall over, just topple to the floor and loose herself to her inner demons.

"Buffy," she said gently, her arms embracing the Slayer's slender shoulders. It was a comforting gesture, soft and light, but ready to catch the tiny Slayer should she fall. "Who lied to you?" She hoped the compassion in her voice didn't fall on deaf ears. "Who did you loose?"

"Angel," Buffy moaned, and for a moment Willow wasn't sure to which question the Slayer had answered. "I l-lied to him," she sniffed loudly, "I t-told him t-that I didn't l-love him anymore."

Willow's jaw dropped, "why did you do that?" She asked, straining to keep the shock out of her voice. This only brought on a fresh bout of tears forcing the hacker to ignore her own needs. She hugged her friend, rocking her, soothing her as her emotions raged on.

Finally the storm subsided, "I can't tell you, Will," Buffy whispered, her eyes pleading her friend to bear with her. Even if the plague part was a lie she was fairly sure that some of what Gerrico said was true, and if it was she owed Giles the effort of finding out before she confessed everything.

The two girls stood there watching each other, one silently pleading holding her breath in anticipation, the other thinking quietly to herself. There was a secret between them now, an impregnable wall that pushed them away from each other, put a strain on their friendship. Willow could refuse, they both knew, she could go to Giles with what was obviously important information and together they could get the truth out of her. Willow shook her head as she made her decision, their friendship meant more then that, it meant trust. "What now?" She asked, putting herself in Buffy's hands.

Buffy let out an explosive sigh of relief, "now we have to do this without Angel," she replied. Her voice was still shaky, but it was returning to its normal self.

"Like they did before," Willow said slowly, understanding dawning. Buffy nodded and they smiled at each other hesitantly, Buffy through her tears, Willow through her hesitation. Their friendship had suffered some blows but had survived, now they both moved warily. Willow sighed and tossed a lock of coppery hair behind one shoulder. "I guess it's research time."

Buffy's smile widened, "like that's not your favorite time."

"We all shine where we can," Willow replied piously, "not all of us can kill demons with our bare hands, some of us have to do it with aerodynamic pencils." They both laughed, relief washing over them, cleansing them.

"What do we tell Giles?" Buffy asked, turning serious again. How were they going to explain this change of heart without dealing with all the questions?

Willow shrugged, "we tell him we're looking at alternatives. We'll call it plan B."

Buffy let out a half hysterical giggle, which she could barely put a stop to as the worry in Willow's eyes registered. "And plan A is what exactly?"

Willow shrugged again, "we let him figure it out, he's been struggling with it for over a week. I should think he'd be happy for some alternatives just about now." She looked at her friend critically, "he'll never believe that everything's alright if you step out of this bathroom looking like this, though." She handed her friend a tissue as Buffy went to work on the war zone that was her face.

Buffy slammed her book shut with disgust, "sorry guys," she murmured quietly as her friends jumped at the sound. They each gave her their own personal version of a disgruntled look and went back to their reading. Buffy sighed miserably to herself, they'd been at it for several hours and other then the sketchy details they already knew there was nothing new about Cirta and the curse that had locked her up in the first place. At least Giles hadn't put up a fight when the two girls told him of their idea, he even seemed slightly relieved. Was it because this way Angel wouldn't have to be involved? Buffy couldn't help wonder, or was not finding any new information on how Angel was supposed to destroy Cirta that was finally getting to him? Either way after only the fewest of questions he sat down to help.

Xander was another matter, however. He had listened quietly as the two girls explained themselves and had then watched with growing consternation as they each did their best to avoid him. Finally he managed to corner Buffy in the stacks as she was looking for more relevant books between the dusty tomes. "All right," he had asked irritably, "what's with the 'we've got no one to depend on but ourselves' attitude, little Miss Lone Ranger?"

She looked up at him innocently from the books she was examining, "what do you mean?"

He looked down at her pointedly, "let's see. First you're all 'Angel's got to save the world and we've got to figure out how he's going to do it'." He mimicked the last in a high pitched voice, purposely ignoring the way Buffy's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Now you've got us looking for ways of destroying this Cirta chick without involving dead-boy. And, oh yeah, you manage to turn an interesting shade of green in between. Not your best color, by the way."

"Thanks," she said dryly, "I'll keep that in mind. Look," she said as she lifted the impressive pile of books she managed to collect, "you said it yourself, it's a catch twenty two. Damned if we do and damned if we don't. Can't eat the cake and leave it whole. A bird in the..."

"Yeah, okay. Enough with the cliches already."

She gave him an impudent grin, "point is we've got to look at our options. All of them, okay?"

"Okay," he muttered, still not entirely convinced. "Say, little lady," he said blithely, attempting to lighten the mood, "can I give you a hand with that," he motioned at the pile of books she carried.

Her eyebrows lifted questioningly, but she decided to play along. "Why thank you, kind sir," she drawled, depositing her entire load into his arms. She suppressed a laugh as he nearly toppled under the weight, "speaking of complexions," she said as she turned to leave, "that shade of chalk-white," she shook her head in mock seriousness, "not your best color."

Buffy shook her head ruefully, things had seemed hopeful then, but now, several dozens of books and a great deal of dust later, she felt like throwing in the towel. The problem was most relevant books seemed to know what they were talking about, but after the first few enticing paragraphs explaining why the humans and lesser demons came together to defeat the Evil One, they generally degenerated into absolute gibberish. Several went so far as to mention the curse, but none could offer any details. Frustration was a bitterly tangible thing as she peered across the growing pile of discarded books.

At least Oz and Cordelia had joined them at some point. While a soft smile and a gentle kiss had greeted Oz, a very eager Xander ushered Cordelia, after several long moments of pretending to read a dusty book, up into the stacks. But to be fair, Buffy admitted grudgingly to herself, they had returned to the books not long after, Xander with his hair mussed and a silly grin welded to his face. Cordelia, as perfect as always with a challenging, almost defiant look in her eyes. Well, Buffy thought, whatever worked for them.

"Ooh, I think I found something!" Cordelia suddenly announced. Five pairs of tired eyes waited expectantly. "Yep, I definitely found something," she went on without lifting her eyes from her book. "It has everything about the curse in here," her voice almost bounced with excitement. "It even tells how, oh. Oh!"

"What is it, Cordelia?" Giles asked as he reached to take the book from the suddenly pallid girl.

"Oh no," Cordelia murmured as the Watcher began to read quietly to himself. She stared at her friends, her eyes wide and more terrified then Buffy had ever seen them, "we can't do this!" She choked, "this is not a plan B. Plan B involves living to tell all about how plan A wouldn't do what it was supposed to. This plan B won't work that way." She gestured wildly at the book the librarian was trying to read, "i-it has a lot of very bad things to say about plan B. I really think we should be sticking to plan A, just gloss right over plan B. We'd be happier that way, and with a much stronger pulse, believe me."

Giles looked at the book in his hands with wonder, "I didn't even know I had this," he murmured wonderingly to himself. "It's an authentic translation of a first hand account of someone who actually witnessed the cursing. This person was truly there, he saw it all come to be."

"Care to share," Xander inquired a bit pointedly. He had his arms wrapped around his agitated girlfriend, who was still shaking her head and staring at the offending book in Giles's hands as if it had just bitten her. "What does it say?"

"Oh yes, quite. I merely wished to be sure you all comprehended the significance of this artifact," Giles said defensively. "And when we finally understood the task which befell upon us and our responsibility to see it through," Giles read as they glared at him impatiently. "We at last came together to fulfill our purpose. We gathered, demon and humankind alike, in the greatest square, in the greatest of all cities built by the slaves called man. As one we spoke the curse that would lock Evil forever from our lives, and as we spoke the condemning words she destroyed us still. A full half fell at the start, both man and demon, their wills crushed beyond repair. Another quarter went mad to sights and sounds only they could see and hear. But the rest of us spoke on, our wills free as our bodies had never been, our hearts, beating or still, demanded retribution. For on this day either she or we would perish." Giles stopped reading, his face pale and his hands trembling slightly, "I believe Cordelia is right, this solution is unacceptable."

"That's it?" Willow asked, her voice oddly hollow, "that's all it says?"

The distressed librarian shook his head, "there's more, but there's really no point to reading this since we won't be using it."

"I think we should know what we're up against, Giles," Buffy said quietly. "Whatever we end up doing we should know what she's capable of, just how strong she is."

Reluctantly Giles nodded, but he paused to take a deep, soothing breath before reading on. "We were left with naught but a quarter of those who had started, but our hearts held strong even as those we knew died around us. We spoke on, our lips never faltering, the words rising clearly from our throats, for the simplest of errors meant death for the unfortunate who wavered. As we spoke we felt her power engulfing us, lashing out at random as she weakened, but even then her terrifying minions cut through our ranks as though we were nothing more substantial then air. I am shamed, for I could bear no longer to stand among the rebels, and I fled still speaking the words lest I too perish. And as I watched from a hill above the great city, my mouth still furiously spitting dread words, the city burned with flames that reached the clouds, bringing to all that lived within a fiery death. Yes, only I, a coward by nature, remained to spread the tale amongst the lesser cities of man and minor demons that they were, at last, truly free."

"We can't do this," Oz said, his quiet voice shattering the silence that had engulfed the room. He had been quiet since he joined them, well quieter than usual, but now his voice reflected what was on all of their minds. "We can't subject anyone to this."

"He's right," Willow admitted, exchanging a long look with the pale Slayer. "We've got to find another way."

"Um, excuse me," Cordelia chimed in, the evidence of her ordeal still carved across her features, "do you mind if we get back to plan A now?"

Giles opened his mouth, but the Englishman's reply died on his lips as the earthquake hit.

* * *
Chapter Thirteen
"It's happening," Drusilla moaned softly.

Annoyed, Spike growled quietly to himself. He loved Drusilla, he really did, and at times he even thought he would die for her if necessary, God knows he'd killed for her. But sometimes his dark princess reminded him of the irritating little blonde girl from the movie Poltergeist, and those were the times he thought he could stake her himself or at least strangle her. Of course staking her was completely out of the question, the mere thought of her dust made him break into a cold sweat, but strangling her, now there was an interesting idea. "What's that, love?" he asked patiently as he pondered that thought.

She may have answered, or at least tried, but as the ground began to tremble violently beneath his feet, her reply was lost on him. He tried to keep his balance, but the floor beneath him seemed to have a mind of its own, landing him on his backside with his dignity in shambles. A loud creaking caught his attention, pulling him out of his shocked daze. Unnecessary air caught in his throat as he watched a crack the size of a grown man race across the factory's ceiling, even as its twin climbed up a wall towards an inevitable meeting. "Dru!" He cried out, his eyes darting around furiously. She was standing right behind him, the oddest expression smeared across her porcelain face, and all the while the ground beneath her feet was bucking madly. "Drusilla, we've got to get out of here," his own voice sounded like a stranger's, hoarse and terrified as he struggled to scream over the earth's roaring thunder.

Somehow he made it to his feet, someway he managed to pull the maddened Drusilla with him as he ran out of the crumbling factory. Irrationally, while he ran like mad, as the ground beneath him shook itself free of any restraints it might have ever had, his boyhood religious studies came rushing back. Sodom and Gomorrah, his mind gibbered, don't look back. And even in his terror he could find the irony in the comparison; Lot, the righteous, had been spared by the will of God, by whose will would a demon be spared? So he ran like a creature insane, his hand clamped over his lover's, his feet struggling to keep their balance and the rumbling sound of the crashing factory in his ears.

Inevitably he stumbled and fell on his hands and knees, pulling Drusilla down with him. A roaring cloud of dust engulfed him, blinding him, forcing him to lay still on the treacherous earth and cling to his lover's hand like a lifeline. "Bloody hell!" He panted when he finally realized the earth had stopped moving and it was him that was shaking. The rumble of the ruined factory had deteriorated into a strange gagging sound, almost a cackle of sorts. A sound, he finally grasped as the dust began to clear, that was coming from the prone woman lying beside him. Concerned he rushed to her side, "Dru? Pet?" He murmured, his hands grabbing at her slender shoulders, shaking her involuntarily. "Moppet, talk to me, love." She blinked and looked up at him, the strange sounds still coming from her mouth. It was only then that he recognized that she was laughing. They had nearly been buried alive, well undead anyway, under the pile of rubble that had once been their home and the silly tart was laughing! With a disgusted grunt he pushed her away from him. Staking her had never seemed so appealing.

"Ring around the rosy," Drusilla sang as he turned away from her.

His jaws clenched tightly together as he strained to keep his temper in check, "Dru, love." He began patiently, "do you know what just happened?"

"Pockets full of posies," she sang on, but her eyes had a distant look in them, the look of a seer. Despite her madness, though sometimes Spike suspected it was because of it no matter what Angelus said, she could still see things others couldn't. And those things often tore at her fragile mind.

"Please, Dru," He begged. He got down on his knees on the ground beside her, his hands gripping her shoulders again, though gently this time, "if you know, love, I need you to tell me."

She looked up at him, the rare glow of lucidity shining in her eyes, "it's finally happened, Spike," she whispered, choking on the words. "He gave himself to her. Mind, body," she paused as her features suddenly became distressed, "and soul," she breathed desperately. "The Slayer told him she didn't want him anymore," her slender body began to tremble, "she's changed him. It's nearly complete."

Spike's eyes widened with shock, his nerves were hanging by a wire holding the capacity to snap, spiral out of control at the slightest provocation. This was something he definitely didn't need to hear, "why?" He managed to spit out through his tightly clenched teeth.

But her moment of sanity was over, "ashes, ashes," she sang as crystalline tears streamed delicately down her dust-covered face, creating rivers of mud along her cheeks. The river Styx, Spike thought grimly, then shook his head in anger. Will these death metaphors never go away? "They all fall down."

His mind full of questions, his body aching with repressed terror, and his demon screaming for Slayer blood, Spike embraced his weeping princess as he tried to figure out what he would do next.

"Is everyone all right?" Giles asked as he crawled from under the table he had taken cover under. The lights were flickering wanly, trying to gain some semblance of control, but inevitably surrendering to the darkness.

"Well, I definitely felt that one," Xander grumbled as he lifted himself from off Cordelia. Unhesitating, he leaped to cover her with his own body as soon as the earthquake started. The cheerleader for once said nothing, she simply climbed to her feet and brushed the dust and rubble off her clothes, but her eyes held an oddly bemused look in them as if she had realized something for the first time.

"We're fine," Willow said as she Oz and Buffy crawled out and began dusting themselves off. "Too bad we can't say the same about the electricity," the darkness was gaining an unnerving stronghold in the odd battle between natural darkness and artificial lights.

"Looks like Richter's going to have to get himself a bigger set of scales," Buffy mumbled as she examined a particularly nasty tear in her shirtsleeve. Oh well, she thought unhappily, another expensive article of clothing bites the dust, so to speak. "This place is a mess," she said as she peered at the damaged library.

The bookshelves had toppled one on top of the other in a domino formation, leaving precious books in a state of disarray. But most disturbing was the wide crack in the floor where the Hellmouth had once opened. Other than that a bit of plaster had fallen off the high ceiling and from the walls, but the structure in itself seemed mostly intact.

As if on cue the lights had finally surrendered, plunging them in absolute darkness. No one spoke as six sets of eyes frantically tried to adjust themselves to the darkness. A moment later a lighter flickered creating a comforting aura around Oz's hand. "Here," he said, handing Willow his lighter, then, after a few seconds of fishing in his pockets he retrieved three more of the same and handed them to the others.

"Boy scout much? For someone who doesn't smoke you're a handy person to have around," Buffy said as Giles took another lighter and went off in search of candles.

Oz shrugged, "I carry these around for the concerts." He waved his lighter around from side to side above his head at their blank looks, "it helps get the audience in the right mood. Makes them think we play better then we do."

Xander shook his head and smiled, "the secret to musical success," he said, "props."

"Never said we were successful," Oz replied, his features never shifting from their stoic expression. "I guess plan A just got nixed," he said quietly as Giles returned with a few candles. They stared at him.

"Unless plan A happened to be hiding in the stacks just now or is seriously afraid of the dark," Xander finally said, pointing at the piles of ravaged books, "I really don't see the connection."

"Every time there was an earthquake it had something to do with Angel," Oz explained, as his eyes sought out his guitar. Finally he located it lying upside-down beneath a chair, "all the other earthquakes were relatively small compared to this one, but the changes in Angel were pretty big." His eyes clouded over as he discovered that several of his guitar strings had been torn, and a fresh scratch ran up the instrument's neck. "This one was pretty big. I'm only guessing here, but I figure reasoning with Angel is pretty much hopeless at this point." He strummed the remaining strings experimentally, then, pleased at the sound, he played out a strange little three stringed tune.

"No!" Cordelia was the first to react. She clutched on to Xander's hand instinctively, he seemed surprised, but not entirely displeased with their sudden closeness. "No, no, no, no, no! You can't know that, we're in southern California, earthquakes happen here all the time. You can't just give up on plan A like that, for all we know this has nothing to do with Angel."

Willow and Buffy exchanged knowing looks, this had everything to do with Angel and Oz was probably right. "Buffy," Willow began quietly.

Buffy understood what Willow was trying to say, she had to tell them about Angel. They had a right to know what was going on, "I," she began, but she couldn't, not just yet. They had all been forced into this situation because of her naivete, and it was up to her to figure out exactly what the situation was. "I'll go see Angel," her voice was hollow, empty of emotion, "I'll see if it's really true."

Unhappy concern marred Willow's pretty face, but true to her word she said nothing. Giles, however, had his own reservations, "no, Buffy," the Watcher objected, "if he's given himself to Cirta then it'll be too dangerous for you to be anywhere near him. He won't be in his right mind."

"And I'd really hate to see him in his wrong mind," Xander murmured.

"I'll be fine. We need to know what's going on to figure out what we're going to do next, you know that." Her voice was convincingly calm, but her mind was racing hysterically. There was no question as to whether Angel had given himself or not, and it was all her fault. She had betrayed him, again. "I'll be careful, mom," she said with a forced smile. "How's about you do something constructive in the meantime and clean up this room. You really have let this place go lately."

"Buffy," Giles began warningly.

"Or you could research the curse some more," she suggested glibly as she made her way towards the swinging doors, "if you find the right books in all this mess. Maybe you can find a loophole that won't get everybody killed." With that she quickly left, leaving a baffled Watcher and very worried teenagers behind.

They stared at the swinging doors in silence, the only sound filling the room was Oz's three stringed melody. "So it's the end of the world," Xander murmured.

"As we know it," Willow added. "Sorry," she said as they glared at her, "I couldn't help it."

"And we're all going to die," he went on. Respectful silence filled the room again, its nature so oppressive it even managed to force Oz to stop playing his damaged guitar.

"Hmm," Cordelia said sympathetically. "You think any pizza places deliver after an earthquake?"

The mansion was glowing. A pale blue nimbus of light surrounded it, mystifying it, separating it from the reality of the rest of the world. As Buffy watched slack-jawed, the light pulsed, grew then withdrew with the unfulfilled threat of malevolent power. She stood in the shadows of a half-uprooted tree, yet another victim of the earth's rebellion, her gaze mesmerized to the blatant aura of evil surrounding the structure that was her lover's in her mind.

"Well, well," Spike said as he walked up from behind her tree, looking for all the world as if he were out on an evening stroll. But his eyes were slightly wild, and the hand holding his unlit cigarette trembled violently, "funny to run into you here on a nice, quiet night like this. Say," sarcasm dripped off his voice like poison, "do you notice anything different?"

"Spike," she didn't really know what to say to him. She needed his help, that much was obvious, but after all that's happened how could she possibly ask for it?

He never gave her the chance. He turned on her, moving with whip like speed. He pinned her to the tree with murder in his golden eyes, "We nearly got killed tonight," he hissed in her face through sharp fangs. "Dru and I. I'm not very fond of being buried alive, pet," he spit the last in her face as he pressed her even harder into the tree. "So I'm going to ask you this just once. What. Did. You. Do." He annunciated each word, his body still pressing her forcefully into the rough bark, his furious demonic features a hairsbreadth from her own.

"I lied to him," she choked, "I told him I didn't love him anymore, that I couldn't help him." Why she was telling Spike what she couldn't bring herself to tell her friends was beyond her. She needed his help, but she needed theirs too.

"Why?"

"The elders, Gerrico, he convinced me it was the only way," with a frustrated grunt she pushed the angry vampire off her, her Slayer instincts coming to her aid where her humanity had failed. "He lied to me!" She screamed, all the penned-up rage and betrayal she had kept hidden raged out of her in a flood of emotion. "This was his own personal revenge against Angel! He'd sacrifice everything, including himself, to see Angel destroyed!"

Spike's eyes widened with shock, his face unconsciously slipping back into his human mask, "how do you know?"

"Angel killed," she caught herself here, she couldn't reveal everything, not to Spike, "people a hundred years ago. People who were important to Gerrico, so he fooled me into lying to Angel and push him straight into Cirta's arms." Did she even have arms? Buffy couldn't help wonder through her anguish.

"Damn, Slayer," Spike whistled appreciatively, "when you set your mind up to muck up the waters there's just no clean spring in sight, is there?" He brought his cigarette to his lips and made a feeble effort to light it, "what are we going to do about this?" He asked, motioning towards the glowing mansion.

"Angel," she began, as he tried to light his cigarette again and failed. His hands were trembling too much and the lighter's flame kept flickering out of existence every time it went anywhere near his mouth. "I don't know what to do about Angel. But Cirta's a different story. Oh, let me do that already!" She grabbed his lighter and held it steady till he managed to make good use of it. Bemused, she observed him visibly relax as he inhaled deeply. Maybe I should take up smoking, she wondered. Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky and that'll be the thing that kills me.

"How do you want to get rid of Cirta without Angel?" His voice seemed steadier, and his whole demeanor felt less on edge. Yep, smoking was definitely an option to consider. If she managed to survive this, that is.

"We curse her, like they did before. We lock her away and hope no one else has to deal with her ever again." Feverishly she prayed he didn't know much about her history, about the complete annihilation those who locked Cirta the first time had suffered.

But as his eyes widened and he tossed the half-smoked cigarette casually to the ground she felt her hopes crumble, "do you think I'm daft or just illiterate?" He demanded. Okay, so maybe cigarettes weren't a suitable replacement for Prozac as far as calming vampire nerves went. "Why the bloody hell did you think we got Angel out of Hell in the first place? To avoid this, you silly tart! And now you want me to join you in a fight you have no chance of surviving? Well I say find yourself another sap, love, because this one has had enough!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying I'm leaving, pet. I'm taking Dru and we're getting as far away from here as we can get, and you'd be smart to do the same." Stunned into silence she watched him turn and leave, his pale form quickly fading from sight in the dark night.

She watched the glowing mansion for a while longer, then turned to leave as well. She knew what she had to do, and she was slowly coming to terms with it. A year and a half ago she had been told she would have to die so that others may live. And though her youth had rebelled at the unfairness of it all and her heart cried out to run, she had stood her ground and did what she had to do. This time was different, this time she was promising a harsh, painful death to anyone who dared help her. And though her soul was already weeping for those who must die, she walked bravely to the library to tell those she loved that it must be so.

The streets of Sunnydale were unnaturally dark and dismal as Buffy made her way to the library. Were they this dark when she went to the mansion? She couldn't remember. In her haste to reach Angel she never noticed or thought about anything else. The earthquake had struck Sunnydale as a whole and now that she was taking the time to look, the damages were clearly abundant. The power lines were obviously damaged, but even in the darkness she could see the telltale signs of wounded houses and crippled cars. But there were no sounds of the sirens she had come to expect after a natural disaster, and there were no people. Where were all the people?

Her breath caught in her throat as the first real pangs of fear rang through her chest. She made a sharp turn and began to run home, cursing herself for her stupidity even as she ran. This was where she should have gone first. But no, she had never once given any thought to whether her mother was all right. She'd never even stopped to worry.

Breathless and furious she stopped dead in her tracks when she finally caught sight of her house. Even at a distance the roof's collapse into the house's second floor, into the bedroom floor, was clear. "Mom?" She tried to call out, but terror had deteriorated her voice into a pathetic whisper. She forcefully moved her frozen body, gaining speed as she neared the house till she was practically running to the front door. "Mom!" She yelled anxiously as she jerked open the door. The house was dark, empty and devoid of any life. She moved quickly through the rooms, wincing at the pile of debris that had reduced her bed to splinters, when she stepped into her own room.

Finally she allowed herself to breathe her relief. Her mother was obviously not there, but where was she then? And where had all the people gone for that matter? Confused, and more than a little afraid at what she might find, she resumed her trek to the high school.

The flickering lights of candles and the hushed buzz that signified the presence of a large group of people did little to calm the small Slayer's tightly wound nerves. She made her way gingerly between the small groups of people huddled together in the high school's hallway, ignoring people she knew as her confused mind demanded attention. Sunnydale's missing occupants had obviously come here, but why?

Soft arms engulfed her in a bear hug, destroying her train of thought, "oh Buffy, thank God!" Joyce Summers breathed into her daughter's cheek.

"Mom!" Buffy choked. For a moment the two hugged, then, fueled by urgency, Buffy gently disentangled herself from her mother's embrace. "What're you doing here? What's everybody doing here?"

"Mister Giles said you were all right, that you weren't hurt," her mother blurted, too caught up in her own relief to answer any questions. "But I was sure something happened to you. When I went into your room and saw your bed it was like some sort of omen," she shook her head, tears of remembered anguish springing to her eyes, "I just ran here as fast as I could, but I couldn't find you. Mister Giles said that you were..."

"All right?" Buffy completed with a quirky half smile. She hated to see her mother worry over her, but then there were the times when it was nice to feel loved.

"I'm babbling, aren't I?" Joyce said sheepishly. She took a deep, cleansing breath to steady her nerves, "I don't know why everyone's here. I was just so anxious to find you that I never bothered asking them anything except if they saw you." A horrified expression suddenly appeared on her face, "oh God, they must think I'm horrible!"

"I think the neighbors will forgive your lousy holocaust etiquette, mom," Buffy said, suppressing a smile. "Where's Giles?"

"The library, I think," Joyce replied, her mind obviously elsewhere. "Maybe I should ask them if they need anything." Satisfied that her daughter was among the walking and talking, she was ready to turn her attentions to those who needed them.

"Great, I'll be in the library if you need me." Her friends were busy pondering over books in candlelight when she stepped through the swinging wooden doors. "What's with the new refugee look happening out there?" She asked, motioning towards the area outside the library.

They turned their attentions away from their respective tomes to stare at her gravely, "this, typically, is the only place left standing in Sunnydale within walking distance," Xander replied. "It couldn't have been the pizza place or the arcade," he mourned.

"No electricity," Oz reminded him.

"This is like something out of my worst nightmare," he complained, ignoring the laconic boy. "No wait, it's like something out of my worst nightmare's worst nightmare." They stared at him, "oh, it's just evil."

"Wait, why walking distance?"

"None of the cars would start," Cordelia replied irritably, "you want to take a guess as to how we found that out?"

"Why?"

"I think it has something to do with an electromagnetic wave that was released when the earthquake hit." Willow explained, completely missing the blank look on her friends' faces. "See, new cars have these complex electrical systems and an electromagnetic disruption would..."

"Um, Will?" Buffy said gently.

The redheaded hacker's blushing face was obvious even in the wan candlelight. "Well why did you ask if you don't really want to know?" She said sullenly as she retreated into her boyfriend's arms. "You're supposed to stop me when I do that," she accused him gently.

"I like it when you do that," he replied, affectionately running his fingers through her hair. Her answer to that was a soft poke in his ribs.

"Wait," Cordelia suddenly said. "If the electrical system mumbo-jumbo only lives in new cars, why wouldn't your car start?" She asked the Watcher pointedly.

"I-it was having problems lately," Giles replied uncomfortably, "I've been meaning to take it to a mechanic, but..."

"See what happens when you procrastinate mister," Buffy said with a slight smile, fully realizing she was doing the same. "Angel's not on our side anymore," she blurted, needing to get that off her chest.

"Yeah, we kind of figured that out," Xander replied. "The people who came here told us about the mansion," he explained at her questioning look. "Of course it kind of came last in a long list of things they told us. My house collapsed on top of me, everything I own in the world's been destroyed, and oh yeah, did you know the mansion on Crawford street was glowing?" He shook his head at his own dark humor, "it kind of took awhile before anyone got around to elaborate on that last part."

"Buffy," Giles began grimly, immediately catching everyone's attention, "I believe this has all happened for a reason."

Buffy groaned inwardly as her friends shifted uncomfortably. They had obviously discussed this during her absence. She hated it when they did that, it was so much harder to protest when they had all the ins and outs figured out. "What reason is that?" Buffy asked carefully.

"Do you remember the passage I read to you the other morning?" Buffy tried to think back, but so much had happened since then that it seemed so long ago. Giles began fumbling through a book at her blank look, "and she shall empower him with the strength above all others, for it is known that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely," he recited. Buffy shivered slightly, the words had been disturbing yesterday, but now they were positively unnerving. "I believe that is exactly what happened." He slammed the book down on the table with an uncharacteristic show of frustration, "I don't know how I could have missed it!" He exclaimed, "I should have known what was about to happen, it was right under my nose this entire time!"

"You can't blame yourself, Giles," Willow said, moving the offending book out of the Watcher's range just in case. "Can he, Buffy?" She said pointedly.

"No, he can't," Buffy echoed hollowly.

"So there's only one way to do this, and we've got all these lucky people that are stuck here and they get to help us do it," Xander said sarcastically. "Anybody else not thinking coincidence?"

Giles shook his head, apparently in full control of his temper, "coincidence or not, we're all agreed that this is our only option?"

They all stared at Cordelia, expecting her to protest, "what?" She said indignantly, "so we're all going to die. I can live with that."

Go to Part 14