10  -  Disrespecting the Law
 

#
 

All the lights in the police station went out at the same time, plunging the entire building into utter darkness. Even Angel found that his superior night vision barely managed to penetrate the cloak of shadows that seemed to have fallen over them. Some windows were open, but no light fell in from outside.

Some floors below there were screams.

“We are being attacked!” He drew his guns, jacking rounds into the chambers in the same motion. Considering the case they were working on he wasn’t quite sure the guns would be of any use, even with the runes carved into the bullets, but it was better than going barehanded.

A faint glimmer filled the room as Willow conjured a witchlight.

“There is something unnatural about this darkness,” the redhead said. “My light should be much brighter than this.”

Angel spent a moment checking on Buffy through their link. His wife was feeling troubled, her being prepared for battle and worried about the child with her, but that was all. Whatever was attacking them hadn’t reached her yet.

There were more screams.

“Stay here!” Angel looked at the two witches. “Try to figure out what is attacking us! Lift the darkness if you can! I’m going to check this out.”

Willow nodded, Tara already occupied with trying to sense the source of the shadows surrounding them. Angel gripped his weapons and stormed out the door.

The corridors were almost empty, nearly every member of the NYPD was out on the streets trying to retain control over a city that was rapidly moving toward an explosion. What people were there stumbled around in the dark, some of them trying to get flashlights to work. Only they wouldn’t turn on, not one of them.

“The coms are all dead,” someone yelled.

Just like the lights, Angel thought. Something was disrupting all working technology in this building. Angel was quite familiar with such spells. It was one of the reasons why he had never switched to using any of the more modern, electronic handguns. His old Winchester Magnums were antiques, but they worked just fine and didn’t care about spells that disrupted electronics.

He heard another scream, much closer this time. Though he had a hard time seeing anything in the thick darkness that rippled all around him he did make out a large shape coming toward him, its heavy footsteps making his ears ring.

Did the shape carry a sword?

Instinct made Angel duck at the last second, something sharp brushing past his head so close that he felt the air move. A few strands of his spiky hair fell to the ground, neatly severed. Dropping to the ground Angel fired several shots in the direction where he had seen the large figure disappear.

The bullets flared as they hit the walls, bursting into light as the spells they contained were released, and at least one of them hit something other than the wall. For a split second Angel saw a large, armored shape stand out in a flash of magical light, then everything went dark again. An inhuman grunt filled the corridor and something heavy toppled to the ground.

The darkness around him seemed to grow lighter.

“Felt that, didn’t you,” Angel whispered to himself, carefully edging closer. It was just a gut feeling, but this had been far too easy to be over already.

There was some light falling in from a nearby window, street lamps finally penetrating the shadows. It was enough for Angel to see his enemy for the first time. A large, armored figure, no way to determine the gender underneath the black steel that encased it from head to toe. A large, intricately carved sword rested in one of its hands, the shiny blade stained with freshly spilled blood.

There was a hole where Angel’s bullet had gone in. Right in the throat.

Angel couldn’t make out any signs of life. From this close he should have heard the heartbeat, should have made out the sound of breathing. There was nothing there, though. Either this creature was dead or something very much inhuman. He suspected the latter.

Keeping his gun lined up on the armored head Angel nudged the figure with his toe, which produced no reaction at all. Angel became aware, though, that someone was moving toward him from behind. Someone very much alive and with a heartbeat that was doing flip flops.

“Marshal O’Conner,” he heard the familiar voice of Captain Trenor call out. “Is that you?”

“It’s me, Captain. What is the situation?”

The captain came to a stop a few feet away, panting hard. “I am not exactly sure. Something attacked us. We’ve got at least three men down, probably more. Some of the people a floor below said something about shadows attacking them, creatures made from dark mist trying to choke them. Only it all stopped about a minute ago.”

Which would put it at the same moment Angel had shot down this black knight.

“This isn’t a shadow, captain.” Angel gestured at the form lying at his feet. “Whatever it is, it’s very much substantial. Almost took my head off with that sword.”

A moment or two before Trenor knelt down to take a closer look something inside Angel cried out for him to stop the cop. He was too slow, though. A movement caught his eye, something that flashed in the light of the street lamps. It brushed past him, armored fingers letting go of a sword that was suddenly filled with a life of its own.

“Captain, look out!” Angel jumped back, trying to line up on the moving blade, but everything happened much too quickly.

A heartbeat or two after the sword left the hand of the prone figure the black armor around it vanished, leaving behind the body of a slightly overweight man in his late thirties, unseeing eyes staring up at the ceiling, blood seeping from a bullet wound in his throat.

Trenor had a moment to shrink back from the perceived movement, raising his hands to protect his face from something that moved much too fast for him to see clearly. Something that flew right into his open hand, his fingers closing around it out of reflex.

“What the ...,” Trenor managed, then he fell silent.

Angel could only stare as darkness spread from where Trenor had reflexively caught the sword, surrounding his body in a matter of seconds, solidifying a moment later. Only seconds had passed when an armored figure stood where Trenor had knelt, looking at Angel from inside a black helmet with eyes of red coal.

“Good shot,” The Harbinger growled, stolen lips spreading in a smile beneath his helmet. “Want to try that again?”

The darkness grew thicker once more and fresh screams sounded out around them as the shadows came alive again with deadly intent.

#

Selina almost ran right into Willow’s unsheathed sword when she barreled into the room, slamming the door behind her, looking like all of hell was but one step away. Which probably wasn’t that far from the truth, Willow thought.

“You guys won’t believe what’s going on out there!” The young witch was panting, all awe forgotten as she was shaking with fright.

“Get back from the door,” Willow yelled at her, standing protectively in front of her wife who had retreated into a trance. Tara was going to bring down the darkness that was boxing them in and she depended on Willow to defend her while she did that.

And it looked like Willow would get ample opportunity to do that any moment now.

Selina dove for the floor as the door exploded behind her, shadows seeping into the room behind her. They were almost impossible to make out amidst the prevailing darkness, featureless shapes that rippled and churned as they flooded forward, their malevolence almost tangible.

“Stay down, Selina!” Willow raised her hand and muttered a word of power. Light spilled from her palm, pushing back the darkness, surrounding herself, Tara, and Selina with an unearthly glow. One of the shadows reached out with something that almost looked like a hand, only to flinch back as if burned, small contrails of smoke rising where it had touched. An inhuman screech made Willow's ears ring.

“Witches,” one of the shadows hissed.

“Smart guy!” Willow thrust forward her sword, the dragon-forged blade penetrating the spell of protection she had put up around her friends. The metal tip touched the nearest of the shadows, igniting it like a candle as dragon fire spilled across the dark shape, which screeched even louder than before as it was devoured alive. Or maybe not alive, Willow couldn’t tell.

For a moment she thought she saw a human shape somewhere inside the darkness, but it vanished before she could be sure.

The other shadows drew back, making the witch think for a moment that they might actually be safe. She had to rectify that opinion, though, when the shadows spread out over the walls, covering it like black paint. The entire room seemed to shudder and plaster rained down on Willow’s head.

“This is not good,” she murmured. A moment later the ceiling came down on them and Selina screamed.

#

Buffy had no idea what was going on outside, but her Slayer sense was screaming at her. Something wicked this way comes. She had learned a long time ago to trust her instincts.

She felt as Angel reached out to her across their bond, trying to ascertain her safety. For a moment there was nothing except the two of them, soothing emotions spilling into one another until she couldn’t tell where she stopped and he began. Then they parted once more, having made sure that neither of them was in mortal danger at the moment.

Dawn was still in Buffy’s arms, shivering in fear.

“That’s them!” The girl curled deeper into Buffy’s embrace. “When they come the lights go out. I know it’s them.”

“The shadows you mentioned?” Buffy gently caressed the girl’s hair, hoping to relax her some. “What are they?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know! They killed my parents! These things and ... and the large one. The one on the horse.”

The horse? Buffy had seen a black knight riding on a black horse in the same dream that had shown her Dawn. As pretty much everything else from her dream had already come true ...

A scream rang outside.

“We should get out of here!” Buffy pulled Dawn to her feet.

“I’m not going out there!” Dawn tried to shrink back into the corner. “*They* are out there!”

“Which is why I don’t want to face them in a room with just one exit.”

Not waiting for further protests Buffy pulled Dawn along, kicking open the door that led into the corridor. The first things she saw were the two uniformed cops who had stood guard over Dawn just moments ago. Something was holding them up in the air, choking the life out of them.

Something made from darkness.

“The girl,” a hiss echoed through the corridor. “We have found the girl!”

“Dawn, run!” Buffy pulled her along, running down the corridor as fast as her feet could carry her. A moment later, realizing that Dawn would never be able to keep up with her, she swept the girl up in her arms and ran with every bit of speed she had.

The shadows were but a step behind her. “The girl,” they kept hissing, more and more of them appearing from the walls and floors.

“She must not escape!” A new voice thundered through the corridor, seeming to come from everywhere at once. A voice Buffy had heard before. From the lips of the black knight she had seen in her dreams. “She must die! She is the last!”

Buffy didn’t stop, didn’t dare turn around. She could feel them snapping at her heels, could feel ghostly hands snatching at her back. Her entire being was reduced to but one thought. Flight. Get Dawn to safety. Nothing else mattered.

“BRING IT DOWN,” the black knight’s voice thundered once more.

‘Buffy, run!’ Buffy felt Angel across their bond, willing her to escape with such fierceness that she could almost hear the words inside her head. The entire building shook as if a giant fist had struck it, the walls creaking all around her, protesting as an incredible force tore them apart.

Buffy didn’t slow down, just barreled right through the steel door that was one of the building’s side entrances, nearly taking it of its hinges. Her feet touched the concrete of the street and kept going. A thunderous screech followed her as the entire police department folded in on itself, caving in like a house of cards.

‘Angel,’ Buffy screamed out, throwing a look over her shoulder, her steps faltering. Reaching through the bond she searched for a sign of her husband.

‘Run!’ The connection was faint, but she could hear him. He was alive, or as close to it as he ever was.

Shadows were seeping from the wreckage where the dust had only begun to settle. Buffy took but another moment to compose herself, realizing that Angel was probably safer right now than the shaking girl in her arms. A building coming down wouldn’t kill him.

She spared a thought to Willow and Tara, all the other people who had been in there. Then she started running again.
 
 

11  -  Things You Can Find Among the Wreckage
 

#

New York City
December 20, 2038 AD

#
 

Spike was not a happy camper.

There were numerous reasons for that actually. One was the fact that it was the middle of the day, meaning that good little vampires should be in bed, sleeping the sleep of the dead. Only that wasn’t exactly possible at the moment, seeing as there were places he needed to be.

Said place being in the middle of New York City. As far as big cities went New York was quite a good place for a vampire. The tall buildings cast plenty of shadows for the undead to move around in even in brightest daylight. Still, Spike didn’t like New York. Mostly because the place held a lot of bad memories for him, but also because the city stank. Stank of fear and malice.

The reason for Spike to be in a place he hated during a time he normally slept at could be summed up in one word. Angel. Once again his poof of a sire had gotten himself into plenty of trouble. Trouble that a certain vampire master called Darla thought he would need help with. And, seeing as Darla was the head of the Order of Aurelius and Spike’s grandsire, the job had fallen on his shoulders.

Not that he wouldn’t have come even without orders from Darla. Angel wasn’t just his sire, he was also his best friend. The two of them had gone through hell together, had changed the entire world by working the Restoration of Souls. The moment he had learned that Angel was involved in that freak collapse of a police building in New York he would have been out the door and on his way here. That was, if Darla hadn’t told him to come here first.

So here he was, smack in the middle of New York at noon, standing in the shadow of a skyscraper, and wondering what to do next.

The collapsed police building was about a hundred meters away from him, surrounded by lots of policemen, rescue workers, reporters, and the obligatory crowd of spectators. From what Spike had heard they had dug up only very few bodies yet, which was mostly due to the fact that there hadn’t been a lot of people inside when it happened. New York’s crime rate was at an all-time high and most policemen didn’t even have the time to sleep, much less rest their feet on their desks.

Of the people who had been inside, though, four were Spike’s friends. Willow, Tara, Buffy, and Angel. None of them had been found yet.

Spike could have helped with that, of course. He shared a bond with both his sire and his sire’s blood-bonded mate. If they were in there he would find them. The only problem with that little scenario was the daylight which surrounded the wreckage on all sides, not a shadow in sight. Spike couldn’t exactly sniff out the locations of his friends while bursting into flames.

He hated sunny days.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” The angry voice sounding out behind him was painfully familiar to Spike. Turning around he found himself looking at a dark-haired woman that, even after all this time, still managed to get his blood in an uproar. Though not in a good way right now.

“Faith,” he sighed. “Just what I needed to make my day.”

It was hard to believe that there had been a time when the two of them had been inseparable. A time when Spike had thought that maybe Faith could take the place of Dru in his heart. Faith wasn’t Dru, though, never would be. Maybe that had been the reason for their separation. Or maybe they had just gotten fed up with each other after being together for nearly two decades.

Faith still looked mighty fine, he had to admit. They had just found out a year or so ago that, due to the superior healing powers that was part of her being the Slayer, Faith was aging at a very slow rate. She was in her fifties, but certainly didn’t look the part.

“Just answer the question, Spike!”

“I’m not here for you, if you’re asking, pet. Has more to do with the fact that the big poof got himself into trouble again.” He nodded toward the remains of the police building.

Faith paled. “Angel was in there? Is he all right?”

“That’s the big question, isn’t it? To return the favor, what are you doing in the big apple?”

Faith and Spike had been in the bodyguard business for a few years, mostly working together, but after a while that hadn’t been fun anymore. These days Spike was pretty much doing his own thing; need for cash sometime drove him to work for Darla and the Vampirium. Last he had heard of Faith was that she was keeping herself above water by working as a preternatural bounty hunter.

“Had some business here in New York.” Faith kept looking at the wreckage. “Lots of creepy crawlies around here as of late. These last few weeks things have gotten worse and worse, but I can’t figure out why. I’ve been having a lot of weird, Slayer-style dreams. The last one was about some kind of girl trying to escape from a collapsing building. When I woke up and heard about this building coming down, well ... here I am.”

Spike gave her a worried look. Unlike Buffy Faith had never been much interested in the more arcane parts of being the Slayer. If these dreams got her this worked up something bad was going on. Something really bad.

“It wouldn’t be much of a problem for me to sniff out Peaches among the wreckage,” Spike told Faith, “there is just that little issue of daylight.”

Faith nodded.

“They found someone alive,” someone near the wreckage shouted, causing spectators and reporters to converge on the source of the shout like a plague of locusts.

“Get your ass over there, Faith,” Spike yelled at the Slayer. “If they’re digging out Peaches the sun’s gonna fry him.”

Without even so much as a scathing retort Faith ran toward the place where her keen eyesight could make out several rescue workers pulling someone out of the wreckage. She leaped over the assembled crowd and the police barricade without slowing down, several stunned policemen looking after her with their mouth’s hanging open.

Faith skidded to a stop just in time to see two paramedics lift a body on a stretcher. A female body.

“Willow!” Faith was by her side in a moment. “Are you all right?”

“Get behind the barricade,” a cop yelled at her. “You’re not authorized ...”

“It’s okay,” Willow interrupted him, looking up at Faith. “She’s a friend.”

The witch’s voice was barely more than a whisper and she looked extremely tired, but Faith could see no visible wounds. A moment later two more figures emerged from the freshly dug whole amidst the rubble, one a young woman Faith didn’t know. The other woman, though, the one leaning heavily on the younger woman’s shoulder, was another matter.

“Tara,” Faith went over to them. “You were here, too?”

“Good thing she was,” the woman beside her said with a tired grin on her face. “The two of them kept the rubble from smashing us into paste with a force field.”

Tara gave Faith a smile. “Willow’s quick thinking saved us. Otherwise ...,” she shrugged, leaving the sentence unfinished.

“Will she be all right?” Faith turned to look at the paramedics that were treating Willow.

“She seems unhurt,” one of them said. “Just worn out a lot. Probably fatigue from maintaining a protection spell for so long. They were under there for twelve hours or so.”

Willow was already fast asleep, Faith saw, so she turned back to Tara.

“Where are Angel and Buffy?”

Tara closed her eyes, a sad expression on her face. “I have no idea. Angel left us about five minutes before the building came down, looking to investigate what was going on. Buffy was some floors below, talking to that girl she saw in her dreams.”

Girl from her dreams? Faith frowned. Had Buffy seen the same girl she had seen? It was certainly possible. Whatever power sent those prophetic dreams to the Slayer might just deliver them in stereo to the both of them.

“Spike is over there in the shadows,” Faith pointed toward the nearest building. “He could probably sniff them out, but there is that slight problem with the daylight.”

“I think I can do something about that.” Tara looked at the young woman at her side. “If Selina here can maybe lend me some strength. I’m afraid I’m a bit worn out myself.”

The younger witch beamed at her.

#

Ten minutes later Spike was scrambling across the ruins of the building, protected from the sunlight by a black cloud that always hovered exactly two meters above his head, casting a pool of darkness about ten meters across. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have been too keen to trust his life to a spell done by two very tired witches.

These weren’t normal circumstances, though.

Angel was alive, that much he was sure of. No one could really put the bond between a sire and his childe into words, but Spike would have felt it had he died. So, following that logic, Buffy had to be alive as well. Because of the bond they shared the death of one would also be the death of the other.

Faith was hovering at this side the whole time, anxiousness coming off her in waves. The entire area had her instincts screaming ‘Bad Mojo’ without break. These last few weeks she had been here in New York she had sensed that something worse than the run-of-the-mill critters were plaguing this place and now she was sure. From what little Tara had told her about what had happened inside the police station it was something she had never seen before.

Living shadows. No, certainly not part of her résumé.

Spike suddenly came to a stop and narrowed his eyes, looking down at the wreckage they were currently scrambling over. Faith herself felt a soft tingle somewhere inside her belly, the one that normally said ‘here be vampires’.

“Peaches is down here,” Spike yelled over to the rescue workers. Not waiting for them he started digging with his bare hands, shortly joined by Faith.

Even before any of the workers could get to them across the treacherous terrain they had managed to lift away several large boulders, revealing the body of a certain black-clad vampire.

“You sure took your time,” Angel squeezed out through a ribcage busted in several places. His left arm was smashed and broken, as were both his legs. A human being would have been dead instantly. As it was the vampire was just hurting. Quite a lot.

“Don’t be such a wimp, peaches!” Spike knelt down to check him over. “Must be getting old. Since when does a building collapsing on top of you slow you down?”

“I’ll have you know I was well on the way to digging myself out.”

A couple of paramedics arrived, looking a bit reluctant to step beneath the magical cloud above them. Seeing Angel, though, all thoughts of dark magic vanished, replaced by a flurry of activities.

“He’s a vampire,” Spike reminded them as the started lifting him out of the hole. “Make sure he stays out of the sun!”

The paramedics just nodded, not stopping in their work. Having to treat vampires was still a rare occurrence, mostly because the undead could heal most wounds without any help, but it was part of basic training these days. They knew what to do.

“Where is Buffy, peaches?” Spike hovered over his injured friend as they carefully loaded him onto a stretcher. “She still under there?”

“Never was,” Angel managed, every word an effort. “She got out along with Dawn.”

“Dawn? Who is Dawn?”

“I can fill the two of you in,” Tara interjected. “Let them take Angel to the hospital.”

Spike nodded, stepping aside. Tara made sure that the black cloud remained above them until they reached the ambulance and Spike was safely into the shadows again.

Angel spent most of his concentration on keeping the pain he experienced out of the bond to Buffy, instead just letting her know that he was safe now. He also knew that Buffy and Dawn had gotten away from the shadows, whatever they had been, and were now hiding out for the day.

The last thing he saw before he allowed unconsciousness to take him was the rescue workers digging yet another body from the wreckage. The body of one Captain Trenor, torn and broken, no black armor on him anywhere.

Then everything went dark.
 

12  -  It’s Always Darkest Before Dawn
 

#

New York City
December 21, 2038 AD

#
 

Buffy sat on the windowsill and stared out into the slowly lightening darkness that lay over the city, letting the cool air wash over her. There was fresh snow on the streets again, sparkling like thousands of little diamonds. The second-longest night of the year was almost over and soon the sun would rise once more, giving everyone the illusion of safety and happiness, at least for a little while.

Not her, though. Buffy was more than old enough to know that most evil things didn’t care whether it was dark or light, they found their prey regardless. Still, it was in this hour, just before dawn, that she usually felt most at peace. The Slayer inside of her, still attuned to the hours of its primary prey, was slowly going to rest, while the human she was, always would be, was waking up for the day. It was as if these two sides of her personality passed each other, one heading for work, the other heading towards sleep, and gave each other a brief handshake before they went on.

The only problem was that today peace eluded her. She had a strong suspicion that it had something to do with the girl tucked into bed not five feet away from her, sleeping a very troubled sleep that left her sweating and clutching the sheets.

Once again Buffy tried to make sense of the strange feelings she had for this girl, whom she had never met before yesterday night. Her eyes fell on the strange birthmark visible on Dawn’s slender neck, glistening with her sweat. Why did she wear this mark? What did it mean?

“Every member of my family has it,” she remembered Dawn saying when they had first taken refuge in this hotel room. “On my mother’s side, I mean. Always the same, always in the same place. My mother said it meant our family was blessed.”

Tears had risen to Dawn’s eyes saying this, thinking off her mother.

Buffy sighed. She didn’t like this, hiding out in a hotel room for the second night in a row now, doing nothing. Well, not quite nothing. She was taking care of Dawn, protecting the girl from whatever evil force was after her, but she wasn’t really accomplishing anything. She still didn’t know why these shadows or the black knight wanted her. They had said she was the last. The last of what?

Then there was Angel, who had nearly gotten killed, just like Willow and Tara. By now she knew they were all right, but a lot of other people were not. Nearly thirty people had died in that collapsing building and she didn’t know why. They were still finding fresh ritual murder victims and she didn’t know why. The city was going more and more crazy around them with every passing second and still they didn’t have a clue.

The only time Buffy had left Dawn alone in the last 24 hours had been when she had spotted a man chasing a woman through the street below, catching her and intending to rape her. Buffy had hurried down and beaten him up, probably a little more than she should have. There was violence hanging in the air and even she couldn’t escape it completely.

What had shocked her, though, was the fact that she hadn’t been the only one who had seen this guy chasing after the woman. Hadn’t been the only one who had seen him almost rape her. No, there had been other people. People leaning out of the windows on both sides of the street, watching, but none of them doing anything to help. Just watching, some of them with smiles on their faces. Smiles that sent chills down Buffy’s spine.

Something was happening to this city and its people, something terrible, and they had no idea what.

The knock on the door didn’t surprise Buffy. She was on her feet in a heartbeat, hurrying toward the entrance and throwing her arms around the person standing on the other side as soon as the door was open. Angel just hugged her back, relishing her closeness.

“You shouldn’t be up,” she admonished him a minute later. “You’re still hurting.”

“I don’t think we have the time to wait for me to heal all the way.” He followed her inside, closing the door behind them. “Any more sightings of these shadows?”

They had briefly spoken on the phone yesterday evening, directly after Angel had come out of his unconsciousness and the worst of his wounds had healed. Buffy hadn’t given him the address of the hotel she and Dawn stayed in, though, knowing that he wouldn’t need any directions in order to find her. Also they had not been sure whether these shadows might not have some way to listen in on them.

“Not a peek,” Buffy said, looking over at Dawn again. “And thank God for that. I don’t think she could have taken another night like that.”

Angel looked at the sleeping girl, saw her shiver in the throes of some nightmare. His heart went out to hear, even more so because he could feel the fierce protectiveness radiating off his mate.

He motioned for Buffy to join him in the adjoining kitchen, wanting to be safely out of hearing range of the girl, just in case she should wake up. Even while he had been in the hospital there had been some new developments. Things he didn’t want Dawn to hear just now.

“So what’s new?” Buffy sat down in a chair, rubbing her tired eyes. She had barely slept at all these last two nights.

“Nothing good.” Angel sat down beside her, pulling her against him, resting her head in the hollow of his shoulder. “About two minutes before the police station was attacked Tara figured out the pattern we have been looking for since day one. The pattern of the murders.”

Buffy looked up at him, feeling how worried he was.

“Someone is carving a pentagram into the face of the city, Buffy. A vast conjuring circle that stretches from the southernmost tip of Central Park down to 21st Street and across the entire width of the island.”

“My God,” Buffy whispered.

“It get’s better,” Angel said, his voice grim. “We had policemen check out the entire length of the circle, as well as the length of the five lines.”

Buffy knew, even before he said it. She could almost see it in his mind.

“More bodies, Buffy,” he said, his voice shaking, “many more. Most of them are underground so we never found them, but they are there. Hundreds of them, all crucified and eviscerated. Someone ... arranged them as some kind of perverse ... connect-the-dots game and built a pentagram out of their bodies.”

There was rage flooding across their bond, terrible wrath focused on whatever monster could have done something like this. Buffy felt her hands shaking with fury of her own. The same someone who had done this was now after Dawn, wanted to do to here what he had done to so many others.

Angel visibly gathered himself before he continued.

“There is some good news as well. Darla called Wesley and he spent a few sleepless nights browsing through the old Watchers Council database we captured back in ’21. And he found some things.”

“Things?” Buffy felt a tiny ember of hope flare to life inside her.

“Darla wouldn’t go into details over the com. Wesley is on his way here, he’ll arrive at JFK in about,” he checked his watch, “ten minutes and has all the info with him. From what Darla could tell me he found some kind of prior appearance of both the runes we’ve seen at the murder sites and those shadow creatures. He also found something about these birthmarks.”

Buffy turned her head to look at Dawn, the sleeping girl’s head just visible through the door to the bedroom.

“Does he know why they are after her?”

“I hope so. Whatever their reason, though, we have to make sure that they don’t get her. I’ve talked to Bogomiel just a few minutes ago. He’ll arrange transportation out of the city into a PID safe house in California. We’ll get the details as soon as he knows them.”

“Good,” Buffy nodded. “Let’s hope these things can’t track her all the way across the continent.”

Again she was feeling torn and confused. The thought of Dawn getting out of this city where every shadow seemed to be intent on killing her was a relief, yet at the same time the thought of being parted from her caused her almost physical pain. And she would have to part with her. She couldn’t leave Angel and the others until they had found some way to stop these things, whatever they were, whatever they wanted.

“Good,” she repeated.

Angel felt her confusion and didn’t know what to do about it. He could only hope that his old friend Wesley might have found some answers to that as well. Maybe once they knew what the girl’s birthmark meant they could figure this out.

“The sun will be up soon,” Angel told Buffy, massaging her tired shoulders. “We’re meeting the others in thirty minutes. Spike and Faith are in town, too, by the way.”

“Spike and Faith?” The thought of her sister Slayer and her husband’s best friend almost managed to distract her for a moment. “Are they back together then?”

“I wish,” Angel sighed, giving her the barest hint of a smile. “They are constantly bickering. I’d doubt they’d stop even in the middle of a life or death battle.”

Buffy snuggled deeper into Angel’s side, closing her eyes for a moment to rest.

“When do you think they’ll figure out that they’re still madly into one another?”

“Soon, I hope. Otherwise they’re going to drive me insane.”

“Buffy?” A tired voice sounded out from the bedroom, causing Buffy to be on her feet and by Dawn’s side in an instant.

“What is it, Dawn?” Buffy gently touched the girl’s hand. Tiny fingers curled around her hand, holding tight. Dawn looked at with sleepy eyes, eyes which suddenly focused on something behind Buffy and widened in fear.

“Stay away,” she screeched, drawing the blanket up to her nose.

Buffy looked behind her, only to see Angel emerge from the shadows. She quickly turned on the bedside lamp, once again remembering that not everyone could see in the dark like she and her husband could.

“Don’t worry, Dawn,” Buffy calmed the girl. “It’s not one of the shadows. This is Angel, my husband.”

Dawn still stared at him with eyes full of fear. Slowly, doing everything to appear harmless, Angel sat down on the bed beside her, reaching out with his large hand.

“Glad to meet you, Dawn,” he said softly, giving her his half-smile that was known to make females of all ages melt into their socks. It was only made that much more devastating by the fact that, even after all this time, Angel still seemed to have no clue as to its effects. Buffy loved that smile.

Hesitantly Dawn reached out her own hand, shaking his.

“You ... you’re Buffy’s husband?”

“I am that lucky,” he told her.

She looked at him still, holding on to his hand a moment longer before she let go.

“You’re cold.”

“I am a vampire, Dawn.”

For a moment Buffy wasn’t sure that telling her this was a good idea. Despite the fact that humans and vampires had coexisted for nearly forty years now there were still a lot of people that eyed the undead with a healthy dose of wariness and even fear.

A moment later Buffy realized that Dawn was not one of those people.

“A vampire? Really? Can I see your demon face?”

Angel chuckled, then slipped into his vampiric features. There had been a time not too long ago when he would never have done something like this, especially not in front of a child. More than any other vampire Angel had been ashamed of what he was, blamed himself for things that he had had no control over.

Buffy was very happy that those days were in the past.

“Cool,” Dawn said, seeing her husband’s second face.

“We’ll have to get going, Dawn,” Buffy told her. “We’re meeting some friends of ours in half an hour and then we’ll get you out of the city.”

Dawn’s face fell, memory of why she was here and what had happened returning to her.

“Okay,” she said, her voice filled with sadness and fear. “Where are we going?”

“A safe place, Dawn. Far away from the shadows.”

Five minutes later Dawn was dressed and, with Angel and Buffy each holding one of her hands, they walked out into the predawn twilight to meet their friends and get some answers.
 

13  -  Everything You Ever Wanted to Know about Golgotha, But Were Too Terrified to Ask
 

#
 

Wesley was the last to arrive at the agreed-upon gathering place, where everyone else was already waiting, some rather unkind words about New York taxi drivers still on his lips. Seeing as the shadows had already shown their complete lack of interest in remaining inconspicuous, even to the point of attacking a police building, Angel and Buffy had decided not to involve the New York police again for the moment. Better to stay hidden for the time being.

They were gathered in a breakfast inn several blocks away from the edge of the pentagram carved into the city, almost empty thanks to the holidays and the current unrest that held the city in its grip. Most citizens preferred to stay indoors as New York slowly went mad around them. They had quickly taken over the backroom of the inn and paid the waiter a hefty amount of money to make sure that no one disturbed them.

Angel went forward to greet his old friend. 73 years of age had turned Wesley’s hair all gray and introduced lots of wrinkles to his face. His handshake was still firm, though, just like his voice.

“Thanks for coming, Wes,” Angel led him toward the others.

“Certainly no problem,” the old man smiled, looking over at the others. His smile could not hide his troubled thoughts, though, nor was it able to lighten the dark mood of those already present.

Buffy sat at the table they had gathered around, Dawn held close to her side as she waved at him. She was aware of the worried look the former Watcher gave the young girl, wondering what he might know about her.

Faith and Spike sat as far apart as the table allowed, occasionally throwing stares at each other, otherwise ignoring the other’s existence. Willow and Tara had positioned themselves between them, the two witches looking tired and somewhat bruised, nursing huge cups of steaming coffee.

Eight hours of flight, not counting jetlag, had tired Wesley quite a bit so he was glad to finally sit down, accepting the tea Angel handed him. After enjoying a few sips he took several sheets filled with notes from his traveling bag, spreading them out on the table.

“I guess we should go right to the point,” he told the others, all of whom nodded.

“Darla said you found something about the runes,” Angel invited him to begin.

“Yes, quite. I found some old references in the Watchers Council database. It appears that the Council encountered them in the year 896, back in the old country. Encountered, I might add, under the exact same circumstances as here in the present.”

He looked briefly at Dawn, debating the virtue of going into gory details in front of a child, but Buffy made no move to take the girl away from the table. Sighing, he continued.

“There was a series of murders back then, seemingly identical to the ones here in New York. The same modus operandi, the same runes.”

“Which runes,” Buffy interrupted. “Birthmark or non-birthmark variety?”

“Non-birthmark,” Wesley continued, “for reasons that will become apparent very shortly. It appears that the Council and the Slayer of that time got involved in these murders when it became apparent that dark magic was involved. Also one should note that murders didn’t go unnoticed quite as easily back then as they sadly do now.”

“Lot less people around back then,” Spike supplied.

“Yes, that too. As I was saying, the Council and the Slayer got involved. They encountered creatures that they described as ‘shades of death’, which appear to be identical to the shadows Darla told me about.”

“Did they also record how to fight them?” Buffy absentmindedly stroked Dawn’s shoulder. “None of us really had the chance to try and destroy them back at the station. Except Willow that is.”

The redheaded witch looked up. “They don’t seem to be too fond of fire. Or light.”

Wesley nodded. “That is what the records indicate as well. Fire was used as the primary weapon against these creatures. They never appeared during the day, it seemed, except in deepest shadow.”

“What about that other creature,” Angel asked. “This black knight.”

Wesley searched through his notes for a moment, then produced a drawing which he showed to Angel.

“Is that him?”

The drawing showed a huge figure in black armor, one steel fist holding an intricately carved sword. Nothing could be seen of its face except the eyes, to whom the artist had given an eerie glow.

“That’s him,” Buffy and Angel said at the same time.

“This,” Wesley pointed at the drawing, “is the entity called the Harbinger.”

“Harbinger of what?” Tara looked up from her coffee. “I tried to get a sense of these creatures when they attacked us, but I found nothing but darkness and cold. What are they?”

Wesley shuffled around his notes, gathering his thoughts.

“The Watchers were never quite sure, it seems. Apparently the entity itself was the only source of information they had. At several times this Harbinger referred to someone or something called ‘Golgotha’, which would soon walk the Earth and bring fire and destruction to us all.

“The record-keeping Watcher, a gentleman called Frederic DuLac, theorized that this Golgotha might be some kind of powerful demon that the Harbinger tried to summon through the pentagram he was building. I fear they recorded no more information on that. There is some more about a lot of people having nightmares at that time, widespread unrest breaking out, but nothing concrete. They stopped the Harbinger from accomplishing his task before it could fulfill it.”

“Stopped it how?” Buffy inquired.

“The records are rather lacking on that topic as well, I fear,” Wesley admitted. “They only recorded that it cost a lot of people their lives. The Slayer was aided by a large number of knights, an army if you will, and many of them died in the battle. There are some references that the sword of the Harbinger was captured, thereby preventing him from continuing to fight.”

“That would make sense,” Angel added. “When I fought this thing I first took it down. Then the sword jumped into the hands of Captain Trenor and seconds later Trenor was clad in that black armor and attacked me.”

“It might be that the Harbinger is actually the sword, not the man,” Wesley nodded. “Some kind of magical artifact that possesses those it touches.”

He thought on that for a moment, then shook his head and went back to his notes.

“Anyway, after the battle was over the Council tried to have the ‘tools’ of the enemy destroyed. Those tools being the Harbinger’s sword and something else which they called ‘the Ring of Fire’. There is no further description what the latter is, only that all efforts to destroy both it and the sword failed.”

“Obviously,” Spike rolled his eyes. “Armor-boy wouldn’t be swinging anymore if his pig sticker was shrapnel, would he?”

“What did they do with these tools?” Willow leaned forward, eager to hear more.

“They buried them,” Wesley read from his notes, “in ‘a land where neither man nor demon will ever look for it’.”

“The new world?” Faith proposed sarcastically.

“In all probability. They did more than bury them, though. It seems they did not have full confidence in no one ever finding these tools, therefore they bound them.”

He put another drawing on the table, everyone leaning forward to study it. It showed a circle of twelve cloaked people, their hands outstretched, obviously engaged in some kind of ritual. Buffy and Dawn both gasped when they saw the symbol drawn in the middle of their circle.

“That’s my birthmark,” Dawn pointed. “How come ...?”

“I was getting to that,” Wesley assured her. “As I was saying the tools were bound. Twelve of the world’s most powerful white sorcerers cast a containment spell, which was to make sure that no one would ever be able to find and use these tools again.”

“So what happened,” Faith asked. “Spells ain’t what they used to be?”

“Even the most powerful of magical spells is subject to the forces of entropy. It has been more than a thousand years since this spell was cast, Faith, and even magic such as this weakens as time goes by. From all I have heard I would assume that a part of the containment spell failed, maybe due to a tectonical shift or something similar, leading to some unfortunate man discovering the site where the sword and this mysterious ring were buried.”

“He touched the sword and the Harbinger took him over,” Angel continued the thought.

“That is one possible scenario, yes.”

“It doesn’t explain why Dawn carries this mark, though,” Buffy interjected. “If this symbol is in some way connected to the sorcerers who bound these monsters in times past, then why does Dawn have it? Why these other people? Why are they killing everyone who wears it?”

Buffy felt Dawn shiver in her arms and drew the girl in tighter. Wesley shared a long look with Angel, clearly stating that he would prefer not to say this in front of the girl. Angel looked over at Buffy.

“Buffy, maybe you should take Dawn and ...”

“No!” Dawn jumped up from where she sat. “These ... these things killed my parents. They are trying to kill me, too. I have a right to know what they want from me.”

Buffy rose to touch her again, slowly drawing her back onto the chair, then looking up at Wesley.

“She is right. Trying to hide the truth from here at this point will only make things even more difficult then they already are. Whatever it is, I doubt it can be more terrible than what she has already gone through. So tell us!”

For a minute or two Wesley felt every bit his age, the years and the many terrible things he had seen pressing down on him with a near unbearable weight. He looked into the large eyes of the frightened girl sitting across the table and sighed deeply.

“The sorcerers knew,” he finally continued, taking another sheet of notes from the pile in front of him, “that their spell would fail sooner or later. That was something they did not want to risk. In order to prevent that they used this symbol here, the same symbol Dawn carries on her neck, to preserve their magic across time.”

“Meaning,” Faith prodded him.

“In layman’s terms, they bound the spell to their bloodlines. Every offspring of the twelve sorcerers who cast the containment spell would carry this mark and, through their very existence, maintain the integrity of the magic that binds the sword and the ring.”

Angel nodded, paling as he understood. “So the Harbinger got free when part of the spell failed, but in order to break it completely ...”

Everyone looked at Dawn.

“If we are to believe these shadow creatures,” Wesley said slowly, his voice grave, “then Dawn is the last living descendant of the twelve sorcerers. As long as she lives the spell will hold.”

For a long moment no one said a word, most of them turning their eyes away from the young girl that looked at the aging ex-Watcher with fear in her eyes.

“You ... you mean ...,” Dawn stuttered.

Wesley couldn’t meet her eyes.

“It won’t happen!” Buffy tugged Dawn close to her, protectiveness radiating off her. “I won’t allow anyone to harm you, Dawn, I promise you that.”

“We will get her out of the city at once,” Angel resolved. “We’re not waiting for Bogomiel. These creatures never come out during the day you said, right?” He looked at Wesley.

“Not according to the Council’s records, no.”

“We have about eight hours of daylight left,” Angel told everyone. “Buffy, Faith, the two of you get Dawn safely out of town, as far away from New York as you can.”

“No prob,” Faith smiled at Dawn. “No shadow demon will get his hands on you with the Chosen Two to guard you, shorty.”

“Chosen Two?” Dawn looked at her, confused.

“Long story, I’ll tell it to you on the way out of Dodge.”

“The rest of us will try to find the place where the sword and the ring were buried,” Angel continued. “Willow, Tara, maybe you can find a way to restore this containment spell. If not we’ll find another way to make sure that whatever is still down there stays down there. Any questions?”

Angel looked around the table, everyone shaking their heads.

“Good, let’s get going!”

As Angel went forward to pay their bill Wesley walked up to him, leaning in close.

“Angel, there is something else. I did not want to mention it at the table, but I think you should know.”

“What is it?”

“The Council apparently foresaw the possibility that someday someone would try to hunt down the descendants of the wizards and try to kill them in order for the Harbinger to be freed. So in order to prevent that from happening ...”

His voice trailed off as he threw a pointed look over to where Buffy was fidgeting with Dawn, pulling on her jacket.

“You mean ...” Angel began.

“I mean, Angel, that the Slayer will do everything to protect Dawn. She can’t help it because it is part of her heritage, magically imprinted into the very essence of what she is. Faith will feel it as well before too long.”

Angel looked at him.

“So you’re saying that, should it come to a fight, we can’t count on either of them to watch our backs, not when Dawn should also be in danger.”

“That too, but I am actually more concerned over what it might do to the two of them should the worst come to pass.”

Angel watched Buffy as she cared for Dawn, felt his mate’s emotions across their bond. Was all of that just because of some magic cast over a thousand years ago? He doubted it somehow, but it didn’t make much of a difference.

They had to protect Dawn. No matter the cost.
 

14  -  New York Bridges Tumbling Down
 

#
 

Buffy, Faith, and Dawn took Faith’s sports car, her pride and joy, which would get them away from the city much faster than anything else would at the moment. By the time they had left the breakfast inn they had heard that, due to the ongoing rise in crime and violence New York would be put under martial law come nightfall and both airports had closed down. National guard units had already moved into position, preparing to put a lockdown on the city

A seven o’clock curfew would also go into effect, which left them about seven hours to get Dawn beyond the city limit. Unfortunately quite a few other people also wanted to leave the sinking ship.

“Move your fucking junk heap out of the way,” Faith yelled at the car in front of her, hitting the horn repeatedly.

If the situation had not been so desperate the dark-haired Slayer might have been amused. She had seen a lot of changes during her lifetime, had seen the world change almost beyond recognition, but some things remained the same, no matter what. It did not matter whether a car ran via combustion engine or fusion cells, drove on wheels or floated, some people still should not be allowed to drive.

“Move it,” she yelled again with no more effect than before. A long line of cars stood in front of her, all the way across the arc of the bridge, shimmering in the sunlight, and did not move an inch.

The rearview mirror showed her Buffy and Dawn, both of them sitting in the back, the blonde Slayer barely taking her eyes off the girl. This might have creeped Faith out, if not for the fact that she found herself drawn to the girl as well. There was something about Dawn that just screamed at her to protect the little bit, no matter what.

Faith had never seen herself as the maternal type before, which added some creepiness to the situation after all.

A few cars behind them she saw the black Mercedes with the polarized windows that served as Angel and Buffy’s transportation during their time in New York, allowing the vampire to move around in daylight. Vampire-style cars were still a niche market, but you could rent them in just about every large town. Angel would follow them until the city-limit, making sure they got out okay.

Which probably meant that he would be stuck here on Brooklyn Bridge, right in the middle of a traffic jam, along with them for the next couple of hours.

“Anyone got playing cards?” She turned to face Dawn and Buffy. “Looks like we’ll be here for a while, girlfriends.”

“Great,” Buffy mumbled. “Right out in the open.”

“It’s daylight, B!” Faith made a grand motion to encompass the blue winter sky above them. Somewhere beyond the ceiling of the car, that was. “Wes said they never come out during the day and we still got plenty of time left to get out of here.”

Buffy nodded, but did not seem convinced.

#

There was darkness all around him, the cool shadows soothing where they touched him. The Harbinger closed his stolen eyes for a moment, relishing the proximity of his master’s power. Soon it would be done. Soon his master would walk the Earth.

Finally his work on this world would be finished and he could go on.

The ring was in front of him, its presence lighting the darkness of their underground prison with beautiful fire. Reaching out his armored hand the Harbinger stroked across the ragged surface of the barrier, the magical spell that had imprisoned him here in this tomb for so long, that still imprisoned the ring, kept it beyond his reach.

“Not much longer,” he whispered.

It was time for the next step. The darkness around him swirled with his servants, the wraiths gathering to his bidding. So far they had done good work, had found and eliminated all those whose lives sustained the barrier. All except one.

“The girl,” the wraiths whispered all around him.

They had failed to capture the girl. She had escaped from the death trap the police station should have been, had been spirited away by someone who interfered in their matters. Someone the Harbinger thought familiar for some reason. Something about that blonde girl ...

It did not matter. Whoever she was, whoever else might be helping her, it would not make a difference much longer.

The Harbinger thrust his sword into the ground, felt the power ripple around him. His master had made him strong, a strength that even a thousand and more years of imprisonment had not diminished. Only the smallest part of it was still closed to him, remained out of reach behind the accursed barrier, but not much longer.

A soft glow surrounded him as the wraiths drew closer.

“Our master’s shadow has touched the world,” he intoned, the wraiths whispering the words along with him as flames sprung from his sword.

“In darkness and fire we will walk tall!”

Behind him the ring glowed with a dark radiance all its own, waiting for the moment the barrier would fall.

“Let his enemies tremble as night falls.”

Soon now. Very soon.

#

Faith and Buffy felt it at the same time. Something had changed in the atmosphere around them, something that made the hairs on the back of their necks stand up straight. Two pairs of eyes darted around, searching for the source of the danger. There were only the other cars, though, stuck here on the bridge just like them, drivers honking and cursing, no shadows in sight.

“Something is wrong,” Buffy spoke out loud.

Faith still searched for any possible threat when she noticed something strange. There was a shadow on the passenger’s side of the door, a shadow cast by her arms as she rested them on the steering wheel. Only the shadow began to fade, its outline growing fuzzy.

Where did the sunlight go?

“We have a problem, B!” Faith looked out the window, searching for the place where she knew the sun had to be. Only it was not there anymore.

“My God!” She was not sure who had said that, but it summed up her own feelings quite well.

A dark cloud was spreading over the sky where the sun should have been, a midnight black spot of darkness growing larger with every passing second. A cancerous growth that was blotting out the heavens.

“What is that,” Dawn yelled, clinging closer to Buffy. All around them people were looking out of their cars, staring at the skies with fear evident on their faces. The light was failing all around them, shadows growing longer as the darkness spread over them like a dome.

A dome that was coming down on them faster and faster.

“Turn the car around!” Buffy’s yell broke Faith out of her stasis. The darkness in the sky was moving, she realized, moving directly toward them.

Faith hit the pedal for all it was worth and threw the car into a sharp turn, skidding over onto the nearly empty lanes that led back into the city. Directly ahead of them was Angel’s car, the vampire having realized as well what was going to happen any moment now. Some other cars tried to turn as well, but people had begun to panic now.

Cars crashed into one another, people screamed, the bridge shook with the thunder of running feet, screeching cars.

The darkness slammed down right in the middle of the bridge, a solid wall of black that immediately cut the steel and mortar in half. The entire structure screamed as it was sliced apart, drowning out the people’s screams. Steel cables snapped and cut through the air like whips, crushing helpless people where they stood, flinging cars right off the bridge.

“Faster,” Buffy yelled as the road began to crack beneath them.

“I am going as fast as I can,” Faith gritted through clenched teeth, slamming the pedal right through the car’s floor.

Dawn clung to Buffy, pressing her face into the Slayer’s shoulder as the world around them was reduced to screams and thunder, the car shaking and roaring like a wounded animal. Behind them the bridge broke away into the river, hundreds of cars and people tumbling down helplessly. Faith had drawn up beside Angel’s car and they, as well as several other cars who had turned around in time, managed to stay ahead of the crumbling structure by a hair’s breath.

“We won’t make it,” Dawn screeched as the car lurched and seemed to float freely for a moment, only to hit solid ground a moment later. Faith stepped on the brakes with all her strength, bringing them to a screeching halt right beside Angel’s car.

Angel climbed out and ran over to them, the sunlight completely gone.

“Are you all right?” He looked inside, checking on all of them.

“Just peachy!”

Faith climbed out as well, having to force her fingers to release their death grip on the steering wheel. They had made it off the bridge and back onto the island. As had Angel. As had about five or six other cars.

The bridge and all the other cars that had been on it were gone.

“I guess leaving New York is out for the moment, isn’t it?” Faith looked out across the river.

A wall of solid blackness stood where she should have been able to see New Jersey. The dark waters of the river washed against it, the remains of the bridge sinking beneath the waves even as they watched. The black wall seemed to stretch the entire length of the river, vanishing from sight as it curved around behind the sky scrapers.

The dark skyscrapers. Not a single light was burning in them.

“Why haven’t they turned on the light yet?” Dawn looked around, shivering in the cold that had descended on them. Faith could clearly see her breath as she exhaled.

Angel took out his com and worked the buttons for a moment, then sighed and put it away again.

“I don’t think they can.”

The black wall stretched high above them, forming a dome that shut off the entire island from the outside world, blocking out the sun. Not a single light burned anywhere in Manhattan and when Faith tried to restart her car the engine did not make so much as a sound.

“We’re in trouble,” she muttered.

“You don’t know the half of it!” Buffy’s comment caused Faith to look up. The darkness that had descended over the island was near absolute, only a very dim gloom that seemed to suffuse the air all around allowed them to see anything at all. At least those of them with near-perfect night vision. Every normal human would probably be completely blind.

Which meant that they would not be able to see the literal army of moving shadows that was advancing on them right at this moment.

“Trouble,” Faith repeated numbly.

15  -  The Last Glimpse of Dawn
 

#
 

“This does not look good,” Angel muttered under his breath, looking at the mass of shadows approaching them. The wraith-like creatures barely stood out amidst the near-total darkness that had descended over New York. Even Angel’s superior eyesight could only keep track of them when they moved. The moment they stood still they faded into the background, concealed amidst the regular shadows.

“Dawn, get behind me,” he heard Buffy whisper to the girl, who probably had no clue what was going on here. Angel doubted any normal human would be able to see anything in this darkness.

Angel carefully reached into his coat. While he had hoped for Buffy, Faith, and Dawn to get out of New York before they would have to face these creatures again he had not survived more than three centuries by being careless. The apparent city-wide failure of technology was but a minor drawback. After the events in the police building Angel had made sure that it would not hinder him much.

“Close your eyes,” Angel yelled, throwing something at the advancing shadows. A second later the world around them exploded into light, the phosphorus explosion burning away all the real shadows, leaving the demonic ones standing out with stark clearness.

The light lasted only a few seconds, but that enough time for Angel to start shooting, Buffy and Faith only half a second behind him.

Enchanted bullets struck the shadow creatures and ignited into flame, terrible shrieks shattering the silence around them as their attackers were transformed into living torches. The flames from the burning wraiths provided some light to the scenery, enabling Angel to pick out more of the attackers as they moved toward them, flooding forth from the darkness like a tidal wave. People screamed and started running as the carnage ensued, leaving their useless cars behind and running off into the darkness.

“Get Dawn out of here,” Angel yelled at the two Slayers.

“The damn car won’t start, remember?” Faith was standing close to her priced vehicle, Dawn huddling against the useless hunk of metal. Buffy was on the other side, pumping bullets into advancing demons with a calm precision that belied the feelings Angel received from her over the link.

“Ever heard of going on foot?”

More and more of the shadow creatures burst forth, heedless of their losses as Faith, Buffy, and Angel spread fire among their ranks. There were more of them than Angel had bullets. Far more. Most of the bystanders had gone into blind panic the moment Angel’s phosphor grenade had ignited, trying to run as the world around them became a maze of shadows and flame.

“Dive into the crowds!”

Faith plugged Dawn from the ground, Buffy by her side, and the two Slayers made a run along the edge of the river, following the path most of the panicked bystanders had taken. Angel, slamming his next-to-last pair of cartridges into his guns, was two steps behind them. The shadows surged to follow.

Without breaking stride Buffy took a number of torches from her rucksack, lighting them on the run. She threw the first torch to Angel, who had holstered one of his guns to conserve bullets, lighting two more for herself.

The first shadow to catch up with them fell victim to Buffy’s torch, the Slayer slamming the burning wood right into the center of the creature and sending it screaming into the darkness. More of their attackers caught up quickly even as they reached the edge of the fleeing crowd.

Faith was clutching Dawn close to her chest, ducking as she tried to disappear among the running people. Buffy and Angel spread out a bit, not wanting their presence to give Faith’s position away, yet not daring to abandon her either. Angel hated endangering innocents this way but they had no other choice. Dawn had to live or God alone knew what would be unleashed upon this city and the world.

“Over here, bed sheets!” Buffy waved at the shadows, trying to draw them towards her and away from Dawn and Faith. “Come and get it.”

The creatures were now hovering over the crowd, circling as they seemed to have lost sight of Dawn for the moment. Angel carefully picked them off with his gun, sending one after the other burning into the dark, but there still seemed no end to them. How many of these things were there?

Faith kept her head low, glancing up only occasionally to see the mass of dark wraiths hovering above them, some bursting into flames as Angel or Buffy took them down, but quickly replaced by new ones. They seemed confused, leading Faith to hope she had in fact managed to lose them. Running in the middle of a crowd of panicked people was not exactly her idea of fun, but it beat those bastards getting their filthy hands on Dawn.

The girl was shivering in her arms, quietly sobbing as Faith tried to shield her from this nightmare.

“Don’t worry, shorty,” the dark-haired Slayer whispered to her. “We’ll be out of here in a flash, never fear.”

Without warning the crowd parted in front of her, parted around a huge black shape like water around a rock. Faith skidded to a halt, as did most other people around her, looking at the giant in black armor that was standing a mere ten feet or so in front of her, his right hand holding a sword.

“Must be the Harbinger,” Faith muttered, trying to move behind a few other gawking people before he noticed her.

“Give me the girl,” the Harbinger growled, his gleaming red eyes seemingly focused directly on her. Had he seen her yet or was he just guessing, trying to draw her out?

Angel exploded from the paralyzed crowd to her left, immediately firing on the armored creature. The bullets struck the black steel and burst into flames, but seemed unable to do any harm. The Harbinger looked at the small dents in his chest plate, then back up at Angel.

“Why do you persist in trying to stop me,” the black giant chuckled. “Nothing can hurt me.”

“Care to wager on that?” Buffy appeared behind him and shoved the burning torch right into one of the armor’s shoulder joints, having spotted the small opening there. Flames exploded from the Harbinger’s eye slits as he convulsed, the sword dropping from his hand.

Moments later a human body fell to the ground, burning.

“Where did the sword go?” Angel looked around for the gleaming blade, but it had vanished in the darkness.

Some instinct made Faith turn around, certain that something had appeared behind her, only to see a huge black fist coming toward her face. Dawn screamed.

Then everything went dark.

#

Dawn’s scream caused Buffy’s head to snap around, just in time to see Faith crumble to the ground in front of the Harbinger’s huge black figure, Dawn tumbling from her arms and trying to run away. An armored fists reached out and caught her by the hair, drawing her in.

“Get your hands off her,” Buffy screamed, running toward him.

“The girl is mine,” the Harbinger growled even as Buffy barreled into him, taking them both off their feet. Dawn managed to struggle free, losing a few strands of hair in the process, but she had barely managed two steps when the shadow creatures descended on her.

“Down!” Angel appeared above her, fending off the wraiths with bullets and fire, his demon eyes blazing. Buffy was back on her feet, raining blows on the prone figure of the Harbinger that left huge dents in his armor.

“You won’t take her,” she repeated over and over as she pounded him into scrap metal.

“Won’t I?” The creature seemed to smile at her. A moment later Buffy was standing over a dead human body, the black armor gone without a trace.

“He’s gone again,” Buffy yelled over to Angel, who was busy protecting Dawn from the wraiths and running low on bullets.

“We have to get out of here,” he yelled back. “We can’t keep this up forever.”

“How accurate.”

The Harbinger appeared behind Angel, black armor wrapping itself around the body of a shocked bystander, the woman’s surprised and scared face the last thing to be swallowed up by black steel. Angel turned around, trying to keep an eye on everything at once, but was a moment too slow.

“Angel,” Dawn screamed as the Harbinger ran him through with his sword, the tip exploding out of Angel's back in a shower of blood. The vampire convulsed, more blood gushing from his mouth, before the creature tore out his sword and let him crumble to the pavement.

Buffy fell to her knees as the pain hit her, flooding across her link to Angel. When the building had collapsed on top of him he had had time to shield her, to close down their bond as far as it was possible and keep her from feeling the pain of crushed legs and broken bones. This time everything happened much too fast and Angel’s scream of pain resonated inside her head, tearing her thoughts to shreds.

She tried to get back to her feet, tried to find the strength to fight, but could only watch in horror as the Harbinger’s steel fist grabbed Dawn and threw her over his shoulder, walking off into the darkness as the girl screamed her lungs out, begging Buffy to help her.

A moment later they were gone.

“Dawn,” Buffy screamed as she crumbled to the pavement, pressing her face into the cold concrete. This could not be happening. She had promised Dawn that she would keep her safe, that nothing would happen to her. This had to be a nightmare. It could not be real.

This was not happening. None of it.

Angel managed to prop himself up on his elbows, shoving the pain away. Pain and him were old friends, he knew how to handle it. Shove it away into the darkness, feed it to the demon dwelling there, the monster could take it. Keep the pain away from the bond, spare Buffy the agony.

Only then did he notice that Buffy was in an agony all her own.

“Buffy,” he whispered, crawling over to her. They were alone one some kind of street corner, both the shadows and the onlookers gone now, only the flames of burning wraiths shedding any light at all. His wife was cowering on the pavement, only a few steps away from an unconscious Faith, and crying into her fists.

“Keep it together, please!” He managed to reach her, his hand touching her shoulder. She tensed under his touch, but physical contact strengthened the bond. He reached into her mind, appalled at the self-loathing and guilt he found there. Whatever the Watchers had done to bind the Slayer to Dawn’s bloodline, it had caused one hell of a mess inside his wife’s mind.

“Buffy,” he yelled at her, causing her face to turn toward him. Tears were streaking from her eyes.

“Dawn still lives,” he told her, grabbing her with all the strength he could muster. “He has to set up that ritual to kill her. She needs you strong, Buffy. She needs you to rescue her. Do you hear me?”

Buffy looked at him, her face filled with confusion and fear.

“You think she still lives?” Her voice trembled, barely more than a whisper against his cheek.

“We will find her,” Angel assured her.

He just did not know whether they would be able to do so in time.
 

16  -  Darkness Ascending, Heroes Descending
 

#
 

Spike, Willow, and Tara were trying their best to reconstruct the pentagram Tara had drawn a few minutes before the collapse of the police station when darkness came to New York. The blinds were drawn in the hotel room they used as their base, so the first thing they noticed was the sudden failure of both the lights and Willow’s palm computer.

Tara gasped as the malevolent presence she had felt ever since coming to this city suddenly intensified a hundredfold, pressing in on her from all sides. Spike jumped to his feet and carefully glanced past the blinds, expecting to encounter daylight. Only there was none.

“I think we have a problem, witchy girls.”

“Tara?” Willow sat by her panting lover, whose eyes seemed focus on something far away. Cold sweat was running down her forehead.

“They are cutting us off,” the witch muttered, wringing her hands. “Cuttting us off from the light, from the warmth.”

Spike drew his com from his coat, but it was every bit as dead as the lights and the computer.

”You think the Slayers got the little bit out in time?” He looked at the two witches.

For a moment they all just looked at each other worriedly, then both Willow and Tara sprung up, grabbing their coats and swords, and hurried for the door.

“Yeah,” Spike muttered, grabbing his own coat and following them. “That’s what I thought, too.”

#

New York quickly descended into chaos. For anyone without preternatural night vision the darkness was completely impenetrable and no electric lights or any other kind of technology worked. Inevitably some people panicked. Other people though of non-technological means to create light, namely fire. More than once the panicked people and the ones playing with fire were one and the same.

By the time Spike, Willow, and Tara, the vampire leading the nearly blind witches by the hands, found their friends several buildings were aflame and hundreds of smaller fires had flared all across the city. Spike doubted that he would have been able to find his Sire in this chaos if they had not known which road the Slayers wanted to take out of town. New York was a madhouse and the flames turned the darkness into a blood-tinged twilight, the air filled with screams and the sounds of violence.

Spike was profoundly thankful that Wesley was not with them. Thinking of the old man stumbling around amidst this insanity was enough to turn even his bleached hair gray.

Buffy, Angel, and Faith were in the middle of a large crossing, the remains what looked like a few dozen burning black sheets surrounding them. Spike could smell blood, lots of it, and saw the healing wound in his Sire’s stomach. And then there was the bleeding cut on Faith’s forehead.

Before he even knew what happened he was by Faith’s side, taking a worried look at her wound.

“Are you all right, pet?” A second later he frowned, realizing how he was acting all of a sudden.

“Just a scratch,” Faith muttered, still a bit stunned and seemingly oblivious to his behavior. “That big armor freak took Dawn, though.”

“They have Dawn?” Willow and Tara came up beside them, their faces pale in the dim light of the flames. “Is she ...”

“She was still alive when the Harbinger carried her off,” Angel said, his arm slung around the shoulders of a very shocked-looking Buffy. “They will need to prepare that ritual before they can kill her. Which means we yet have a chance to rescue her.”

Buffy just nodded, her body like a coiled spring ready to snap at a moment’s notice, but having nowhere to direct all that pent-up energy.

“Willow, Tara,” Angel addressed the two witches. “Did you manage to reconstruct that pentagram?”

“Mostly,” Willow looked down, “but then all the technology failed and we lost the computer. No hardcopies either, I’m afraid.”

“Do you remember where its center is? That would be the most likely place for the final part of the summoning to take place, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess. The center was on 42nd street as I recall, somewhere close to the Avenue of the Americas. We weren’t able to pin down the exact position, sorry.”

Tara glanced around all the time, her arms wrapped around her body. The cold was pressing in on her from all sides and she wondered whether she would ever feel warm again.

“I ... I think if we can get to the general vicinity of whoever is casting this darkness spell I can home in on them.”

“Good, then let’s ...,” Angel began.

“They won’t be taking Dawn there,” Buffy looked at them all with wild eyes, appearing more like a panicked animal than anything else. Both Spike and the witches saw that Faith, having shaken off the effects of being knocked unconscious, was not in much better condition. “They will put her into that pentagram somewhere. It could be anywhere in New York.”

Angel realized she was right. He had only seen the pentagram Tara had drawn on the map for a minute or two, but none of the crossed-out points that signified a victim with the birthmark had been anywhere near the center of the conjuring circle.

“The crossed dots,” Spike suddenly snapped his fingers. “That’s where they’re taking her.”

“What?”

“I got a look at that pentagram when Red and Blondie reconstructed it, peaches. Those crossed dots, the ones with the birthmark, were always either at the points of the pentagram or where two of the lines crossed.”

“That still leaves us with ten possible locations, Spike,” Angel reminded him. “We don’t have the time to ...”

“No,” Tara interjected, managing to visualize the pentagram in her mind. “He is right, the intersections of the pentagram were always falling together with the crossed spots. Except for one place.”

One spot that was still missing a victim? The thought came to all of them at once.

“Where is that spot,” Buffy was all over Tara, grabbing the blonde witch by the shoulders. Tara almost flinched back from the look on her friend’s face. “Tell me, Tara!”

“Some ... somewhere near Central Park. It’s the northernmost tip of the pentagram. 59th Street, I think.”

“What are we waiting for then?” Buffy was on the verge of starting to run.

“Fuck,” Faith cursed, holding her back for a moment. “That’s more than halfway the length of the island from here. How are we supposed to get there in time without a car?”

“Can’t you teleport us there or something?” Buffy looked pleadingly at Willow.

“With that much black magic in the air we’d probably arrive in pieces,” the redhead told her friend. “But I think I have another idea.”

Angel followed her gaze and saw that they were only a block away from one of New York’s many zoos, quite a large one, too. And where there was a zoo ...

“Will,” he addressed his childe, “when was the last time you rode a horse?”

#

Ten minutes later they had acquired four horses from the stables of the zoo, driving the nearly panicked animals up the Broadway at their top speed. Angel and Spike each rode a horse, Tara sitting behind Angel and clutching his waist. The other two horses carried Buffy and Faith, the latter had Willow behind her.

“Willow, Buffy, Faith,” Angel yelled at them. “You find and rescue Dawn.” As if he could have stopped them, he mused. “Tara, Spike, and me will pay a visit to the center of this pentagram and try to lift this darkness.”

Willow nodded, the two Slayers barely giving a sign that they had so much as heard him. Both of them were completely focused on rescuing Dawn and Angel doubted they had really needed any directions to find her. They drove the poor horses without mercy, their gazes like searing fire in the gloom surrounding them.

Angel was not sure that it was wise to let them go without either Spike or himself along as backup, but they had limited manpower to work with here. Faith and Buffy would do whatever it took to rescue Dawn, that much he was certain of, and Willow could hopefully keep them from doing anything stupid in the process. The witches were not happy at being split up, he could see that, but he wanted at least one person fluent in magic along on both teams.

Unfortunately this left him with few alternatives. He could only pray that it was enough.

They parted ways when they reached the Avenue of the Americas, Buffy, Faith, and Willow pressing on along Broadway towards Central Park, the others veering off toward the center of the pentagram. Tara, holding onto Angel’s waist for dear life, was trying to home in on the source of the darkness.

Close, yet still far away. Where was it? So close and yet ... downwards.

“Stop!” Angel immediately brought the horse to a halt, the animal rearing back as he pulled back the reins. Tara climbed off the horse and wandered around for a moment, Angel and Spike keeping a lookout for any sign of danger.

Looking up Tara studied the building they stood in front of. Bryant Tower, the newest and tallest addition to New York’s skyline. Didn’t Magitech have an office in there? She was not quite sure, but the building was known even to non-New Yorkers.

“Is it in there?” Angel had walked up to her, gun in hand, painfully aware of how little he had left in the way of bullets.

“Not in there,” Tara muttered, dropping her gaze. “Under there.”

It took them five minutes to get inside, partly due to the fact that some scared people had barricaded themselves in the lobby. Another ten minutes passed until Tara found something that Angel was sure was not part of the building’s specs.

A broad stairway, lit by a seemingly endless number of torches, leading down into the gloom.

“You get the feeling we’re in the right place, mate?” Spike looked at Angel, his own guns at the ready.

“I get the feeling we have a lot of stairs ahead of us.”

As fast as they dared the three people began their descent.
 
 

17  -  Twilight’s Last Gleaming
 

#
 

Wesley had returned to his hotel room just in time to watch the gathering darkness from his balcony, watch as the light of sun was locked away from the city, to be replaced only by the crimson glare of fire. For long minutes the former Watcher could do nothing but watch in rapt fascination as civilization gave way to fear and violence, turning New York into a madhouse.

Everything inside him was screaming to go find his friends, who would no doubt be giving their best to fight this evil, would spare no effort to save all the people who now found themselves locked in shadows. His mind knew, though, that he would only hinder them. He had fought the good fight for a long, long time, but he was only human.

Sighing he walked back into his room, lit by a single candle he had managed to find in the maid’s closet just down the corridor. No, the only thing he could do to aid his friends now was to try and find out more about the thing they would be facing. He had no idea how to get any information he might find to them, seeing as he did not know where they were or even whether they were still ... he chased those thoughts away.

As more fires sprang up outside Wesley buried himself in the Watchers Council database, skimming through lore and knowledge accumulated over the course of a millennium and more. He was not feeling very hopeful, seeing as it had taken him days to find even what little information he had been able to give Angel and the others earlier. Had that really been but a few hours ago?

When he eventually did find another document pertaining to present circumstances he was surprised. Though, after reading through it, not pleasantly so.

“Here follows the account of Briar Matthews, High Prophet of the Council, and the revelation regarding the threat of Golgotha:

“It comes out of fire and shadow, striding across worlds like a titan, leaving pain and destruction in its wake. I name thee Devastator, devourer of worlds. As its shadow falls over our people the darkness shall consume all that is pure and decent, reducing man to animal, spreading violence and hatred like plague.

“A thousand worlds it has consumed, but they could not silence its hunger and craving. Its shadow now falls on our world and the sons of man shall tremble before it.”

Wesley read on, learning that Briar Matthews had died mere minutes after he had uttered these words. By that time the Slayer had already gone out to fight the Harbinger and the Council then mobilized all the knights and warriors loyal to their cause to aid her. Together they defeated it, preventing the coming of Golgotha, at least for that day.

Today, though, there was no army of knights in sight, only a city full of frightened people and his friends. With another sigh Wesley realized that he had no way of getting this new information to said friends. Would it make a difference anyway? He knew that Angel and the others would give their best, even without knowing what kind of threat Golgotha really was.

A thousand worlds it has consumed ...

Wesley went back out on the balcony and watched the city burn, praying to whatever gods might be listening that this world he had sworn to protect would not be number 1001.

#

“There!” Faith’s yell caused Buffy to look where her sister Slayer was pointing. They had ridden their poor horses almost into the ground, their hooves bleeding from the hard concrete of the streets, but they had finally reached Central Park. In the light of the fires Buffy was able to see the movement of shadows.

And a single small figure, crucified to a wall at the park’s edge.

“Dawn!” Her scream seemed to drive her horse to one final effort, jumping over the low fence surrounding the park and galloping right into the middle of battle. Dozens of shadows surrounded Dawn, who was screaming and sobbing for all her little lungs were worth. She was still alive.

With a ferocity that almost frightened her Buffy tore into the shadows. The primal force that had touched her, the Slayer, was fully unleashed, all of its strength focused on obliterating those that threatened Dawn. The world around her was reduced to enemies and allies, all her senses going into overdrive as she moved on pure instinct. Swinging the two torches they had improvised like swords, she was setting the living black sheets aflame wherever she found them.

Faith and Willow were half a step behind her, Faith lost in the same fighting madness as her sister Slayer. The two of them fell into rhythm, moving almost like a single entity, and the shadows were all but helpless before them.

Willow wielded her dragon-forged blade with deadly accuracy, glancing cuts more than enough to unleash dragon’s fire on her enemies. The shadows screamed as half their number went up in flames during the first few seconds.

“We’re coming for you, Dawn,” Buffy yelled at the young girl, fighting to reach her through the mass of opposition. The shadows tried to rip her back, slashing at her with claws of darkness, trying to strangle her with invisible hands. None of it touched her, she barely noticed them. They were nothing but obstacles, things that had to be removed in order to reach Dawn.

“Buffy!” Dawn saw her, a flicker of hope appearing on her face.

#

“Incoming!” Spike’s yell shattered the silence. They had gone down what Angel estimated to be several thousand stairs and there was no bottom in sight. Something else was, though, namely a mass of shadow creatures erupting from below them.

“We are close,” Tara murmured, holding her sword tighter. The blade was already humming, the fire enclosed in its steel responding to the magic unleashed by its twin. Willow was fighting, Tara knew, and it looked like she was about to join her.

“One way or another,” Angel said, jacking a fresh round into his gun, “we have to reach the bottom of these stairs.”

“No prisoners then,” Spike nodded. “Fine by me.”

Then the shadows reached them and the three warriors launched into battle.

#

The Harbinger stood in front of the Ring, stolen eyes closed as he basked in the power of his master. Soon now. Very soon. The power of the cursed sorcerers was all but spent, its last ember would be snuffed when the life of the girl ended. Her soul would flow into the pentagram, her very essence empowering that which she had been born to keep imprisoned.

The irony was so very delicious.

A shadow appeared beside him, whispering. The enemies were coming, they had found his stronghold. The Harbinger just smiled. Let them come. They would arrive in time to see his master walk the Earth, to tremble in terror as its shadow fell upon them all.

“Mere minutes now,” he whispered in his stolen voice. “In the dark of this night you shall burn like a star.”

Suddenly something else drew his attention. Someone was trying to disrupt the ritual. The girl, they were trying to save the girl.

Moments later a dead body fell to the ground, black armor vanishing into nothingness, and the sword of the Harbinger streaked away into the dark.

#

Buffy’s heart skipped a beat when she saw one of the shadows raise a gleaming knife above Dawn’s head, preparing to thrust it into her heart.

“No!” She was too far away to stop him.

The air shimmered and the knife glanced off an invisible barrier, falling away into the night.

“Get to her,” Buffy heard Willow call. “I can’t keep her protected for long.”

The Slayer redoubled her efforts, thrusting the enemies aside as if they were the lifeless sheets they so resembled. The shadow beside Dawn had recovered the knife and was going for another try. Then she finally broke through and dove at the wavering darkness, one of her torches still in hand.

The shadow went up in flames, screaming as the fire devoured it.

Buffy came out of her frenzy and realized that the area around Dawn and herself was free of the shadows, only burning remains scattered across the ground told of their presence. Faith was fighting the few stragglers, using everything from her lighter to burning tree trunks as weapons, quickly finishing them off. Willow lowered her blade, panting heavily from the exertion, and relaxed the force shield she had conjured up around Dawn.

“Dawn!” Buffy was by the girl’s side in a heartbeat. She was strung to the wall with ropes, none of that unbreakable magic that had bound the other bodies. They had arrived in time to stop the ritual.

“Buffy,” Dawn whimpered, fresh tears on her cheek. Tears of relief.

“You’ll be safe now,” Buffy stroked her hair, one hand ripping off the ropes. “No one will hurt you again, I swear.”

For a long moment nothing mattered except holding Dawn in her arms, the girl clinging to her with desperate strength. Angel was a faint presence at the edge of her bond, sharing in her relief at Dawn’s safety, letting her know that they were close to breaking into the center of the pentagram. They would need more help, though, meaning Buffy, Faith, and Willow better get moving soon.

In a minute, Buffy resolved.

During the battle it had not mattered to any of them that the ground around the proposed sacrificial site was littered with bodies. The shadows had cleared the area of human interference, not caring about the lives of those they snuffed. The darkness was hiding most of the bodies from prying eyes, sparing Buffy and the others the gruesome pictures.

It also prevented them from seeing the sword that suddenly appeared in the hand of one of the dead bodies. A body that began to move once more.

#

Angel had just discarded yet another group of shadows that had tried to stop them, spending yet more of his precious bullets, when he gasped and stumbled.

“Peaches?” Spike was by his side in a heartbeat, looking around for any lurking shadow that might have hurt him. Only there was none.

Angel screamed as pain flooded into his bond. There was physical pain, a hard and unexpected blow to the back of his head – not his head – shortly followed by an anguish that threatened to tear even his dead heart to pieces. Angel fell to his knees, breathing heavenly, tears streaming from his eyes as he muttered something under his breath.

“No,” Spike heard as he held his Sire and friend. “Please no!”

Tara saw him, saw the turmoil flooding into his aura, and then felt something move deep below them. Something had just changed. The air was filled with a terrible pressure, as if a door had burst before a shock wave, power spilling up the stairway and hitting her like a steam train.

Tara held on to the railing for balance, trying to breathe as malevolence the likes of which she had never even imagined threatened to swallow her whole. A stench was creeping up the stairway, the stench of roasting human flesh and boiling blood.

“We’re too late,” she whispered, her face white as a sheet. “We’re too late.”
 

18  -  Now Arriving in New York City
 

#
 

It all happened so fast.

One moment Buffy was hugging a crying Dawn to her chest, overwhelmed with joy at having come in time to save the girl, the next she heard Faith yelling something and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

There was a noise behind her, a shadow falling over her. Buffy tried to turn around, raising her arms to defend Dawn, but she was too slow. The huge figure of the Harbinger struck, his sword slicing through the air towards Buffy’s neck. Wild instinct made her move, she threw her body down and to the side, and instead of slicing through her throat the sword glanced off the top of her head, the impact sending her sprawling, stars exploding before her eyes.

“Dawn,” someone screamed. Faith?

“She is the last,” the Harbinger growled. Buffy saw him raise his sword once more.

“No!” The air around Dawn was shimmering again, Willow pouring her magic into a force field to protect her from the killing blow. Faith was moving toward them, but more shadows appeared without warning, swarming on her like ants.

“Thus does our enemies’ plot fail.” The sword sliced through Willow’s force field without even slowing down and Dawn’s scream fell silent.

#

“Dawn is dead,” Angel muttered, getting back to his feet. Buffy’s pain and anguish was pouring into him in huge waves, almost drowning out his own thoughts, but as much as he wanted to take her pain, to comfort her, there was no time for that now.

“We’re too late,” Tara repeated, staring down into the darkness with wide eyes.

“Not yet we’re not,” Spike dragged them both with him, going further down the stairs. “Maybe that magical barrier thing failed but that doesn’t mean they’ve had the time to make good on that yet. Get your butt in gear, peaches!”

Angel realized he was right. Whatever had bound this mysterious Ring the Watchers had talked would fail with Dawn’s death, but the Harbinger would hopefully need some time to use it to complete the summoning ritual.

Pushing all of Buffy’s pain and fear aside, closing down their bond as far as he could, he joined his two friends as they ran down the stairs.

#

In a cavern deep below Bryant Tower the artifact known simply as the Ring stood silent in the dark. For over a thousand years it had stood like this, quiet and impassive, surrounded by an invisible barrier that would keep man, demon, and god away from it, sealing it for the sake of the world. The barrier could only be seen in the light of the flames, when the crimson glare reflected off it, twinkling like a thousand little stars.

Then the stars went out.

#

When the finally reached the bottom of the stares the air around them was thick with moving shadows, slashing and tearing away at them from all sides. Angel had spent all his bullets, now fighting with torch and knife, channeling all the demonic rage he always kept suppressed inside him into his assault. A dozen and more wounds covered his body but he did not slow down.

Spike was by his side, covering his back. The bleached vampire used his final bullets for all their worth, firing them at the thickest concentrations of shadows, where the unleashed fire spells could do the most damage. His ancient leather coat was ripped into so much shreds, his pale body bleeding where the creatures had cut him open, but William the Bloody pressed on.

Tara was the one most effective against the shadows, though. The blade Firefang burned them even with the slightest touch and the blonde witch used her magical prowess to conjure dozens of small witchlights, little more than tiny balls of flame normally used for lighting one’s way, but they proved devastatingly effective against the shadows.

Before them stretched a vast cave, an underground cathedral of dark rock and glimmering fire. They could not see more than a few yards in every direction, but they all felt the malice pressing in on them from somewhere ahead. They all felt that they were approaching the center of the darkness.

#

New York was in flames. Most of the people were either out on the streets, driven into madness by a force none of them understood, or huddling in the dubious safety of their homes, hoping that the insanity and the violence would pass them by.

Outside the black barrier that had enclosed the island of Manhattan there was a flurry of activity. Military units were gathering, trying to figure out a way to break through the darkness. Civilians were evacuated from the surrounding areas as fast as humanly possible.

Many eyes all over the world were on New York, for in some way they all knew that something terrible was happening there. Through some sense none of them was able to describe they could feel it, could feel that something monstrous and horrible was about to enter their world and that New York was its door.

So they watched, they waited, and they prayed.

#

“Over there,” Spike yelled, setting yet another shadow aflame. Was it his imagination or was their number finally dwindling? He had lost count of how many of these creatures he and the others had destroyed, had lost count of the pains raking his body from where they had torn away at him. He was dead, he could take it. The only thing that mattered was reaching ... that.

The writings of the Council had called it the Ring, an indestructible artifact that must never be used lest it bring the horror of Golgotha on them all.

“It sure is big,” Spike mumbled.

They were standing alone, the shadows either gone or regrouping for the moment. The Ring loomed directly ahead of them, a black arch of metal or marble that rose about twenty feet in height, strange and disturbing runes carved into it. Tara gasped, the very sight of the thing like a black claw gripping her heart.

“This is it,” she whispered. “We have to destroy it.”

Spike and Angel nodded, the latter reaching into his coat, taking out a couple of grenades he had preserved for this occasion. He had no idea whether the explosions would be able to destroy what twelve of the world’s greatest sorcerers could not, but if nothing else it would bury the thing below a few thousand tons of rock.

This was no time for finesse.

“Let’s do this.” Angel moved forward, grenades in hand.

“I don’t think so.” Without warning the Harbinger appeared before him, a cold body that had been lying on the ground, hidden by shadows, suddenly rising to be encased in black armor. Angel froze, staring the black creature.

“We will stop you,” he told him, carefully slipping the grenades back into his coat pocket. “We won’t allow you too succeed here.”

“Won’t you?” Below his black helmet the Harbinger seemed to smile.

The darkness around them came alive once more and shadows poured toward them, the wraiths coming forth from every crack and pore in the rocks, swarming them like ants. Spike noticed that there were indeed fewer of them now, but still more than enough to drive them back.

The Harbinger, seeing his enemies detained for the moment, turned toward the Ring. His master’s doorway, finally free of the accursed barrier. Everything was ready now. The pentagram was in place. He would have liked to include the final offspring in its magic, but it was not essential to its working. The lives of hundreds had flown into it. The fact that some of those lives were the descendants of the twelve sorcerers was but a welcome bonus.

Now only one thing was missing. The Harbinger raised his sword and walked toward the gate.

#

“He’s going to set that thing in motion,” Spike yelled over the screams of burning shadows. “Peaches, you have to stop him!”

Angel was closest to the Harbinger, who was standing in front of the Ring with his sword clutched in both hands. There seemed to be a ripple around him, as if the darkness itself was trying to move away from him.

“Tara,” Angel yelled at the witch. “Can you clear a path for me?”

There were still a lot of shadows between him and the creature and he was out of weapons. The torch had flickered and died, his bullets were spent, and he did not dare waste the grenades. Tearing into the shadows with his hands and the long knife he carried with him did not prove very effective.

Tara was defending herself as best as she could, calling a spell of light that made her flesh glow and sent the shadows cowering. Seeing the situation at hand she quickly made a decision.

“Catch!” Angel’s hand reached out by instinct to grasp the sword Tara threw his way. Firefang hummed as cold fingers closed around it, the blade displeased at being wielded by someone else than the one for whom it had been forged. Had Angel wrested it from Tara’s hand against her will the sword would have burned him. As it was he felt but a slight discomfort.

Slashing the blade in vicious arcs he cleared a space before him, sending the remaining wraiths screaming into the darkness where they had come from, opening up a path to his main opponent, who seemed oblivious to the battle going on behind him. Angel raised the dragonblade for a decapitation blow.

The Harbinger turned around and met him with his own sword, the two blades crashing together in a shower of sparks.

“You are too late,” the creature hissed, its eyes glowing crimson behind the helmet. “Your world belongs to my master.”

“Not yet!”

Angel remembered the many movies he had seen over the years, where sword fights would always last minutes without end, the opponents going back and forth. Real sword fights were not like that, not when people were actually trying to kill each other. They always ended within a few blows.

The Harbinger was the superior swordsman, which Angel realized quickly. But apparently the creature had yet to realize that he was a vampire and that only decapitation would kill him. So when the Harbinger thrust forward to impale him Angel allowed it to happen, hissing in pain as the sword buried itself in his side.

“You will not see the end of your ...” the Harbinger began, only to be interrupted when Angel, his opponent’s sword trapped, swung the dragonblade in a vicious arc and cut the creature’s head off.

The black armor vanished, a cold body falling to the floor. The sword clattered free of Angel’s flesh and a moment later Spike was upon it, nailing the blade to the floor with two knives from the seemingly never-ending supply of weapons he carried in his coat.

“That thing’s not going anywhere,” Spike nodded, pleased as he saw the sword struggle, trying to break free, but not succeeding.

“That takes the Harbinger out of the game,” Angel got back to his feet, ignoring the pain from the fresh wound. Being impaled twice in the span of a few hours was a poor record even for him.

For a moment the tension seemed to evaporate around them. There were no more shadows attacking from the darkness. Whether that was because they had finally reached the end of their numbers or just because the Harbinger was no longer around to give them orders they did not know, but it did not matter right now. It was over.

Then they all looked up as the Ring suddenly began to glow.

“This is not good,” Spike murmured, taking a step back.

“He activated it.” Tara’s voice was a frightened whisper.

The three warriors looked on in horror as the obsidian arch blazed in an unholy light, the symbols carved into it standing out in red flame. A humming filled the cavern all around them, growing stronger with every passing second.

Angel passed the sword back to Tara, picking up his own discarded knife. “Stand ready!”

“Whatever it is, we can take it,” Spike took up position beside him, eyes fixed on the portal forming before them. “Thing is only twenty feet high. We’ve faced bigger demons.”

A gust of flame shot out of the shimmering vortex, lancing straight up. The cave ceiling cracked above them, rocks raining down, forcing them back. The fire borrowed a tunnel right into the rock, blazing brighter and brighter.

On street level the few onlookers still around flinched back as all the windows on the bottom level of the Bryant Tower blew out at the same time, flames leaking from the ragged holes, the screams of the people still barricaded in the lobby drowned out by the roar. The windows on the first floor were next, only a heartbeat passing between the explosions. The flames climbed higher and higher, raining millions of broken glass shards down on the burning city.

The fire exploded from the tip of the tower and lanced upward into the black dome that spanned the island, fire and shadow mingling as the entire city was bathed in crimson light. On the shores of New Jersey soldiers and generals watched in awe as the dome began to glow from inside, many of them whispering prayers underneath their breath.

Then the black dome exploded into a million shards of darkness. More flames were pouring forth from the ruined spire that had been Bryant Tower, enlarging the fiery vortex forming above it with every passing second. Six million people looked upwards at the spectacle, frozen where they stood as the heavens above them were eclipsed by a whirlpool of fire, a giant disk of energy easily the size of a dozen football stadiums.

When no more rocks were raining down from above Spike, Angel, and Tara carefully stepped below the hole the flames had left in the ceiling of the cave, looking up. They could see right through the scorched interior of the tower, all the way up to the skies lit by fire.

All of them could see a dark shape moving in the flames, slowly growing larger.

“Or maybe we haven’t,” Spike muttered.

Go to Part 19