Sang et Ivoire
By Holly
Chapter Forty-Two
"I think my favorite part," Dawn said enthusiastically, leaning over the chocolate shake Xander had purchased at the local malt shop, "was when the orchestra played Another Brick in the Wall instead of Pomp and Circumstance. My God, it was so hilarious! The director got up in their faces... like seriously. Good thing it was just the rehearsal. I have a feeling shit woulda hit the fan if they'd tried to pull that at the actual ceremony."
Harris grinned, chuckling lightly. He leaned backward into the comfort of Revello Drive's worn and hackneyed sofa. Pullout bed it was not, but after such extensive use, it easily rivaled the comfort of a Denver Mattress. "Now, why couldn't my graduation have been something like that?"
"Because of the giant snake?" Anya offered.
"Oh. Right." Wearily, he shook his head. "Really, kid, you got off lucky. Imagine spending the last minutes of your free life as you know it worrying if tomorrow would..." He stopped when he caught himself, receiving dangerous glares from all angles. "Again with the sheepish answers and the..." A flush of relief filled his face. The Watcher was approaching. "Giles! My man! What's up? Any news from Will?"
"I think he means Will-ow," the vengeance demon clarified supportively. "When there's more than one running around, it becomes imperative to specify."
"Let's get one thing straight, Ahn," Xander retorted. "As everyone here knows, or at least I hope... if I was referring to Spike, I'd call him Spike. That entire 'answering to Will' thing is disturbing in more ways than one."
No one had paused to gauge the look on the Watcher's face.
"When there is someone here who knows him as Will," Anya said, gesturing without following her hand, "you should do the polite thing and specify. He might mistake one for the other. But that's beside the point. I-"
Dawn's face fell with cold recognition and she violently motioned for the others to shush. "Giles. Giles, what is it? What happened?"
A chill swept the room. In an instant, Xander was on his feet, face stressed with worry. "Did you get a call?" he demanded. "Are they having trouble in LA? We'll bust a move out there so fast-"
"I have not spoke to Willow since she left," he said softly. "I would assume she would call if things went awry. As far as I know, all is well." A long breath escaped his body. He did not offer to continue.
Dawn stepped forward and placed a delicate hand on his arm. "Giles," she said slowly. "What happened?"
"It's..." The Watcher looked positively shaken and had to move to sit down before continuing. "Will... William called. Buffy has... she's lost her soul again."
A dumbfound silence draped over them in horrible reflection. The look on the girl's face blanked like a newly cleaned washboard. She drew her hand back as though scorched, tears welling in her eyes. Bland, emotionless tears that rolled without sobs. Without changing her outward demeanor. As if her body craved to mourn but the rest of her would not allow it.
Xander stumbled back, finding the arm of the sofa before he lost his balance. "H-how did it happen?"
"Well, Sherlock Holmes, I'm guessing she and Spike engaged in sexual relations. Isn't that what took Angel's soul away?" Anya observed, tone blunt and to the point, as was custom.
"No," Giles retorted shortly.
She frowned in confusion. "Sex didn't take Angel's soul away?"
"No... yes, it did, but..." The Watcher sighed, features animating with annoyance. Even that visage was welcome. Any reaction was better than none. "Will and Buffy... they didn't. They didn't sleep together."
"Yeah," Xander snapped defensively. "She would know not to do that. Especially, well... with what happened the last time. And again with the entire 'I just killed Faith' thing."
"Neither of them would," Giles agreed. "Apparently, Will finally confessed his feelings to her, and she-"
"What do you mean, finally?" Dawn asked, looking up sharply. "It's not like he's never said it before. If memory serves, we couldn't get him to shut up about it before he left."
The Watcher nodded. "Precisely. With his return, he was afraid of what such would... he had severe reservations, and from his perspective, they were understandable. I suppose with what he told us before they left, he concluded that withholding his feelings was... futile."
"So the one time he should have spoken up, he didn't," Xander summarized disbelievingly. "Trust a guy like Spike to..." He trailed off in what was supposed to be disgust, but inherent sympathy coated his tone instead.
"Willow. Have you called Willow?" the Summers girl demanded.
Giles heaved a long sigh. "I tried as soon as I got off the phone... she didn't pick up. No one picked up. Not on her cell phone or the secretarial line at Angel Investigations. I've left a message... but..." There was a brief pause. "I've told Will to go ahead. He needs to get her to Africa as soon as possible. He has also agreed to... if it should come down to it, he says he will compete the trials for her."
"Are we all forgetting that soulless Buffy probably won't be in support of that idea?" Xander demanded, his voice reaching a new octave. "How the hell is Spike supposed to-"
"I gave him instructions."
"Oh, gee. There we go. The epitome of reassurance. Thanks for that, G-Man. Sorry when I say I don't buy it."
"He knows what to do. I trust him implicitly in this matter. I just worry... he's alone with her." The Watcher shook his head heavily. The weight of decision was already buried in his eyes. What came next surprised no one. "I'm going to get on the first plane back to London. When all is said and done, that is where he will return. I need to be there when he does. Perhaps the Council will be willing to-"
"Stake her real good?" Harris barked. "God, Giles! You know these people better than anyone here, and even I can tell that that's not such a good idea!"
"These are special circumstances," he retorted. "Buffy is a Slayer. Is. Was. She has one of the most notorious names in the demon world. The Council wouldn't kill her. Given our dealings with William, I'd be willing to bet they would help in any way-"
Dawn's eyes widened. "Yeah, just like they helped Angel!"
"Giles, this is the Council you're talking about. Remember them? We don't like those guys." Xander sighed heavily. "We gotta find Willow."
"I'm not sure if that will work."
The Summers girl nearly doubled over. "What? Why wouldn't it?"
There was a brief silence. The Watcher removed his glasses ritualistically. "I cannot say for certain," he replied a minute later. "It's an intuition. A bad intuition, granted, but... there are just some things you know. They are on the other side of the world. Alone. And even if we are miraculously able to help in some way, for Buffy, it might be too late."
"So we're just going to sit back and assume everything turns out okey dokey?" Harris demanded hotly. "Sorry, I can't accept that."
"That is not what I said," Giles retorted. "I will never stop trying to help. You should know that. If I have not reached Willow by tonight, I intend to leave for LA. She does not have the supplies with her to perform the curse, and it took Wesley several days to locate another orb. What I'm saying, Xander, is that it is imperative that we do not establish all faith in magic. There is every reason to believe we will not be quick enough. Do you understand?"
The spite slowly vacated the other man's demeanor, and his body relaxed as a sigh rolled off his shoulders. "Right," he agreed a second later. "I see what you're getting at. So what until we hear from one of them? Just sit here, twiddling our thumbs?"
"We should leave for LA now," Dawn said hurriedly. "I'm not going to wait around. No way. Nuh uh. Giles, come on. Let's leave. Let's leave now."
The Watcher looked at her solemnly. "It is better that you stay here."
"What? No! No way. I can't stay here. I gotta be doing something. Please!"
"Dawn-"
"If something happens, I won't forgive myself. Get it? You remember the last thing I said to her? With the hostility and the... and the... me being me five years ago?! If that's the last thing she remembers me for. I..." With an emotional gasp, she turned away, hand going to her mouth. "Whatever you do, let me..."
Anya stepped forward and offered her back a few impassive pats of reassurance. "There, there, Dawnie," she said.
"You can't blame yourself for that," Xander rejoined sympathetically.
With an aggravated sniff, the girl pulled away from everyone's reach, wiping her eyes on her sleeve angrily. "Says you!" she spat. "You who gave me the third degree! Don't go switching sides now. You were right. And I-"
"You were stressed, hon," he replied. "So was I. We'd all had what is safe to call the longest week of our lives. Buffy knows you love her. If you didn't, you wouldn't have reacted at all."
"I..." Dawn's vision clouded with tears and she sank sullenly into the chair adjacent to the coffee table. "You're right, of course. You're always right. But that doesn't stop me from feeling horrible, get it? No matter what you say, I'm still going to... please, Giles. Let's go. Let me go with you. Let's find Willow."
"I'm not sure how much assistance you could-"
"I don't care! Just let me do something. Let me feel like I'm helping. Take my mind somewhere that's away. Is that too much to ask?"
The Watcher heaved a long breath. "Will it ease you?" he asked softly. "Even under such circumstances?"
"What else am I going to do to feel better?" she demanded.
"Mmm... good point." He glanced to Xander. "Are you two well to stay here? I need someone to be on alert for a phone call either from Will or... Willow." He frowned a bit at his wording and received dubious glances from all directions. "At any rate, she needs to know what has happened, even if she cannot help."
"And until then?"
Giles pursed his lips; features contorted with more worry than one human being should be allowed to bear. "Pray."
*~*~*
He had vowed never to visit this place again.
Of course, over the past several years, William had made more than one promise to himself that now lay amidst the thousand others broken by lack of willpower and time. He had pledged never to set foot in Sunnydale for the remainder of his unlife, to never come in contact with any of the Scoobies - namely, Buffy Summers, to never let anyone know that he bore a conscience to coincide with countless misgivings. Once upon a time, he had sworn to protect Dawn and proved abortive. Not wittingly, but it was a failure nonetheless. Another nameless shortcoming.
The bundle in his arms weighed with sufficient prompt. William drew in an emblematic breath and eyed his objective wearily. Not thirty-six hours earlier, he had assured Giles that he could endure the trials once more, if only for her. He could. He would. He fight to the bitter end, or die trying.
That did not make the approach any simpler.
The duster lay restlessly over Porphyria's unconscious form, blocking her from sunlight exposure. Twilight had fallen a half hour before and he had not yet moved to uncover her face. It hurt to look at her.
All reservations aside, there was no delaying the inevitable. It was time.
William prowled forward, moving effortlessly through the same tribal village that he had occupied all those years ago. An eternity had passed since he had last made the journey. He remembered how it felt to crawl from those caverns - befuddled, pained, and repentant. Struck with more grief than he could bear.
A local approached, features wrought with instinctual and manifest panic. Was it the same that had issued the warning that fateful night? Memorizes were fuzzy and mixed in a blur of recognition. He couldn't think far that back without flinching. "Toyenza coyengara. Erio mtuwana," the villager hissed.
"Sod off," the vampire replied dispassionately. "'F I told one of yeh, I've told a thousand. I don' bloody care about permission."
His words were empty and poorly aimed. Shivers of presentiment ran up his spine in affect. The native yelled something else, but he wasn't paying attention. There was nothing between him and his destination. Nothing beyond everlasting redemption. No more boundaries to cross.
None... except one.
The cave was just as he remembered it - dark and menacing. Something that would cause a creature of the darkest origin to recoil in fear. The lighter was not easily accessible, but he did not need it. Memory served well enough, and without substantiation, William could make out the paintings artistically smeared on the rock foundation. Every image was as vivid as ever: depictions of people in pain, pouring of blood. His arms were growing weary, but he knew he could carry Porphyria as far as was needed. He refused to set her down in this place.
A shudder swept through the cavern, and he instantly recognized that he was no longer alone. Ridding his expression of all looming trepidation, he drew in a breath and turned to face a pair of all-too-familiar green eyes, glowing with sparks of ember.
"An old visitor," the predicted deep voice acknowledged. "The vampire seeks me again." A long, inquisitive pause. William was sure his anticipation would wear away any strains of time, but he was wrong. A thousand years seemed to pass before he spoke again. "And again about a woman. About the Slayer."
"Wow," the platinum blond retorted, less courageous than he sounded. It was pointless trying to conceal edgy nerves, but instinct refused to let him relax and conform. "Impressive, mate. I see that bloody perception of yours 'asn't moved an inch. Are these clairvoyant tendencies a part of the gig, or jus' a habit you got annoyingly good at?"
"You seek permanent restoration for the Slayer."
Cold, empty confidence chilled his veins. "Again with that insight."
"And you dare present yourself before us once more. Your compensations have been repaid. Our deed has been performed. We owe you nothing."
"Yeh. An' 'f I was here about me, that might be a problem." William lifted the unconscious vampire in his arms expressively. "I'm 'ere for her. Right? She gets what I got. Made a promise to the lady, an' I'm not leavin' till-"
"She does not seek restoration," the demon rumbled. "She has embraced what she became. You chose to deny your origin. There is nothing that can be done for her."
"Bloody right there is. You din't take me the firs' time around. I'm ready to 'ave another go."
The laugh he received in respite was cold and mocking. Shivers sprouted across his skin in affect. "This is not about you. It was never about you. Not when you crawled to us before, and not with your return." The eyes of the creature glowed maliciously. "This is all about her."
"Again. I'm all with the impressed. Can we get on with it?"
"The woman you hold does not seek such atonement," the demon repeated. "It must be desired by the beholder."
The Cockney's eyes darkened menacingly and he clutched her tighter to his chest, protective in a frontage of offense. "'F you don' want to help us, I suggest you wait," he spat. "Red'll work 'er mojo an' then the Slayer'll be revved to earn it 'erself."
"The Witch." Something hard fell within the pit of William's stomach. A dark, foreboding sensation of general bad business. He had the certain whim to run but his feet would not budge. He would not allow himself such leave. Not when so much depended on his resolve. "The Witch will not be reached. Her magic cannot touch the Slayer within these caverns."
"Then I'll 'ave to bloody do it myself, won' I?" the vampire growled. "Buffy wants a sodding soul, an' I'm gonna get 'er one. Throw what you like at me - I'm wise to you now."
Another long chuckle sounded through what had to be endless tunnels. "The dark warrior returns," the demon said mockingly. "The trials are not as you remember them."
His jaw hardened determinately. "All the better."
"Fighting for the namesake of another. Another whose heart is blacker than any you have had the privilege to touch."
William shrugged. "Well, said it once, I'll say it again. The bitch is gonna see a change. Gimme your best, mate. I'm ready for anythin'."
There was a long pause, then a rumble of what could be construed as endorsement. "One battle," the demon decided. "To the death."
The peroxide vampire's brows arched confidently. "I guess the trials aren't as I remember 'em," he observed. "You must be losin' your edge. 'S that all I gotta do? Defeat one of your sodding baddies?"
"To the death," came the repetitious reply.
"Not a problem. Took care of your last boy real good din't I?" William finally conceded to lower the precious cargo in his arms to the ground, propping her comfortably against a slab of stone. With some hesitation, he revealed her face beneath the duster, grinning poignantly to himself. "I do it for you, luv," he whispered. Then, straightening, he took a good look around the vacant space surrounding him before he turned back to the demon. "Where's this boy of yours?"
The answer came so quickly that by the time he gathered what had occurred, there was no room for recovery. Something the size of a small anvil crashed against his legs, sending him spiraling to the rock cave wall with harsh impact. An eye edged open wearily as darkness like he had never felt consumed him whole.
"Right here," Porphyria drawled as she advanced. "You see, that's the problem with you. Always assuming it's a boy who will put you down." She was upon him within a minute, hand clinched tightly at his throat; lifting him several strained feet above the ground. "You ready, lover? Let's dance."