Face To Face With DisasterBy Queen C
Dawn’s POV
I’m running. Running as fast as my legs will carry me, I tear through the empty hallways of the Hyperion. My vision is blurred due to the tears coursing down my cheeks, my hair is flapping behind me, and my breath is coming in short gasps. Still, I keep running.
Just before I turn a corner, I spare a glance over my shoulder, suddenly aware that I’m not being followed. However, I don’t slow down and I don’t breathe a sigh of relief. Instead, I wrench open the nearest door and darted into the room. Once inside, I pause, leaning against the wall. Closing my eyes, I focus on slowing my ragged breathing.
As the inky blackness envelopes me, I allowed my mind a second to regroup. This can't be happening! Willow said we were safe, that his soul was back in control. The thought of the redhead that was so much like a sister to me causes a sob to escape my throat, fresh tears making tracks down my dirt-covered cheeks. Againt my will, memories come rushing at me, taking me by force.
Willow was smiling and laughing, perched comfortably on Spike's lap. Her entire face was animated as she finished telling a story about her, Xander, and Jesse's summer vacation before fourth grade. Once she was finished, she leaned back against her mate, her fingers threading through his, which were wrapped tightly around her waist.
I remembered thinking that she had never looked happier.
Suddenly, my knees buckle and I collapse to the ground, dry heaves wracking my body as my mind pulls up the most recent memory of the woman I had respected almost more than Buffy.
Willow's broken body lying on the floor of the lobby, her green eyes wide and full of unseen terror. Her pale skin covered in cuts, her clothing ripped to shreds. And the blood. There was so much blood.
Shaking my head, I force the image away. There will be time to mourn later. Right now, I have a job to do. Stay alive. That’s all that matters.
Running the back of my hand across my mouth, I wipe away the remnants of spit and bile. Taking a deep breath, I rise unsteadily to my feet. I have to get it together. This is *no* time to freak out.
Once I’m certain I can move without falling, I stumble through the room, searching for a place to hide. Unfortunately, nothing seems quite right, and I feel the terror begin to creep up on me again as I realize that there’s no where I can hide that he isn’t going to find me.
"All right," I whisper, wincing at how loud my voice sounds, "If I can't hide until help gets here, I'll just have to fight." I know that’s easier than it sounds. After all, I’m thinking about going up against someone who has the strength of ten men, if not more. Still, I know I have to do *something*, and running around in circles in a dark room while plagued with horrible images really isn’t my style.
That being decided, I begin sorting through the rubble, looking for something I can use as a weapon. Realizing that I’m not going to find anything fumbling around in the dark, I reach into my pocket, my hand closing around the lighter I had put there earlier.
Spike's lighter.
Spike was kneeling beside Willow's still form, his face a picture of devastation. An inhuman howl tore from his very being, his sorrow chilling in its intensity. Raising his head, he locked amber eyes on me, causing me to take a step back in fear. He growled at me to run. Then, turning his head, he leapt to his feet and launched himself at the person who had *dared* to hurt his mate.
"No! No, no, no, no, *no*!” I hiss, blinking away the image. "I have to stay *focused*!" Taking a deep breath, I exhale slowly. Then, with shaky hands, I flick the lighter.
And nearly scream at the scene before me.
Fred and Gunn are a few feet away, lying side by side. Their hands are joined together, a symbol of the strength they had given one another, and anyone else who needed it. However, due to the gash going from Fred's throat to her abdomen and the fact that Gunn's face had been completely ripped off, it’s obvious that they wouldn't be providing any type of support ever again.
Gagging, I back up, trying to tear my eyes away from the grotesque display. Unfortunately, it’s almost like a car wreck. You don’t want to look, yet you can’t help but wanting to see.
Finally, I turn my head, my gaze landing on a blood-covered sword. Swallowing, I walk to it, wrapping my hand around the cool handle. Taking yet another steadying breath, I spin on my heel and march from the room. Pausing in the doorway, I cast one last glance at the still forms of the couple.
I try not to think about the fact that the sword I’m holding is the weapon that was used to kill them.
"You didn't die in vain," I promise, my voice firm despite my shattered nerves. "I'm going to stop him, once and for all." Then, I pull the door closed and proceed down the hallway. As I near the top of the stairs, the sounds of fighting reach my ears. Flesh striking flesh, gasps of pain and surprise, growls and snarls of anger and frustration.
For a brief moment, I entertain the idea of darting out the front door, leaving this house of horrors behind me. However, I know that I would never forgive myself if I didn't try to help. So, tightening my grip on the sword, I square my shoulders and calmly walked down the steps, entering the lobby.
Looking around, I finally spot the battle. Despite the death and destruction surrounding me, my breath still catches in my throat at the sight of Connor, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, exchanging blows with his father.
I licked my lips, the fluttering in my stomach growing stronger as Connor leaned closer. Finally, our lips touched and I gasped, a spark of what felt like pure electricity shooting through me. Leaning back, I smiled at him, my heart feeling as if it were going to burst with the love I felt.
I narrow my eyes, forcing the memory away. Idly, I wonder if Buffy has ever done this. If she’s ever been in a life-threatening situation and found that her mind won’t pay attention. Then, I shake my head and try to focus on what needs to be done.
No matter how good his kisses feel, he has to be stopped.
As if moving in slow motion, I cross the lobby of the hotel, my gaze never wavering from the fight. Past Willow's still form, past the small pile of dust that had once been the infamous William the Bloody, past the crumpled form of a brutally violated and beaten Cordelia, past the dismembered torso of Wesley Wyndham-Price.
With each atrocity that I pass, my sadness turns to anger and my resolve strengthens. Therefore, by the time I reach my destination, I don't bother pausing for pleasantries.
I give no thought to the witty banter that my sister was famous for, nor do I worry about the repercussions of what I’m about to do. I simply draw my sword back, then thrust it forward to the hilt, watching with detachment as the metal slices through the flesh of my target, emerging from the other side.
Only when the strangled gasp of shock came from the attacker does reality slap me in the face. I know what I did was right, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, tears streaming down my face. "I'm *so* sorry," I repeat, my gaze landing on Angel's stricken face.
"I told you to run," the vampire mumbles, then collapses to the ground as his legs give out, sobs racking his large frame.
Slowly, Connor turns around, looking down at the sword protruding from his stomach, the blade sticking out just below the long trail of claw marks across his chest. He raises his head, his blue eyes full of confusion as he manages to choke out, "Dawn?"
And, it’s in that instant that he’s back, returned from wherever the poison sent him. He’s back, and he’s dying. Finally, he falls to his knees, his hands going around the blade. He moans in sorrow and anguish as the memories come flooding back to him. The faces of the lives he took, the people he destroyed. Looking past me, his eyes lock on the corpses littering the lobby floor and he screams.
Wesley had warned us to avoid the demon's claws. He’d said that they contained a type of poison that suppressed the soul and brought out the darkness in a person. Connor hadn't paid the ex-Watcher much mind, figuring the demon wasn't going to get a chance to do much of anything with so many seasoned warriors attacking it.
He had been wrong.