CHAPTER 22

 

Nights came earlier, it seemed. And dawns. Maybe it was another
consequence of that damned object they were using to tear reality
apart. Sitting beside the window at Buffy's house, Xander leapt on the
sofa every time a rushing spark of bright light flashed in the streets.
The thin barriers had grown wider and all types of creatures wandered
in the shadows. Some of them walked in daylight too. Some people had
gathered their belongings in the middle of the night and had fled
without looking back. He wondered how far they could go before demons
had taken over every city on earth. Thanks God Joyce had stayed in
New York for another week. It gave them a good place to meet since
everybody thought Buffy had been sent to a mad house and, frankly, he
really hadn't found a good excuse to tell Joyce about her daughter's
absence. His hope about Buffy's success was fading quicker with every
hour and now, even Oz seemed to have disappeared. Or worse. Maybe he'd
crossed one of those bright thresholds to the realm of werewolves, if
such thing existed.

The clattering sound of the mugs dangerously wavering on a tray brought
his attention back to the living room. So Anya could make coffee after
all her complains about that insignificant subject. And yet, that
insignificant thing brought some hope to his heart. At least some
new yarns to add to the tearing weave in his guts.

"I don't want sugar." Another thing he was more than flabbergasted
about. Cordelia's small voice still could fight an ex-demon. Pale and
with the most tired features he had ever seen, even in Buffy's worst
nights, Cordelia still had some attitude.

"You must have some sugar. You look horrible and sugar is good for the
body. At least that's what they have told me. That and other things we
don't have time to experiment." Anya was a real stubborn girl when she
was at it. "Drink it. Tell her to drink it, Xander."

"Do it." He complied with a distant ring before sipping from his own
mug. Coughing lightly after tasting the thick brew, he put the cup
back on the table. That wasn't coffee. Not human, at least. Hope
receded a little. "So... I think this is going to be a one single man
investigation committee." He tried to sound cheerful. Nobody granted
him a slight smile. "Maybe I'd get a badge and a big flashlight and
called myself Mulder. Any of you want to be Scully?" Two pairs of dead
eyes could have been more animated.

"I'm going with you." Cordelia made a funny face after finishing her
coffee. Her good hand was holding the mug so tightly that her knuckles
were as white as the cup.

What had happened to the Cordelia he knew? This one couldn't be her. He
had expected her to shout insults and kick his butt for having let her
face that horrid situation all by herself. He had even expected her to
be picking up some colourful cast to replace the dull and boring white
one that was wrapping her arm. But there she was. The most resolute
expression in her face, her lips joined in a thin line. And Anya? She
was grabbing her coat! So not alone then. He nearly sighed in relief.
Two women weren't the army of Hell but he'd have welcomed a Boy Scout
platoon if they had appeared at the door.

 

Twelve o'clock. At least that was what his watch said. Where was the
sun? Xander looked at the reddish sky through the car window as he
avoided strange beings on the road to the City Hall. None of them
had made any attempt against the car, though. They were running in
the opposite direction, hiding in the houses porches or wherever they
could. He was about to say something about it when a roar filled the
air. A bright orange light blasted on the street at the car rear.
Another bolt hit a kerb and a rain of debris hammered the roof.

"Holy fuck! What's that?"

"Kro'hian." Anya replied as casual as if she was talking about the
weather.

"Thanks for the name but I meant WHAT is THAT." Xander twisted the
steering wheel to one side.

"Oh! Fire demons. They like bragging. Don't worry. They are opening
a path for their Queen. It'll take a while."

"Don't worry! We're going to become roasted steaks and she says don't
worry!" He turned to the left in one corner and the wheels shrieked
angrily. The City Hall was only four blocks ahead. Xander stepped the
accelerator pedal as if he'd make a hole in the floor. The car jumped
forward, hit the kerb and stopped a few inches away from a tree.

"City Hall, ladies! Let's get inside now!"

The front door was closed. It didn't give way even after they kicked
it for five whole minutes. A sudden shattered noise exploded round the
corner. Windows. Good entrance as any other. Xander helped the girls to
jump inside among dangerous slivers and followed them into an empty
corridor.

"What now? Hope you've planned something 'cause, frankly, I don't want
to be wandering around."

"We planned it when you were at hospital. Not that brainless here."
Shaking his head he went upstairs looking for the Mayor's office. Oz
had that strange idea. If they couldn't fight the sceptre or find the
slightest clue about it in the Mayor's office, at least they'd be able
to find that Vessel Willow had talked him about. Destroying it would
mean Angelus would be out of the equation and, under the circumstances,
that mere fact would really be bliss.

"What the hell...?" The floor was so slippery that he nearly lost his
balance. A strong grip on a doorknob saved his butt from a painful
crash. "Mud? Mud in the hallways of the City Hall? Stinky mud?"

Cordelia's nose was so wrinkled that it'd nearly disappeared into her
face. A yellow lapel cupped Anya's mouth. "It's not mud. It's shit.
Sorry, but it is. Well, not like that of..."

"Anya!" The horrible smell was enough. He didn't need a full image of
whatever she may say.

"Like puppies shit. Tons of puppies. At least they aren't rabbits..."
She stated as if that fact could possibly ease the disgust and sickness
from her two escorts. "It'd have been flesh. And that's nasty."

"I'm so not going to ask..." Xander ran after Cordelia when she turned
to the left.

"Well, you should. 'Cause that's a thing I don't want to see again.
Least of all as a horrible, weak human. Sorry." She quickly added with
a grimace. "It's not that I'd like to see these puppies too but..."

Whirling around suddenly, Xander forgot the smell to face the ex-demon.
His heart was pounding so fast in his chest that he was sure it was
going to explode within two seconds.

"They aren't puppies, are they? Don't want to know... Yes, I want to
know. Tell me we should have brought a shotgun instead of two axes."

Anya's giggle was so out of place that he couldn't but bounce on his
feet as if she had shouted in his ears. "You're really funny. All
humans think they can erase everything with a gun? Strange notion..."

"Anya..." His blood was now boiling, torn between shaking that girl to
her senses or forget her in the next corner. "You are human, too. And
if they aren't puppies they're going to chomp your bones just like
ours. Are you getting the point here?" He asked when her smile didn't
shrink one bit. "Forget it."

"I think we should follow the trace." With a roll of her eyes, Cordelia
answered Xander's bewildered expression. "Dogs are guardians, right? So
I bet they're guarding something."

 

Against all the screaming voices of alert that were flashing inside
his guts, Xander went downstairs in front of the ladies as the captain
of a very reduced battalion. His knees had begun to hurt with every
step he took. Rigid and stiffen as though they had been filled with
plaster. Silence was a brick hanging above their heads. Till a muffled
noise crept from the opposite side of the stairs. Voices. One too
familiar. Three hands pushed him to the next landing and inside a room.

"We are so close, my dears!" There was such enthusiasm in the man's
tone. A baleful tone. Full of malignant implications. "Soon they will
all be under my command. Ours." He corrected himself with a chuckle.
Xander shuddered. That was the Mayor. As arrogant as usual. He wished
he'd had a remote control at hand. "That extraordinary detail of his
head! You really amazed me, Faith! Pity I can't keep my office anymore.
It'd be such a great treasure."

"So The Ascension is still..." That voice again. Distort by a rough
ring that shouldn't be there. Xander squeezed his eyes trying to place
it. Something in his heart had twitched since the very first moment
he'd heard it.

"Of course it is! I know, I know... You're worried. You shouldn't be.
You'll be given your own realms. And I'll watch from above while you
take care of me." The voices were starting to fade away when they
suddenly came to a halt. "Of course, my beloved sorcerer. Take your
time. Have fun. We'll wait you for dinner. There's going to be ice-
cream!"

 

Sorcerer... No. It couldn't be. Xander shut out all the signals that
told him he was right. He nearly slapped Cordelia when she whispered
a name. His friend wasn't capable of betraying them in such a way. She
was sweet and pure and... No!

Three pairs of eyes were nailed to that door. In the gloomy room even
silence had gone still. Waiting. The door looked back at them with
a fixed, brown eye. Five minutes till it simply vanished leaving an
opened hole. A dark, little figure, dressed in a black cassock appeared
in the doorframe. Each of her small hands held the frames as if they
could fell to the ground.

"You've always liked Snoopy, haven't you Xander?" A sudden fire bolt
crossed the sky and its sparks lit the office through a small window,
outlining Willow's shape in a red gleam. "Snoopy dogs should be with
their kind, don't you think?" She stepped back after snapping two
fingers. Two horrible and oversized dogs stood at each of her sides.

A tiny shriek escaped from Cordelia's mouth when Xander hit her arm
trying to get closer. Anya glued to his side mumbling in a soft
whisper. Were dogs supposed to have four eyes? It was dizzy. Not as
finding out that the friend they'd thought dead was now working for
the other side. Being stabbed by one of those long fangs wouldn't have
been that painful.

"What were you looking for?" Her smile curled her lips in a disturbing
line when none of them answered. As if she had yearn for their silence.
"Maybe this?" A flask shone between her fingers. "The Vessel? Bad
boys..."

Wide gazes followed the glittering reddish arc the flask did across the
room. Their feet jumped in sync to the shattering noise it made when it
hit the opposite wall.

"Bye, bye, cruel world..." Willow sang and the red flake on her
forehead shone with a hypnotizing glow. "Somebody knows the ritual? No?
Poor Angel's soul... Such bad luck you have..."

A wavering golden stream flowed from her opened palms never reaching
its target. It leapt against an invisible wall and spread in a myriad
of yellow sparks around Willow's feet. Her features twisted with rage
and surprise.

"What is this? You know magic now?" A crackling buzz rose from her
stretched palms and a bolt of white light rushed from them. Same
results. "Anya... Still powerful I see... Not for too long..." She
promised slapping her hands.

The two hellish dogs jumped against the invisible barrier chomping at
it as if they could really see it. Their growls echoed in the room as
boiling magma rolling down the sides of a volcano. A sudden, ferocious
howl stopped the dogs' attack. Whining, they grovelled towards the
tall, bent shape that towered at Willow's back like a sinister steeple.
One of its claws was holding the witch's neck with such force that she
had started to choke.

"It's Oz..." Cordelia sputtered, forcing her knees to move. "Let's get
out of here. Now!"

"Oz? How can he...?" Xander couldn't believe his eyes when the fur on
the beast body flickered and showed a few patches of normal human skin.
Even its height lowered only to grow again as shadows cast on the walls
by a wavering flame. The long nails sank in ordinary fingers and
lengthened in vicious claws capable of cutting steel bars.

"GO!!!" That order didn't come from a human throat. It rumbled through
the hallways and shook their guts with a sickened and revolting sway.

Anya was the first one to start running. She wasn't going to stay
longer just to check if that werewolf was able to control his
transforming ritual. Full moon or not, she was going to seize the only
chance she had to keep on breathing for another day. Only when they
were all inside the car again, they dared to look at the building they
had escaped from. Dogs weren't at sight. The car squeaked as a crazy
mouse all the way back to Xander's house.

 

Was that a dream? Spike couldn't tell. Dizzy by the nauseous,
compressing bulk of energy that hummed and buzz all the time, his body
couldn't even tell night from day. As ensnared by some powerful drug,
he was kept in a muddy pale swamp where he could only dream of his
golden warrior. Of her sweet mouth on his body. On her warm, glossy
skin under the candle lights. Her scent hit his memory every time he
dozed out of that fucking place where a thin white sheet did nothing
to lower the intensity of the dazzling lights.

But that had been... one, two, three? days ago. Now the only scent
that hit his memory was that of her blood. Mouthfuls of blood tickling
in his dry throat as his features revolted and changed sometimes so
painfully that he woke up with a deep growl. Was it only yesterday when
he had woke up gnawing at his own arm? It had scared him so much that
he had spent hours sitting in one corner, the sheet dangling from his
head, his arms firmly wrapped around his knees and his body swinging
back and forth as a rocking chair abandoned in an attic. How long could
it take for a vampire to drive mad for the lack of blood? Last snack
had been Buffy's ravishing breasts. His tongue licked his lips at the
thought and a bolting shiver ran towards his groin.

Images of her had erased those of a man with glasses, dangerous in
his own pseudo-polite way; of another man that had locked a pair of
shackles around his wrists with a sad and determine gaze; of a woman
smiling behind the steam that spun from a cup. Golden hair and golden
limbs had replaced them all. Spread on a velvet surface, they waited
for his eager fingers. Spread on a dirty white sheet. Under a window
from which the faded sound of a soft rain came along with different
scents. Vanilla, tea, lilies. A grey, poignant glow covered the walls
of a small room. Moans and his groans. Torn underwear. And fire. None
of which had ever happened. Yet, it was fixed in his brain, etched in
black and white like a drawing on a metal surface.  Kept him in a
spiral of undeniable hunger for her. Hunger of her smooth curves, of
her hot core, of her coppery and unique-flavoured blood. His cock hurt
every time her shape assaulted him. His hand had proved to be a useless
tool. Nothing compared to her touch, to the wicked flicks of her
tongue, to the wise brush of her fingertips.

"Need help with that?" Another thing that had teased his memories. Like
a hammer moulded in hell. The hatred voice of his grandsire. He seemed
to be everywhere. Like a menacing icon with big eyes fastened forever
on each of his grandson's deeds.

Squeezing his eyes, Spike shut out the voice and focused desperately
on his coming orgasm. Head-knocking? His skull hit savagely the bars
of the cage while another hand twisted his own, firmly pressing his
bursting cock.

"I've these dreams..." The grip was unbearable. A painful, fast
pumping. A cold, icy breeze whispered in his ear. "More like
memories... An itchy one of having chased you and a human along the
luxurious mansions of London..."

This weakness of his... Brought back recollections of a well-forgotten
past. And it was too late to break away from this psycho and from the
outlandish orgasm that made him spurt in the wild hand that was
clutching his balls.

Afterglow turned into aftermath. As those he had experienced when he
had been taught to share. "Love us..." After hundreds of nights and raw
lessons he had convinced himself he could do it. From then on, it only
had been a matter of pushing stupid feelings aside and cling to basic
instincts. Wasn't he a demon after all? Wasn't he supposed to act by
pure impulse, rolling in a mishmash of evil funny deeds, not caring
about the consequences? Of his own and of others. Till the sunshine
broke into his unlife. His golden warrior.

A wobbly fist connected with Angelus's temple and only kindled his
rage. Daydreams had turned into faded reminiscences of something that
shouldn't have been there. When in his long existence a darn maggot
had set him on fire? It had burnt his skin as if the flames had been
actually there. Making him jolt from the bed in which he'd lay down for
a quick nap. The fire and the scent. A mixture of borrowed powers. So
familiar that his eyes had sleepily swept the room looking for his
grandson. And his Slayer.

"Want to play rough, Willie? You know I like it..." His fingers seized
Spike's hair dragging him across the cage. It was like carrying a
feather. "And while we're at it, - he kicked Spike's back sending him
against the cot. Kneeling down, his knees pushed Spike's thighs apart
while he quickly pinned the skinny wrists on the thin mattress with
only one hand. Something sharp opened a gash on his back. Felt like a
sodding knife..., - why don't you tell me where your whore is? Maybe
you had a hidden card in your sleeve, boy?" His taut body bent over.
An ineluctable prison. The metal blade circled Spike's nipples as an
icy tongue. "Maybe another witch we didn't know anything about?" His
fingers fumbled on the front of his leather pants. "Somebody powerful
enough to open a portal?"

Spike's brain was incapable of processing any of his questions. He
could only hear a hotchpotch of rough sounds, too busy in focusing on
wriggling out of the broad chest that had him painfully pressed against
the edge of the cot. His face warped. Slowly. As if he'd forgotten how
to vamp out. His fangs sank on the wrist that was clutching his,
cutting flesh and maybe a tendon, ripping a feral roar away from his
grandsire's gullet. The thick liquid oozed from the wounds into the
corners of his mouth and he couldn't help but lapping it as a rescued
castaway would have lapped a leaking tap.

"Fucking bastard! How you dare...?" Angelus squatted backwards,
wresting his arm from the audacious fangs. His hand wrapped on Spike's
neck. So strongly that, if he moved, that claw was pretty capable to
wring it. The wooden handle of the knife pressed his vertebrae with a
vicious weight. "Why on earth do you never learn? What is inside you,
boy, that I always have to whack you? I know you don't like it." One of
his long fingers prodded at his grandson's ass cheeks and slid inside.
A muffled growl spiralled from the cot. "Just as you don't like this
either." A second one. "Tell you what... - he added a third one. They
danced to the cadence of his words, - if you tell me what I want to
know I'll probably let you be. Or give you something to eat..." The
fingers were suddenly gone.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Faith grabbed Angelus's from
the hem of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. "Who the fuck told you
could touch him?" Her face was a livid canvas. Before giving him time
to react, her fists were on his face, on his midriff, on his ribs,
trying fervently to break every bone in his body.

Spike heard the fight behind him but was incapable of moving one
finger. Those few drops had left him even weaker. Perhaps it wasn't
even that. Perhaps he wasn't trying hard enough and being there, half
lying on a stinky mattress was the only way he had to let them kill
each other for good. Being invisible had been a good exit sometimes.
Roars echoed in the room and he couldn't tell whom they belonged to.
The rattling of the metal bars every time they hit them, gave him new
hopes. Something was broken at his back. A clanking noise that
resounded between his still parted legs and disappeared under the cot.
The sound of the violent wrestling moved outside. Still, one of them
had time to shut the door and the sound ricocheted in each and every
bar of that cage as if he had been abandoned in a belfry.

A scream pierced the air. A shouted order the fighters obeyed at once.
Sitting on the soles of his feet, Spike swallowed the queasy knot in
his throat. So those memories of love and hate... She was alive.
Somewhere in the past where... His hand patted the floor under the cot
where he had heard the clattering sound. Shaking, his fingers clutched
the thin, cold chain and raised it to his glazed eyes. A red blurring
glow filled his yellow eyes. The key. The blood key. He never knew when
he started to cry.

 

tbc...
 

CHAPTER 23

 
A jam of all sort of carriages queued in front of the Opera House as
a cold drizzle began to pour again from the dark sky. Buffy showed her
head through the small window, trying to observe every face that passed
by, running and slithering on the muddy streets. All her muscles were
tied up in a knot. How could she possibly know who the man was? It
wasn't that he was going to have a label glued on his forehead just
for her to read it. And the most important thing, how on earth was she
going to convince him she was speaking the truth? Her first idea had
been of saving him from Angelus's claws just to show the poor man the
undeniable reality. But that had been quickly discarded after finding
out she was as powerless as a fly. Improvising. One of her best skills.

 

"Poor Daddy, burnt so badly by a distant, diminished sun..." Dru traced
the healing scars on Angelus's arms. "She's stolen my pretty William
from us. Has veiled his eyes."

"Darn veiled he is. I'm goin' to rip his head off." Sitting on the bed,
he started to put on his shirt when Dru's next words stopped his arms
in the air.

"She is the killer of killers." Her thin fingers opened the heavy
curtains. Raindrops glided along the glasses like tiny crystal balls.
"Love has bent her path. Love will straighten it again. And she will
leave poor William's heart bleeding in the sands of Egypt."

Angelus forgot the buttons and crossed the room with two big steps.
Her rambling had always given him a headache. Those stupid things
about love and Egypt... He quickly discarded them. Her first words
were firmly printed in his mind. Killer of killers... Only one thing
was powerful enough to receive that title. And he had sniffed it.
Indefinable. But there. So she could be only one thing. He couldn't
but grit his teeth at it. That damned idiot was falling for a Slayer...
Could he be more pathetic? What if he told her where they were? His own
family thrown to a pile of dust by an irresponsible brat. He had to be
stopped.

"Are they leaving? Is that what you mean? Dru..." He sighed, trying
hard to control his rage. She brushed past him in her way to the door.
"Dru! Are they leaving?" Every word was marked by a heaving pause.

Her watery eyes looked at him from a long distance. As if she were
wandering among those stars she loved so much. "She is leaving...
Far, far away... While the Pharaoh sings in victory on a stage. Listen
to the trumpets and the clamour of triumph! Save my William..." She
begged, grabbing his shirt with a twisted claw. Her long nails raked
his chest while her mysterious prattle made sense in his head. Egypt...
Trumpets... Stage... Opera!

 

Buffy strode along the corridors, with the crimson train of the dress
crushed in one fist. In the middle of the second act, she had began to
cough heavily, just to make up some sorry excuse as fetching a glass of
water. William had wanted to escort her but she had assured him she was
going to be fine. After all it was only a glass and they didn't need to
bother all the people around only for that, did they? So he had stayed,
a squinted gaze in his eyes, something that had pierced her guts as a
seething wave, and had ran across the empty hallways looking for the
theatre boxes. Apparently, they weren't any place near 'cause, wasn't
that the same sculpture she had seen three times?

"Madame..." A light, whispering voice stopped her race. She turned
round to face the young man holding a lamp. "May I help you?"

She offered her better shining smile in spite of the dimly light of
the corridor. "Oh, I'm sure you can. I'm so silly! I'm completely lost!
Lord Carrington Giles must be thinking I've left him..."

The bait worked so wonderfully! The guy guided her to a pair of drawn
deep red curtains and quickly disappeared into the shadows. Buffy
sighed, straightened her back and opened a crack. A man was sitting
in a golden chair, a pair of binoculars on his eyes. He was humming
and carrying the rhythm with one of his foot. A big leather bag was
near it. She had to shout his name to make him hear her above the
booming sound that spun from the orchestra pit. Without giving him
time to react, she slinked into the box and sat in the opposite chair.
His grey eyes were as round as moons. They ran from the far end of her
velvet dress to the cascade of hair William had tried to arrange
without a comb.

"I know you don't know me and believe me, it'd be wonderful, but we
don't have time." Words squirted from her mouth in a swift stream.
"I'm sure you know what a Slayer is?" As he nodded, she continued
frantically. "Well, I'm one. You're in great danger. You and your bag
there. Bet it's the Jade Chest, am I wrong? No? Great! So, somebody is
going to steal it from you and... well..." Buffy bit her lower lip and
shook her head. There was no time for euphemisms... "You're going to
die. Unless you come with me right now." A long rivulet of air escaped
from her mouth. Her hand clutched the pendant as she waited for the man
to react.

She never expected a wild laugh. "Oh, my goodness! This is an excellent
joke! Travers sent you? I know my last one was really wicked but..."

"Have you listened to me? You're going to die! And that chest of yours
is going to ruin my entire life if I don't stop them! And I don't
fucking know how to do it and I need your help!"

His grin was suddenly made of stone. A nervous hand looked for the bag
and put it on his lap. His arms cradled it as a fragile baby. "The
chest? How if... if it's here?" He peeped inside the leather sack.

"Okay, I've no time for this. A vampire will appear in your house,
here or I don't know where and will kidnap you and your little
treasure. And all of you will take a little trip to the future were
he's going to kill you in front of my eyes. And just like that," - she
clapped her hands like an actor in a mute film. No sound at all, - "my
own Watcher will vanish in the air only 'cause he'll have the bad luck
of being your great grandson. Now, I don't care if you want to die or
not but I care about him. And my people. And my city. And my world. And
that fucking artefact is going to erase everything I know. So just tell
me how I stop it and..."

As confused as he was, there was such suffering passion in the lady's
voice that he had started to think this might not be a stupid joke. She
knew too much. He had only presented the chest and its treasures to
a few colleagues in a private meeting before the conference and they
had all come to the conclusion it would be extraordinarily dangerous to
show it to the wide concurrence. In no way she could have known...
"You can't."

"That's not what I want to hear..."

"If they have used the sceptre, which I deem that's the case... You
can't unless you have the real sceptre. And the exact ritual to balance
things again."

"Balance? I don't really know what that thing does but..."

"I assume we're talking about evil hands here? Well, the sceptre simply
destroys barriers among worlds and gives you the power to control them
all." His shaking hands scratched his head, leaving his hair in a dark
mess.

"Great! So really great!" She fretted on the velvet upholstery as if
it was full of needles. On the stage Aida's father sang about revenge.
"You know the ritual? Please, don't tell me you don't..."

"It's a thing nobody has ever attempted." His voice quivered with fear.
"It takes too much power..."

"I don't mind what it takes as long as we can stop them." Buffy jumped
to her feet, grabbing the man's sleeve. "Sorry, Lord Hanley but it's
time for our blinding journey..."

She almost pushed the man out of the box, fighting the urge to look
down at the row of seats in which William was waiting for her.
There was no turning point. There was no chance of saying him goodbye.
It'd only tear her apart. And him. Swallowing her tears she wondered
if there were restrooms in those days at the theatres. If not, any of
those dark corridors would do. Fast. Before William decided to go for
her.

 

William fidgeted in his seat, looking over his shoulder for the tenth
time since she had gone outside. That was a very long glass of water.
So many odours waved around that it was impossible for him to sniff her
approaching scent. Taking advantage of the darkness in which the rows
of stalls were wrapped in, he morphed to enhance his sight. Nobody was
coming along the corridor. No curtain swung briefly. The corner of his
eye caught a crimson spot when he was turning round to face the stage
again. His yellow gaze climbed to one of the boxes on his right. What
the hell was she doing there? She seemed to be extremely upset. Perhaps
she had found a relative? Somebody who had brought back her memory in
a more than disturbing moment? He should leave her alone, then. But
the way she was squirming... Her beautiful features were bathed in a
nervous gleam. He stood up as soon as she disappeared from his sight.

 

The man standing at one of the front doors of the theatre never saw
the speedy figure that crossed the foyer, running into the corridors.
Angelus stopped for a second, sniffing the air deeply. His amber eyes
pierced the shadows on his right. That damned bitch was somewhere
around... The young fellow that had guided Buffy minutes before
appeared suddenly from behind a curtain. He didn't have time to react.
He hit one black corner with an eternal horrified expression in his
face. Angelus quickened his pace. William's shape was striding the
hallway a few steps ahead. The little frame of that whore came into
view after the second curve. A young, well-attired man was with her
and he was reeking of fear. Just as her.

"William!" Her voice reverberated in that corridor with a surprised and
dreadful ring. "What are you...?"

"I thought you might need me... Seeing that you've found a
relative..." So many words were hidden underneath those he had spoken
aloud... She had behaved in such a strange way in their trip to the
theatre... Not as a shy, repentant girl but there was something
there... A nervousness that had nothing to do with the bliss they had
shared. Something in her eyes. As if he were looking for somebody who
was going to say goodbye in every minute. As somebody who held all the
guilt in the world only in one pair of green eyes. Those smiles she had
given to him... They had shone with such sadness that he had felt his
guts revolting at its sight.

"Yes, sure." Buffy licked her lips fretfully. Her heartbeat matched the
faded sounds of the drums. "Lord Carrington Giles... William..."

"William the bloody idiot!" To everybody's surprise, Angelus appeared
from nowhere just to shove his grandson to the wall. His hand held him
there while he turned to the shocked couple. "Have you already told him
you're the Slayer? The one who kills his kind? Needed some fun and all
you could do was shagging a damned prick like this to cheer your lonely
nights? Should have chosen better, missy. I'd have showed you fun..."

Buffy's eyes jumped from one vampire to the other. The horrified and
betrayed expression that washed William's features sank a carving knife
in her heart. She had nearly forgotten the man standing behind her. All
she wanted to do was to kneel and beg him to just listen to her first.
Her flooded eyes were fixed in his blue ones as she started to mumble
the spell. A well-known bright and blue light swathed the dark wooden
panels of the hallway, the carpets of the floor, the hated shape of
Angelus. Taking one step back, she seized the man's arm and pushed him
into the portal that glimmered at his back.

He had thought that Cecily's rejection was the most painful thing he
had gone through. That and his Sire shagging that lunatic bastard who
was glaring at him. But this was worst... She had used him so badly
that he couldn't even begin to... Lurching he reached her arm before
she could cross that light from hell. A profound, sorrowful growl
rumbled in his chest as his head flew to her neck. Her little hands
seized his hair.

"Spike, no!" Buffy yelled when the sharp points of his fangs scratched
her skin. "SPIKE!"

William stumbled back, a bewildered gaze in his yellow depths. Spike?
Spike? The railroad spikes in his pocket seemed to get heavier. How
could she possibly know...?

"Listen to me..." Her tears were running so freely that she couldn't
focus properly. Maybe it was better. Last thing she wanted to see last
was the agony in his face.

"NO! You're a Slayer! You used me! Betrayed me!" And even so, he
couldn't comply with the twisting and raging desire to kill.

"No! Yes! I have to... I have to save you! You'll understand one
day..." Her hand caressed his cheek, so gently that he released her
hair, shook to the core. "I love you..." She whispered before jumping
through the portal. The light closed on itself swallowing not only her
shape but her last words as well.
 

tbc...

 

CHAPTER 24

 
So the boxes were still there and the jumbled pieces of marble that
looked like the Parthenon... Had found the exit all by himself. Not bad
for a nearly blind, weak-enough-to-crawl-on-my-knees-for-the-rest-of-
my-existence vampire! Not enough time to mull over which strategy would
be better to kick that door opened. Or to think how he could use some
of those ropes to hang his grandsire from the ceiling, the rope firmly
wrapped around his balls while he enjoyed an extraordinary nosh-up,
same to say, Slayer's neck. He had to run away as far as he could from
Captain Morgan and his twisted wife Mabel and found something left of
himself first. And then, after feeding for two days long, having a long
hot shower, three bottles and a packet of fags, in that strict order,
he'd come back. With a crossbow and a barrel of Holy water and a
shotgun. Or maybe an Uzi if he'd find one. He was about to move when
two menacing growls sounded at his back.

"Oh, the puppies from hell! Have forgotten you, mates!" He giggled,
blinking furiously. His knees weren't made of bones and flesh anymore.
Apparently. He snarled in response but they didn't seem to be a bit
impressed. "Oh, just great!" He vamped out when one of the dogs lunged
at him, missing his neck by inches. A quick swirl of his body and the
beast crashed against a big box, falling to the ground. Spike wished
it'd have broken at least one leg. It leapt to his four feet again and
aimed for his face. He barely stopped it. His hands grabbed the short
ears, tossing the beast's head to the side. Weakness meant he would
never be able to break its neck as easy as that of a chicken. Lack of
blood had him in a dizzy... His fangs sank in the dog's muzzle without
waiting for his conscious order. The shrilling scream that filled his
mouth had nothing to do with the size of that monster that was kicking
and raking his chest with long nails in a furious attempt to get free.
Its partner came to
 rescue him, viciously biting Spike's leg.

His head still muzzy, Spike could feel his muscles coming to life as he
gorged up the odd and salty liquid that ooze from the wounds. His first
attempt of lashing out the grip of the fangs deeply sank in his calf
didn't work. But the second... he caught a flying dark shape by the
corner of his eye while his grip on the dog's head became steady and
stronger. His thighs were not shaking branches anymore but young trunks
capable of facing a storm. The dog stopped fighting, exhaling a last
high-pitched note that made him flinch. With a deep victorious howl
he whirled round to face the other beast. It laid on its side with its
four eyes fixed on the splodge of fresh blood printed on the wall.
A man was standing near it with a transfixed look on his pale face.

 

A leg bleeding profusely, gashes and welts all over a naked body, the
face smeared with a deep purple substance that dripped on his chest.
An undeniable hard-on. He was still holding the dog's dead body with
one wounded hand. His blue eyes held such a crazy look... Giles stepped
back slowly. He didn't remember how or when he had entered into that
place but last thing he wanted was staying there watching that sight
from hell that summoned all the horrible images of that future that
vampire had promised him. In only one second, if he could command his
knees, he was going to start running as far away as he could from that
fiend.

Spike tossed the corpse aside, trying to focus his rambling thoughts.
That man...that... Gil... Gil... Giles! The name seemed to explode
inside his head along with a myriad of images that fought against those
he had considered true after being in that place for so long. But the
name and his silhouette carried such powerful certainty that were like
pieces of a puzzle, as teeth of a wheel meshing perfectly. All those
memories of another Watcher... Spike shook his head and looked at Giles
taking two, four steps in the wrong direction.

"For all the bleeding demons in hell! Where the fuck are you going,
Watcher? The exit is bloody there!" He pointed at the temple front.
Its straight lines wavered and pulsated as if it were shrinking.

The two birds above the columns spread their wings and started off
straight to an immobile Watcher. He looked like a stony knight with
a stony axe firmly held in both hands. Spike ran to his side, grabbing
the weapon with a hasted flick. One of the strange eagles fell on the
floor, beheaded as the other one made an incredible roll in the air
just to attack them again.

"Duck, damn it!" The axe barely hit one wing, unbalancing the bird's
flight. "Look, mate! I'm not at my full strength here so a little help
would be extremely welcome!" The axe whizzed in the air, cutting a
piece of fur. "Time to open the fucking door! Buggering idiot! Move!"

A powerful vibration filled the air when the doors suddenly slammed
opened, tearing a few slivers of sharp marble from the columns. A
strong gust brought a rush of dead leaves and rolls of papers. To his
shocking surprise the bird he had beheaded rose in the air with its
claws threw out to clutch anything at hand. Limping, Spike pushed Giles
to the entrance, watching in horror when the two birds turned hastily
to chase them, one beak tapping and zinging like an electrical peeled
wire. One of the long nails opened a deep gush on Giles's skull. They
both jumped outside at the same time while the birds seemed to hit an
invisible wall, bouncing against it like acrobats on a safety net. They
didn't stop but ran for five blocks till Spike fell to the floor. His
glazed eyes looked at Giles from behind a haze. All the strength had
flowed away from him as though he had never drunk a single blood drop.

"Wait here" Giles's voice quivered. "My car must be..." He didn't
finish but stayed there, spinning on his heels as a carrousel. "I don't
remember..."

"Bloody hell, Watcher!" Raising his head had become a titan task.
"Don't tell me you don't know how to snitch one!" He barked, not
recalling his own car should be nearby.

After a quick glare, Giles nodded and came back soon nearly jumping
from a blue vehicle without even braking.

"That place we were in... What was that?" He asked while he put the
limp vampire on the front seat.

"Hell, mate."

"Where's Buffy?" Fear and worry had him in a trembling knot. "Willow!"
He was about to run back to the warehouse when Spike's hand stopped
him.

"Buffy is not there... I don't know where she's but... Forget Willow,
Watcher. There's nothing we can do for her..." Spike averted his eyes
as if he'd be blamed for that thing.

Giles's glasses blotted with tears as he got into the car and flew
away, the wheels leaving dark prints on the pavement. 

 

Oz tried the front door of Buffy's house and, to his surprise, the
doorknob turned in his hand, showing a dark lounge. Why had they left
the doors unlocked? He felt so tired that the slightest movement
brought a painful gasp to his lips. The dried crusts of blood on his
arms itched and pulled like hot blisters.

The sky was dark with a distant reddish glow but, so far, those strange
balls of fire had stopped falling. Yet, the air was rancid and heavy.
In suspense. He crossed the living room to turn on the lamp and went
back to the porch. Still confused. Still shaking. Those dogs hadn't
followed him after he'd defeated Willow. Never thought he was going
to be able to hit her. Never thought such a painful and hard task was
going to be so easy. Only one slap. Strong and sharp. Had sent that
horrible red flake stuck on her forehead to fly like a dreadful eye,
leaving a limp Willow on the floor with three deep scratches on her
face. His palm still tickled. It had hurt him more that it had probably
hurt her. All he had to do was carry her out in his still strong arms
and throw her in the back of the van. The werewolf had howled sadly
among the fire bolts and the piles of debris. And suddenly it had
disappeared, leaving only a quivering human frame, half fainted on
the front seat. Under which he found some spare clothes he always
kept at hand. How had he been able to control that ravenous and wild
creature that lived inside him was still a mystery. A shocking one.
He had never done such thing before... He always forgot its deeds.
As if it were another being and not some evil part of him. Perhaps the
tearing reality had made it... Perhaps in the realm of werewolves they
were in command of any transformation... Didn't want to know, really.
If it were up to him, he'd rip that horrible part of him out of his
system... But it had helped. Amazingly.

And now Willow was resting on the couch while he watched over her
fighting the dizziness and the heavyness of his eyelids. Waiting for
her to awake. To slap him if she was in the mood. Praying for her to be
his sweet and innocent Willow and not that dark monster that wouldn't
have hesitated in killing her friends. He doubted he'd be capable of
bringing his own dark-self back again if that happened. He couldn't
move one finger. Not even to fetch a welcomed glass of water to
alleviate his swollen and dry throat.

Willow shifted on the sofa, a whisper coming from her lips. "Buffy...
Buffy... She's here..."

Oz looked at the door. His heart pounding as if, at any minute, the
blond Slayer would appeared claiming she had set everything in order
again. No more demons, no more stripes of bright light opening like
veins oozing festering creatures. No fireballs or stinky pets trying
to devour humans like quick snacks. But the door remained shut and his
eyes finally lost the battle against exhaustion. He fell asleep,
holding Willow's hand.

 

After gnawing at his nails for three hours, Xander couldn't stand one
minute more of being locked in his basement and had jumped onto his
car, dragging two restless girls behind him. He had to find out what Oz
had done to his friend. Yes, that werewolf had helped them to escape.
But... could he trust a demon not to break Willow's neck if there was
a fight? He should have stayed instead of running away as a terrified
rabbit. If something happened to Willow... Turning round a corner at
full speed he didn't see the approaching car that wavered along the
pavement as if it were driven by a drunken man. The three of them
screeched in tune with the wheels when he frantically stomped on the
brake pedal. The car hit the other one making it spun three times
before it stopped against a hydrant.

"Are you okay?" Xander whirled around on his seat, still clutching the
steering wheel.

"You idiot!" Cordelia raised her cast arm as if she were going to break
it on his skull. Xander shrunk a little. "That bitch couldn't kill me
but I'm sure that if I stay one minute longer around you, you will!"

"It was an accident, okay?" Xander got off the car with a quick leap.
His knees were still shaking and he had to lean on the hook to find a
steady pace. For his heart as well. He shortened the distance to the
other car. A white column of smoke swirled from its bonnet and one
of the doors was opened as a mouth in shock. "Besides, it wasn't my
fault!" He yelled, stopping in the middle of the street with both hands
on his hips. Murmuring, he resumed his path. "I'm sure he's fucking
drunk... Last thing I needed in this awful... Wait a minute... Spike!
That fucking fiend! I knew it! I knew he was drunk!" He started to
shout again when something smacked his head. "Why have you done that?"
He faced a furious Cordelia while rubbing his head.

"And I bet he's so drunk that he could drive a car sat on the wrong
side of it?"

"He's British! They drive on the wrong side of the road!"

"Yes, but I bet they are not fainted while they are at it! And they've
a steering wheel in front of them as well!" She was about to kneel
beside the unconscious vampire when Anya screamed from the other door.
"What now?"

"There's a man here... I think I stepped on his... glasses." She picked
them up, holding them by one arm. "I think I know him... Don't you
think you know him?"

The three of them leant forward as a bunch of anthropologists who had
found a rare specimen. Flashes of an unknown man digging among piles of
books passed through their minds as snapshots in a dark tunnel. Faster
and faster till they were nothing but a blurring line they couldn't see
anymore. They all jumped backwards when the man sat and leant his back
on the car. His hand rubbed his right temple before looking at them in
awe.

"Xander! Oh, goodness! Thanks God you're..."

"You know me? How do you know me?"

"Can you give me a hand? I think I..." Giles frowned as the young
man hesitated for a long minute. "Some idiot hit us... I couldn't
avoid..." He stopped at the guilty look in Xander's eyes. Looking
around he spotted Xander's car in the middle of the street.

"I guess he was the idiot..." Anya put in while she looked inside the
car to the other occupant. Her eyes widened in surprise. "This is the
vampire? Well, I can't blame her..."

"Anya!" Since when he was jealous about the ex-demon? He didn't want to
have anything to do with her! So exasperating she was! But looking at
her, with that shinning delight on her face, her hands almost touching
the naked body lying on the seat... A twitch of pure jealousy attacked
his guts. He could have masked the feeling putting some other label to
it. Disgust, sickness... But he couldn't just cheat himself... "What
are you doing with that monster? And naked? Wait a minute... I don't
want to know..."

"It seems that the thump turned out to be more serious than I
thought..." Giles nearly yanked Anya from the car and got his glasses
from her hand. "And it also seems that this car is useless. That leaves
your car, Xander. If you can give me a hand..."

"My car! I don't know you! And if you think that I'm going to put
that... thing in my car you're beyond crazy!"

"Xander, enough." Cordelia sounded as tired as she looked. "He
obviously knows you and you made this mess so I think we have to help
him. And I'm sure Buffy wouldn't like us to leave her... vampire in the
middle of nowhere. So..."

"I can help!" Anya was already around the car when Xander ran to her
side and shoved her aside.

"I'll help. You open the door for us. Couldn't you just put your coat
on him at least?" He grimaced when they both lifted a body that he
had bet it should have been heavier. And this was a powerful demon?
One with the weight of a kid? He himself could have knocked him out
with one slap. "It's not that we all want to know what you've been
doing..." He went on while they put Spike on the front seat, in spite
of Anya's complains.

"Can you just shut your mouth, Xander? Just shut up and drive. We have
to find Buffy..." Giles squeezed his eyes to erase a sudden headache.
Everything had become odder and odder since the first moment he had
found himself standing in that warehouse. Spike, those horrid dogs, the
hellish birds, the sky, red and black with the strangest lights he had
ever seen. Walls scratched by some sort of devilish rake that had left
bright prints from where he could see mountains and lakes, rivers and
valleys, of impossible colours, crowded with the most sinister and
strangest creatures in the universe. As images frozen in a huge TV
screen with an annoying buzz piercing his ears as if he could really
hear it. The obvious lack of memory of these teens he more than knew...
And those things were nothing compared to the sizzling hole in his
stomach every time Spike's words came to tease his ears. Willow...
He had failed to her and to his Slayer. Again.

If he had been in his own house he would have been crying by now. Or
shouting and smashing things. And drinking. But maybe after he had
cried all the tears he had. All he could do there, while the car passed
through streets that seemed to have been hit by a hurricane or an
earthquake, was to gaze out of the window, shivering a little now that
his coat was covering Spike's body. And most surprisingly, begging for
him to recover. Not because of a real concern about that aggravating
pest but because he knew that Buffy would never be the same if she lost
him. He even didn't want to understand that. It was more than beyond
his comprehension. He had failed in saving Willow. He wasn't going to
fail in saving Spike as well. Even if that meant he had to cut a gash
in his own wrist to feed him. As revolting as it sounded. He had once
seen in her eyes what his betrayal had done. He never wanted to see
those feelings stabbing his heart as icy darts. Buffy. Think of Buffy,
he kept on singing in a mute voice.

 
tbc...
 

CHAPTER 25
 

Buffy stepped out of the portal with her heart in one hand. Broken into
thousand of pieces as slivers of a smashed mirror reflecting only one
thing. The betrayed, woeful and aghast expression in William's eyes.
Something she wasn't going to forget even after crawling on her knees
after Spike's duster as he walked away. She was so sure of that...
So sure he was going to spit her face as soon as she appeared to save
him... Such certainty had frozen her on that alley while the man she
had carried from the past gazed at her, waiting for some words. But
she couldn't. She couldn't move. She had that man, his damned Chest and
his damned sceptre and everything seemed to be as void as a black hole.
Opened in her guts to suck any thread of energy she might have left.

"Miss..." The shaking hand that touched the tight velvet sleeve of her
dress made her shivered. "I think we should go somewhere else?" His
eyes were fixed on some spot above her shoulder.

Buffy could have sworn her knees screeched when she turned round just
to see the long opened lines of bright light that scampered along the
dirty walls. Fingers and claws came out from them as dead hands trying
to open a crack in a tomb. Staggering, she started to walk without
saying anything. The man followed her as an obedient dog.

 

Four surprised faces stood in Buffy's living room gazing at the two
sleeping shapes in the room. Giles fought the nasty thought of throwing
the vampire, who was dangling from his shoulder, to the floor. He had
lied to him! Lied in such thing as Willow's...

"She is back!? And he brought her here!?" Cordelia's voice, a blend of
fear and relief, stopped his killing thoughts. "What if she is still
evil?"

Evil? Giles was petrified. So he had been right about that odd spark
he had seen in her eyes. What had happened in this place? Where had
he been? He felt as if he had travelled to a different dimension.
Everything was just as it should be. Faces, furniture, houses and
demons but a little distorted. As images were when he wasn't wearing
his glasses. Faded contours of well-known pictures. Spike's whimper
forced him to move. To use his best harsh tone just to order Xander
to help him upstairs where they both tossed him on Buffy's bed before
running to Willow's side.

"How did you do it?" Giles heard Cordelia ask for the third time.

"Are you human now? Or are you going to change to a werewolf in any
minute? I really want to know 'cause..." Anya kept on while Cordelia
tried her best to hush her up.

Giles sat on the other armchair and his legs seemed to deflate like a
balloon. So tired he was... How could that be possible if he had only
spent hours in that warehouse? Hours... It couldn't be... He was about
to ask the date when Willow opened her eyes. Two confused green ponds
that spun around the living room, stopping on his face.

"Giles..." One word and a waterfall of tears that flooded her eyes and
her pale cheeks making the gashes there sparkled with a washed reddish
gleam. "How?"

"You know him?" There was that stupid question again. Maybe the crash
had made Xander's head thump heavily against the steering wheel. But
the stunned look in his eyes reflected a similar one in all the other's
faces, giving him the certainty that he had shown up in a different
world. "Who is he?"

"What?" Willow's forehead wrinkled as she struggled to sit straight on
the couch. The dark mark the red flake had left on it was black as a
hole. As if she had been shot. "Buffy's Watcher..."

"So you're that Watcher?" Xander studied him from head to foot.
"I really thought Buffy was... well, a little... you know... at first.
He looks more than a Watcher that that stuffed shirt Mr. Prissy, don't
you think?" He looked at Cordelia. "Well, a little old for you maybe
but..." He stopped when the brunette's eyes filled with tears. Such a
bad timing he had sometimes... "So, if you are here... that means that
your relative is saved! So Buffy has won! So... why can't we remember
you? And why are those horrible lights still out there?" He pointed at
the closed window.

"Perhaps, if you could be more explicit... I could answer one of your
questions?" Giles offered with a weak voice. "And maybe, you could
answer some of mine..." His head ached as if the jaws of a big vice
were squeezing it. He smiled gratefully when Oz appeared with a glass
of water and two aspirins.

 

Buffy stood on the pavement, gawking at Xander's car as if she had
never seen it before. A stupid glint of hope burnt for a few seconds
in her heart, warming it up as a dying flame. She climbed the steps of
the porch and lunged into the house when the sound of agitated voices
reached her ears. Standing there in the hall, her heart throbbing
against her ribs with a lunatic pulse, she didn't know whether to cry,
shout or laugh. Everybody was there. Everybody! Her friends, Willow,
Giles and... She stepped backwards when a bunch of excited and happy
friends struggled among each other to be the first one to hug her.
Her stiffened body was squeezed with glee while her eyes, dry and sore,
kept on piercing the living room. Something was breaking down inside
her. She could listen to the pieces falling inside her guts with a
painful and resounding thump. Not even the happiness of having Giles
back could erase the choking feeling in her throat. So not crawling
then. No begging on her knees with her eyes popped out of her face as
he walked away. The last image of him she was going to keep was going
to be that of hate and shock.

"So look at you! You're a real lady for a change!" Cordelia stated as
she scrutinized the deep crimson outfit with a little envy. "The
cutting is excellent! You can see that only by... What have I said?"
She looked at Xander, as he could be able to explain the sudden burst
of tears of his friend.

Buffy walked into the living room gasping for air. "Spike..." She tried
to shout but the words entangled in her tongue along with the sobs.
Coughing desperately, she tried again. A bitten whisper followed by an
agonized plea.

"Oh, Buffy! I'm so sorry!" Willow had followed her friend feeling sick.
She knew that moment was going to come and guilt had been burning in
her spirit since the first hug. How was she going to explain? How was
she going to tell her...? "He's upstairs, Buffy..." Giles's words made
her whirled around. She didn't even notice when Buffy pushed her aside
just to clamber up the stairs, stepping on the beautiful dress. Oz
hugged her when she began to blubber with her green eyes still fixed on
the Watcher's face.

Buffy could only looked at him with pain sketched all over her face.
"Okay. Maybe I was a whore. Maybe I deserve to be punished. Come on...
Hit me." She swayed her fingers as an open invitation.

Spike inhaled deeply. His nostrils flared and her scent punched his
nose. "Don't tempt me, love..."

His fury had something contagious. Otherwise, how could she explain the
building anger in her blood? "Vent that rage on me! Come on! Do it!
Punish me!" He stood there, glaring at her, as another marble statue
with a strange throbbing vein pulsating wildly in his neck. So extreme
situations took extreme measures... Buffy hit his nose with all her
strength.

"What the fuck...?" He hissed, cupping his face with both hands before
lunging against her.

She ducked in time to avoid his punch. He passed by her as a bull
charging a bullfighter's red flag. That only kindled his rage even
more. He turned round with an angry growl, his fist connecting directly
with her jaw. Astounded, she reeled from the next blow. How dare he?
Yes, she had told him 'hit me' but that didn't mean it had to be that
hard. A full spinning wheel kick and his body bounced against the
tombstone.

"And I really thought you're being honest..."

His wry smirk stirred the blood in her veins. God, she had missed him!
He was so sexy when he was mad! Wait a minute... Was he implying she
was a liar? A snap kick erased that sensual smile of his lips.

Springing at her with a roar, he wrapped her in his arms sending her
to the floor. His elbow jabbed her ribs, making her gasp for air. She
kneed his crotch and shoved him aside, rolling back to get to her feet.
Her hands grabbed the edge of the black marble gravestone just to help
herself when he hit her waist and knelt behind her, his whole body
pressing hers against the cold stone. One of his hands tugged her hair,
pushing her cheek flat against the marble.

"Punish me, Spike... Hit me, Spike..." There wasn't a thread of fun
in his hoarse voice. "Another excellent bloody performance, Slayer.
You should win a soddin' Oscar..." His other hand dived under her
mini skirt. "Tired of long skirts, pet?" He froze for a second when he
didn't find the barrier of underwear. "Or looking for this? I know how
you like playing around..."

Of course she was looking for this! What did he think? That she really
was dying for him to beat her? In no way she was going to say that
aloud, though. A little encouragement would do. She certainly knew how
to do that... In spite of his uncouth words... After all, she knew that
under that buttoned duster was nothing but his glorious naked flesh.
She slightly swayed her hips against the front of his coat.

Spike blinked furiously trying in vain to grip his anger. The scent of
her arousal was like waves of fresh water cleansing his fuming heart.
He wasn't going to let her do that. His rage was fair. Truly fair.
No matter how much he desperately needed her. No matter how much he
had craved to have her in his arms again. No matter how many days he
had spent in that cage only with her image etched in his mind. He was
going to punish her. She had asked for it. He was going to comply.
His fingers sank inside her and he should have known better. Her
warmth was like white heat, a blazing sun whittling down his flesh.

Buffy arched her back and her hands seized tighter the headstone.
Whoever was lying under the earth will have to forgive this, her
woolly thoughts pleaded when his hand released her hair to unbutton the
duster. She didn't wait for his demanding knees to push her legs apart.
A rapturous moan escaped from her throat when he rammed into her with a
ravening grunt. His movements were fast and bruising. She didn't care.
If this was his punishment she was going to take it all night long. Her
hips matched each one of his deep thrusts as her ears filled with the
smacking sound their flesh made. A ravishing music that set off her
first shattering orgasm. Her fingers glided along the marble, not
longer able to clutch it. His strong grip kept her in place.

This was wrong. So wrong... Spike panted like a chased prey,
desperately wielding his last threats of self-control. This wasn't what
he had planned. What was the use in punishing somebody if you were the
one who took the rap? Her whole body was almost limp against his and
she had had the great idea to hold herself from his neck, pulling him
closer to the crazy pulse of her major vein. Still buried inside her,
he disentangled her grasp and shifted on his knees forcing her face to
the grass. His big hand held her there for a moment, watching how she
clutched fistfuls of dirt and wet grass, feeling the demanding push
of her hips, hearing the heaving breath that ran away from her lips
in white smoke rings. Bollocks, she knew how to vanquish his rage, his
evilness, leaving him bare and exposed to the only feeling his idiotic
heart had for her. Where was his anger now?  The groan rumbling in his
chest wasn't for her but for him. There it was. Redirected to his own
being, making him resume an angry pace. His eyes shut for a second and
then they riveted on the maddening gliding of his cock. In and out,
in and out at a brisk pace. Slowly, swaying in circling movements he
forced her hips to match by digging his fingers in her tender, sleek
flesh.

This was real castigation. Not being able to watch his face, not being
able to feel his hands on her entire body. They didn't move from the
same spot on her hips and that only thing was driving her mad. She
wanted his lips, his tongue, his mouth nibbling and teasing her
breasts. She needed his roguish, whispered words in her ears pushing
her hastily to a magnificent brink. Her fingers ached to touch him.
Enough of being meek and mild... She pulled herself up on her knees,
turning her head around a little just to face him. Her hand seized the
nape of his neck, bringing his face closer, her tongue darting out to
fight his. Her other hand forced his to dive under her dirty sweater,
whimpering loudly when he cupped one of her moulds, twisting and
pinching her aching nipple. Her neck twitched for being forced in such
a way. Her head tilted to a side in a silent plea. She closed her eyes
waiting for the welcomed pain. When he finally complied all she could
see was a sky studded with twinkling stars. Behind her shut eyelids.
Sprinkling all over her skin to transform her in a new shape. A bright
and splendid new moon to enfold him. To love him. To keep him for all
the eternity under her beams.

Her blood... Her damned enthralling blood... He was a dry desert under
a powerful rain. It swirled on his tongue, on his teeth, on his throat,
searching for his heart, for his guts, for his raging cock were it
explode in million of drops shoving him into a thunderous orgasm.
Forgotten were the rage and the resentment. Love had taken over every
corner of his mind. And what had he expected after all? Was he deranged
enough to think that he was going to be able to walk away from her?
And go where exactly? To a place sad enough to bury himself for good
waiting for a merciful sun ray to dust him? This place was so much
better... Feeling the crazy beat of her heart against his forearm,
licking the drops of sweat that glided along her neck in spite of
the cold of the night. Feeling her warmth spreading all over his skin,
listening to her unspoken words. Only for something as stupid as being
jealous of himself. He would have done the same. He would have shagged
her blindly if he had known that could be the last chance he would have
to hold her in his arms.

"I love you..." She whispered in a soft voice and those three words
held such power in them that they carved his heart as if she had etched
them with a knife on the trunk of a tree. Her muffled sob drew out one
of his own. He cradled her in his arms, rocking gently until he finally
helped her to her feet. He didn't say a word when he turned her around
to face her. Just kissed her. A long, profound and imploring kiss.
"I'm sorry..."

"Shhhh, love. Please, don't. I'm a bloody pillock, that's all." His
thumbs mopped the tears from her cheeks. They shone like diamonds under
the moonlight.

"But... what you said... about the monster..." She sobbed and the guilt
she had felt in that small room came back as a knocking punch. "It's my
fault... I knew..."

"No, love. You did what you'd to do and it's okay. 'Sides, I was a
monster even before you arrived there..." He suddenly remembered that
scrawny kid at the railroad tracks. Had given him his name. Had given
him his trademark weapon.

"That's not true. You... you protected me... and I was only a human...
And you didn't bite me that night..."

Spike squinted his eyes. That had sounded like a complaint. "I wanted
to, pet. Guess I didn't have enough time..." He hugged her tightly,
licking the wounds in her neck. "But if that bothers you I can bite
you now."

"Again?" She tittered in his ear, her nails raking the soft skin on
his back. "Well... I'm all muddy and Giles is waiting..."

"Mmm... I need clothes..." He nibbled her earlobe, squeezing her butt.
"Unless you want me to go there butt-naked..."

Buffy pulled back and tried her best to look angry. The moon lighted
his flesh with a white bluish gleam. The coat only intensified it,
casing him in a black sheath. Silver and ebony like a shining shadow.
His perfection only for her eyes to feast on. She felt a new sob
climbing to her throat as a sudden thought attacked her guts like the
claws of an eagle. Faith... Her hands... Her eyes... She swallowed
the bubbling questions, chewed the jealousy that whipped her ribs with
vicious lashes. Her eyes were green beams drilling his stomach. Fixed
there without a blink. Fixed on the healing scars on his chest. Sank
in lethal thoughts as she stared at his nails, the black polish on
them faded, leaving only flaked tiny spots. She raised her head. His
eyes seemed a little washed without the black eyeliner. Still intense,
though. They always had that special and powerful way of setting her
on fire.

"Let's have a bath, pet." Spike purred in her ear, fully aware of the
turmoil in her heart. It wasn't the time to tell the tale. If he ever
told her. He knew how to bury things in their precise compartments.
Without a key to unlock the paddocks. She didn't need to know. Those
memories were his to keep. As the first stone on which he would start
to build his vengeance. "My place for some clothes and then Giles's
bathtub. Let's freak them out a bit. We deserve a decent spot of
fun..."

 

tbc...
 

CHAPTER 26
 

The tall trees were wrapped in a wandering mist and a cloudy moon lit
the forest glade with twinkling spots. A bonfire shed light on the five
corpses lying on the damp grass. Their heads had been placed one next
to the other and their fixed eyes stared at the six people gathering
around the flames.

"The Vessel of Thorns is gone". The Mayor looked as if he had been
tugging his hair as a hysterical patient. His features, cast in
shadows, emphasized the wild spark in his eyes. "Bet that's a relief
for you... But our Sorcerer... A simple wolf, a lesser creature stole
her from me!" He put out his hands as if grabbing an invisible figure.
His fists clenched clutching a cold gust of wind.

"She is not important." Faith watched at the rows of demons standing
on the valley. She personally had beheaded their leaders and now they
were all hers to command. She could picture herself in front of her new
armies, roaming along the streets of that stinking city, destroying and
conquering everything at her path. "She is of no use now. Powerless.
And we still have the sceptre." Her voice chimed with a sinister glee.
That stupid Buffy... She had really thought she was a cunning chick,
saving that fucking Englishman and his Chest. She could have saved
the effort, though. Her smile widened at the image of a weeping Slayer
gathered by her friends with a brand golden sceptre that would be of
no use. The artefact was even more cunning than her. Once it was used,
it copied itself just in case somebody could have the heroic idea of
stopping its deeds. Only a powerful warlock... no, a bunch of powerful
warlocks would be able to close the doors of those realms that had been
opened. Only a cleansing ritual would destroy that object that still
shone with a dark glint at the City Hall dungeons.

That worthless sceptre of hers would be her death. Faith swore to
herself she was going to stab Buffy's heart with it. And Spike would
be there to watch. She would force him to drink Buffy's blood and then
she would beat him so hard that he would never leave her. Maybe she
would even cut one of his legs. Or both. She really didn't need them.
In fact, she was going to keep him on a leash. As those ancient
Emperors with wild cheetahs as their pets. Walking along the corridors
of their palaces with a chain in one hand and a whip in the other.

"They can't defeat us. We have our armies and they are eager to engulf
this weak world. Their realms are already ours..." Was that true?
Angelus looked around feeling a little restless. He would have been
sitting on a throne right now. All those creatures would be begging
for his mercy instead of being standing there, waiting as bunches of
wolves expecting them to be distracted enough to jump on their heads.
And this pathetic human... He was only worried about his beloved witch,
a tiny insignificant piece in this grand scheme. The horny Slayer by
his side... He knew what was on her mind. She didn't understand the
greatness of having a whole world at her feet. Only anxious over an
obnoxious bleached vampire that would be dust as soon as he put his
hands on him again. They were too human... They didn't deserve glory.
That dark sceptre at the City Hall... He would wield it. He would rule
all those demonic beings and lead them to splendour. And then... There
would be only one King. Only one. Him.

 

"So we can't rip that sceptre out of wherever it is before the whole
ritual is complete..." Buffy tapped on Giles's table feeling a little
disappointed. After all she had done, things couldn't just be simple.
Like things were for heroes in the movies. Three punches, five kicks
and they walked away happily with the girl in tow.  And the ritual...
She thought that it would be for closing those doors and shoving
demons' butts to their respective worlds... But that would be easy,
wouldn't it? Only for stopping the cracks from widening a little more.
What's done is done and if you want this new dark sceptre you have to
pray for the ritual to work to allow your hands to touch it. In the
meantime... why don't you fight the thousand of demons that are
gathering under Faith's orders?

"What's the real sceptre for then? I mean, she had gone far and beyond
for nothing." Buffy could have kissed Xander.

"Once the ritual is complete the real sceptre will... engulf, sorry
for the expression but I can't find any more suitable, the dark one."
Lord Haney explained while sipping from his whisky glass. "And you must
be there, wherever the dark one is, with this real one."

Spike snorted and poured another glass for himself. Third in a row.
Giles scowled at him for a brief second but didn't say anything.
Too important guests deserve the best Watcher's manners, it seemed.
"I really hope you know what you're doing here, snotty boy. We're all
going to be puppy food if you don't. So... -he gulped the amber liquid-
let's have a fight then..."

"What about the Ascension?" Willow asked with a thread of voice. She
hadn't said anything for hours and her eyes had been locked to the
carpet as a repentant pilgrim.

"One thing at a time, Red." Spike gently pressed her shoulder. So much
he said with that simple gesture! Willow smiled back and her fingers
squeezed Oz's. "Let's get rid of the bloody rubbish first. Then we can
go for the wanker himself. You do your hocus-pocus and let's us clean
the road, yeah?"

 

The moon had disappeared behind strange purple clouds when Giles
arrived at the school, escorted by his relative – odd thing that of
meeting someone you weren't supposed to know but from old family
portraits – a reluctant Willow and a dogged Anya.

There was a stinking smell as they approached the library doors. Like
something rotting. Wafting along the empty corridors as a silent punch.
His hand flipped the light switch and it stayed there while his eyes
grew wider at the sight of torn bookcases and fallen chairs. The door
of the cage where he kept his special weapons was wide opened. Splashes
of red tainted the walls. The smell was even more wicked there. As
if he had entered an abandoned slaughtering house. Filthy and putrid.
Giles retched as the sight that waited for him at the cage. A beheaded
body. One of his broad axes was lying on his chest, its blade stained
with a thick nasty dark splodge. The corpse's hands clutched the handle
as if he would rise in every minute to search for one head to replace
his. Giles stepped back without a word and looked for something to
cover the poor guy. Obviously, he had been Buffy's Watcher in this
strange mixed world. He had nothing at hand. Maybe it would be better
to just drag the fetid thing out. The mere thought of pulling from one
of his legs made him retch again.

His mind was a rushing mess. He would have liked to be everywhere.
Here to help with the ancient languages, in the streets helping her
Slayer fighting an unfair battle. Wherever that Mayor was to cut his
throat as soon as he achieved his new demonic status. But he couldn't.
He just had to stay among dusty tomes, yellow flaking scrolls, dozens
of red, violet and black candles.

"We have now to summon the book." Lord Hanley said in a feeble voice.
He looked so out of place under the electric lights. As an actor
rehearsing a period play. "For the ritual..." He explained when three
pair of eyes stared at him. "You didn't think I had..." He shook his
head and there was something in his manners that made Willow smile a
little. If he had worn glasses he would have been rubbing them with a
white handkerchief right then. "Let's start, please." A roaring thunder
echoed inside the school. Wild flashes of lightning bolts blazed
outside the windows.

An ancient chant filled the air. The words seemed to flow to the
ceiling and fall over their heads as a powerful, electrified wave.
Through their joined hands flickered such energy that Willow fidgeted
uncomfortably on the floor, her mind wrapped in disturbing memories,
feeling that known and overwhelming sense of power filling every nerve
in her body. But she could control it now. She could feel the power
building inside her like a new star. Her hands left those of Giles and
Anya and shot out, wrapped in a strange glow.

Bright green tendrils trailed over the floor to form a green orb that
grew wider till it only outlined the shape of a disturbing figure.
The snakes on his head danced and hissed furiously, sometimes
stretching out to bite the frayed fabric of his greyish shroud.
His hands were nothing but bones, yellowish and decayed, as if they
belonged to an ancient mummy. Still, they were powerful enough to hold
a thick tome in them. He held Lord Hanley's gaze for a long minute
before disappearing leaving only the book on the ground and a green
spark which still floated above their heads as a little dwarf. 

A little blind by the strong light, Giles could see the tremor in his
relative's hands when he reached out to grab the bizarre volume. There
was something disturbing in its brownish cover. It seemed it would
flake in any minute leaving only the creamy pages. Although they didn't
look like paper. As much as he could see, only two or three corners
that showed briefly under the thick covers, that wasn't ordinary paper
but some sort of rigid papyrus.

Giles turned to Anya. She was shaking like a kid.

"Take a long look at that." The finger that pointed at the tome
trembled as a leaf.  "I saw it once, only once, and it was only a
dream." She whispered with such a mixture of fear and respect that
Giles felt a sudden and freezing shiver running along his spine.
Shuddering, he followed his relative to the table and it was his time
to gasp. "Yes, it's skin. Human. And the pages are made of bones..."

"And every time the book is used, another page is added to it..." Lord
Hanley stated in a low voice. "Hope he will be satisfied with our poor
friend at the cage..."

"Let's start with the ritual." Willow almost begged.

"Yes, I think we should do that..." Giles agreed turning round to look
at the tiny green spark that look back at him as a minuscule spying
device.

 

The moon was a big, reddish sphere watching at them like the eye of a
cross god. In spite of the clear sky, bolts if lighting spread their
myriad of bright white fingers across the dark sky and the echo of
roaring thunders followed them as they walked along the streets.

Buffy's eyes still gazed in awe at the mess her city was now. It seemed
as if an army had bombed it for ages. Yet, the army hadn't appeared,
though. And she didn't even want to think about that moment. How many
could they defeat being only five? One of them having only one arm.
Sort of speak. She took a glimpse at Cordelia carrying a crossbow with
her good hand and couldn't help frowning. Maybe she could tell Willow
to cast a spell just to bring this Cordelia to her reality.

"Next time you aim at me with that bloody toy I'll shove it up your
ass!" Spike yelled suddenly, releasing her hand. "And I'll pull the
trigger just to send your head flying to the moon!"

"Please, don't start." Buffy stopped her pace to glare at her friend.
"We're in an important mission here, not wandering around trying to
find a nice bar."

"G.I. Jerk started!"

"He's been whispering idiot things at your back!"

"Can you behave like grown up people just for once! Xander, you're a
moron and Spike... How old are you anyway? Two hundred or two years?
Gee, grow up!" Cordelia rolled her eyes and glared at Xander.  "Where
did you get that oversized gun anyway?"

"It's a shotgun, okay? A special one." He sighed angrily at being
admonished like a kid. That fiend had been teasing and teasing all
the way with his annoying remarks and he was the moron! Freaking
unbelievable! "And I... found it. Seems worthless now. The whole place
looks like an empty trashcan!"

Buffy couldn't shut her mouth. She definitely was going to beg for
that spell. "Yeah, it's a little quiet, isn't it? I mean, where are
the armies of hell?"

"Maybe at the City Hall..." Cordelia shook her head at Xander's loud
laugh. "All I say is that I think there's something there. They were
having a meeting that day, weren't they? Either that or they were
having tea at the Mayor's office, which I doubt."

"That... -Spike smirked at Xander while entangling his arm around
Buffy's waist, - is a smart idea. How come you never have one...? Too
busy with your own little pistol? Doesn't leave much of your noggin,
ah?"

"Bet you escaped from those dungeons using that long tongue of yours.
Probably licking all the way out. And maybe Mr. Pryce as well, didn't
you Dead Boy?"

Spike smirked widely. One step and he shortened the gap between them,
till he was only an inch from Xander's face. His fangs shone bluish
under the streetlights. "See, little prick, you're learning fast. Very
good retort." He laughed before stepping back to follow the two girls
that had left them behind.

 

The City Hall stood in front of them like a sinister icon with dozens
of bright eyes. The bolts of lighting that quivered in the sky ploughed
on the roofs wrapping the whole building in a white glow.

"Do you hear that buzzing?" Buffy stopped for a second trying to pierce
the horizon. Something in the air told her they were not alone. Yet,
the streets looked as empty as a graveyard.

The humming grew stronger as they approached the double doors. The
ground rocked softly underneath them as if a thousand of feet were
marching nearby. A black thick line seemed to waver in the distance.
Spike vamped out and his yellow eyes widened in disbelief. "Slayer...
I think we should run inside now."

"The doors can't be opened... But there's a window..." Xander ran first
followed by the tiny crew. The bright blast of the shotgun shut down
the welcoming growl in the hallway. "The dogs... I thought you..." He
stared at Oz.

"We must go down the stairs... To the basements..." Oz leaded them
along the boggy corridors they had passed through days before. The few
lights that were still on, flickered and sparkled till they went out
with a strangled shriek. A powerful thump crept upstairs and ricocheted
against the walls. One after the other like the heavy steps of a giant.

 

tbc...