The Hole In The World (or the Deeper Well, Part Two)

By Shakespeare's Girl

A/N: More of Spike's POV. Inside the Deeper Well.

We followed Drogyn into the Deeper Well. He held the only torch, which made me suspicious, but Angel seemed to think he was all right. We walked in silence for a few yards, then Drogyn began talking, which for some reason was bloody annoying.

"I would never have thought you'd end up here, Angel," he said, turning toward Angel slightly.

"I could say the same," Angel answered diplomatically.

"So, you two know each other," I murmured, earning a glare from Drogyn. "That was a statement," I informed him, "I already know that you do."

"I'll tell you as much as I can," he grumbled, ignoring me. "The old ones were demons pure. They warred as we would breathe--endlessly. The greater ones were interred, for death was not always their end. Illyria was feared and beloved as few are. It was laid to death in the very depths of the Well . . . until it disappeared a month ago."

I rolled my eyes. "Someone took it from under you nose a month ago, and you don't miss it 'til now?" I ask, knowing it'll piss the cretin off. "That makes you quite the crap jailer doesn't it. Also a statement," I finish, before Drogyn can take my head off.

"Your friend likes to talk," Drogyn grumbled to Angel as he stopped walking.

"So much, he's even right sometimes," Angel agreed, and I decided then and there to get him for that little slur. "The man I remember couldn't be stolen from so easily."

Drogyn had the good grace to look sheepish. "The tomb was not stolen. It disappeared. I believe it was predestined to, as part of Illyria's escape plan. And as for my not noticing . . ." Drogyn stopped, doused the torch, and stepped into then next chamber. "Well, my charges are not few."

I stared at the Deeper Well, because what else could this be? A bridge spanned the well, and below it were coffins and sarcophagi and tombs, all disappearing into a really deep hole. There were apparently a few that gave off ambient light, because there were no torches in this place. I stepped closer to the edge, and gasped. "Bloody hell."

"How far does this go down?" Angel asked.

"All the way," Drogyn said. I arched an eyebrow at that. "All the way through the earth."

"So, the coffin disappeared, teleported," Angel put the pieces together, "but it was brought to us."

Drogyn gave a slight nod. "Illyria was a great power--so great that after millions of years dead, somewhere on this earth it still has acolytes."

Suddenly, Drogyn gasped. "It's been freed. The demon's essence," he accused, understanding making him angry. Angrier.

"Yeah, it's been freed," I snapped, finally losing it. "Why do you think we're here?" Drogyn opened his mouth to say hell knew what, but I didn't let him start. "And what's your favorite color? What's your favorite song? Who's the goalkeeper for Manchester United and how many fingers am I holding up?" I flipped him a two-fingered salute and let a little demon into my voice. "You wanna kill me? Try, but I don't have time for your quirks!"

Drogyn looked a little abashed, which was nice. I like it when I still scare people. Turning from me to Angel, he gestured to the opposite side of the bridge. "The power to draw back Illyria lies in there. It requires a champion who has traveled from where it lies to where it belongs."

"You've got two of those right here," Angel murmured, acknowledging me as an equal for the first time in my memory. I decided to let the earlier slur against my big mouth go.

"But I didn't know it was free," Drogyn hissed, obviously torn. He sighed. "If we bring the sarcophagus back to the well, it will draw Illyria out of your friend . . . and into every single person between here and there. It will become the mystical equivalent of airborne. It will claw into every soul in it's path to keep from being trapped. Entire cities--tens maybe hundreds of thousands of people will die in agony if you save her." Drogyn looked down.

Angel and I stared at each other, shocked. There was no way . . . it couldn't be true. If it were true, then we'd come all the way, fought--not terribly hard, but still hard enough--been threatened by a strange little man, and we'd still fail. Damn.

"No," Angel breathed. He took a few steps toward the railing, then looked down.

"That's madness," I informed Drogyn.

"This is a place of madness," he shrugged. "I'll prepare the spell. Your choice."

He turned quietly and walked into the antechamber he'd indicated before. I turned, looking down into the chasm below us, down through the earth. My back was to Angel, but I felt him take a few steps toward the exit, then back toward the center of the bridge. "To hell with the world," he finally spat, and I heard him turn with a flap of his overcoat and follow Drogyn.

I just kept staring, unable to fathom what had happened. We'd failed. To save one life, we had to forfiet millions of others. How had it come to this?

"Spike," Angel called, turning back to me before he stepped off the bridge.

I hesitated. Whatever I said next, it had better be deep. Like this damn hole. I gave a little laugh. "This goes all the way through to the other side," I mused aloud. "So I figure, there's a bloke somewhere around . . ." I calculated quickly, "New Zealand, standing on a bridge like this one, looking back down at us." I shook my head. "All the way down." I stood there, staring down into the empty space where the coffins didn't meet in the middle. I huffed another tiny laugh, then stopped, frowning, suddenly realizing the tragic symmetry of it all. "There's a hole in the world," I murmured. "Feels like we ought to have known."