Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling, Joss Whedon, and JRR Tolkien, though I could get pissy about it and say a couple of them are mine, that would just be kind of petty, wouldn't it?

A/N:It ain't all sunshine and roses...

"Team Alpha – Assault"

Chapter 14

After the first orc had fallen to Angel's bow, they still came on, but they immediately broke up into smaller groups and dispersed, some heading off to either side of the road. They looked like, and in fact were, fairly disciplined troops. The group they had bypassed on the road was actually an elite squad; their mission was to gather conscripts from the random bands of orcs that had sprung from the wastes when the Dark Land was reborn. On receiving the signal from the Tower, they gathered those they had captured, and hurried back the way they had come. More trouble of a real nature was headed for Alpha, but it was as yet distant.

"We should have guns," muttered Spike as he watched a phalanx of orcs marching directly at them behind a wall of shields, "big, honkin', guns."

"Yeah, and rocket launchers. Rocket launchers are pretty cool," agreed Angel.

"Faith!" yelled Spike.

"What?" she replied.

"Me and Angel want guns and rocket launchers before we invade another dimension again. Make a note, would you?"

"Sure thing, Spike. Some explosives would be handy right now too, still no luck on the door."

"Well, as soon as Dagger and Draco are rested up, they can make us a door," said Angel. "These guys coming up seem to know what they're about, but they can't get at us all together. We can handle them. They can't even get at us with arrows except by luck."

"Right- OW!" exclaimed Spike as an arrow embedded itself in his forearm. "Where the hell did that come from?"

It had come from the tower. There were many horn-like projections from the sides of Barad-dur', and from over the walls rimming their tops concealed archers could fire. As evidence of this an arrow struck Faith full in the chest.

"Shit, that hurt," she admitted. Fortunately the dragon hide was proof against it penetrating. However there was no dragon hide on their heads or hands and arms. A second arrow struck Faith, this time hitting the cloak over her side, the arrow clattered to the stones beneath her feet. "Cover up guys!" she commanded, "the cloaks seem able to stop the arrows!" Indeed the fabric of the cloaks so slowed the arrows that the energy was spent before they could penetrate, but that meant that their vision would be constricted. And it was still irritating, at the least. And they had to move on occasion, simply to keep an eye on the advancing orcs.

Angel, peering around the side of the pile of bodies saw a group of three descending the bank clearly trying to approach from the side. He managed to drop one with his bow, but… "Ouch! Shit, that hurts," he said as he broke off the protruding arrowhead and pulled the shaft from his arm. "Sleeves," he said to Spike, "we should have sleeves."

"Right, bugger! And gloves," he added as he removed the arrow from his hand. "Faith! Just add sleeves and gloves to the list, will you love?"

"Already done," she replied, huddled under her cloak tying a bandage around the gash on her forearm. "Draco, Dagger, you two stay covered up and rest. We'll keep these guys off of you, but there's nothing we can do about the bowmen. Think pleasant thoughts, or some shit like that. As soon as you're sure you can, make a hole, but don't rush it. We'll likely just get the one chance."

"Right," Draco answered for them. Dagger and Draco had formed a sort of tent with their cloaks, and they were able to see each other.

"Bit of a spot, innit?" Dagger asked him.

"Bit, yeah, that bloody dragon nearly drained me. If any more of those show up we're goners," Draco answered.

"Too right, but sooner or later one of those bleedin' archers is gonna get lucky. They can't get one through Angel or Spike's heart, but if they take out Faith we're buggered. None of us can fight like she can, not against masses of these orcs we can't. And that tower may be full of them."

There were indeed many orcs within the tower, and a considerable force was massed just behind the doors. But having seen the fate of the first lot of orcs to face the Slayer, not to mention the Balrog, they were in no hurry to open the door. Holland Manners had ordered them to sally forth, but they weren't as scared of him as they were what awaited outside. A Balrog might have moved them out, but the two remaining in the Tower were occupied. One was stationed on a landing halfway down the stairs to the dungeon holding Illyria, the other was in the Throne Room guarding the Senior Partners. Neither would move without direct orders from the Masters of Barad-dur', and the Senior Partners were not talking.

As for the dragons, well, there was an entire dimension full of them, and it would have been simplicity itself for the Senior Partners to bring them forth in great numbers, if they were free to. They were indeed only minor Gods, but they were masters of dimensional movement, as well as politics and intrigue. They had access to horrors even Mordor had never seen. Luna did not know the details of what they had access to, but she knew their natures, and being no stranger herself to other dimensions, she knew that it was imperative to keep them occupied.

So far that had worked well, but now the only thing standing between Luna's death, and indeed the death of the entire company, was a slender elven woman.

Lupa descended the slope slowly, snarling at the figure before him. He could see beyond her the power that had drawn him here, shining with a light that both pained and exalted him. For a moment he simply stood and gazed, some small part of his heart wishing that he was other than he was, that his nature would allow him to worship that before him rather than compel him to destroy it. It was a forlorn hope, however, and it soon passed.

"Elf," he snarled in the rough speech of his kind, "you may be able to save some of your companions yet, if you hurry. You stand between me and my prey, but I will allow you to depart unhindered if you do so at once."

"I stand between you and those whom I love," rejoined Ada, "and while I have strength to oppose you, you shall not pass."

The great warg inclined his head to her. "So be it."

And the battle was joined.

There were no witnesses to that fight, Hermione, Galadriel, and Luna were far away, the surviving elves of Lorien too sore wounded to come to her aid. No one to see how skillfully Ada kept herself between the warg and her ladies, how she turned each charge aside with skill and grace, how she managed to deal damage of her own to her attacker even after her strong arm was rendered useless by a slash of the great jaws.

So too there was no one to witness when at last her stroke went astray, and her feet stumbled, and the great teeth of the warg pierced the softness of her throat.

No one at all to see.