13
She was having a hard time breathing. Geysers erupted, hot streams of steam and colored gas through the rock bed cracks. It was hot, too, the air thick. Jade could see that the other Slayers had noticed it as well, that their shallow breathing was a way to regulate it. The only one who seemed to have no troubles with it was Spike—but of course, he didn't need to breathe. He also no longer had a heartbeat, whereas hers had rocketed from the moment Spike warned them they were close. She had gripped her machete tightly in her grip, white-knuckled with the effort, feeling the smooth grain of the wooden handle, every fiber of the old, coarse rope wrapped around it. Her other arm was wrapped around her torso protectively, applying light pressure to her stomach, but the pain was just a dull throb. Duller, even, if she pushed it out of her mind. She had practice with that, she could fight, even with the pain. And she was ready for a fight. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Spike and the other Slayers, the sight of the children being chained to the rockbed was enough to fill her with fire.
There were so many, twice as many that the Orphanage held, but to her, only five of them mattered, or at least they mattered the most. The ones she hadn't been able to protect. The youngest, little Sophie, with her wide blue eyes and light blonde hair, that fell down in disarray, sticking to her chubby cheeks, the adhesive made from her tears. She was barely more than a toddler, not even five years old, and she was locked in manacles with the rest of them. From where she stood, Jade could see Gunner as well, the only boy of her orphanage that was taken, thin as a reed, the large spectacled glasses that he usually wore missing from where they would be propped on his nose. He was nine, with messy, droopy brown hair, and bright blue eyes. Normally, from where she stood they were only a shadow, as he stared blankly around him.
And then there was Neva. Jade had sought her out as soon as they had come into view, and she saw her now. Tears stained her cheeks, but she was calm, stone faced. Her black eyes looked out impassively, pretending to be steady, but Jade knew how terrified the girl must have been. She was one of the older ones, no child was older than twelve, and she was silently trying to soothe the hysteric children. Jade felt relief, then, as Neva's gaze rose to meet her own. The barely maintained despair gave away to hope, a wide smile spreading across her face as she mouthed Jade's name. Gratitude rushed through her body, her shoulders falling and heaving with relief. It wasn't over yet, but there was still a chance. There was always a chance while they were still alive.
Jade listened to Buffy with half an ear, her eyes focused on the cloaked figures, and when one began to move, one with the curls and small frame that belonged to Fyora, Jade called out to her. The relief that had began to bubble in her stomach gave away to desperation and then then a sickening despair. Helplessness coursed through her, as she looked pathetically at her necklace, the dull hue. Her heart beat so rapidly in her chest. Damnit, she was a Slayer. She was supposed to be like one of the heroes in the comic books she loved. She was supposed to swoop in and save them. She was supposed to save them all.
Instead, all Jade could do was watch Fyora slit Neva's throat. She stared in shocked silence while sound seemed to fade away. I couldn't save you, and I couldn't save her. Her thoughts ran in a twist in her mind, as the girl's small form crumpled, face first into the dirt and stone, her blood mixing with the dust, into the circle that led towards the Order. Horror then gave way to rage, a blinding fury that filled her body. She had been muted so long, though that she couldn't lose anything else, that she had lost enough to be numb to it all, but no. She could still lose. She could always lose. In that same instant, as Neva's lifeless body fell to the ground, the dull crystal of Jade's necklace began to glow. She could almost laugh with the absurdity, the teasing insanity of it all. How unfair. Just another thing in the world that was grossly unfair.
But it wasn't over yet. There was more than one person to save. And she sure as hell wasn't going to stand on this side of the barrier, watching while they slaughtered the rest. She hadn't even made the conscious decision to move forward, didn't even know she had screamed in rage until it was dying in her throat, but as she brandished her machete, she was rushing towards the clouded magic wall. She didn't hear Buffy shouting at Spike to hold her back until she felt a strong hand reach out, snagging her arm. Her forward momentum was immediately quelled as she was jerked back, only centimeters from the wall, from killing all of them. She was wheeled backwards to face Spike. For once, his expression was somber, not mocking, concern in his expression, actually feeling sorry for her.
"Let me go!" She growled, a desperate, urgent cry. Any reserve she had shown before, any control, was lost.
"Not good odds—" He started to say, that deplorable sympathy still shining in his light blue eyes. The arm he held had the machete, so she held up her empty hand in a fist, towards his chest.
"Let—" She had started to say, one last warning before she forcefully pulled her way back when startlingly, he suddenly released her, and she fell, regaining her balance in the last second, standing back straight up. Confused, she glanced up to Spike for an explanation. He had turned from her, in one smooth motion, pulling a talisman from one of the Slayers' necks, the one who had started to glow first, the one called Amelie, ripping his from his neck and throwing it back to her in one smooth motion. He dropped the glowing one around his head, a shining bauble that matched Jade's.
"Let's kill them all." He told her.
Ignoring Buffy's angry order of "Spike!" Jade glanced back at Spike, her stomach tightening, feeling something akin to gratitude, a warm feeling that almost quelled her rage. Then she nodded, and the two of them threw themselves into the barrier.
For a heartbeat, she was afraid that they'd simply be pushed back, that the necklaces wouldn't work, but with a humming sound that grew louder, it seemed to just part the magic around their bodies, and they made it through without incident, stepping through the wall, and before the dais that the Order stood upon. It was at a slight incline, and in perfect tandem, Spike and Jade leaped up to the stone circle, on equal ground to their oppressors. Jade's gaze was drawn first to Neva's lifeless body, tempted to run to her. But it wouldn't bring her back, and she couldn't lower her guard, not while they were severely outnumbered. The Order might just be humans without their magic, but she wouldn't underestimate them. She'd run her blade through them all.
Starting with Fyora.
"Kill them so we can complete the ritual." One spoke to the others, but if he meant Spike and Jade or the children, Jade didn't know. She jumped into the circle, standing in front of one of the chained kids, and she could see by the quick blur of movement that Spike had joined her, even quicker. One of the cloaked muttered words, raising her hand, and a fireball reigned through the air, right at Spike. Knowing that his kind was more susceptible to fire, Jade almost made a move to take it herself, but the amulets around their neck were meant to prevent exactly this thing. Besides, she had vengeance first.
She couldn't reach Fyora yet, but she wanted to. Instead, she took the moment to swing her blade—not at the Order, but at the child's chains to her left. One sure, strong sweep and with a satisfying clink, the chain snapped. The children were still bound to the stone by their remaining chains, but that could be changed. However, she wasn't going to get the chance. The passivity was over, and the Order rushed towards them. They weren't as unarmed as Jade might have hoped, she saw the flash of throwing knives that she raised her machete to block, and another came at her with a quarterstaff. The pain in her torso flared up briefly as she kicked at him with a heavy kick, but she pushed it from her mind. That was what all that training had been for, hadn't it. How to fight, even through agony. She had to have learned something from it all.
A couple of their enemies had stakes, and Jade looked with concern over at Spike, but she didn't need to bother. He was everywhere at once, an animal. His forehead had changed, the bulges visible, his eyebrows gone, the light scar that would have ran through his eyebrow ran through bare skin instead. The blue eyes that were so captivating had become a shimmering gold. She had seen his face before he had bitten her, but she had been dizzy, on the verge of unconsciousness. It made him look fierce, intimidating, and somehow captivating. She'd seen some ugly vamp-faced vampires, but he was intriguing, handsome even. And he moved with such leonine grace, quick, striking out with brutish punches, shouting profanities, glee as he danced around them. He was remarkable, and fearless. Jade seemed quite lesser next to him. Her strength was still diminished by the wounds she had sustained, and it had been a long time since she had been in a fight. She had all but avoided them since she had ran away to Haven. She was extremely fortunate Spike had jumped through the fire with her, for if she was lone, she would have been overpowered easily.
As it was, they were still outnumbered. And while they were fighting, Jade saw the flurry of motion as another child faceplanted to the ground, blood coming from his corpse. One of the Order was still carrying on with the sacrifice, and there were far too many between them for Jade to cross over. She shouted a hoarse, "No!" When the child's body fell. She tried to keep her eyes on the cloaked killer, but had to block another blow from a quarter-staff. Angry, she took once of the small throwing daggers from her belt and tried throw it through the crowd, but it was blocked by another figure who took it in the abdomen and then crumpled. Jade returned her attention to the one she was fighting, kicking at his knee and when he stumbled, she spun her elbow into his throat. Without their magic, they were no stronger, and the man fell back, still. She didn't quite think she had killed him, nor did she need to.
As the quarter-staffed man fell, one stepped up to take his place. Fyora. Rage surged through her blood, but before Jade had a chance to attack, she heard Fyora's muttered "Da mihi vim," electricity cracking in her fingers. Jade braced herself for the hit, but the spell wasn't directed at her. Brandishing a knife, Fyora kicked out at Jade. Jade was waiting for the kick, but she didn't expect the strength behind it as it connected with her thigh, pushing her back as she spun backwards, down to the ground. Her leg ached, and she realised that Fyora must have increased her strength somehow—with that spell. She remembered Willow saying that their necklaces only negated the magic used directly at them, and not the magic used in proximity. With a groan, Jade rose to her feet, pushing away one of the Order as he surged towards her. She wanted Fyora, who stood there with the knife in her hand. The knife, Jade realised, was still covered in blood. Neva's blood. Jade flung herself at Fyora with a fury, ignoring the throbbing in her leg, the ache in her stomach.
"You made a mistake, picking Neva first." Jade told her, her slow circle with Fyora being interrupted by the rest of her oppressors. Though most of their attention was focused on Spike, there were still too many that could still fight. Jade struck hard at one, hearing the satisfying and sickening crunch as she broke their leg. Kicking them away, she looked back at Fyora, who was shrugging, her expression impassive, except for a little smirk on her lips.
"It makes no difference, Jade. They'll all die anyway."
"Your Order? Yes. The children, no." Blade met blade as she swung her machete upwards, deflected by the long, vicious looking dagger.
"You're not one of them, you know." Fyora told her, kicking out at her stomach, which Jade avoided with a spin. "You may be a Slayer, but you don't fit among superheroes."
"That's alright. It just means I don't have to spare you." Jade returned. She moved to block another swipe of the deadly dagger when she was pulled from behind by one of the Order. Caught off balance, she felt Fyora's blade go unhindered into her skin, slicing a long stretch up her forearm. It stung, from her elbow up to her wrist, but Jade ignored it, kicking out with her leg, but to her dismay, Fyora caught it between her hands, holding her firm. There was a snap as Fyora twisted Jade's ankle out, and the pressure from behind her by one of the Order made Jade drop her machete. Jade saw Fyora's dagger approach her, her neck its target, and she wondered if this was the end, then. I'll be with you soon, Bennett. She didn't close her eyes, watched the gleam of the approaching blade. She deftly struggled against the arms that held her. She saw Spike, meters away, facing down far more than she was. Too far away to help.
"Don't worry, Fyora. You'll join me in hell soon," Jade told her, but as the words left her lips, she was proven wrong. A crossbow bolt whistled through the air at top speed, sinking into Fyora's heart, sprouting from her chest. The blade clattered to the floor as she did, and with the sound of impact, the man who was holding Jade was lifted off of her. Jade fell to the ground, landing on her behind, and she turned to see who had entered the fray. It was Buffy, Kennedy, and two more of the Slayers, their talismans glowing. Kennedy was already reloading her crossbow, and Buffy had joined Spike. With his new backup, he was handily beating them back now, and he and Buffy were agile and adept, like they were dancing together.
A gurgling at her feet drew Jade's attention back to Fyora. Blood was pouring from her body, but she was still alive. She had fallen face first, not unlike Neva, and as Jade pushed herself up to reach her, she felt the sticky thick feel of blood. She glanced down at her hand, pale and covered in crimson, reminding her of her dream. She gripped Fyora, forcing her to a sitting position. Blood dripped down her lip, past her chin, a bit smeared on her cheekbone from when she felt in the dirt. All the anger Jade had felt was slowly draining away. Fyora was going to die, there was no saving her. And that was good. But it was such a waste. All for nothing. Neva for nothing. Her voice trembling with fury, she asked, "Why?"
"We all have a purpose," Fyora gasped out in painful breaths. "This was mine. I'm sorry." Whispering the same words she had from Jade's dream, her convulsing grew still as the life leaked out of her. She was dead. Jade had won.
Even if it didn't feel like it.