Sorry this took so long - I've been busy putting up a crazy amount of Christmas decorations and had some days where I didn't feel like writing at all, but here it is at last: the last Demon's Games update of 2021, and the last December update ever. With only four chapters left I'm hoping to finish this in April, but even if something stops me from updating every month I should still be able to complete this story before next December.
Illyria's portal took Buffy and everyone she had convinced to join her on her search and rescue mission to the edge of District 2's territory, amid the mountains they mined for stone. It was a harsh landscape even in daylight; now, with the moon bathing it in stark white light and casting distorted shadows everywhere, it was almost like they'd stepped onto another planet.
"So what do we do now?" Willow wondered, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. "If Coin wanted Angel out of the way, she must have hidden him somewhere, right?"
"Not her," Drusilla said in her vague, dreamy way. "She wanted him gone, but she wouldn't do it herself. It was the boy."
"Boy?" Buffy repeated. "Which boy?"
"You know him. The one named for the storm, with a storm inside...so much anger and violence in his soul...it's delicious."
"Gale? He did this?!"
Drusilla nodded. "Angel wouldn't let him shed the blood of his enemies like he wanted, and the witch saw that he could be won over, but he couldn't kill Angel. He tried to bury what he'd done so she wouldn't know."
"Great," Buffy sighed. "It's good to know we definitely can't trust Gale, but that doesn't help us figure out what he did with Angel."
"Maybe he put him in the Nut," Peeta suggested. "It seems like it'd be a good place to hide someone now that it's abandoned."
"I'd say that's as good a place to start looking as any," Cinna agreed, but Buffy wasn't convinced.
"Maybe, I guess...unless... Drusilla, when you said Gale tried to bury the evidence that he didn't go through with killing Angel, do you mean he literally buried him somewhere? Like, in the ground?"
Drusilla gave her a slightly exasperated look, the way a teacher might look at a student who took an inordinately long time to solve a simple problem. "Of course. Wasn't it obvious?"
"Not really," Buffy retorted, "and I'm deeply disturbed that the things you say are starting to make any kind of sense to me."
"This bickering does nothing to aid our search for Angel," Illyria cut in, "and your arguments are inane. I suggest you desist at once."
She strode off without waiting to see if they would take her advice or not, leaving a rather embarrassed Buffy and the rest to scramble after her - except Drusilla, who moseyed along at a leisurely pace, as if she was just out for a moonlit stroll. Illyria led them to the quarry near the Nut, which she said was where Angel had gone with Gale just before he disappeared.
"Well, there are plenty of places to hide someone around here," Cressida observed as she surveyed the stony landscape, which was pockmarked with deep pits where stonecutters had hewn into the bedrock. "So do we just pick a spot to start digging or what?"
"There might be an easier way. No one's been working out here since the district was captured, right?" Willow asked.
"That is correct," Illyria replied. "Most of its inhabitants have either joined our army or been detained as prisoners of war."
"Then I can try a spell to retrace the steps of the last people who were here; we just have to hope those people were Angel and Gale and that the echoes of their presence haven't already dissipated."
They all held their breath as she cast her enchantment - except Illyria and Drusilla, who didn't really need to breathe - and after a moment, two sets of footprints appeared on the bare ground, outlined in faint bluish-white light. "Okay," Willow said with a sigh of relief, "they went this way."
The phantom footprints led them very close to the base of the Nut, glowing brighter in the darkness where its massive shadow blocked out the moonlight. Near the edge, there was evidence of a scuffle - the two sets of tracks turned to face each other, and there was so much back-and-forth movement in such a small area that it was hard to tell exactly what had happened. Beyond that point, only one set of footprints continued down into the mine, but they were now backward.
"Gale must've overpowered Angel somehow and dragged him from here," Buffy guessed after placing her own feet on top of the prints and trying to imagine what might make her think it was a good idea to back down the narrow, steep path that led into the mine. "When I get my hands on that little worm..." She let the threat go unfinished as she made her way down into the pit; traversing such difficult terrain in the dark without twisting an ankle demanded all her concentration, meaning she couldn't think of a suitable punishment for Gale just then. Still, she silently promised to revisit the issue later, when she could give it her full attention.
It was pitch black in the depths of the quarry, forcing Willow to conjure a ball of light before they could continue their search. At last, the trail led them to a point at the far end where it looked like the miners had started to deepen their excavation, then changed their minds and refilled the hole - or someone else had. It was there that Gale's tracks stopped, then doubled back.
"He was walking forward again when he left, not backing up like he was dragging a body," Peeta noted, "so this has to be where he left Angel, right?"
"I don't know," Illyria replied, obviously troubled. "I cannot sense his presence."
She bent down and started digging, hurling boulders aside like they weighed nothing; Willow opened her mouth to say that she could levitate the rocks, but before she could get a word out Illyria was already seven feet down. She snapped her mouth shut again and stepped back, shaking her head in amazement at the Old One's speed. Illyria's frantic digging slowed a second later, and she began removing chunks of stone with greater care.
"Are you getting close? Is he there?" Without waiting for an answer, Buffy swung herself into the hole and started digging too, barely aware of the rough stone tearing her skin, until at last she brushed away some pebbles and there was Angel's face, heartbreakingly still and alarmingly gray, though that was probably just dust. "Angel!"
Her voice came out in a strangled whisper, but he heard her anyway and opened his eyes, blinking up at her in disbelief. "Buffy?"
"I'm here." She and Illyria quickly finished unearthing him and helped him out of the hole that now looked and felt too much like an open grave - and he did need help, seeing as he couldn't even sit up without a lot of wincing. "What's wrong?" Buffy asked anxiously. "Are you hurt? What did Gale do to you?"
"Dropped a couple hundred pounds of rock on me," Angel grunted, "but I was already hurt." He unbuttoned his shirt with trembling fingers, revealing that, in addition to the colorful constellation of bruises littering his torso, his bullet wounds hadn't made much progress toward healing.
"You require sustenance in order to repair these wounds," Illyria said after inspecting them with a critical eye. "You must feed."
Buffy immediately drew her dagger and rolled up her sleeve, but Cinna stopped her before she could press the blade to her wrist. "Hold on just a minute. Do you really think it's a good idea for you to be losing blood right now?"
"You heard Illyria," she snapped, yanking her arm away. "Angel needs it!"
"And we need you at full strength, Willow, Cressida, and Illyria too. If we run into trouble, you'll all need to be able to fight. Me, on the other hand... I'm not any kind of supernatural warrior, which means I can afford to lose the blood more than you."
"That is true," Illyria agreed, "though your lack of enhanced strength also means you won't recover from the loss as easily."
"Angel can have some of my blood too," Peeta offered. "I'm not essential in a fight either."
Cinna reached out to Buffy again, and this time she let him take the dagger from her hand. "Thank you, both of you."
"What's a little blood between friends?" The former fashion designer cut his wrist in one quick, clean stroke, then held it out to Angel, who hesitated. He hadn't tasted human blood in a very long time, but he remembered all too well how it excited the demon in him. He could practically feel Angelus straining against his bonds, reminiscing fondly about old massacres, aching to break free and start the slaughter anew...
As if she somehow knew where his mind had gone, Buffy squeezed his arm, breaking him out of his morbid thoughts. "Hey, I'm right here. I'll make sure you don't lose control and take too much."
"Come on, man," Cinna said as his blood began dripping onto the ground, "don't tell me I cut myself for nothing."
"Fine, you win. I really appreciate this." Taking the man's arm in both hands, Angel carefully raised it to his mouth and pressed his lips to the cut. His demon awoke at the first taste of the warm, rich liquid, greedily demanding more, but he forced himself to drink slowly so as not to cause Cinna any more pain than necessary.
After a few minutes, Willow estimated that Angel had taken all the blood Cinna could spare for the time being, and Peeta took his turn serving as a donor. The whole time, Drusilla complained bitterly about Angel being allowed to drink human blood while she was not, but no one was inclined to open their veins for her; she wasn't injured, after all, and they didn't trust her to stop.
They decided to spend the night there in District 2 to give Angel, Cinna, and Peeta time to recover - Willow had healed the humans' flesh wounds but lacked the ingredients for a potion to hasten the replenishment of their blood supply - and Drusilla was given permission to try her luck hunting just beyond the district's border, with the understanding that she was on her own if she got caught. With Coin in control of the rebel forces and the exact number of her supporters unknown, they all agreed that it might be safer to keep Angel's survival under wraps for the time being, which meant they had to camp out in the quarry. Luckily, Willow, Cinna, and Cressida had had the foresight to bring food, and the stonecutters had left behind some tarps that they were able to use in constructing makeshift shelters among the rocks, as well as a few canvas sacks that served as halfway decent excuses for sleeping bags and pillows.
Angel insisted that he already felt rejuvenated enough to help set up camp, and arranged things so he ended up working alongside Illyria, who he noticed hadn't spoken to him since she and Buffy first dug him up, nor even looked at him; in fact, she'd turned away every time he tried to catch her eye, which had now happened too many times to be coincidence.
"Okay, what's with the silent treatment?" he asked as soon as he'd managed to put a little distance between them and the rest. "I've done the quiet brooding thing too often not to recognize it when I see it."
"'Quiet brooding thing'?" she repeated dubiously. "If you refer to your tendency to wallow in guilt and self-recrimination, I am not doing that." They worked in silence for a minute before she said, "Still, I must confess that I... I feel shame for what I allowed to befall you. It's not often that I experience such useless emotions - if one cannot change the past, there is little value in grieving over what transpired. However, I should have sensed Gale Hawthorne's resentment and Alma Coin's ill intentions."
"So should I. Hell, you told me more than once that she couldn't be trusted, and I had the same feeling in my gut, but I pushed it aside and told myself I'd deal with her after Wolfram and Hart. As for Gale, I knew he thought I was too forgiving toward our enemies, but I don't think he would've done what he did without her influence...just like it never occurred to me that she might corrupt someone else into doing her dirty work. I could've handled either one of them on their own, but when they teamed up I never saw it coming. I think that only happened after we took the Nut, though, when I reprimanded him for killing the guy who shot at Katniss. You didn't see either of them between then and when I went off with Gale, so this isn't on you."
Illyria frowned at him, unconvinced. "I spoke with both of them afterward. Of course I knew at once that Coin's professions of sadness at your loss were false, but that was hardly unexpected, and I had no means of deducing her role in it since she felt none of the guilt or fear of discovery that typically accompanies duplicity. The boy did, but he claimed to merely feel remorse for his failure to save you, and I failed to detect the lie. I, who once prided myself on sniffing out the seeds of betrayal in my lieutenants' hearts long before they had a chance to act on them..." She paused, her fists clenching in tightly controlled fury, which was all the more potent since it was directed at herself. "Like a fool, I believed him. I should have known you were alive and come to your aid sooner."
"This isn't your fault." Angel placed a hand on her shoulder, something he rarely did since he knew such gestures were hardly ever appreciated, but for once she didn't shrug him off. "Human emotions are so much more complex than anything most demons will ever be capable of...or maybe your viewpoint's changed a little since your giant cephalopod days, and you wanted to believe Gale was trustworthy. I don't imagine you really trusted anyone you fought with back in the Demon Age."
"Of course not," Illyria scoffed. "Had the slightest opportunity presented itself, any of them would have seized the chance to cast me down and feast on my carcass." She paused briefly before adding in a softer tone, "It's only since I met you that I have learned not all alliances are forged purely of convenience."
"Maybe I'm finally rubbing off on you," Angel suggested with a hint of a grin.
The demon goddess didn't smile back. "The thought of becoming more like you does not fill me with such dread as it would have when we first met," she said seriously, "yet I should not have allowed myself to be blinded to Gale Hawthorne's treachery. From this day on, I shall be more vigilant-"
She cut herself off midsentence, her brow furrowing and lips parting in an expression of confusion, or perhaps worry.
"Illyria? What's wrong?" A quick once-over revealed nothing amiss with her, and in any case the source of her distress appeared to be external; she had turned to look at someone or something a short distance away. Angel followed her gaze just in time to see Buffy's knees buckle as she broke into a violent coughing fit.
Putting on a burst of speed, he was able to reach her side and catch her before she fell, lowering her gently to the ground and holding her tightly while she struggled to breathe through the spasms wracking her slender frame. At last she leaned forward and, with one last convulsive effort, spat up a wad of something bloody and messy. Then she went limp in Angel's arms, her head falling back against his shoulder so that he could see the twin streams of dark liquid, almost black in the moonlight, snaking from her nostrils. He raised a hand to her face and tried to use the end of his sleeve to wipe away the blood; her eyes fluttered open at his touch, and he saw that the force of her coughs had broken a blood vessel in one eye, staining the inner corner of her left eye red.
It must have stung, because she reached up as if to check for something in her eye, then froze, her expression shifting from disorientation to dismay as she took in Angel's worried face peering down at her.
"Buffy, what's going on?"
"I'm so sorry," she whispered hoarsely. "I don't know how to tell you this..."
###
"Do you think this is fate's way of telling us we just weren't meant to be?"
They were lying on a small pile of tarps and canvas sacks underneath another tarp stretched out over a pair of boulders, having retreated to the relative privacy of their crude approximation of a tent for the dreaded talk; breaking the news that you were dying was hard enough without an audience. Buffy had finished explaining everything almost twenty minutes ago, and Angel hadn't said a word since, until now. She was glad he was talking again, but when she heard what he was saying, she reluctantly lifted her head from his chest in order to glare at him.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Her heated tone finally got him to take his eyes off the tarp overhead and look at her, and she saw an unfathomable sadness in their dark depths. "It never works out for us. I love you, Buffy - you were the first person I ever really loved in this life - but no matter what we want, something always forces us apart. That's not supposed to happen to people who are truly right for each other, is it?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Angel, you're exactly right for me; I always wanted someone kind and strong, someone who can handle being part of my world and face it with me...and it didn't hurt that your 'man of mystery' vibe you had going when we first met was sexy as hell," she admitted with a grin before quickly turning serious again. "It's the rest of the world that's not right, not us."
"Well, it won't be able to hurt you much longer," he consoled her while stroking her hair - very gently, so as not to pull it out. "Soon you'll be back in heaven, where you belong."
"I don't want to leave you, though," she said, gazing into his eyes with an unusually somber look. "I need to know you'll be okay when I'm gone."
"I'll carry on, Buffy. I always have."
"That's not what I mean. I know you'll keep fighting, keep saving the world no matter how much it's taken from you - that's another thing I love about you - but I want you to keep living too. I want you to be happy...in a non-soul-losing way, of course. Promise me you won't give up on finding that."
Angel smiled sadly at her. "I promise."
Even as he said the words, they both knew it was a promise he wouldn't be able to keep. He'd lost everyone he had ever loved, and now, to have his first and greatest love returned only for her to be cruelly torn away from him again... There was only so much loss a person could stand. He would fight on, of course, as he'd told her he would, but it was highly unlikely he would find anyone who touched him the way she had, the way Cordelia might have if they'd ever gotten a chance to explore their burgeoning feelings, or that he would be able to open himself up to them if by some miracle he did.
Buffy lowered her head onto his chest once more, unable to continue looking him in the eyes while they lied to each other and seeing in them the pain he was trying so hard to hide. As she settled back into place, a single red-tinged tear trickled from the corner of her eye.
###
Drusilla woke everyone (except Illyria, who never slept) at dawn when she returned to gripe about her unsatisfying hunt, though none of them had slept very well anyway thanks to a combination of nerves and extremely uncomfortable conditions.
"So," Cressida began as Willow doled out their meager rations to those who needed to eat, "what's our next move? We need to do something about Coin, right?"
"It'd help to get the lay of the land first, wouldn't it?" Peeta chipped in. "Find out how many others she's won over besides Gale." He winced slightly as he said the name; although there had been some initial tension between them due to their shared feelings for Katniss, he had come to think of Gale as a pretty decent guy, and he could only imagine how devastated Katniss would be when the truth about his betrayal came out.
"Good idea," Angel told him. "If we can sneak onto the base here in Two-"
He was interrupted by a brief burst of coughing from Buffy and immediately put his arm around her in case she needed support, but she didn't collapse this time. "Sorry," she wheezed once she was finished, leaning on him as she tried to catch her breath, "but I think my sneaking days are over."
Everyone watching her privately agreed; Willow said the fact that she'd begun spitting up blood meant her lungs were starting to break down, and after spending the night more or less exposed to the elements, she looked worse than ever.
"There is another alternative," Illyria offered. "I will go alone."
"That's very generous of you," Willow said in her best diplomatic voice, "but if we want to get a feel for whether people's loyalties have shifted, it would kinda help if they weren't too terrified to be honest."
"Terrifying them was not my intention. I can disguise myself most effectively, and thereby pass among them unnoticed." Before their eyes, Illyria transformed herself into Fred's doppelganger. "I hardly ever assume this form so as not to offend Angel," she explained, still using her own voice, "so very few are familiar with it. The soldiers garrisoned here certainly would not recognize me."
She kept her eyes on Angel while she spoke, clearly seeking his approval. He had turned away when she changed, but now he slowly looked back at her and nodded; it was a good idea, and they were in sufficiently dire straits that he couldn't afford to let emotion cloud his judgment. "It's a solid plan, but you'll need some wardrobe adjustments."
"Naturally." She closed her eyes in concentration, and her flowery skirt and blouse, which she usually appeared in when she took this form since it was the type of clothing Fred had favored, changed to a gray District 13 uniform.
"That's good," Cinna told her, "but you should put your hair up too; it's not practical for a soldier to wear it down. Here, let me..."
Illyria said nothing, but she didn't rip his arms off when he reached for her hair, which was consent enough for her. Cinna twisted her long brown locks into a simple yet subtly elegant bun; when he was finished, Illyria could easily pass for just another member of the rank and file to anyone who didn't know better.
"I'll tell everybody I've been out on night patrol," she said in Fred's softly lilting tones, "and I should be able to slip right in and catch all the latest chatter over breakfast."
"Break a leg," Buffy said with a weak grin.
Illyria stared blankly at her, a hint of her normal demeanor showing through. "That is highly unlikely. Even in this form, my bones cannot be broken by any force these humans could muster."
###
She returned hours later with news of mixed sentiments among the rebel soldiers - some, like Gale, approved of Coin's more ruthless attitude and methods, but many of those same people also agreed that Angel had been a great leader and were genuinely sad and angry at having lost him. No one seemed to have an inkling that Coin might have had a hand in his disappearance or suspect her of harboring ulterior motives; mostly they were just glad someone had stepped up to fill the power vacuum.
However, Illyria noted that she had only been able to gauge the mood of a small sample of people since most of them were participating in a final assault on the Capitol, with only a little more than thirty left behind to guard the prisoners from the Nut, plus those who were too badly wounded in that battle to continue fighting.
Angel sat up straighter when he heard that, every muscle in his body tensing. "They're already attacking the Capitol?" When Illyria nodded, he said, "Then forget Alma - that's where we need to be. Can you take us there?"
"I do not know. My powers will be greatly diminished so close to the epicenter of our enemy's stronghold," she admitted with a slight frown. "Still, I should be able to open a portal within a reasonable distance of the city's border. You should feed once more prior to our departure; you'll need to be at full strength if you are to confront the Wolf, Ram, and Hart themselves. They may be weaker in their earthly vessel, as I am, but they will be formidable nonetheless."
"Feed on me," Cinna offered, "and don't worry so much about holding back this time. Peeta can help you fight, but I'm not the guy you want beside you on the frontlines."
Peeta started to protest, but Willow cut him off with a concern of her own. "What about Buffy?"
"Will-"
"Don't try to tell me you're good for one last battle," she snapped after shutting her best friend up with a severe look that had made powerful entities in several different dimensions quail. "You can't fight - you can barely stand!"
Unfortunately, Buffy couldn't argue with that. "So this is it," she said with a mixture of sadness and bitterness, "I'm just supposed to sit around and wait to die while everyone else sees this through to the end? There's nothing I can... Wait. There is something I can do." She turned to Angel. "Drink from me - my blood will make you stronger than Cinna's."
"Buffy, I can't-"
"Please," she interrupted, giving him a pleading look that bordered on desperation. "Look, I'm not asking for some kind of assisted suicide thing - you don't have to take it all. It's just that if I can't be there to fight with you, I'll feel better knowing I've done everything I can to keep you safe and that I'm with you in some way...or at least a part of me is. Let me do this - let me help you save the world one last time before I go - please."
Looking into her eyes, Angel could see how much it meant to her to do one last meaningful thing, one last act of heroism before the end, especially since it wasn't the end she had wanted - how could he deny her that chance, if not quite to go out on her own terms since he knew he could never bring himself to kill her and she would never ask it of him, to at least have some control over how her life ended? For someone as strong as Buffy, he understood that being reduced to a state that she saw as weak and pitiful, being robbed of her agency, was the worst fate of all, so if he could help her regain even a small part of it, how could he possibly refuse?
Unable to speak through the unshed tears that were threatening to choke him, he signaled his assent with a brief nod.
"Thank you," Buffy said fervently, squeezing the words out past a sizable lump in her own throat.
Everyone else took that as their cue to make themselves scarce. She and Angel were so focused on each other that they barely noticed them leaving, yet they knew instantly when they were alone.
"Well," he began somewhat awkwardly, "are you...ready?"
"I am," Buffy replied at once, without a trace of doubt. "The rebellion needs you." She flicked her hair behind her shoulder and pulled the collar of her shirt down as far as it would go before tilting her head to one side, baring her neck to him. When Angel still hesitated, she added, "I trust you."
Closing her eyes, she sensed rather than saw him moving closer, his arms encircling her as he lowered his head to her exposed neck, his lips tenderly brushing her skin... Then came the sudden, sharp pain of his fangs piercing her vein, eliciting a soft gasp as she let her head fall back against him, but it soon subsided, soothed by the gentle lapping of his tongue and the way his lips caressed her while he drank.
For Angel, it was the most wonderful sensation he'd experienced in several lifetimes - not only was her blood sweeter and exponentially more potent than Cinna's or Peeta's, the act of drinking from her neck was far more intimate than sucking on their wrists, and there were no words to describe what it meant to know that she trusted him to do this, that she was willing to share herself with him in this way. It was also a comfort to know that she was part of him now, that this piece of her would stay with him long after she was gone, yet it was marred by the knowledge that, depending on whether she managed to hang on until his final battle with Wolfram and Hart was finished and if he won - which was by no means certain - this could very well be the last time he saw her alive, the last time he got to hold her.
Soon the blood he was drawing from her veins would be all he had left of her, and while it was infinitely better than nothing, it was still nowhere near enough.
###
Thanks to the rebels' encroachments shrinking Wolfram and Hart's sphere of influence, Illyria was able to get them closer to the Capitol than expected, but they still had to traverse the last five miles on foot, or be carried by Angel in Buffy's case; feeding him had sapped the last vestiges of her strength, and every breath was a struggle now.
When they finally came within view of the city, they were shocked and dismayed to find it enclosed in an impenetrable dome of green light.
"This isn't fair," Drusilla moaned. "No one told me we'd be locked out and they'd start the party without us!" She launched into another of her hissy fits, whimpering and stamping her feet, but for once nobody tried to calm her. They were all feeling the same sense of urgency, even if they didn't express it quite so dramatically.
"We have to get in there," Peeta said with an edge of barely-concealed panic. "If Coin's already sent people in, you can bet that's where Katniss is!"
Illyria, who had already tried and failed to punch through the barrier, now flattened both palms against it and closed her eyes, her face falling into the same contemplative look she wore when communing with plants. "There is something familiar about the energy powering this shield," she announced after a moment. "I believe it to be the work of one of my contemporaries."
"Another Old One?" Willow asked in surprise. "I thought the Wolf, Ram, and Hart were small potatoes in your day."
"The potato is a noble plant," Illyria said sternly, "deceptively simple, yet rugged and hardy. Do not insult it by comparing it to those usurpers."
"Sorry," Willow said quickly, eager to get the conversation back on track. "I like potatoes too. Now, about that energy field..."
"The Wolf, Ram, and Hart may have become powerful enough to create such a thing, but in this as in all other matters, they preferred to steal another's creation and turn it to their own purposes," Illyria sneered. Tapping her knuckle against the barrier, she continued, "I never met the one who created this since she made her home in another dimension, yet she ensured that she would have the means to travel to other worlds in case she wished to expand her domain. Now the Wolf, Ram, and Hart have taken what was meant to be a gateway between dimensions and used it to create a wall, sealing off their stronghold from the rest of this world. This construct is known as the Key of Dagon."
"Key of Dag- Dawn?" Buffy whispered. Lurching to her feet, she staggered over to Willow and grasped the redhead's shoulders. "Exactly what happened to her when they captured our base? What happened, Willow?"
"I don't- I don't know," Willow choked out, shaking her head as she frantically blinked back tears. "I know they didn't just kill her like everyone else, they said they might have another use for her, but I never saw her again after that. I'm sorry..."
"Yes, Angel once told me how a group of monks transformed the Key of Dagon into human form in an attempt to conceal it from its owner," Illyria mused. "The Key's energy could only have been unleashed by destroying this facsimile, and yet..." She pressed her hand to the wall of rippling green light again, tilting her head thoughtfully. "The Key's fundamental makeup has been altered, which I suspect occurred as a result of the time spent in its human guise-"
"My sister is not an it," Buffy said loudly.
"Indeed, it appears not," Illyria agreed, unfazed by her forceful correction. "The Key still contains the human soul imparted to it during the original transmogrification. If we can make contact with the soul and unlock the Key's sentience, perhaps it - she - will be able to lower the barrier."
"Great," Peeta interjected before Buffy could respond. "How do we do that?" While he was sure the story of how a giant ball of energy came to be Buffy's sister was a fascinating one, and as much as he sympathized with what had to be a very difficult situation for her, all he could think about right now was getting to Katniss.
"We'll need someone to reach out to her on the astral plane," Willow answered, her forehead crinkling as she analyzed the problem. "It'll be dangerous - spend too long outside your body and your tether to this plane breaks, plus I'm pretty sure Wolfram and Hart will have set up safeguards to stop people from doing exactly what we're about to do. Also, the person with the best chance of finding Dawn is someone who has a strong bond with her, so it should be-"
"Me," Buffy finished.
Willow frowned at her. "Okay, did you not hear the part about danger? Most witches train for years before attempting to cross over."
"But coming back's the hard part, right?" Buffy countered. At Willow's reluctant nod, she said, "That's not really an issue for me since I probably only have a few hours left anyway, plus you mentioned safeguards. With this being an out-of-body experience, it won't matter that my DNA's unraveling faster than a cheap poly-blend sweater, will it?"
"No, you'll be pure spirit."
"Then it looks like I'll get to go out fighting after all." A small smile formed on her cracked lips at the thought, though it vanished the instant her eyes turned to Angel. She had really hoped she'd be able to last long enough for him to defeat the big bad and come back so she could see him one last time. "Angel..."
"It's okay," he assured her even as his eyes grew wet. "I understand."
No more words were needed between them, so she began saying her goodbyes to the others, expressing her regret at never having gotten a chance to wear one of Cinna's designs, wishing Peeta a very happy life with Katniss, and even awkwardly thanking Drusilla for her help in finding Angel. Then it was Cressida's turn, and Buffy managed to lift the scythe, which she had been leaning on to stay upright, and held it out. "I want you to take this."
"I can't," the director protested, her eyes widening as they darted from the ancient weapon to Buffy's face and back again. "There are plenty of other Slayers who deserve this more than me. Katniss, Johanna, Paylor-"
"Aren't here right now. This is meant to be used by a Slayer, and you're as much a Slayer as any of them. Give it to Katniss later if you want, but for now I'm trusting you with it." Moving half a step closer, Buffy lowered her voice and added, "I'm also trusting you with Willow, and that one you don't get to get out of. Take care of her, okay?"
Cressida glanced over to where Willow was quietly sobbing into Angel's shoulder while he patted her on the back. "I'll do my best," she promised. "I know it hasn't been long enough to really know where things might go between us, but I want to find out. I already know she's the most amazing woman I've ever met...and whatever happens, I'll be there for her."
"That's all I'm asking for." Buffy gave her a quick hug, then turned to Illyria. "You do the same for Angel, you hear? You're probably the best friend he's got here, so don't let him turn into Shell of Misery Guy and shut out the world. And after you liberate the Capitol...tell Wesley 'thank you' for me. Tell him I forgive him for everything, and don't let him beat himself up over the way he tried to save me not working out. Tell him the time he gave me meant everything."
"I will pass on your message," Illyria vowed, her icy gaze filled with more emotion than Buffy had ever seen from her. "I am grateful that I was given the chance to know you, and I regret that your time with us has come to an end."
Buffy responded by throwing her arms around the primordial demon goddess, who froze in shock. "Told you I'm not as poetical as you," she said, recalling their first conversation the day after she arrived in Thirteen. "Besides, sometimes this says everything that needs saying."
After a moment's hesitation, Illyria slowly raised her arms to wrap around her in return. "I am unfamiliar with this method of communication," she admitted. "In all our time fighting together, Angel has never presumed to trespass on my person in such a way."
"You should presume more often; he might need some friendly hugs in the next few days."
When it was time to say goodbye to Willow, there was no hesitation at all, both women clinging to each other while tears streamed down their faces, and both felt something shatter inside them when they eventually had to let go. Letting go of Angel after their last kiss, which was full of desperate longing yet achingly slow and sweet at the same time, was even harder...but it had to be done. She had given everyone the best farewell she could, and the world still needed saving. That was what she and Angel were put there to do, and they both understood that that duty had to come before everything else, including their own feelings.
Both were dry-eyed when they finally broke apart and Buffy turned to face Willow. "So how do we do this?"
Willow's eyes were still wet, her face stained with tears, but the set of her features firmed up in response to Buffy's businesslike tone, her own resolve to do whatever was necessary to protect the world from evil reasserting itself. "Since you don't do magic, I'll have to act as your guide; I can get you onto the astral plane, but then you're on your own. I wish I had time to teach you everything I know about navigating it..."
"Any helpful basics you can cover in five minutes or less?"
Willow nodded. "The most important thing to remember is that it's a realm of mind and spirit, so you're not bound by physical limitations. You won't be able to take any weapons with you, but you can will them into being once you're there. Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Then lie down - sorry the ground isn't very comfy; I had a pile of fluffy pillows the first time I tried this - and clear your mind. Try to let go of all physical sensation and focus on Dawn. Your bond should take you straight to her."
Buffy did so, but after a minute of trying to get into meditation mode, she thought of another question. "Hey, Will?" Even as she spoke, she realized that her own voice already sounded strangely distant. "What happens after I set her free? I mean, we hope she'll be able to control the Key's energy so the Senior Partners can't use it anymore, but then what?"
Willow paused the incantation she'd begun to usher Buffy into the spiritual plane and considered the question for a moment before answering. "I don't think I'll be able to bring her back here," she said slowly. "I don't have all the components to replicate the monks' ritual for creating a human form, and we know whipping up a body from scratch without the right ingredients doesn't work so great. Her soul will still exist, though, so my guess is that you and she will go on to the afterlife together."
"That doesn't sound so bad."
"No, it doesn't." Willow gave a wistful smile that trembled just the tiniest bit. "Say hi to everyone for me."
Buffy promised that she would, then let her eyes linger for a moment on the circle of faces hovering above her - mostly Angel's and Willow's, though she spared a few seconds for the others as well - before closing them for what she fully expected would be the last time and trying again to follow Willow's instructions about letting go. A strange sensation of weightlessness stole over her, the aches and pains from her deteriorating body faded, and then so did all awareness of the world around her - the feel of the hard earth beneath her, every sound and smell, even the internal rhythm of her own breath, gone. She felt herself floating away...
Then her eyes suddenly opened again, almost of their own accord, and she found herself in a different world, one made largely of mist and shadow, though she picked out a few solid features as well. She could see Dawn a short distance away, chained to some sort of pillar covered in markings that she recognized as symbols of the Wolf, Ram, and Hart, and between them, something that looked like a giant panther, though Buffy highly doubted anything on this plane was truly what it appeared to be.
"Nice kitty."
Sure enough, when the panther's head snapped toward her, she saw that it had glowing yellow eyes which definitely did not belong on a real cat. Then it spoke to her, its telepathic voice booming inside her head, and she knew beyond all doubt that this must be the safeguard Willow had warned her about.
Slayer! You dare interfere with the designs of the Wolf, Ram, and Hart? Then you shall pay the price. It opened its mouth and roared at her, showing off rows of absurdly long, sharp teeth.
It was certainly an intimidating sight, but as Buffy braced herself for its attack, she also realized that she felt better - a lot better, actually, even more so than she had before she started falling apart; after all, her current form was the purest representation of her will, her spirit, which had always been stronger than even her supernaturally enhanced flesh.
As the panther stalked toward her, muscle rippling under its pitch black hide, she closed her eyes and pictured the scythe, a weapon whose every detail she was intimately familiar with...then opened them again to find a perfect replica of it in her hand. A smile spread over her face as she shifted her grip in preparation for swinging the blade, the familiar anticipation of a good fight tingling through her.
"Bring it on."
Quite the eventful chapter, eh? It took a few minor twists I hadn't planned on and ended up being much longer than expected, so I actually had to cut it off and push Buffy's reunion with Dawn to the next one - but that's okay, because I had thought the next chapter might be a little stubby, but now it should be a decent length. Don't worry, everything's proceeding according to plan.
Other notes: 1) I hope the Capitol's final defense measure being powered by the Key didn't come too out of the blue, but I wasn't sure how to foreshadow it in the previous chapter since Katniss and company had never heard of the Key. I did mention the energy field being green since I remembered Tara, after being brain-sucked by Glory, describing Dawn as 'pure green energy', but I realize that may have been too obscure a reference.
2) If anyone wonders why Buffy's fighting a panther on the astral plane, it's because that's the form the conduit usually took when it appeared to Gunn in the White Room.