"You're good sir, I'll give you that. It's a shame I have to kill you, but hey," Jack gave him a handsome, winning smile as he swung his feet off the top of the table and stood up, "That's the way things go."
Giles' eyes shifted nervously as he searched the room for anything to aid in his dilemma. Nothing caught his attention except for an odd wooden slat in the ceiling above him.
"Sorry friend," Jack said, noticing his quick glances, "I'm not seeing much of a choice here for you. Now you can duck or dodge, generally run around so it's a harder shot for me; or you can put your hands in the air and take a bullet in the head, sweet and simple. Either way your ass is grass, and this gun's gonna mow you down."
Giles nodded, raising his hands in the air slowly.
"That's a boy." Jack pulled the trigger and Giles ducked down and to the left, the bullet blowing a hole above the mirror behind him. He took a glass off of one rack and tossed it at the gunman. It hit Jack square in the forehead and caused his second shot to once again go off target, blasting off some wood chipping on the bar. Oddly enough, the pressure of the bullet caused a section of the counter to slide back mechanically, revealing a small red button.
Jack had his hand on his forehead, which was once again bleeding. "Ow! Damn it, man!" His eyes turned from Giles to what the Brit was looking at; the button. He shrugged, pointing his gun to it and suggesting that Giles go for it.
Figuring that he didn't have any better options, Giles let his finger rest on the button and nudged it inwards. The slat he'd seen earlier opened up, and a small submachine gun fell out from within, landing at his feet behind the bar. He looked back up at Jack.
They stared at each other for a moment longer, both apprehensive of what the other would now do. Giles suddenly dove to the ground behind the cover of the bar counter, Jack firing off two more shots in trying to get him before he landed. He knew better then to run up to the bar as it would be suicide, but the older man would have to come up some time.
Giles took a deep breath, crawling a bit further down to the other side of the counter, the Uzi in one hand. Summoning up his courage, he stood up and turned around.
Jack fired again once he saw Giles reappear, but his aim was a bit off and he was forced to start running as Giles unleashed a torrent of bullets. He fired as he ran, beer and shot-glasses spraying shards all over Giles, the mirror behind the racks blowing out and tinkling all over the bar. In turn, Giles' submachine gun took out quite a good deal of picture frames and bottles of ketchup and A1 sauce on the tables Jack was running in between. The magnum's final bullet nicked the old man in his shoulder and he cried out, his gun chattering a few rounds into Jack's left leg, which was still sore from the rat bite. Blood splattered onto the ground beneath both of them, Giles backing up and destroying what was left of the rack and Jack wincing at his shredded leg, falling to the floor.
Everything grew quiet. Jack thought for a moment that his shot had taken his opponent in a vital area, but then heard the clinking of shattered glass being stepped upon, and Giles' head appeared over the top of the bar once again. Jack breathed out in a rush and clicked his empty gun uselessly at Giles.
The ex-Watcher walked out slowly from behind the bar, one hand keeping the Uzi carefully aimed at Jack while the other tended to his wounded shoulder.
For some reason Jack smiled up at him. "I guess it's just your lucky day."
Giles tightened his grip on the Uzi's trigger. "I guess it's not yours."
"You gonna shoot me?"
"I don't see why not."
Jack nodded his head to something behind Giles. "I don't think she'd care much for it."
Giles frowned and, keeping the gun trained on Jack, turned. Jenny Calendar stared back at him. He gasped, raising a hand up in the air to touch her. Something in his mind blocked out the sword in her hand. At least until she placed one hand on his shoulder and thrust the long blade deep into his stomach with the other, it's end rising out of his back. His breath sucked out of his lungs and Giles gave her a betrayed, hurt look before falling to the ground.
Jack sighed and stood up shakily. "It's about time you got here. Who's that supposed to be, his daughter?"
"A past love..." She said in a whisper.
Jack looked down at Giles approvingly. "Way to go, grampa!" He moved his eyes back to the Jenny-thing. "Where's your brother?"
The thing looking like Jenny rippled the contours of her face until it revealed her true form, that of a quite beautiful fairy. "He will be along shortly. He is taking care of the revenge demon and treating his wounds from the Summer's house. He was not informed that it was to be destroyed until it was almost too late for him."
Jack wiped off his shirt and pants, then gave her a patronizing look. "Gosh, that's too bad Jeneva. Maybe if you two would keep up with us then we wouldn't run into these problems."
Jeneva's pale blue skin turned a shade darker and her long pointed ears curled back. She withdrew her sword from the body and wiped the blood off of the sides of her blade onto Jack's right pant-leg.
Jack smirked. "Thank you, Je'. I appreciate your maturity in this situation. Now what the hell's taking Nicholas so long?"
Her wings fluttered a bit at his name and she rose a foot off of the ground, looking down at her kill. "The large one brings a sacrifice with him."
He nodded. "And what of the artifact?"
She closed her large, ice-blue eyes and concentrated for a moment. "He has retrieved it."
Jack grinned. "That," he said, running a finger down Jeneva's bare thigh, "is excellent."
She looked down upon him, no readable expression on her face. "Someone comes this way."
Jack nodded and stooped, hooking his arms underneath the dead form of Giles.
"Wait."
He looked up at her, curious. She bent down and placed a kiss on Giles' cooling forehead. Her face and body twitched for a moment before she shifted again, her body becoming an exact replica of Giles'. "Thank you..."
Jack chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't wear that face for too long Jeneva, you wouldn't want it to stick." With that said, he pulled Giles out of sight into the kitchen. The fairy could hear him commanding the rats back as the fog captured his form.
*
Taking a deep breath, Riley rushed at the entrance, hoping on hope that the glass wasn't too thick. When he'd built up enough force he skidded to a halt in the snow, letting the fire extinguisher fly out from his grasp and soar through the air towards the door. He was rewarded with a loud crash, and smiled when no alarm went off. Edging through, Riley's heart stopped when he saw the wreckage that lay before him.
"Hello?"
An English accent. Giles! Riley looked around the room as he stepped completely inside, trying not to cut himself on the glass of the doorway. His friend was nowhere in sight.
"Giles, it's Riley. Where are you? Are you okay?"
"Riley, thank goodness. Jack isn't who he says he is!"
Riley nodded, trying to place where the voice was coming from. "I know. Where are you?"
"I'm in the back, he's got me tied up. Hurry, before he returns!"
Riley finally caught onto where the sound emanated from. A room to the back with ugly green walls Riley could see through porthole window in the single door.
"Okay, I'm coming in!" He pushed open the door and stepped into the ugly room. A loud crack resounded, along with the sound of a body slumping to the floor.
20. Sleigh Ride
In the darkness of the patrol equipment booth, Willow had stopped screaming in frustration and had formed a plan. She had been swinging from one side to the other for a full two minutes, and could now feel the strings attached to her struggling to keep their hold. She swung to the left and then to the right, constantly picking up momentum in her tight cocoon.
But then an unexpected sound reverberated off of the walls, ringing sweetly in her ears. It was the sound of creaking slats about to break in two. Her endeavors increased and her stamina felt renewed. From somewhere in the distance Tara screamed, meaning the Kringle must have removed the pink material, or at least the part covering her mouth. Willow buried the rage inside of her, saving it for a time she knew would come later.
Suddenly the wooden slat above broke and she fell to the floor below. She quickly rolled over to a wall and balanced herself on it until she had enough leverage to hop to her feet. She jumped backwards, then rammed her body forward. The coating was, as she hoped very strong, and it took in most of the blow, allowing her to put more effort in. The building she was in shook and leaned to one side before coming back down on all fours.
Meaning that there was nothing keeping the small room connected to the ground. Willow hopped backwards again and again she leapt at the wall, hitting it with all her strength. Only this time she remained there against it, adding the weight and pressure to the unstable side. It toppled over seconds later, bringing her with it.
Knowing that she was running out of time, Willow crawled forward in the now narrow space until she felt what had just been the ceiling brush along the cocoon. Before she could consider her next move, the wrapping around her began to shake. Unsure of what was going on, Willow stopped moving and was surprised when the pink along her eyes removed itself. Quickly followed by the pink on her mouth neck and chest, until the entire cocoon had broken up. Willow watched in wonder as it slithered out of the hole she'd made when breaking the wood paneling.
The jingling of bells not far in the distance caught her ear and Willow peaked through the hole to see if she could find where it was coming from. Not fifty yards away, high in the air, Santa's sleigh was soaring towards the upturned building. She could see two figures sitting in it. He was going to ram the booth!
Willow backed away and turned so that her feet were now placed against to wood and began to kick as hard as she could. The boards bent, and a few looked worse than they had before, but none of them broke apart. She could now hear the bells much closer. She estimated about twenty more seconds would pass before Kringle destroyed the booth with her inside of it. Willow frantically searched the small room for anything the could help her plight before looking up and spotting the door. A quick examination of the handle told her that it wasn't going to open, but with the small amount of light provided by the broken slat something gleamed and snared her focus. At what had once been the floor of the room a metal pick stuck of the lining.
She grabbed it out of the side and jabbed it into the doorknob's keyhole, trying desperately to forced the lock back. On one harsh turn the pin snapped, Willow shouting in fury and tossing it aside. She had about ten seconds left. If only she knew a spell that could unlock doors! Her heart jumped and her pulse raced. She didn't know of anything that could be said to unlock the door, but she had caused a pen to float before. And roses, plates, even (with Tara's help) a washing machine. Closing her eyes, Willow pictured the lock and concentrated.
*
Kris hooted joyously as the air whipped around him, blowing his smog-colored beard into his face. He'd boarded the sled with the girl, tearing off a chunk of the cotton candy from her mouth so that he could savor both the taste of sugar and the sound of her screams as he launched into the air. But when he'd looked back, about to fly off to another destination, he saw the small equipment booth holding the other witch tumble over. Unable to resist the chance to see a young woman smeared across the pavement and to once again have fresh blood stained on his sled, Kristopher had turned the slay about face and was now mere yards away from the wooden stall.
On a last minute thought he tore the candy off of the girls eyes so that she could watch her lover's demise.
*
Willow's mind ached as she felt the lock snap back and grappled at the doorknob, hope filling her as it finally gave way. Throwing it open she stood and grabbed at the sides of the door, pulling herself up and out. She jumped just seconds before the sleighs' steel and wood legs demolished the tiny room.
Just clear of the blast, Willow picked up a patrol baton that had been blasted next to her and got up, running after the sleigh, which she noticed had a line of Christmas bulbs hanging from it. It was still too high for her to reach, but it had slowed down for some reason. She ran along the left of the air-vehicle and looked for anything she could climb in the amusement part that would get her to their height. And up ahead, about half the distance of a football field away stood a Ferris Wheel.
Looking up she saw Tara struggling in her cocoon. Still running, she cupped her hands around her mouthed and yelled out, "Slow him down!" Without any way of knowing if Tara heard her, Willow ran for the tall wheel.
*
Once Kris saw that the girl had gotten out he knew he'd made a mistake. He should've simply left, but now his sleigh was acting up, a piece of a broken chair stuck in the left leg. The worst of it all was that his concentration on keeping the damned contraption in the air was being broken by his nubile captive beside him, whispering in a language he hadn't heard in centuries. He caught a few words such as sacrifice and burn, but figured that she was smart enough to know better than to set fire to him as he was controlling the vehicle they were in.
But as he bent down to regulate the air flow by removing the broken chair piece, Santa sniffed the air, smelling smoke. Tilting the sled to one side he pulled the debris free and threw it downwards before looking back up at the girl. He laughed when he saw her intent. The cotton candy wrapping at her legs was on fire and was quickly burning away to nothing. Looking out at the ground, he saw her partner run into a Ferris Wheel control booth, perhaps intent on starting the old thing up again. Maybe he could have some fun with these two after all...
*
Willow pulled at the lever and for the first time that night something went her way, the cobwebs and dust now illuminated as the wheel powered back up. Lights of green, yellow and red shined with fluorescence, and Willow spotted the rotation gauge. She set the speed to the highest possible limit and left the control room swinging her baton.
Snow and trees limbs partially obstructed her view, but Willow could just make out the sled in the air by the top of the Ferris Wheel. This could work... The wheel now brightly lit up with lights, Willow took hold of one of the seats while leaving half of her body hanging out as it rose up into the freezing air.
From her viewpoint Willow observed the dark green trees surrounding the fair as they were swayed and buffeted in the wind, and briefly she felt a peace before the storm. Her body breathing slowly as she tried to calm herself, the seat she was on rotating on course and lifting into the night sky; there was something to be said for silence when all one experienced was constant tension and danger.
Soon she was a third of the way to the top, and Willow focused her attention on the sleigh. She could see Tara (now out of her cocoon as well) trying to maintain balance while jumping from the back to the front, in and out of Kringle's grasp. She couldn't make out their faces just yet, but the fat man's aggravations and curses were now audible in the air.
Finally her seat came to near the highest point, and Willow noticed it would be an easy jump. The sleigh was positioned just a few feet from the top. Convenient, she thought. Turning her gaze back on the sled, Willow saw that Tara was yelling something at her, but the wind drowned out most of it.
"Will...it.....ick!"
She frowned and looked at Kringle, who smiled back at her. Knowing that time was of the essence, she leaned back, held her breath and leaped forward off of the seat. For just a second she felt weightless, her body fluid and straight. Then she realized what she'd fallen for.
The sleigh shot forward in the air, leaving Willow suspended in the air before her hands and legs began cartwheeling and her breath left her lungs. The ground seemed so far away, and without thinking she let the baton slip out of her fingers. She fell down at an incredible rate, and she felt that this was the end before a cord swinging crazily in the air smacked her across the face, and on impulse she grabbed on. She noticed what she was holding. The light cord she'd seen earlier, tightly roped around one of the sled's legs. Her sudden weight had caused the vehicle to dip perilously to one side, and looking up she saw that Tara was now forced to hang onto Kringle so she wouldn't fall.
It all seemed too lucky until Willow started feeling the consequence of latching onto a cord tied to bulbs. The popped and crackled in her hands, blood streaming down onto her wrists. And to make matter worse, the sleigh was back up to full speed, the amusement park behind them vanishing in the distance, and acres upon acres of forest beneath her. Cautiously, grimacing and suppressing screams from the pain in her hands, Willow began to climb the line.
Above, Tara was now trying to level out the weight on the sleigh so it would be easier for Willow to climb, but quickly realized that it was useless. With both Willow and a fat man four times her size on one side and only her on the other, Tara could only grab onto the repulsive man and hope he didn't for some reason see it fit to throw her off. But Santa for the moment was more interested in getting the other damn witch off his ride. This was his final night after two milleniums of work, and there was no way he'd have her ruin it. On the other hand, he'd never had this much fun...
Willow was not of the same opinion, hanging precariously from one hand as she bit shards of glass out with her other. Her short red hair blew crazily behind her and the cold wind had caused her face to blanch almost completely white. She switched hands, careful to put the one she'd just de-glassed in between two bulbs while she performed the same operation with the other, all the while pulling herself upwards.
Kristopher decided to go for the root of the problem and stopped rummaging around in his enchanted coat for a gun. Instead, he pulled out a long blade, Tara's eyes growing wide when she saw it. He noticed her reaction and laughed loud and long, then shot his elbow into the side of her head. Her arms still around him, Tara lost consciousness. He grinned and looked back down, about to cut the line holding her up. He gasped as a finger gouged itself into his right eye, blood and pus flowing down along Willow's fragile wrist. She grimaced in disgust and pulled herself up onto the sleigh, keeping her finger in the howling man's eye.
Unfortunately, Willow was unaware of how a magic sled worked. The owner had to have at last some concentration on keeping the vehicle in the air, otherwise it would plummet to the ground. And as Santa Claus was completely focused on the pointer finger stuck in his eye, that's exactly what they began to do. Willow turned and gave a shocked yelp at their predicament before withdrawing her finger.
But the sleigh continued to fall, and Willow's mind screamed at her as trees whisked by beneath them and they steadily lost altitude. C'mon, clear the forest, clear the forest, clear the-
The sled almost made it out of the forest, but as it entered the residential area just outside of it one of the tops of the last trees slammed into the bottom of the sled, causing Willow, who was the only one not holding onto something heavy, to fly clear out into the open. She caught the cord again and while it broke her fall partially it snapped in half before the the air-vehicle could crash, and she fell into a large pile of icy snow.
Looking up, she screamed as the sleigh crashed to the ground, but the scream caught in her throat as she watched it fly into the snowy street, disappearing from sight. It took her a few moments to build up the strength to get to her feet, but once she did she stumbled over to the spot where the sleigh had vanished. A black scorch-mark was all that remained.
Willow looked at where she was. 21st and Maple. Only a few streets down from the Steak and Ale. It didn't matter to her that she had survived the fall, or that the sled hadn't crashed, or that the remains of a broken walkie-talkie were clinking around in her jacket. All that she could think about now was that Tara was in the hands of evil...
21. Road Trip (It's All Downhill From Here)
"I know what I'm doing..."
Dawn looked over at him nervously. A word hadn't been spoken since they'd left Giles' house. "I-I'm sure you do. It's just that they told us to stay there..."
Xander shook his head. "No way, I gotta know they're all right and I couldn't just leave you there. Besides, Will's spell may not have lasted much longer."
"We could've waited it out instead just jumping into danger!"
"Yeah, and that was a great plan until everybody stopped answering the radio calls. Now we go to plan B. Which is basically the oppos-"
"Xander, look out!"
Xander hit the breaks and fish-tailed the car on the slippery road, a flash of a lithe, red-headed figure passing through the windshield. When the car stopped, Xander opened the car door and dizzily stepped out, searching for the person he'd almost hit. "Willow?"
"No, it's me Xander." Anya stepped into the headlights of the Buick, looking a bit distressed. "You just about blind-sided me."
He nodded, the stunned look not leaving his face. "Anya I'm sorry, but what are you doing out here? I left you at the apartment."
She nodded, stepping closer so they wouldn't have to yell over the wind. "I know, but I was worried. I didn't know where you'd gone...I checked around, but..."
He nodded, motioning for her to come closer. He embraced her, then moved so she could get into the car.
Once all three were inside, Xander shut the door and turned back on the right path.
"Where are we going?" Anya asked, giving Dawn a strangely happy grin. Then again, Anya was strange.
"Jack's Steak and Ale, it's a restaurant off of Maple."
"Oh..."
Xander loosened up his shoulders and pressed his foot further on pedal, speeding down the dark, blustery road. Something was wrong about this situation, something deeper than the obvious. But he couldn't put a finger on it...
22. Preparations
Jack sighed, pressing his back against the wall of the meat locker. He'd taken off his black leather jacket and now stood in a gray silk shirt (which was tucked into his black Dockers) and loafers, which he had removed from the Englishman's wardrobe.
Giles had been his name...the Englishman who had given him so much trouble, almost ruining everything for him. His corpse now hung on one of the hooks next to the burnt body without any smell. Jack had touched it and it seemed real, but still there was no smell. Odd to be sure, but he could really care less.
He checked his watch again and gave a small grunt of impatience. Diablo would be displeased with all of them if Nicholas and Sethiroph took much longer getting back. He didn't dislike any of his partners, and he'd known the Saint for quite some time now, back when he was acting as a mercenary, giving away faulty toys that caused many an epidemic. And while he'd taken nicely to the two elven/fairy Shape-stealers, they held a certain adroitness for taking their sweet time completing even the most mundane of objectives. Nicholas at least had an excuse. Old age was finally getting to him.
White mist floated around him and caressed against his skin, drawing his mind away from the horrors of the workplace. Ice; frozen, cold, yet unduly compelling. He fancied himself the same. It fit his namesake after all... He brushed back his full head of hair and listened for any activity outside of the door.
"You won't get away with this." The old man was staring at him from his place on the hook, a bit of blood now dripping off of his white lips.
Jack gave him a full smile, showing off the pearly whites of his enamel. "You had to get that in, no?"
"Buffy...is the chosen one...she will destroy you."
"Who, that cute little button old red man's got in his stomach? Sure thing pal, I'll keep an eye out for her." Jack said in a sarcastic tone.
"Riley will...free her."
Jack shook his head. "Wrong again, I think this is why you're stuck on a hook with a sword wound running through your gut and I'm wearing you shoes. You were foolish enough to fall for what couldn't of possibly been, and now you're foolish enough to rely on a guy we're either gonna use as an alternate sacrifice or a mindless soldier. Either way, this world is finished." Jack spread his arms wide in the air. "It's time for a little chaos, bloodshed...and Frost." He grinned at this. "Yes, Frost."
He pulled out a button with a pin on it from his pants and stuck it into Giles' cold chest. "I'm you're number one guy, remember that..."
He was startled when he realized the door to the locker was open and another Giles was looking at him from the doorway. "Who are you conferring with?" Jeneva asked, her monotone personality making Giles sound dull and disinterested.
Jack patted the body, causing it to sway back and forth a little. "My buddy Rupert, the British corpse. We were just discussing politics."
Jeneva/Giles nodded. "The ample one has arrived."
"Oh, well why the hell didn't you tell me before?" Jack grabbed his jacket off a nearby hook and exited the locker, not giving Giles another look.
*
"Jack, you don't belong here." The voice crackled and scratched on Jack's nerves, but he was used to it by now.
"I'm here for you, old man. Thought I'd see you in action, give you a ha-Jesus, what the fuck happened to your eye, Nick?!"
Nicholas grumbled, waddling his way over to a sink in the kitchen. The rats and smoke were no longer present. "Witch," he said before turning on the sink with two fat, dead, ugly fingers and running some water over his wound.
"Your right one!"
"No, no you idiot, witch! A witch did this to me!"
Jack was confused. "A witch cast a spell on your eye?"
"No," he said, his face still hung over the sink as fresh blood poured out along with flesh, leaves and other things of which Jack couldn't quite discern in the mess. "She poked it out."
"With her finger?!"
"Of course."
Jack was unsure of how to go about this. Nicholas had never been this seriously wounded before. He'd once set off a toy that had blown off a few toes, but he'd just sown those back on. Didn't even need to enchant them...
"Jesus, Nick... Well, where's the artifact and the sacrifice you picked up?"
"Jeneva's watching them in the main room. Go there, I'll follow shortly."
Jack nodded, knowing when and who to follow orders from. He smiled a little, trying to find some humor in the situation. "She poked you good, huh?"
Nicholas grunted. "Bitch."
Jack chuckled and left out into the dining room, where he saw Jeneva/Giles over-looking something at a table in the center of the room. He crept up silently on her and was about to grab her/Giles' backside when she spoke to him. "He grows old and reckless."
The moment ruined, Jack sighed and came alongside her. The sacrifice was nowhere to be seen, but on the table stood a small black hand-carved stone depicting a screaming blonde chick holding a snarling dog over her head. The artifact... "Yeah, well there's nothing to worry about. As soon as your brother apprehends the key we can all get out of here, and Nick can go into a happy retirement. Get himself a nice eye-patch."
She looked at him with Giles' features. "And then you will play your angle, yes?"
Jack gave her a dirty look. "I resent that. I'm in this for the fun of it all. There's no ulterior motive."
"I'm sure..."
"Hey, why don't you-..." Jack cut himself off, not wanting to get into an argument with an agile fairy that enjoyed skewering her enemies. "You know what, forget it. Where's the damn sacrifice?"
"I've tied her up in the back, next to the male."
Before Jack could check her out Nicholas appeared from the kitchens, black bows acting as a temporary patch. "You're to leave immediately, Jack. Despite the enjoyment your company brings to me, you're a liability. Take the offerings and the artifact to Diablo, tell him I'm waiting for the Sethiroph and that I will have the key shortly."
Jeneva stepped forward, morphing back to her true form. "I will stay and wait for my brother."
He looked her over. "I don't need you."
"You are mistaken. I and my sibling have helped bring down the associates of the Key, and the rest will be arriving soon. I have obtained a form that they trust."
"I'll dispose of them myself," Nicholas growled.
Jack was shocked when the elf/fairy stepped even closer to him, her wings fluttering furiously. "I can not trust your actions, you have let yourself become wounded, you have let the key escape and you have destroyed your transportation mod-"
"You crashed the sled?!" Jack cried in shock. "Oh dammit Nick, what's u-"
"Silence!" The man in dirty-red ordered in his rough, broken-pipe voice. He was obeyed for the moment. "Now I retrieved the artifact from the house of mirrors in the Sunnydale Carnival grounds. I destroyed the house the Key resided in. I have spread the power of Diablo across this entire town. I know what I am doing...but if you wish to take this task upon yourself, fairy, be my guest. I have only one request. Bring the witch to me, alive. I have plans for the cunt."
Jeneva nodded, pride for having gotten what she wanted swelling in her chest. "I will. What does she look like?"
"She will make herself known soon enough." He made to leave, but turned back once more and stared her in the eye, looking down at her to do so. "And remember, I'm watching your every move. A thousand eyes cannot miss their target."
As he walked towards the door, Jack winked at her and whispered. "He'll have to get used to it, but he meant five hundred."
Jack then took the artifact and followed Nicholas into the back room with the terrible puke-green wallpaper. The large man waved his hand in a circle motion and whirlpool began to grow in the floor. It was about this time that Jack laid his eyes upon the girl. The utmost beauty he had seen in three lifetimes. She was amazing, a small bit of hair falling across her forehead, her skin the color of cream and undoubtedly soft to the touch. In so many words, Jack was smitten with the girl.
"I want that, Nicholas."
Santa looked up to see what he meant. He breathed out a soft chuckle, blowing some ghastly breath in Jack's direction. "You like? Name's Tara. Sorry though, she's marked; impure. I'm sure you'd only want the best."
Jack gave him a shocked and betrayed look, but the bigger man missed it as he was inspecting the portal. He'd deal with what he'd just heard later. For now he had to concentrate on getting back home. His friend turned and pointed to the girl. "Carry her, I've got Finn."
Jack nodded, figuring that he was referring to the other slumped form of the male. He pocketed the artifact and stooped, careful not to hurt the young beauty as he picked her up and dragged her over to the whirlpool, which now spanned the majority of the room. "See you back home."
With that he jumped in, felt sand and wind enter his lungs and passed out before fully vanishing from sight.
23. Swordplay of the Doppelganger Variety
Willow fought for breath, finally catching sight of the diner down the street. By now the sidewalks, the streets, the median, everything was covered with snow. It was hard for her to walk without ending up digging her shoes out of the fallen ice. The streetlights over head provided enough light to navigate by, but her main reason for sticking so closely to them was so the nothing had a chance of sneaking up on her without her knowing about it.
The wind had gotten colder and harsher, and Willow's jacket and thin shirt were definitely not enough to sustain these types of temperatures.
Tara...
A picture of Tara's face, pain-filled and tortured entered her mind, and her pace quickened. Now she had lost them both, her best friend and her true love. Two people she could not live without. And there was nothing she could do but continue walking in the cold, straight into the Steak and Ale, straight into the mouth of madness if she had to.
But upon entering through the broken door of the restaurant, Willow thought that the worst had already passed. The entire bar and dining area was in tatters, with very little left standing. Something glinted by her feet and she bent down to pick it up. A Zippo, the inscription on the bottom reading,
Riley,
For the times when nothing seems bright.
Margaret Walsh
Professor Walsh? This was Riley's lighter...putting it in her jacket pocket for safe keeping, Willow suddenly wished she hadn't dropped her baton back at the Ferris Wheel jump. It had been her only weapon. Looking around for anything that melt help her now, Willow spotted a warped and slightly bent metal pipe lying in between to tables that had their legs shot off. As she grabbed it from the floor Willow saw something else that peaked her interest. A sawed-off shotgun had been discarded and was lying next to the totaled bar-top.
But before she could reach it someone stumbled out of the kitchen barely able to stand up and holding their stomach.
"Giles!" She ran to him, dropping the pipe as he fell to his knees. She put her arms on his shoulder as he looked up at her weakly.
"Heal me," he whispered.
She shook her head in distress. "No, Giles I don't have any herbs. The car's still at the carnival. Listen to me, he has Tara now too. I tried to stop him, I-I even took out his eye, but the cart crashed and-"
Giles put a hand in the air, cutting her off. "I've heard enough. I just had to be sure."
Willow frowned, and an odd feeling began to run through her stomach. One she had been taught to remember. After Faith had stolen Buffy's identity a while back, Tara had begun teaching Willow the way knowing a person's aura. Once their relationship had become a bit more intimate, it was easier for her to learn. As a person's aura can easily be reached. It identifies who they are just like an I.D. or fingerprints.
Each individual has their own being which is completely different than any and every other person. Tara had shown her how to know the difference not only between Amy (a fellow witch who had been turned into a rat) and other rodents, but how to tell every rodent apart. Willow felt wave-like signals off of everything, and at first it had been difficult to deal with. But thanks to Tara she'd become quite the aficionado at telling people apart, even if they looked, smelled and felt the same. And Giles was definitely not Giles. She backed away, bending back down to retrieve her pipe from the floor.
"Who are you?"
Giles smiled. "Oh, you're not half bad. A true witch would have known from the start that this wasn't my true body, but you're nothing to scoff at. A pity you'll not have much longer to hone your skills."
Willow eyed the doppelganger. "Where's Giles?"
The creature smiled and morphed slightly. It was still Giles, but his skin was deathly white, his lip had frozen blood running along it and his stomach had been pierced, also a deep frozen red. His shoes were missing and he swayed slightly from left to right, as though hanging...worst of all, his eyes held a glassy quality to them that could only mean one thing. Willow screamed, bringing her hand up to her mouth and shaking her head in disbelief. The being shifted back into it's previous form and withdrew a long Katana out of the back of it's shirt. Had she been thinking about this she might've considered it as more enchanted clothing.
But her mind was only on one thing. Revenge. She scowled at the being and brandished her pipe threateningly. It smiled and took a swipe at her. She ducked the blade and tried to make a move of her own, jabbing the piped forward. The creature side-stepped her easily and swiped again, this time cutting a long if mostly harmless line across her shoulder blade, cutting through jacket, shirt and skin.
She growled and tried a different approach. Jumping back, she awaited the next move. Once again the Giles/thing swiped, and this time Willow let the sharp edge cut her. The being frowned, but then went into an uppercut with the butt of it's sword and a sweep at Willow's feet, both of which she allowed to happen by not fighting back. The being tried to finish her off as she lay beneath it's sword, but she rolled out of the way and jumped back to her feet, an admittedly large pain in her jaw from the uppercut.
It's smiled faded away completely. "Fight back, witch. This grows tiresome!" But when Willow saw the being go back into it's swipe move she did fight back. She ducked the swipe as she had before and made it look as though she were about to jab again until the Giles/thing side-stepped once more. She then stayed in her ducked position and swung the pipe like a bat, hitting it in the gut. Then when it went for it's uppercut Willow did a sweep of her own, tripping the bodies legs and watching as it tumbled. It jumped up and stepped a few feet backwards, then shocked Willow by erupting wings from it's back.
It's entire body morphed into that of a voluptuous woman, scantily glad in a body suit the same color as it's skin, blue. It looked like a cross between a fairy and an elf. Only that from what Willow had read, fairy's and elves were usually happy folk, and this elf was not the least be happy. Willow shivered, thinking about fairies. Somehow, what she had just thought made the universe feel wrong, and she had the oddest sense of Deja Vu'. Shrugging it off as unfortunate and Unnatural Selection, Willow concentrated on her enemy.
"You think you can learn how to move like me, fight like me? All my life I have trained to be the best. You can not win."
At this she rushed at Willow, voraciously hacking at her with the Katana. The girl realized that the fairy was right, that there was no way now that she had stripped herself of Giles' clumsy body that she could be beaten at her own game. Willow leapt backwards, her feet landing on one of the few tables still standing. She was blocking most of the hits now instead of dealing them and the battle was becoming increasingly unfair as the lithe and energetic shape-shifter flittered around on wings, wearing Willow down.
She was considering her next move when the blade swept at her feet and the was forced to jump ungracefully from the wooden table, rolling and getting up just in time to witness a spectacle she didn't like. The fairy stood before her only now her sword was glowing a deadly blue, electricity from the blade crackling and sparkling in the reflections off of the creature's big crystal-like eyes. It raised the sword above her head and brought it down with a whoosh, Willow bringing up the pipe to once again protect her.
But the pipe was no match for the energy built up in the sword, which was so powerful it blew the stainless steel into several neat if useless pieces, as well as lifting Willow off of the floor and throwing her clear across the bar. She landed in glass, but with all the beating her denim jacket had taken recently it was like rawhide, and protected her from most of the dangerous points. Willow went for broke, taking three or four of the remaining unbroken bottles off of the shelves beneath the bar counter and rose up. The fairy was not expecting alcoholic bombs, and shook in fury and glass burst all over her.
Willow took careful aim and threw the last bottle watching as it soared threw the air and exploded along one leathery wing. As the fairy was still in flight at the time, she suddenly began to dive bomb, directly at Willow. The witch jumped clear of the bar as the shape-shifter landed. She quickly got to her feet and noticed a line of alcohol had been made from where she'd landed to where the back of the bar was. Willow heard the glass clinking together and the shuffling of small feet, and she made a connection.
Pulling out Riley's lighter, she flipped opened the thumbed the roller until it burst alive, then (while making sure to keep clear of it herself) lowered the metal case to the beer line on the floor. It sparked, then whooshed up, following in the line faster than Willow's eyes could keep up. For just a second, everything was quite. Willow's breathed sucked in, and she wondered if it'd worked.
FOOM! An ear-splitting screech emanated from behind the bar, and Willow watched in awe as everything in the area showered itself if flames. Everything. Willow backed away on all fours, her eyes wide. She herself was covered in the flammable liquid from landing behind the bar, which meant that she had to do something and quick. The awful howling had turned now into more of a pitiful squealing like that of a pig on a stake that someone had forgot to cut the throat of. Willow shivered. Kosher...
A flame sparked a few feet to her left and Willow cried out, looking at what the flame was nearing. A fire extinguisher! The entire room would be blown sky-high! She got to her feet and carefully skipped along the lines of fire around the carpet, hop-scotching over to the large red bomb-in waiting just before the fire touched it. Jumping back, she remembered that what she now held in her hands was also her safety. She opened the flap and pressed down, watching as the nozzle sprayed forth it's torrent of white mist, covering up and killing the flames around her. Once she'd gotten everything surrounding the bar she placed the extinguisher high in the air above the bar so that she could spray it without actually having to observe the damage she'd caused. The screaming had stopped now...
Soon every bit of fire had disappeared (that she could see anyway) and Willow let the heavy red cylinder tumble to the floor with her. Idly, still in the shock of what had just occurred, Willow looked at something black to her right. A submachine gun...She picked it up and examined it curiously, wondering what the hell happened to the bar before she did.
Drip, drip, drip...
Willow glanced up at the sound, asking herself what could be making it. Probably a beer bottle on it's side, leaking it's contents out onto the bar floor. But still, Willow's imagination pried. As did her curiosity. And not just about the sound, a part of her wanted to see the body...a sick sort of revenge to be sure, but she wanted it emblazoned on her memory forever, just as that horrible image of Giles would be. An eye for an eye.
She crawled over and peaked around the counter of the bar...and gasped. There was a bottle, and yes it dripped down onto the floor, but there was no body. Still not getting up, Willow heard a growl coming from on top of the bar, looked up, and wished she hadn't.
Part of it was burnt crispy black, with bright red blood oozing from certain points, and the other parts of it were covered in the white extinguisher soot. But the face...it snarled, it's teeth long and sharp, it's hair wild. It's wings were almost completely gone, with only bloody stumps remaining. It leaped at her then, soaring threw the air with it's hideous arms outstretched. She did the only thing she could, acting solely on instinct. She opened fire with the Uzi, chattering out round after round into the beast, blood flying in ever direction, pieces of flesh covering the counter, gurgles of attempted screams of pain coming from it's throat until she shot that apart too.
She didn't stop firing until the gun clicked, empty. The beast on the bar was dead. Permanently emblazoned...
Smiling in grim satisfaction, Willow spotted Riley's lighter where she'd left it on the floor. Pocketing it, she looked around her. She could check the kitchen which she could see through the two square windows in the double-doors, or she could check what was behind the door with the porthole. She chose the door with the porthole, having a bad feeling about the kitchen...
24. Down the Hatch
Xander shook his head, struggling to stay awake on the road.
"H-hey Dawn, pass me the 'EZ Wake' will you?"
The teen nodded and once again took the small bottle out of the glove compartment, passing it to Anya who gave it to Xander. The ex-demon twiddled her thumbs nervously, her eyes shifting between Xander to Dawn and back to Xander.
"So, umm, how much further?"
Popping open the child safety cap with one hand Xander tilted the bottle until two of the white glories slid between his lips and down his throat. He then put the cap back on and tossed the canister back to Dawn before giving Anya his usual annoyed look. "Anya babe, could you not be so anticipating our demise. Dawn and I are scared, join the crowd." He reached up and stroked her chin affectionately, but she pulled away, looking embarrassed.
"I-I'm sorry, I just want all of this to be over."
Xander nodded, then frowned. "Wait, all of what? I didn't fill you in on what was going on."
Dawn's eyes lit up and she pointed. "Look, I can see it, there it is!"
Xander was still frowning and Anya, who turned from Dawn back to him. A wide grin had broken across her face, spreading the length from one of her cheeks to the other.
"Anya, what's wrong with you?"
The car short forward with a burst of extra speed, and Xander looked down in horror to see that Anya had her foot pressed against the pedal. As he looked back up her face shifted for a moment, splitting into Joyce's before going back to Anya's. But when she whispered to him it was Joyce's voice remained.
"Xander boy, it's time to go to sleep!"
"Oh shit!", Xander screamed, struggling for control of the vehicle while Dawn tried to see what was unfolding. She started hitting on Anya with her little fists, but it was too late. The car careened towards the front of the restaurant, at the last second Anya grasping onto Dawn and forming a psychic bubble of protection around them.
The vehicle slammed through into the diner; Xander being the only one unprotected had his head blasted into the steering wheel while glass flew all around them, puncturing holes in the seats, the cushions, the floorboards, the headrests and of course Xander. But everything bounced harmlessly off of Dawn and her capture until the Buick halted, halfway in and halfway out of the building.
The protection bubble evaporated and Anya looked around them in awe, the crazy grin seemingly plastered to her face.
"Yahoo! What a rush that was!" She yelled, her voice turning more male now. Dawn saw Xander and began to cry in earnest, reaching out for his unmoving and bloody form. Anya saw what she was doing and laughed, slapping her hand away and reaching over to open the passenger side door. She then motioned for Dawn to exit. "C'mon Key, let's go find sis' and the fat one."
But she continued sobbing louder, calling out Xander's name and grabbing at his sleeve, shaking him. Anya pushed the smaller girl out of the car and exited herself, giggling all the while. "Tsk tsk," she said at Xander, "Someone should have had an airbag installed. You humans are always so big on those." As she laughed her face and body changed, turning into a bluish-brown creature. It's muscles packed along it's shoulders and it's wings were big and masculine, it's face that of an elf's.
He grabbed the struggling girl and lifted her to her feet. Then effortlessly picked her up and threw her along on shoulder, glancing around what he found very hard to believe had once been a bar, a respectable place of business. It looked more like a warzone now, with scorch marks, white soot, glass, blood and bullet cases all around, spread among the debris.
His joviality was cut short though, as he saw what lay sprawled along the bar. He wouldn't have been able to recognize it as Jeneva had her scent not filled the air, the acrid smell of her burnt flesh assaulting his sensitive nostrils. His features gave way to that of shock and despair, and he let the small girl drop to the floor behind him.
"Xander!" Dawn cried, tears streaming down her eyes, but she found that she was frozen in place. The thing that had pretended to be Anya must have put another spell on her.
"Ah, sis..." His face seemed tortured for a moment as he ran one finger lightly over the small, shredded and burnt corpse. "You were always so fragile, so pretty. You never gave a day to yourself, you brefkin entwa'gina," he cursed her in their native tongue without anger in his voice, but more sorrow instead. "Always stuck to the rules, never letting me look after you." He shook his head. "Stupid entwa'gina, I don't think you ever lived to enjoy a day of your life."
Her eyes now transfixed on the scene taking place before her, Dawn watched as he puckered his lips slightly and kissed what she hoped was the forehead of the dead thing on the counter. He then wiped the blood and flesh from his mouth and turned the body on it's back before looking back at her. "You may want to close your eyes, Key. This is only customary."
Too in shock to comprehend his words, Dawn observed as he raised his hands above his head like a club and brought them back down onto the chest of the body.
Whumph!
Blood splattered along the counter, but this was apparently not what he wanted. He raised his large, muscular hands again.
Whumph!
And again he repeated the process.
Whumphcrrk!
He shook his head in disbelief and tried again.
Whumphcraack!
More blood flew everywhere, some of it (still warm) hitting Dawn along her cheek. If she could've moved she would have hastily wiped it off. But this was the least of the horror she witnessed. Now that he had opened the chest, the large blue winged elf reached into his sister's ribcage, pulling and yanking, making sounds that Dawn would forever remember in her nightmares.
Her grinned as he finally pulled forth what he wanted. A heart, twice the size of a humans' was now beheld in his left hand. Dawn tried to shake her head, somehow knowing what was coming. She couldn't force herself to close her eyes, which were the only muscles the elf was allowing her to use at the moment.
He opened his mouth and closed it around half of the heart, biting into it and vigorously grinding his teeth along it as blood gushed down his chin. Dawn could feel bile rising in her throat, but she couldn't even vomit right now. He quickly shoved what was left in his mouth and licked his fingers after swallowing the organ. Turning back to her, he grinned again. The same grin he'd worn with Anya. "I told you to turn your head, it's a tradition our family has. I now possess the strength and more importantly the soul of my sibling. How do the humans say it? It's all good."
He let her move again, grabbing her shoulder and, after concentrating on where the portal would be, entered the green door. "Take it from Sethiroph Key, you'll like this. It's a trip."
He picked her up and jumped into the whirlpool, both of them losing consciousness along the way.
25. Reinforcement
Xander groaned a few minutes later, prying himself off of the steering wheel. Suffice to say, he was not having a good day. Leaning back, everything rushed into his brain and he gasped, checking the seat next to him. Dawn and Anya (maybe she was possessed) had vanished.
"Dammit! Ah, ahhh!" He had banged his fist into the steering wheel, only to realize that he had become a human pincushion. Little beads of blood were all over him and he'd have a horrid bruise on his forehead in few days, but it was nothing fatal. He was actually surprised at how easy he'd gotten off.
Carefully exiting the crashed Buick, Xander looked around him. "Damn..."
*
After a quick look at the kitchens proved useless, Xander peeked through the portal in the door. Other than a nice green he'd consider putting up in his own apartment, something was up with the floor. He opened the door and stepped back in shock. Am I supposed to jump through this thing?
Not with out back-up he wasn't. Xander turned around and stepped on something that nearly caused him to fall. "Wow, an Uzi. Been awhile since I've seen one of these..." He got a feel for it in his hands and then spotted the sawed-off shotgun not too much further away. Upon closer inspection both were empty, but it wouldn't take him more than fifteen minutes from here to remedy that situation. If everyone was asleep like Giles and Willow had theorized, of course... Also, he wasn't going into that hole alone unless it was absolutely necessary, and he had a gut feeling it wasn't.
Crawling out of the wreckage, Xander plotted out his course. If he hit both the spots he needed to, that being the armory shop down the street and the graveyard a quarter of a mile up the road, he could get back to the whirlpool in about twenty-five minutes. Checking his watch, he saw that it was two-thirty. Dawn would rise in about four hours. He took a deep breath. No sweat, I can do this. He just hoped that the others could hold their own long enough, wherever they were...
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Whooooooooo!!!!!! Do you hear me Voltaire! Damn! I am pooped! I wrote the majority of all this in two days. I even wrote a good ninety percent of this one today. It's two o'clock now and I'm about to do the spell check thing. Then I'm going to have to check the grammar, and that's going to be a bitch. Also, I have a few notes. This will undoubtedly have some errors in synonyms and grammar that I won't catch, for which I apologize. But on a more important error, I have changed Jim's Steak and Ale to Jack's Steak and Ale. Sorry for the confusion I may have caused some of you, I'll fix the error in the second chapter as soon as possible. Thanks you peoples, I'm gonna go kick some grammar and spelling ass, then I'm gonna get up like two hours later and post the fucking thing. Hey, this is me updating. I didn't go to bed at all. It just now turned to eight AM. Screw you guys, I'm loading this baby and then I'm off to lala land.
Ain't that sweet?
Donald Pike (Lyle)
---I've got this strange, stirring feeling in the crotch of my corduroy's. It's like an itch but it's more developed, it's like a pain but it's more pleasurable. I think I might like this feeling, but I need to be sure. Freud says that the essence to liking something is through pleasure of something else, and so we form a chain from this one single thing. Well, when I saw Wendy this feeling started, so I think I'll call it Wendy and go rub my crotch against a tree. Oh god, Wendy. WENDY, YES!!!! OH GOD WENDY, DO IT TO ME LIKE THAT, YEAH!!!