Santa and the Jew: A BtVS Christmas Story

by Lyle Brown

(Complete) Willow/Tara fic about what happens when old Saint Nick decides to drop by on Christmas Eve.

6. The Rest Of The Night

Disclaimer- JW&WB own rights. I don't. Happy Kwanzaa. Though I seriously doubt anyone celebrating Kwanzaa will be reading this.

Summary- It's Christmas Eve, and there wasn't anything better to do than take out the big fat bastard with the toys. Pleasant Holidays.

Spoilers- Season 5. Dradle, dradle, dradle. I'd say Happy Hanukah, but it's a little late for that. Happy belated Hanukah.

Rating- R for sex, gore, profanity, violence. I love the Christians; they just don't love me.

Feedback- Backfeed. I think that's a religion in and of itself, backfeeding. Just depends on what part of the back your feeding and what's going in it.

Author's Notes- Horror story. Not a very nice story, though I think fans of Willow and Tara will like it. Merry Christmas. This is belated too, though.
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Santa and the Jew: A BtVS Christmas Story | by Donald P. Pike
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Chapter 5

39. Invasion (The Beginning of the End)

Her hands itching to get to the flame-thrower in the lining of her denim jacket, Willow continued walking backwards along the catwalk. The man had taken her pistols and, having no use for them himself, thrown them over the side. They'd fallen the full twenty or so feet down before clattering to the metal grating beneath. She noted that the twin guns disappeared between two incubation pods holding the clones of Santa inside. The bodies of the clones floated in bright-green water, the occasional bubble rising up around them.

"Turn around." The man said, motioning with his gun that she do so.

Willow stood her ground, furrowing her brows. "How do I know you won't shoot me in the back?"

Her enemy smiled handsomely. "I want to show you something. Now turn."

Willow did an about-face and continued walking, knowing that all along his gun would still be pointing at her head. Their footsteps echoed hollowly on the metal of the catwalk, and a gust of cold air blew across Willow's face, her hair swaying. She shivered and realized that the freezing temperatures of the mountain were beginning to effect her. That, added with the fact that she'd been shot twice, captured, and lost her guns told Willow that her luck was running out. It was time to start thinking about how she was going to get out of this place.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of walking (but couldn't have been any more than fifteen minutes) she spotted a structure in the distance and heard him chuckle behind her. It looked to be the core of the underground system, energy floating freely throughout it's structure. As they grew closer she saw electricity crackling every once in a while from a few of the cords. It looked like a giant transparent-green hourglass with black metal coverings. It would have been a bit more awe-inspiring had Willow not been so desperately contriving a way out of her dilemma.

A few minutes later they reached the opening of the structure and Jack extracted a security card from within his jacket, swiping it through the reader and punching in a code with his slender fingers. It beeped for a moment before a panel opened in the wall. He smiled at her.

"Check this out," he said with flourish, eager to show off the device.

He put one side of his face against the slightly frozen panel and waited as a red laser beam traveled down, running along his iris and reading the results. Another beep emitted and a few clicks resounded throughout the hollow underground before the massive double-doors slid open in a whir.

He looked at her with one eye, his smile remaining as he rubbed his other, the one he had put in front of the panel. "Like having someone shine the sun in your eye, but I'll be damned if there's a better way of securing your projects." With that he gently pushed her inside and the doors closed behind them.

*

Willow grimaced as she struggled with the bonds, but they were wrapped too tightly for her to break free. She had been tied to one of the cylindrical support beams inside the core, her wrists bound with coil her enemy had gotten from a nearby maintenance box. He stood before her now with his back turned, hunched over a monitor as he typed vigorously.

When he stopped he seemed apprehensive, and turned to glance at her for a moment.

"You...You wouldn't happen to be named Willow, would you?"

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Yes, so?"

He shook his head. "I should've guessed it when I first saw you."

It dawned on her as to how he might've found out. "Did you talk to Tara? Where is she?"

He waved one hand at her nonchalantly. "Relax, she's fine. I've locked her up to protect her." He looked up. "Ah, that reminds me. I should bring along an extra syringe for when the heating effects wear off."

So Baringold had been right, that was where he took her. Willow smiled in spite of her situation, her hopes increasing as to Tara making it out okay.

He saw her smile and walked over to her. "My name's Jack Frost. If you were to be alive in an hour, I'd be your new leader. But as it is, I can't even shake your hand." He said, referencing to his job with the ropes. He seemed quite proud of it actually. "Now I know what your thinking. Your thinking, 'How is he going to pull this off?'"

Willow said nothing, instead letting Jack continue to divulge in her his plan. "Well it's simple really. In the beginning Diablo was locked safely away from the world in another plane of existence called 'The Hellmouth'. From there he performed various necessities of evil and fought the forces of good. But eventually The Powers That Be grew angry with humans such as yourself and merged the two worlds, creating a whole new realm for Diablo to work in. But to make sure he didn't destroy the world entirely The Powers built a crystal labyrinth beneath a hollow mountain in the coldest place on earth. They then put a spell on the mountain, now known as Teufel, to keep it hidden from the humans.

"To make sure that the beings that inhabited the earth were kept in check, The Powers allowed Diablo freedom to let his reign of terror conspire in one town. As I'm sure you've guessed, that's Sunnydale. Anyway, it's needless to say that Diablo has become bored with this arrangement and seeks to rule the entire world. So over the past thousand years we've been preparing, building temples that would one day act as portals, portals through which we would invade the earth. And Diablo's greatest warrior, the man who's claimed more souls in his existence than any other, was cloned so that his power would be known throughout the universe."

Jack grinned at this and put up a finger. "Hang on, there's something else I want you to see."

He walked over to a box beside the monitor and pulled out a key from inside his jacket. Looking back to make sure she was watching, Jack unlocked the box and opened its lid. He then smiled and withdrew a strange red crystal that shined in the cover of his palm.

Willow blinked. "What does it do?"

"It's a sign of power which only the Santas can understand. They sense that whoever holds the crystal is second only to Diablo himself...and that they'll follow the beholder's every command. Of course, they'll follow blindly that whom they were cloned after as well." He shrugged as though he was nonchalant about the whole thing, but the excitement in his eyes and shortness of his breath belied his true feelings. "Seems fitting, seeing as how I created them myself."

A hiss of steam released from a nearby pipe valve and Willow jerked in place, feeling the coil tighten at her wrists. She would try the flame incarnation but she knew that she'd burn her skin as well. The knots were too tightly looped for her to simply levitate them undone. She'd have to think of something else, and fast. At a far corner of the room Willow caught sight of what looked to be an elevator. Unfortunately, even if she were to somehow free herself and get to it, a pad on the side noted that a security code was needed.

Something beeped on the monitor and it broke Frost's gaze upon the crystal. He smoothed out his jacket and pants, running a hand through his thick head of hair. "Well," he said, "This is it."

"What is?" Willow asked as she saw him near the computer.

"I'm going to release the Santas now. They'll make their way to the portals, destroying everything in their path except for each other and myself. My guess is that you won't last anymore than five minutes. It should be a quick death, I haven't programmed them to be as merciless as Nick."

"Yeah, well how do you expect to get out of here? It's a long way back and while they may not kill you directly, any damage done to the catwalk while you're on it..." Willow was deliberately stalling him but she was also hoping to learn if there was a faster way out.

He nodded, smiling. "You're right, but don't think for a second that I didn't plan out every step."

He walked over to a large shutter Willow had missed in her observance of the place and pulled up on it, revealing the rubber tire of some machine hidden inside. He entered the compartment and wheeled it out. It looked like a supped-up Harley Davidson motorcycle, with black metal covering both wheels and a chain gun attached to the front. Willow even thought she saw some sort of jet propulsion system attached to the back. Either that or the vehicle had three exhaust pipes and on odd hump on it's tail.

"This is my beauty... I call her Frost." He said this as though he was divulging an embarrassing secret about his only child.

"Gee, I wonder why."

Jack looked up at her, slightly miffed at her attitude. He walked over to the monitor and typed in a few last commands before pressing Enter. A warning came up on the computer and he bypassed it. Willow watched every move he made, looking around his shoulder at the syntax he used, hoping to escape and decode it directly after he left.

Suddenly a noise could be heard from below, millions of loud clacks like something massive was being opened. The Pods...

Jack turned and smiled at her once more, getting onto his cycle and running a hand through his hair. "I'd give you a button but unfortunately I'm all out. Just remember, I'm your number one guy." He winked. "Have a good night, Willow. I'll send Tara your regards."

With this he turned the key already in place and the engine rumbled to life. He pressed down on the release and up on the accelerator, rolling slowly over to the mechanical door and performing one more retinal scan before the door opened. He sped off; the door whooshing closed behind him.

Below her, she could hear the noise of the Santas as they escaped their chambers and were quickly making their way up the supports to the catwalks. This situation confirmed Willow's suspicions. Her luck was definitely running out. But it was with the groaning of the support she was tied to that Willow truly began to fear for her life.

*

Jack sped along the narrow path, the wind blowing through his hair and the sounds of his creations growing beneath him. If he hurried, he could get Tara and make it out of Teufel even before the sacrifice was completed and Diablo was freed from his crystal cage. A Santa jumped in front of him from the catwalk and bared his teeth. Jack sighed and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling forth the crystal while he steered with his other hand; the creature saw it and moved aside, allowing Jack to speed on by. Inside, Jack's heart leapt into his throat. It had worked!

Behind him Jack heard something large in the control room fall in on itself and he couldn't help but grin. The girl had surely met her demise by now. But if she hadn't, there was no way of escape. Not that she knew of anyway. No, he'd done a fairly thorough job of ensuring that the plan would go perfectly and she would die without further trouble. She was surrounded in every direction by the Santas who were constantly closing in; she was tied in place and locked inside. Not even the best magician could escape the trap he'd laid out. And if she did something he thought she might, he'd left a little present for her and the rest of the inhabitants of Teufel. He didn't think it would come to that, though.

It wasn't in Jack's nature to worry about or second-guess something. After all, he was the Jack Frost, he was never wrong...

*

Willow felt the support give away and the ground fall out from underneath her. One of the metal plates in the floor had been ripped away by an ambitious Santa. Had she not been tied to the pole she would've plummeted all the way down. He leered up at her from the hole and she kicked out at him, his grunt barely audible over the mass destruction. Suddenly the beam stopped groaning and started to tip backwards.

She cried out as she realized that her hands would be caught in between the beam and the floor and strained to keep it up, but was surprised when she found herself moving along the twisted support. Her feet found ground and she continued to move up. Willow craned her neck and forced back a scream at the sight of two Santas (who she saw had made holes of their own in the floor to enter the structure) who were trying to get her off of the pole, their mouths agape and looking very hungry.

The beam collapsed just as they pulled her off and began to tear at her clothing. She willingly let their hands roam over her while she freed herself from the now loosened rope. The Santa to the left had just ripped part of her shirt open, baring her soft pale skin when Willow pulled out the flame-thrower from inside the lining of the back of her jacket. Frost had been so busy tying her he hadn't even taken notice of the large, obtrusive bulk in her clothing. She pulled on the release and for the second time that night a large spout of flame spewed forth from the muzzle, covering the two clones as they howled in rage and pain.

Backing away, knowing that if they were anything like their predecessor they weren't down for the count yet, Willow turned her attention to the monitor. It was too late now to stop the Santas from getting out, she knew that, but if she could concentrate on locating the portals, she might be able to find her way back and destroy any chance of world domination at the same time.

Willow began to type out commands using the same syntax as Jack, her hacking skills aiding to the situation. Almost immediately she found a blueprint for the lower areas (it had been easier than it looked, Jack had seemingly left them out in an open file) but nothing on the level where the portals were being kept. The next few files Willow either purposefully brought up or consequently stumbled upon were nothing but accessories and planning fodder, and she had to continuously look up and release more fire to keep the red-suits at bay.

Finally she came across a file labeled

PANDORA'S BOX - THE PORTAL CONSTRUCTION SYSTEM AND PLACEMENTS

Willow was aware of the Pandora's box and it's purpose. In Greek Mythology it meant the end of the world were someone to unlock the puzzle and open the box, but she also knew that a single file couldn't do much more than wipe out the computer (which wouldn't hurt her that much). And of course, Jack had a tendency to be dramatic as she had seen. She opened the file.

A small beep occurred and Willow grinned at the layouts appearing before her. The portals were built on the fourth floor of the mountain, not to far from her own position. Now all she had to do was escape from this death trap and go up a few levels, then take it from there with chaos and destruction. But as Willow was about to turn away from the computer she noticed two things. One was an elevator shaft leading directly to and past the fourth floor. The same elevator Willow had seen just a few minutes prior. On the map, just below the shaft were the numbers five, seven, two, one and seven again. It had to be the code for either the door or the elevator and as far as she could tell the elevator didn't need a retinal scan to enter.

The other thing that grasped her attention was a small waving finger at the bottom of the screen. She launched more fire at a Santa that was getting too close and moved the mouse down to the finger, double-clicking on it.

Jack's smiling face appeared with an enlarged clock next to it, the graphic of a bomb tied around it's dial. The hands of the clock were moving. Just below the picture was the message; "Destruction of Teufel Mountain to Occur in 36 Minutes, 43 seconds and counting. Have a nice day! Signed Jack Frost, Leader of the World." Willow's eyes widened and she gasped. The maniac is going to blow the entire place off the face of the earth!

A sharp pain in her stomach caused Willow to grab her abdomen and grimace. On closer inspection she saw that her two bullet wounds were flaked with ice. They were undoubtedly infected by now, though no longer bleeding. The nearest Santa growled and lunged at her. Willow sidestepped his attack and quickly traveled across the room dodging more and more of the fat clones as they pushed their way inside the hourglass structure. They seemed somewhat easier to fight than the real thing, and certainly not as intelligent.

She pressed up against the elevator doors and waved a hand in front of the keypad. It began to hum with a static-filled break-up here and there. She pressed the buttons 5, 7, 2, 1 and 7 and couldn't help but jump gleefully when the entire elevator started thrumming. Unfortunately, it didn't open. A hidden panel in the wall slid open, revealing what could only be an earlier model of the retinal scanner.

Willow turned and looked around, spotting the closest Santa only a few feet from her. He seemed to be stuck in the shrapnel entrance he'd made for himself. She took a metal shard from the now littered floor and rushed over, taking advantage of him before he could get a fix on where his attacker was. Feeling reminiscent of events previous in the night, Willow jabbed the shard into the clone-Kringle's face, just below his eye. She tried to ignore the blood, pus and sinew as best she could while also dealing with the almost unbearable squeals it was making. She eventually pressed inward and up, feeling it's eyeball loosen and pop out with a sucking sound. Oddly enough, it reminded her of a wet kiss Xander had given her once.

Feeling sick to her stomach, Willow took the eyeball and went back to the elevator doors, narrowly missing a large piece of Plexiglas from a window nearby, set off by a Santa who had just crashed through. She pressed the eye against the scan and fought the bile rising in her throat, her eyes stuck on the pus and jelly-white fluid seeping out of the body part. The bloody tangle of veins that had originally connected the eye inside the skull now dangled and dripped various fluids.

The scanner beeped and the doors slowly opened, the light inside flickering on and off. She breathed out and smiled inwardly, dropping the eye (plop) and entering the small elevator. Inside were buttons along one wall, but to her dismay they were written in a different language. Outside Willow saw that many of the Santas had spotted her and were now rushing towards the elevator. She quickly counted down four of the ten buttons and pressed the fourth, praying that it was the right one. The doors began to close just as one Santa shot half-way in, a bit of drool flying from his mouth and hitting Willow along her face and neck.

Surprising both of them, the doors must've held more power than they showed, because instead of reopening when an object was detected the doors continued to close. The Santa and Willow both watched as his midsection was slowly cut into. His red suit became redder and he clawed at Willow's leg in pain. They began to move upwards as the metal opening closed entirely around the clone, slicing him in half. Willow thought she'd lose her hearing if the screaming and explosions didn't stop soon. But she started to scream herself when the machine fired upwards like a rocket, her stomach dropping to her feet, followed shortly by her body.

Down in the cold metal Willow could smell the stinking-hot innards sliding out of the Santa as it screeched and writhed but didn't die, instead choosing to crawl its way to her. She tried to lift herself off of the floor but she didn't have the strength. All she could do was slide backwards until she felt the wall halt any further progression. It grinned at her and stopped screaming, showing off its wide array of jagged teeth and halitosis to her. Its long dead and flaking-blue skin mixed and with the blood gushing out of its mouth, pooling on the floor beneath.

Handle bars shot out from indentations in the metal floor and Willow instinctively grabbed on, listening as a ding resounded through the elevator. The Santa heard it as well and struggled desperately to grasp the handles in time but was just short as the entire structure came to a sudden, jarring halt. Willow felt her body left into the air as the clone-half disappeared from her sight, drops of his blood falling upwards in he sudden change in gravity. Willow heard an impossibly loud splatter and then squeezed her eyes shut.

*

Two Liberation Elves (by the names of Gridion and Manchester) passing by watched in curiosity and then in horror as the elevator doors opened to reveal a small young woman on the floor, looking for all the world dead. There was not a single spot in the small space that wasn't covered in blood or gore. On the ceiling there seemed to be some sort of flat fleshy matter, though it was doubtful anyone but the girl would know what it had ever been. Bits and pieces of tissue and organs were all over.

The blood-covered girl twitched and the two elves cried out, raising their loaded bows and ray guns. She spit out blood that wasn't hers and didn't move her head from the floor. A tired, tiny voice called out to them.

"Would you happen to know what floor I'm on?"

The elves looked at each other in amazement and Gridion ventured forth. "Th-the sixth."

"Well...that just figures, doesn't it." It was more of a statement than a question.

The fleshy matter at the top of the elevator suddenly slopped off and traveled down seven feet to land flat on the young woman's head.

40. Sacrifice

Diablo was ready.

Dawn awoke to find herself in a wide cavern, stalagmites and icicles hanging from up above. Somewhere nearby she could hear the sound of running water burbling incessantly. As she moved to get up the scraping of her feet against the snow-covered floor echoed off the slick stone walls. She had been laid down upon a set of steps leading to a pedestal and a large set of crystals that also hung down from the ceiling.

Seeing the crystals brought back the events that had conspired earlier in the night and Dawn found that she had to sit down and regain control of herself. Her emotions were rising as she realized that she had no idea where she was, her mother had been killed and she'd left Xander for dead in the Buick and she was probably going to die without seeing any of her loved ones again. Despite her fighting it, tears welled up in her eyes and began pouring out. Soon her small body was racked with sobs.

She would never see her sister again, never have another birthday, never kiss a boy and never again even see the light of her namesake. She was going to die in this place and no one would ever know. And the only thing she could think to say to herself as a way of comfort was 'Merry Christmas'.

"Crying is pointless at this juncture in time. Beings such as us serve no purpose shedding tears."

Dawn stopped crying and looked up, searching the room wildly for any sign of who had spoken. The voice had been a low rumble, like if thunder or boiling hot water had acquired the gift of speech. But no one appeared to the eye.

It was then that she noticed the pedestal not far from where she had woken. Marble and spotted with eye-of-tiger jewels, it didn't really fit in its surroundings, but there it stood at the top of the steps, four feet up and one foot wide. On the pedestal was something that didn't look like it would fit in any surrounding. A black stone, smooth and oval. It looked more like a liquid or gas mocking the form of a solid than a truly solidified stone. For some reason, Dawn was afraid to touch it.

"It is the embodiment of my nature. It is evil and hate and death in its purest form. That is why you are afraid."

Dawn realized that the voice was coming from within the crystals that hung above the pedestal. They shined red now and a ball of fire stared straight back at her from inside. Dawn thought its power was what must have kept the room so well lit. But it took her a moment before she saw that the fire formed the figure of a human head, if somewhat distorted. It's eyes now replicated the same color of the stone.

"It is time."

She wiped the tears from her eyes and stared up at the figure. "T-time for what?"

It didn't answer, deciding instead to let it's actions speak for it. Dawn found herself drawing closer and closer to the stone on the pedestal, even though everything in her mind told her to stay away, to run.

Soon she was mere inches from it, and she saw that swirling inside was the face of a blonde, curly-haired young girl with bright blue eyes.

"A being not of this world. Her power of destruction was necessary to awaken the life within the stone. She was drawn to Sunnydale by my minions and stripped of her essence."

Dawn shook her head, gazing at the blood dripping from the fangs of the hellhound behind the girl. It seemed to be looking right back at her.

"Why do you do this? I-if you're so big on purpose, what purpose does it serve to hurt people?"

To her surprise the voice chuckled, making a noise not unlike an explosion of fire. "Do not consider yourself any better than me, Key. We were both created. The humans need me to live as much as they do the purity of light and goodness your kind provide. All children have one eye for the light and one eye for the dark. Inside of them there is a part of me, waiting to be released. It is why they have pain, why they murder and hate and hurt. I am what makes them human just as much as you do on the other side of the spectrum. Do not consider me an accessory, for I am a necessity in your existence. The only difference between us is that I am stronger than you."

With this the stone began to spread out, darkness leaking in tendrils, grasping out and surrounding Dawn. As hard as she tried she couldn't move, instead stuck in place. She was forced to watch in horror as the first length of darkness swept inside her right nostril. She could feel it moving its way up to her brain, leaving everything inside her head numb and cold.

She began to sway slightly as the room shook around her, the red of the crystal unable to overpower the mingling wisps of darkness that were swirling around her head, wrapping her into a world of...nothingness. She fell into its embrace and let the darkness wander over, under and inside her body. The smell of burning oil came to her along with the sound of gentle rocking, like on a ship. She was falling deeper and deeper into the cold when she opened her eyes.

The bowels of hell opened up and red flame shot forth, enveloping her and disintegrating every particle of her being, lava mixed with blood mixed with bone and screaming and dead, naked infants staring at her, into her soul as she called out for Buffy but got no answer, because Buffy was dead, Willow felt that in her heart but wouldn't admit it Buffy was dead and Xander was dead and Joyce and Giles were dead and she herself would rot into nothing because she was nothing, except for light, she was light and light was good, light was better, light was best and light could fight the darkness of the night and Diablo would scream his last when he took her-

Diablo did scream. He let out a mighty roar that, had he been freed, would've deafened every ear across the earth. As it was, hundreds of thousands of ice and rock spikes shot out of the floors and walls all over Teufel mountain. This action killed many of the Liberation Elves and many of Diablo's minions alike.

"NOOO!!! THE LIGHT, IT BURNS!!! AAAHHHHRRRGGGGGGHHH!!!"

Dawn fell back down to the steps by the pedestal, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She didn't know what had just happened and her head was still partially clouded with the black fog. But had her eyes not been squeezed so tightly shut she would've seen darkness racing to escape, exiting her head and body and forming the single stone once again. She also would've seen the wall directly behind the pedestal explode in a shower of icy water, rock and two struggling bodies.

41. The Zeppo and the Dark-Elf Lord

Xander let out all of the water that had collected in his lungs and most of the days meals as well. His entire body was almost frozen and the anti-freeze he'd felt since going through the portal seemed to be wearing off. Maybe he had used up his supply...

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts and get his slick hair out of his face, Xander remembered that Sethiroph had been with him when they'd broken through the wall. His eyes shifted from his position on the floor but he couldn't see any sign of the large Elf/Fairy. What he could see surprised him though. He'd played a game once where you could knock another player off of a bridge and onto a bed of spikes. This room looked a lot like that game, but the spikes were varied and spread out unequally everywhere. Most of them were as tall as he was, so he didn't have to worry about tripping and skewering himself.

He yelped when two arms closed around his soaking shoulders and grabbed for the sawed-off shotgun in the stolen holster on his back. In taking out the gun he smacked the attacker fairly hard by accident and grinned maliciously when he heard the grunt, letting him go. He turned and raised the gun only to find Dawn staring back at him with wide eyes, her nose bleeding freely from the hit. She looked too surprised to be hurt by his hitting her and once she saw the look on his face she again rushed him, this time while he was facing her.

Their cheeks pressed together and Dawn began to cry as he ran his fingers through her hair. She clung to him tightly and he could feel the blood from her nose begin to seep down and give an eerie warmth to his shoulder and back. Despite this he couldn't let her go.

"I thought you were dead," cried Dawn, a note of happiness in her voice at seeing him.

He smiled. "I knew I'd find you."

He rose to his feet, water pouring out of his pant legs. Dawn reluctantly let him go and covered her nose with one hand. Xander tore off a piece of his already bullet-ridden shirt and handed it to her.

"There," he whispered. "Just add a little pressure."

She nodded and took the piece of cloth. Xander took this time to observe his environment. It was quiet in the cavern, almost disturbingly so. With all the jagged rock and ice spikes sticking out from the ground he couldn't see very far beyond where they were standing. He'd simply have to take Dawn and navigate around them until they found a way out. He reached down and took Dawn's hand.

"Let's see if we can get out of here."

He started towards an odd-looking pedestal but Dawn pulled on his hand, shaking her head. "Don't," she said softly.

Xander frowned but let her lead the way past the pedestal and crystals to enter the maze of spikes. He saw now that they didn't just rise up from the floor, they came out of the walls and ceiling to. The entire cavern looked like a giant inverted pincushion. The only sounds were the stream he and Sethiroph had taken a dip in and a dripping noise to the east.

"Over here." Dawn tugged on his arm and they picked up the pace a bit, moving around and between the spikes.

As they passed by an ice-spike Xander caught sight of a blue shape moving in the transparency. He peeked around the formation but nothing was there. He knew the fairy-elf was somewhere nearby, and it was only a matter of time before he showed his face. Xander's fingers caressed the double-barrels of the shotgun as he imagined taking the foul creature apart piece by piece and hearing him scream all the way thr-

"Xander!"

He focused on Dawn who was giving him an impatient look. "Huh?"

"I said I think the way out is north of here."

"Why?"

"I felt a breeze. If there's wind there's an opening, right?"

Xander grinned. "Good thinking."

A flutter of wings broke their communication and Dawn screamed, pointing behind him. "Xander, look out!"

Without looking he dived out of the way between two slick rock spikes just as Sethiroph swung his fists down at the point where Xander had just been. His skin was still leathery tight but he looked a shade lighter than usual, one of his ears drooping and his wings glistening with thousands of beads of fresh stream-water. His brown cloth was soaked to his chest and thighs.

Xander fired the shotgun from his position on the floor, blowing a chip of limestone off the spike next to Seth's head. The elf-lord ducked and leered at him, his teeth shining in the light. Off-handedly Xander was curious as to just where the light came from. He knew there was electricity in the mountain, but he hadn't seen a single light fixture on this level. On the outside he was rolling along the floor, trying to lose himself from Sethiroph while at the same time keeping track of Dawn as she ran around, obviously unsure of what to do.

"Dawn, run!"

He saw her face turn to a grimace as she tried to locate the source of his voice. Luckily, the cavern's echoes made it veritably impossible. "I won't leave you again!"

Xander felt two very powerful hands grab onto his legs and pull him back. "Jesus, Dawn, just go!"

She bit her lip and ran out of sight. His chest swelled and his anger rose, remembering what Sethiroph had told him of his torture on Anya. Xander rolled onto his back and pumped the sawed-off, firing it into his attacker's chest. The elf-lord flew back several feet, a surge of power shifting through his wings. Xander gasped at the sight and dodged just as Sethiroph released a torrent of magical energy through his wide, gaping mouth. It paved a road of destruction as Sethiroph followed Xander through the spikes, demolishing each one just after Xander would run past it.

That was until Xander came across a particularly slick patch of ice on the stone floor and slipped, his hands reaching out instinctively to protect himself. Sethiroph, who had flown into the air to get a better shot, immediately took advantage of this and forced the stream of pulsing energy on Xander as it fell. Xander's right foot and hand disappeared at the wrist and ankle. The shotgun, no longer supported by anything, fell with a clatter to the ground followed shortly by Xander himself.

The young man had no time to scream in pain, but he did bite his lip so hard it bled as he reached with his one remaining hand to collect the sawed-off. He aimed it upwards just in time to see Sethiroph, the stream no longer forcing its way out, flying downwards directly at him. He pulled the trigger and was rewarded with a spray of blood as Sethiroph's left wing shredded and he, off-balance, crashed headfirst into the side of a spike not three feet from Xander.

Before Sethiroph got back up Xander wanted to take the initiative. He aimed at the fallen warrior and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. No sweat, I've got more ammo, he assured himself. Xander reached into his shirt pocket and grasped two shells. He pressed the gun against his chest and opened it with one hand, shaking out the previous shells just as Seth began to twitch.

By the time the pale-blue creature had gotten to his knees Xander had his weapon reloaded. He coughed and waited for his nemesis to turn around. Sethiroph did so and Xander would have thrown up had he not done so just minutes ago. The fairy-elf's face looked more like mashed pulp than anything recognizably human. His eyes were forced back into his skull and his nose and mouth had almost squished entirely together. The bone of his skull itself was pushed out on both sides of his forehead, white mixed with blue and red liquids. Xander smiled and raised the gun to fire at Sethiroph's crotch. One thing was for sure; he'd never rape a girl again for the rest of his short existence. Xander pulled the trigger.

Three years previous to this incident Xander Harris had been transformed into a soldier on Halloween. It was brought on by wearing a costume created by Ethan Rayne, master of black arts and former associate of the late Rupert "Ripper" Giles. By the end of the night Xander was returned to his true self, but as a side effect to the temporary curse he'd acquired an extensive knowledge of military, combat and weapon physics. This knowledge had unfortunately dwindled over the days and months and years that had lain ahead of him. For instance, there is a common rule in gun tactics that you do not, unless under extreme enemy fire with little or no variables left, fire a weapon nor use a slug that has been in water for a long period of time. Bullets that do not require the aid of outside gunpowder or are not in a shell are acceptable, but Xander was using a shotgun. This type of weapon has the extreme chance of either not working at all or, worse, backfiring on the shooter. It was the latter of the two that fell upon Xander Harris.

The blast took away part of his face, a good deal of his shoulder and his right ear. For the most part his other wounds were superficial and both of his eyes were still intact. But due to the explosion and the deep cut in his forehead Xander was blinded momentarily. He could just barely make out through the blood and sparks in his vision that Sethiroph had disappeared.

But the fairy-elf hadn't gone far. He smashed a stalagmite off the wall and picked it up, hefting it in one arm. Its sharp edge could pierce through almost anything with the right amount of pressure behind it. Sethiroph rushed at Xander, raising the large weapon above his head.

Dawn vaulted off of one of the smaller, duller spikes and onto the warrior's back, her arms reaching around his neck and pulling backwards. He howled in rage and bucked wildly, but Dawn clung on and screamed at Xander to get up. His vision cleared partially and he took the situation in as Dawn was finally thrown clear of Sethiroph. She skidded along the floor and crashed into a cavern wall. Xander made sure Sethiroph's attention was on him and hopped (only having one foot to support himself) for a steep incline in the walls opposite of Dawn.

The Dark-Elf Lord followed Xander at his heels, his broken and bloody teeth bared maliciously. Xander reached the wall and grabbed a spike with his remaining hand, his other a charred stump now (it seemed as though the flesh had burned quickly enough for the bleeding to be halted) as he used his legs to help him ascend. Below Sethiroph began to climb as well, his back aching from his torn wing. He knew that he had the boy now as there was no where to go once he reached the top of the wall.

With Xander's impaired abilities it didn't take long for Seth to catch up to him once he'd gotten to the highest point. The fairy-elf's hand latched onto Xander's boot and yanked roughly. The Zeppo's grip loosened and he nearly fell. He looked down as Sethiroph yanked again and saw that a long bed of spikes would indeed be waiting to greet him. Xander grinned unnervingly at the crushed face beneath him. This infuriated Sethiroph, who pulled harder. Xander's pinky and index finger slipped off of the stalagmite.

"Why do you laugh now, human? Your life is so near to its end." Sethiroph leered, seeing how close Xander was to falling.

Xander continued to smile. "You know the funny thing about old shoes?" He said in a strained voice. "They always tend to-"

Before he could finish the boot Sethiroph was holding came off and he lost his balance. His one working wing flapped crazily, blowing a strong force of air against Xander. Sethiroph fell down further and further and he screamed as he spun, slamming down onto a particularly large spike. He was motionless after that.

"-slip off," Xander finished, breathing heavily as large amounts of blood streamed down his face. He regained his balance and slowly, very slowly, began to climb down the wall as an electronic voice suddenly entered his ears from an unseen intercom.

"Thirty minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Thirty minutes."

42. Santa Dance

Saint Nicholas approached the pedestal, ignoring the battle going on behind him. He'd been about ready to leave Teufel when he'd felt Diablo scream and a few large spikes had risen up from the ground in his living quarters. Now he stood before the pedestal and the crystals above it. As he waited they began to glow dimly, and soon he heard the voice that had been commanding him since he'd gone global every year.

"Kringle..." Diablo spoke in a whisper, though his voice still bellowed. "I am weak, but can still be freed. The light did not stop nor destroy the power the stone holds. I need souls. Get them for me." Santa grinned and nodded, harsh breath escaping from his torn and wretched lungs. "And dispose of Frost as well," the evil stated. "He was the only one with control of the detonation system."

It was not much later when the first soul arrived. Sethiroph's essence was sucked into the void, strengthening Diablo's grasp on the boundaries. It wouldn't take many more before he would have the power to free himself completely. And with the amount of death from the war above them, it was only a matter of time.

*

By the time Dawn found Xander he had already gotten down from the wall and was quickly losing consciousness from the amount of blood loss that he had sustained. One side of his face was red with blood and the other was pale white. His eyes had a milky quality to them and he couldn't see straight. Worst of all was the pain. He was wracked with it and paralyzed from the sheer ferocity of which his wounds ached.

Dawn couldn't even cry when she saw him. She was overwhelmed by the shock and trauma she had endured and was striving to simply not break down and forget about living entirely. She got down on her knees beside him, her face red from the blistering cold that was only getting worse and worse as her body reacted. She realized as she watched him that Xander should've been long dead by now. His wounds were horrifying and he'd spent an unimaginable time in water that was almost at the freezing point.

Their breath plumed out in the air and she leaned over him, placing a light kiss on his lips. She knew he had never felt for her the way she had for him, and that she was too young for anything to have been there in the first place, but she loved him nonetheless. He blinked as she did this and stared up at her.

"Dawn, I-I lied to you tonight..." He spoke in a weak voice, trying desperately to keep his eyes open. "I d-don't think we're going t-tto get your mother back...or Buffy. What y-you have to do is..." He shook his head violently. "You have to get out of here. Th-there is a portal on the f-fourth le...level. At least one th-that I know... Dawn, please. Get out while you still can..."

She pressed her head against his. She would've screamed if she felt she had the strength, but all she could do was whimper and hold him tighter.

A slight scraping sound caused her to look up and back, and what she saw made her feel as though someone had just splashed ice water inside of her gut. Through the ice spikes she saw the unmistakable appearance of Santa Claus, though he was moving oddly and seemed to be whispering something. She couldn't help but gasp.

Apparently Xander heard her or he too saw the man in red, because he used every ounce of his willpower to sit up and, with Dawn's help, stand (if awkwardly, balanced against the wall). "Dawn...go!" He whispered. She hesitated momentarily before running behind a few spikes and hiding, watching to make sure Xander would be okay.

Santa entered the clearing and Xander frowned, unsure if he was hallucinating or if what he was seeing was really there. He hadn't completely believed the others when they said they'd seen the Santa Claus, but there he stood before him. He looked worse for wear with pieces of his face and beard gone as well as one eye, but so did Xander. Only, Santa was acting strangely. He seemed to be...swaying, dancing. There are many things more laughable than a fat man dancing, and Xander wasn't laughing.

For such a proportionally large man, Santa was quite graceful. His arms hung akimbo while he swayed from side to side. He rotated, twirled every few seconds and kept a strange smile on his face. His eye held a dead-gray quality while his other socket simply remained open and empty, blackness evident within. Xander had been too entranced to realize that Santa was drawing closer and closer to him, and as the toy-maker drew in he began to pick up the words of a song that passed through the old man's flaking, grayish-blue lips.

"-like the sea, it can't be found. Nothing left but one small sound. Every one must hit the ground. While three may be a single round. Xander Harris here we stand, your destiny is close at hand, and all you think of is to save, the girl who stands in her own grave. She's behind you now, only feet away, tell her how you'll save the day..."

Xander looked fearfully behind him and spotted Dawn's crouching form through the spikes. "Dawn, get out!" He thought he'd yelled this, but it only came out as a hoarse whisper. Dawn stayed where she was, unable to tear her eyes away.

"You're weak, Xander." Santa said, no longer singing or twirling. He continued to sway slightly as Xander turned back to face him. "And I've checked my list twice. You've been quite the nasty child. Doing such sinful things to that demon girl."

As hard as he tried, Xander couldn't turn away. He couldn't even raise a finger.

"Are you that way by nature? It certainly isn't God's willing that you stick your tongue in places it doesn't belong. Such a dirty, filthy boy." Santa reached around him and grasped the nape of Xander's neck roughly. His eyes locked Santa's and he saw what lay ahead of him. "Give us a kiss with that dirty tongue of yours."

Santa forced his rotten, pus-filled mouth onto Xander's and the boy felt something exceedingly slimy and wet enter through his lips. At first he thought it was the old man's tongue, but soon it detached itself from inside and went completely into his mouth, wriggling and struggling down his throat. He clawed and choked desperately to spit it out but Santa kept him in the lip lock as his small creature did its work. Once it had slithered down completely and was gone into his digestive track, Santa let him go.

The pain came immediately as his chest burst open, but Xander no longer held the strength to scream. Dawn, on the other hand, did.

*

Willow and Gridion, the lone Liberation Elf (his partner Manchester having been wounded by the outburst of spikes) ran along the white corridor towards the next staircase leading down to the fourth floor. She was beginning to notice that the fighting was dying down a lot. Most of the elves were either dead or seriously wounded, and those that weren't were smart enough to start looking for a way out. By now, thanks to the warning system that had come on once the countdown had reached the half-hour mark, everyone was aware of the mountain's shortening life span. She could only hope and trust that Baringold had been true to his word and that Tara was now safely outside the mountain walls.

"Wait," Gridion said as they passed a nook in the icy walls, grabbing her arm. "You know the way from here, do you not?"

She nodded. He stared at her for a moment before letting her go and pointing to a dark entrance she hadn't noticed before. It was a small tunnel that lead downwards into an apparent maze of ice spikes. They were much more frequent and much larger in the cave than they were outside of it. She frowned at the elf. "What?"

"This is where he is held," Gridion whispered ominously.

"He who?"

The elf's blue uniform shimmered for a moment, his long pointed ears twitching nervously. "Diablo...I will not go any further; I am going back for my brother, but if you truly want to rid us of the evil, destroy the crystal cage that holds Diablo while he still resides within it. Tonight he will try to free himself if he has not already. I'll tell my people of the invasion and we'll try our best to get to the portals before the Santas do, but if you do not stop Diablo now yours and our efforts will be for not."

"Well how will I know what the cage looks like?"

"You will know it when you see it."

Willow sighed and nodded. What other choice did she have? But as she bent down she felt something nudge at her shoulder. Looking back she saw that the small man was offering her his bow and quiver of arrows. The ray gun had been left with his partner for protection until he returned.

She smiled slightly and took the weapon. She didn't know how useful it would be as it takes years of training to master any weapon, but this was better than nothing.

The two regarded each other once more before Gridion ran off, disappearing around the corner. Willow looked down into the icy cavern and gingerly stepped inside just as a familiar scream reached her ears.

*

Diablo was in need of assistance; he knew this for certain. His master called to him, telling him to retrieve souls. And that's just what he was doing, but the quest for blood had become more cumbersome. He had been searching for quite some time and hadn't been able to find any new souls. Diablo would be displeased if he knew that a failure was all Riley was.

But Riley wouldn't let that happen. He sensed that an eminent danger was growing, and that escape was necessary if he wanted to survive, but survival was not his first priority. His first would be the retrieval of a certain light that had weakened his master. The Diablo would see how good a servant Riley truly was, and he would make the danger go away.

The light was close. Riley could feel it. And he could hear her screaming.

43. Eye to Eye (Freedom)

Willow walked along the steep ledge, looking down at certain death below her. The spikes jutted out from everywhere, announcing their presence with deadly pointed edges. Willow had seen a fairy-elf not unlike Jeneva impaled upon one not too far back. His blood has stained the top of the ice and his wing had been twitching ever so slightly. But there was no mistaking, he had been dead.

Now she continued to skimp over and under the spikes coming out of walls and kept her eyes alert for any crystals with demons trapped inside of them. She disliked how cryptic the elves could be, though she had to admit that at times she felt a little too ambiguous herself. Especially to Riley.

She was wondering just where Riley had gotten to when she came across what could only be the set of crystals holding Diablo inside. Willow felt an odd tenseness pass through her as she stepped up the pedestal and stood before the crystals hanging from the wall above. There was a definite darkness to it, though not as prominent as she might've expected. Her red hair shifted off her forehead when she reached out to touch the lowest crystal.

A soft, plush and wet hand grabbed her neck from behind and pulled her backwards roughly. Willow fell down the steps and hit her head on the icy stone floor, her dazed eyes locked on her attacker. At first she could've sworn it was Xander, looking down at her with the coldest, most hurtful gaze she'd ever seen. But the crystal flashed for a split-second and then he was gone, leaving a less surprising enemy in his place. Willow was hit with a great sense of loss, but she pushed it a way, concentrating on combating her adversary.

Backing up, Willow began to circle the pedestal Santa stood on, pulling out the bow from off her back. The quiver remained but she drew out a single arrow from inside it. She placed the arrow alongside the wood of the bow, its pointed edge facing Santa (who stood oddly still) and its slanted back on the flexible string. As she pulled backwards Kringle began to laugh.

"So...the witch returns..."

Willow said nothing, instead choosing to get better aim by braving two steps forward.

"What do you do now, witch? Do you plan to kill me with your pointed stick?"

He obviously didn't think much of her strength. She smiled back at him and let the arrow fly. For her first shot it wasn't bad. It would've pierced his jugular had he not caught it.

Santa grinned and snapped the wood in his hand. "You can't kill me, little devil girl. No one can. A thousand eyes see every arrow coming."

Willow shrugged, keeping her distance while reaching for another arrow. "This from the guy who had my finger in his eye socket not too long ago."

His jovial demeanor faded quickly and a grim, frightening look replaced it. "Yes, that reminds me. It is time to make amends."

Kringle rose his hands in the air and the ice on the floor quickly came up, surrounding them. Before Willow could consider what he was doing Santa's eyes rolled white in the back of his head and he began to speak in another language.

"Ach nah web defrus perfah da nah behr aahs nah hote'" From the one who cast the first stones comes the same>

Suddenly feeling ill, Willow let the arrow slip from her fingers and dropped to her knees.

"Dehr nah dehr, life nah life, esh nah esh" Wound for wound, life for life, eye for eye>

The bullet wounds disappeared from her stomach and Willow at first thought that he was healing her.

"Weh breth nah hote'" We are the same>

White-hot pain soared through her head; Willow screaming as her right eye dissolved and her eyelid closed up over the socket. Blood welled up on her chin and she realized that a piece of flesh covering her jaw had been ripped off. Just as she had done to him. Santa ho-ho-hoed with laughter.

But as Santa chuckled his stomach began to swell, and Willow realized the full extension of the spell. Santa had made the encantation so they would be the same in wounds, but he was carrying a heavier load than she, which he'd now have to lose. Whether he wanted to or not.

His belly continued to grow and push out, and Kringle looked down at her with resentment in his eyes. Then he opened his mouth and a human hand appeared out of it. His mouth stretched wider until two hands came out. And as the body inside moved his jaw seemed to detach itself from the rest of his head. Willow could do nothing but watch in awe and disgust.

Santa suddenly wretched and the rest of the body flew out in a gush of mucus, blood and soggy, brown leaves. It was Buffy, completely nude as when he had eaten her.

And she was shivering. Breathing. Alive.

Willow wasted no time in getting another arrow out of her quiver, though the pain in her head and face did halt her process somewhat. Santa meanwhile neared Buffy, apparently attempting to eat her again. That was until he saw Willow pointing the arrow. He giggled wetly and they stared at each other. Eye to eye.

"Haven't you learned anything, girl?"

Willow fired the arrow, but it didn't hit Kringle. If fired past him, towards the crystals.

*

Diablo was rising. Slowly, ever so slowly. But he was rising. The final soul of Xander Harris had reached him, and it was all he needed to begin to free himself from his magical cage. Soon he would walk the bowels of the earth, sending his minions all over until evil reigned.

But as he rose from the depths his chamber of hell and fire began to shake. He roared, realizing that his home was being destroyed.

*

Dawn couldn't stop. She couldn't believe what she had seen. Xander...his chest had...the thing just burst out...all of the blood on the ice...and Santa turning to grin at her, to chase her. Dawn couldn't stop running, because she didn't want to die like Xander had. She was a coward, she knew she was. But she didn't want to die, she wasn't ready to. Tears streamed down her face as she prayed for protection, as she wished more than anything that she could just wake up in her room and have it all be a bad, bad dream. Dawn was good at doing that, making the evil and the darkness go away.

But it seemed that was only in her dreams...

Something flashed in front of her, causing Dawn to trip and fall as she bumped into a rock spike. Not to far away, a man stepped out from the shadows. Riley. He smiled and started walking towards her.

*

"It is too late, witch. Diablo has already begun to free himself! Nothing can stop him now, NOTHING!"

Santa cackled and disappeared as the entire room shook, stalagmites and spikes crumbling. Unhesitatingly, Willow turned Buffy onto her back and arched her head at and angle so she could examine her friend. She seemed flawless as always, nothing on her body was hurt. Though the thick coating of mucus didn't add much. Willow took a deep breath and prayed that Buffy would forgive her for what she was about to do. She reached a hand into the air and punched Buffy in the face, right on her left cheekbone.

Buffy's eyes shot open and she saw a haggard, tired-looking Willow staring back at her with one eye. She was much paler than usual (which Buffy hadn't thought possible until she'd met Doppel-Will) and a wound on her chin was bleeding heavily. Worst of all her right eye was missing, her eyelid clamped shut as though it was sown on. She tried to give voice to her concerns but all she ended up doing was turning her head and vomiting large amounts of foul-tasting fluids onto the stone floor beside them. She was finally freed from Santa's pit, but she hated to think about what he'd been planning to do with her.

"C'mon," Willow growled, her voice surprisingly rough. "Let's get out of her before this place collapses on us!"

Buffy nodded and got to her feet, helped by Willow. They then began to run with Willow leading the way.

*

Riley, mere inches away from Dawn, suddenly stopped in his tracks. The room began to shake and he fell to his knees, grabbing his head in pain with his scarred hands. Dawn thought that the spider bites were acting up again until Riley's eyes began to glow. Then his entire body shimmered in light for a second and he stooped his head to the floor.

Dawn got to her feet and ran over to him, shaking him lightly. "Riley, are you okay? Get up, we have to go!"

He looked up at warily. "D-Dawn? Where...where am I? I remember throwing the fire extinguisher into the cafe...Oh!" He looked up, surprised. "I remember thinking I was in the North Pole!"

She nodded desperately. "We are, Riley! We are, now can we go?"

A spike sailed down from above and crashed next to them, leaving a large hole in the floor.

Riley stared at the hole, shocked. "Yeah...yeah let's get going."

Dawn tugged on his shirt until he finally stumbled to his feet. Oddly enough, Riley had the distinct feeling that he knew the way out. His freedom from Diablo's power seemed to have come with other benefits as well.

*

Blueball brought down the small elf-made axe and was satisfied with the wet crunch that sang in his pointed ears. Beneath him the Dark Elf's head rolled down the small incline and stopped just short of a window. Outside Blueball could see that the raging snowstorm continued its fury, but to elves like him it was a beauty to both see and experience. He skipped jauntily over to the window and unlatched it, then bent down and picked the head up. It drained blood and other assorted liquids onto the floor which Blueball took the care of not to get on his pointed combat slippers.

He smiled at the head and giggled a little. The giggle echoed down the halls of the stone hallway and he returned his attention to the open window.

"Well Bob," he said to the head, "Do you mind if I call you Bob. How do you like the outdoors? Uh-huh. What about heights?" His voice squeaked. "Really? What's that, Bob? You don't like heights? Well, were you aware that little bitch shit-stinking Dark Elves such as yourself can fly? Yeah, look!"

With this he tossed the head outside of the window and heard a soft crack of it hitting something. From outside the window there then came a high-pitched moan. Blueball's ears perked and his large eyes grew wide with fear. "I-I wasn't serious ab-bout the shit-stinking bit!"

The moan grew louder and two hands suddenly reached into the window. Blueball screamed and looked back at the body, wondering if the undead possessed the power to inhabit other bodies. Then the face of someone familiar peeked over the ledge. If it was possible Blueball's eyes grew even wider.

"Commander Baringold!"

The Commander nodded and looked at him expectantly, his golden hair blowing around as he hung half-in and half-out of the window. "Well don't just stand there, help me get inside!"

Blueball shook his head and ran to the window, grabbing the Commander and pulling him through the window. His blue uniform was covered in dirt and snow and grime. His leg was at an odd angle and the Commander stood slightly hunched. By the look on his face, Blueball knew better than to ask where his superior officer had been.

"I have to find Tara."

Blueball frowned. "Who?"

"Tara, Willow's lover. Get me a troop and some weapons. Someone took her before I could get to her."

Blueball took a deep breath. "Willow, sir. I've heard word of the young human who calls herself such. Gridion and Manchester say they ran into her and that she is destroying Diablo's cage as we speak."

The Commander nodded, smiling hopefully. "So she's stopped the invasion then?"

"No sir. But she said she knows how to. Gridion and Manchester are going from troop to troop telling them to converge in the portal room on the fourth level. That is where the invasion shall take place."

"So then what are you doing up here?"

Blueball narrowed his eyes, thinking. "Ah...Spreading the word, only when I got here it was all but deserted...except, of course, for him." He pointed to the headless body.

The Commander smiled. "Right...Bob."

The young elf blushed furiously.

"Do you have any idea why everyone is deserting to the lower levels?"

Blueball smiled widely. He finally had a good answer for something. "Of course, sir. Teufel mountain is on red alert. A countdown has been started."

The Commander looked startled. "You mean this place is going to be destroyed?"

"Yes sir. In approximately twenty-four minutes if I remember correctly."

He sighed. "Well, let's get going then. If her kidnapper has any brains at all, and judging by his speed I believe he does, Tara should be in the lower levels."

"And what of the portals, sir?"

"...What's your name, Lieutenant?"

"Blueball, sir."

"Continue to gather the ranks, but do it on the lower levels. Once the fifteen-minute mark hits report to the Portals yourself. Do you know where they are located, Blueball?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Remember, Blue; we do this for the freedom. It's all for the freedom."

As they left the corridor, Blueball looked down at the headless body and wondered if he could get around faster and with less trouble if he were undercover...

44. Dust to Dust

Tara looked both ways before crossing along the next deserted path, bodies of elves littering the place. Lamps filled with elf magic swung lazily from the stone ceilings, but they did little to add warmth. Spike walked alongside her, aiming his newly acquired ray guns (one for each hand) at everything that moved. Tara, preferring the bow and arrow (she'd taken a few classes back in high school and had become fairly efficient with them) shivered and watched as her breath escaped her.

She sucked in more of the cold air and held her hands to her ribs. Her sweater was looking pretty ragged by now, but at least she had it. Looking over at Spike she saw the bleached-blonde vampire was inspecting his pinky, or what was left of it. The top half had been torn off by a ray gun. At least that was what he'd told her.

"Hang on a second, pet."

She glanced from him to what had peaked his interest. An elf, smaller than the rest and wearing a glimmering blue bodysuit, was crawling with one hand towards them, half-covered by the darkness. When he got a better look at Spike though, he opened his mouth to scream. Spike put his finger to his lips and shook his head, stooping down.

Tara came up from behind and looked over the creature. Poor thing... She then saw that the rest of his body wasn't covered in the shade. He didn't have the rest of his body. He'd been disemboweled from the mid-drift. Spike seemed to be getting a closer look. Somewhere nearby Tara thought she could hear the revving of an engine, but that faded quickly.

"S-Spike I...I don't th-think that there's anything we can d-do for him."

"I'm aware of that," came a deep, hungry growl. It was soon followed by moans of protest and a sucking noise, like soda being lewdly sipped through a straw.

Tara put her hand to her mouth and turned away. She leaned against a wall (making sure not to be poked by three jutting spikes) and strived to regain control of her bile. Moments later the sucking noise stopped and she heard the rustling of Spike getting back to his feet. Tara remained where she was, her face a pale greenish color.

"Can't stand to look at me, 'sthat it?" His voice didn't sound offended; simply factual.

"No...No, I was just surprised. I d-don't like that. I just can't get uh-used to it."

"...Good."

Tara furrowed her eyebrows and turned to look at Spike. "W-what?"

"C'mon," Spike said, ignoring her question. "We have to find the big pussy Xander before this place goes up. He's the only one who knows the way back."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

Spike spun on his heel and stared at something ahead of them. Apparently Spike could see the speaker, because he gasped and he raised his ray guns. Too late though, as rush of air and a soft thunk later, Spike disappeared in a cloud of dust. His weapons clattered to the ground shortly thereafter.

"Spike!" Tara screamed and ran to where he had stood, hearing the footsteps approaching her. She knew who it was before she even looked up.

"Ancient Oriental wooden dart blower. Homes in on the heart of the nearest vampire. Always carry it with me. You would not believe the amount of time I spent playing 'Go' with Emperor Song Wu Di just to get this thing. Of course I think Americans call it Chinese Checkers...anyway, that was quite a long while ago. What, 422 AD? Song was only the ruler for three years and I pl-"

Tara snatched the ray guns from the floor and spun around, aiming them at Jack.

"-ayed him in his second year so th-hey, hey, hey! Baby, what's with the guns and the pointing?" He looked mortified for a moment, then suddenly calmed down. "Oh...were you close to that vampire? It can happen sometimes, I understand. Listen, once we get out of here I'll get you another one, okay beautiful? All new and fresh from-the-grave too, that one was looking a bit worn out."

"G-get away from me, Jack!" Tara stood, continuing to point the gun at him.

Jack blinked, confused if not angry. "Okay, I'm getting some awfully mixed signals here. First you're hot and easy to please back in the cell, which by the way I really wished you wouldn't of escaped from; it took me quite a while to track you down as you can see...where was I? Oh right, first you're hot back there and now you're cold-"

Jack brightened visibly then and snapped his fingers. "I've got it! You really are cold. Negotiations took a bit longer than I had suspected and your temperature is lowering now...come here, I've got a something that will fix it."

Eyeing him closely, Tara went over to Jack. She figured that it was in her best interest to raise her temperature as quickly as possible, and if Jack could do that...

He reached around in the pocket of his jacket for a moment before pulling out a small syringe and an even smaller bottle. Jack then looked from her face to her hands and back to her face, smiling. "Say honey, would it be all right if you stopped pointing the guns at me now?"

Tara put the guns in the pockets of her hip-hugging blue jeans. Jack nodded and took her left arm gently, pulling up the hem of her sleeve and rubbing a spot on the skin near her wrist. He then took the syringe and stabbed the bottle with it, suctioning out the liquid. He winked at her as he did so. "Relax baby, this thing is sterile, never used it before."

She winced for a moment as he put the heating liquid into her system and put the syringe away. "We should get going, yes? This hole place is gonna go up fairly soon."

"Oh, the b-bomb. Was that your work?"

He looked as though he was on the verge of saying something but decided not to. "Something like that." He grinned suddenly. "Come on, I wanna show you the jet now. I put it in Loading Dock C so the elves could juice her up. Wait until you see her, you'll absolutely cream. You've never seen any-"

Tara shook her head vehemently. "No-no, I h-h-have to f-find Xander! S-Spike said he w-was here."

Jack frowned. "Who, the vampire? Listen, he was undead Tara. I wouldn't put it pas-"

Tara rushed to get past him but he grabbed her. "Hey, hey! Jeez, you're really shaken over this Xander guy, huh? Well relax. I've got people. We'll find him in no time and put him on the plane, okay?"

Tara stood back. "Y-you can do that?"

Jack spread his hands in the air. "Tara, honey. It's me you're talking to. Jack Frost, remember? There's nothing I can't do. Just like the button says, 'I'm your number one guy'!" He searched her sweater. "Hey, where is the bu-"

Tara played along, stepping closer to him. She wasn't certain how to make herself prominent around a normal guy, but Jack wasn't a normal guy. He forgot about the button and smiled. She smiled back; letting him put an arm around her. When an ego was as big as his it wasn't that hard to put something past him. She tried to look coy.

"S-so about calling y-your people?"

"For you, anything."

Jack took out an odd-looking orange crystal out from his pocket. "What does he look like?"

"Umm..."

Jack hit his head. "Oh, what am I thinking. They'll know him by name, they know everybody."

He took her through a darkened area to a parked motorcycle. "Go ahead, Frost doesn't bite." He snickered to himself but stopped when Tara didn't join in. "All right. Let's go. Hold on tight sugar, this thing flies."

Tara rolled her eyes and stepped over the bike, situating herself behind him. She'd ridden a motorcycle once before with Willow, who was much better than she at handling the motorbikes. Tara shook her head, trying not to get too emotional at the thought of Willow. The last thing she needed was Jack breathing down her neck, wondering what was wrong. She'd get back to Willow. She knew she would. She just wished that Spike could've been with her when she did.

Tara had never been very close to Spike, and Willow had told her of many of the awful things he'd done. But he'd never treated her badly and he'd saved her life not long ago at all. She might cry at some time in the future. The trauma of seeing him die there in front of her would eventually catch up with her, but right now Tara needed to keep her head clear. She needed to let events come until she was presented with an opportunity and then be alert enough to act on it. And that meant not breaking down. Not if she wanted Willow back. And that was what she wanted more then anything else.

Jack concentrated on weaving a path through the spikes sticking out of the floor and walls and Tara was deep in thought. Neither of them noticed the small group of blue soldiers in one corner of the wall...but the elves noticed them.

45. Portals (The Return)

Willow and Buffy stumbled down the cold mountain halls in shock. They'd barely made it out before the stone cavern had collapsed in on itself. The entire ceiling had just come crashing down seconds after they'd jumped. And while Buffy had suffered no ill fortune Willow had a long if minor cut along her back from a stalagmite that had basically destroyed her red denim jacket and her shirt to get to her skin.

Now they continued walking around the spikes and the dead bodies of the elves which seemed to populate this area more than most of the others. Buffy had a ray gun in her hand while Willow kept the bow, feeling a bit of good luck towards the weapon. Buffy stumbled on a dead body and looked down at it. Then she screamed.

"Oh my god, I'm naked!" Buffy squealed, suddenly bending over. She squinched her legs together and covered her crotch with one hand while putting her other arm over her breasts. "Willow, why didn't you tell me I was naked?"

Willow stopped, not sure of what to say. "I-I thought you already knew!"

"Well, don't just stand there, do something!"

They both looked around and a short time later Willow spotted a dead elf that was a bit taller than the rest. She signaled Buffy (who hopped her way over) as she bent down. The clothing the elf wore would do the job.

*

"I feel like a go-go dancer," the blonde grumbled as she stepped over more bodies, only a little more confident. Her breasts bulged tightly in the Dark Elf's top suit and it ended just above her mid-drift. The pants that had so snugly fit the elf now made Buffy appear as though she was wearing short-short shorts. Goosebumps stood out all over her body and Willow's torn, bloody and scorched jacket did little to warm her as it hung over her shoulders. It was the thought that counted, though.

"I'm pretty sure we're supposed to go this way," Willow said, observing the hallway with her sharp green eye. They turned left as Willow instructed and were faced with yet another long white and gray hall that was littered with the dead.

"How can you tell? They all look the same."

"I'm going by what Gridion told me. I just hope his information was right."

Buffy decided not to ask who Gridion was. She was still very dazed from being inside of Santa and nothing Willow was telling her pieced together. "So, what are we going to do when we get to the portals?"

Willow shrugged. "That's where you're supposed to come in with the slaying and fighting. If we can get there before the Santas do-"

"The ones that Jack Frost created," Buffy stated, repeating what Willow had told her.

"Right."

"The guy who nips at your nose."

"I don't know about any nipping. I'd imagine him being more of a guy who won't nip your nose cause someone else has touched it."

"And the Santas are duplicates of the really fat guy who ate me and took out your eye. The real Santa Claus."

Willow nodded.

"Oh man. I need to wake up."

"You don't know the half of-"

A flash of red was all Willow saw before she was thrown backwards. A hole had formed in the wall next to them and three Santas now leered out wildly. Buffy raised the ray gun and was surprised by the power of the blast as energy in the air surrounding her crackled to life, and the first Santa's belly opened up in a long gut wound. It spilled red and yellow liquids onto the floor and stumbled through the hole along with the other two.

Willow backed up and took out an arrow, placing it in the crook of her bow. Her first shot thudded home into the shoulder of the already-wounded Santa, who wavered a bit before standing upright and continuing to walk forward. Her next two shots missed completely.

Buffy was making a bit more progress; quickly becoming used to the amount of energy the ray gun used and how to control it. She fired point-blank into the second Santas face and stepped to the side as his features disappeared in a vibrant flash of bloody gore. To make sure he stayed down Buffy fired the gun along his waist, trying to ignore the stench of burning synthetic skin. Seconds later when the Santa tried to move his top half slid off his bottom half and he fell to the floor, writhing around soundlessly.

Willow, still struggling with the bow, fell down to the ground as the wounded Santa nudged her roughly. She hurriedly placed another arrow on the bow and aimed it into the face of the Santa above her. Undaunted, the fat clone drew closer and Willow let the string go. The arrow slipped from her fingers and shot into the forehead of the Santa. Blood and brain matter splattered down onto her as he stared at her for a moment, then fell forward. Willow rolled out of the way just in time and got back to her feet. But upon turning around and wiping the blood off of her features, she came face to face with final, unharmed Santa. She could hear Buffy behind her, firing the ray gun into the top half of the Santa she'd cut in two.

The last Santa grinned, as if knowing of her predicament.

"Willow, duck!" A familiar voice called out to her from somewhere beyond her line of sight. She did so, dropping down on the floor and closing her eyes. She heard a hiss of air and a wet thunk, which was quickly followed by a heavy form directly in front of her crumpling to the ground. When she felt everything was safe, she opened her eyes.

"Bar!" She smiled and once again rose up to stand on her feet, examining the longhaired elf as he limped towards her. A small band of elven warriors followed closely behind him.

As he reached her Baringold's smile turned more into an expression of horror. "Kri'sh Chistak', Willow! What happened to your face?"

"Kringle."

Buffy looked up from the sliced up body of the Santa, which now more resembled a side of sliced beef than anything else. She frowned at the elves and walked over to stand next to Willow. The elves had a hard time keeping their eyes off of her.

"You know these guys?" Buffy asked Willow, moving herself so that she was partially covered by her friend.

Willow nodded. "Yeah, Buffy this is Baringold; Baringold," she pointed at Buffy, "Buffy."

Baringold eyed her. "...We've heard of you. The vampire slayer. I always thought there would be more to you than met the eye." He gave her a once over. "Guess there was just more of you."

Buffy blushed and gave a dirty look to Baringold, who turned his attention back to Willow. "The Santas are making their way towards the portal room, as you can see. If we hurry maybe we can figure out some way to stop the-"

Willow uncharacteristically silenced him with a wave of her hand. "Where's Tara?"

Baringold coughed uncomfortably and looked back at his men. None of them met Willow's eye. "Yes, I don't have her in my possession in the true sense of the word, but there is some good news."

"As long as you know she's okay and Frost hasn't got her."

Baringold looked up at her, even more nervous now.

Willow didn't need to see any more. She brushed past him with an angered sigh. "I don't believe this. I trusted you to get her back for me, just one thing you had to do and you let Frost get her first."

Baringold stared at her retreating form and looked to Buffy for support. She followed Willow. He stumbled to catch up, his bad leg making progression difficult. "Willow, look at me! I followed her through a damn ventilation shaft and got shot out off the mountain; I woke up hanging from a cliffside with a broken leg, I had to climb up to a window and pull myself through. Do I look like I just let anything happen to her?"

Willow continued walking. He grabbed her arm and turned her around. "Look at me!"

She stared back at him for a second, then ran her fingers through her hair. "I've seen you. You don't look so good. But you'll heal. I'm down fifty percent sight. That's not going to go away."

Baringold nodded. "You're right, I'm not trying to compare scars, I'm simply saying that I did everything I could to get her for you and I still am. Just relax; as soon as Jack lays his guard down a group of my soldiers will be all over him. And besides, Tara appears to have endeared herself to him. My guess is, he'll keep her safe."

A long paused past before Willow spoke again. "Okay...what do we do now?"

*

"Twenty minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Twenty minutes."

"Dawn, just keep going! Run!" Riley yelled, firing behind them at the oncoming barrage of red and black. He knew that there was no way he could keep the melee at bay for long, but if he could simply get Dawn to the portal back home before the entire place blew up around them, there was a chance that he could regroup with the others back in Sunnydale and find some way of stopping what was going down.

He left his spot of safety by two fallen elves and dodged through the lead blasts from the oncoming Dark Elves, running over to where Dawn was hunkered down. She was trying to pull up on what looked to be a very heavy shutter. Seeing as how it was their only way out, Riley bent down next to her and gently moved her hand. Replacing it with his own, he pulled up on the gray metal shutter and Dawn covered her ears to block out the grating sound.

Urged on by the approaching footsteps, Riley and Dawn raced into the large, noisy room without observing it. After a few unsuccessful grasps Riley finally pulled the shutter back down behind them and hoped that it would give them some time before the elves found a Santa that could open it. He was distracted by a tug on his turtleneck sweater.

He turned to see Dawn, then glanced at whatever she was looking at. His mouth parted in a silent gasp as to what lay before them. The room was impossibly tall and Riley could just barely make out the other end. Its expansiveness was filled many with about seven floors worth of portals. The seven levels holding the portals were based around the walls, leaving most of the room to a large computer center in the middle. Here and there were security stations and scientific booths where Dark Elves tracked and monitored the portals. Riley and Dawn could see that all the way up on the ceiling, betwixt a mass of cables and wires, there was situated one extremely massive, octagonal portal. It took up about fifty percent of the ceiling, and its energy filled the room, electricity crackling.

"C'mon, let's hide before we're spotted," Riley whispered, taking Dawn by the shoulder.

*

"What the hell is that thing?" Willow asked. She, Buffy, Baringold and Woufer (his second in command) hid at one of the entrances, while a growing number of the elf leader's soldiers continued to build up behind them. More and more elves were getting the message to converge at the portal room, and those that were not already at one of the many entrances to the massive room were on their way. Except, of course, for those tracking Tara and Jack.

Baringold shook his head, shrugging. "It looks to be like all the others; it's a matter redirectory device, only bigger...a lot bigger."

One of them elves arrived and whispered in Woufer's pointed ear. He nodded and leaned over to whisper something to Baringold before leaving with the soldier.

Ignoring this, Buffy smirked. "So, what's the big? We enter, destroy, move out."

Willow gave an exasperated look to her friend. "Buffy, there's no way we can possibly get to every portal individually in twenty-, no eighteen minutes. We have to have at least some semblance of a strategy."

The Slayer returned the look. "What are you going to do, Will? No matter what plan you've got, unless it includes destroying everything in that room, there will still be a big chance that these Santa clones will get through one of the portals, and I don't care where it leads, it isn't going to be good."

Willow sighed and turned her head back to portals. Buffy was right, as dangerous as it was to admit it. Her eyes drifted upwards until the locked onto the super portal (as she had come to call it in her mind). What could be so big that they'd have to build that? Suddenly, something snapped. Maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't have to risk their lives in such a drastic way.

"Okay," she said. "I've got a plan. Baringold, send your army in. While everyone's distracted we'll make our way to the computer center there-"

"Willow," Buffy interrupted, "that mainframe isn't going to be in English. It isn't even going to be human. How are you going to hack into some code you can't even understand the language of?"

The redhead smiled innocently. "Who said anything about me turning everything off myself?" She pointed to the short elven scientists hunkered over the monitors. "They've got people there who can do it for me."

Buffy nodded in realization and began to prepare herself for battle by checking her weapons and limited, meager defenses. Willow glanced at Baringold, who was staring into the room quietly.

"What do you think?"

He nodded. "Okay, I'll do it. But if it begins to look like suicide I'm sending my men out."

"What about you?"

He swelled his chest up and looked at her bravely. "...I'll fight for the freedom of my people from the oppression of Diablo and his minions as long as there is a chance. And this is the last chance we've got."

A nice, heroic line, though Willow thought it would have made a deeper impression if Baringold didn't have that high elf voice and cute elf features. Of course, she didn't tell him that. She simply signaled that it was time.

Woufer returned at this moment with three elves behind him. "Commander," he addressed Baringold, "We have something that we believe will come of use to the humans. A few men came upon it in the weapon docks."

The three elves stood forward and Willow noticed Buffy's eyes light up as they presented it to them.

"Oh," Buffy whispered to her, "this might not be so bad after all."

*

At the northwest entrance of the portal room, the security elf on guard leaned back in his small patrol station, fiddling with a ray gun the guard before him had acquired on duty. He knew what was going on outside, they all did. The mountain was on countdown. At least, that was what the scientists set up.

He chuckled, thinking about how stupid the Liberation Elves were. They actually believed that the elves would destroy their own mountain. Some of his fellow guards were a bit anxious themselves, but Price (the chief scientist) had assured every elf in the portal room that it was all a hoax, and that they were under strict orders from the Dark Lord himself to continue working. He hadn't believed for a second-

A quick shuffling of feet broke his concentration and he rose up, pointing the ray gun wildly in the air. But nothing was there. He looked over the monitors and saw only peace and quiet. Taking out his elven pistol from his holster, he now had a gun in each hand. He knew he had heard something, and it wouldn't hurt to stretch his legs a bit walking. He opened the door to the small booth.

It slammed back in his face, his nose cracking and warm, wet liquid gushing out. The guard fell back onto his butt and raised the gun, but not before the elf in front of him raised his. What he didn't understand was the fact that this elf was dressed as one of his own, a Dark Elf.

"Hey, hey you! What the hell do you think you're doing?" He muffled in outrage, his hand over his nose.

The other elf didn't answer, instead keeping the gun trained on him and examining the room. Finding what he was looking for, the elf reached over to the main control panel for the northwest side. The guard reached out, grabbing his hand.

"Are you crazy, destwa' gina? That'll open up the entire northwest entrance!"

The other elf smiled down at him. "I know."

Before the guard could respond Blueball pulled the trigger, killing him instantly. His hand left Blueball's and he pushed the button on the panel. His undercover plan was going wonderfully, he didn't know why Baringold had told him not to try it. Sometimes, he thought, you just have to go against what leaders tell you.

As his fellow brethren stormed in, Blueball sneaked out and headed south, towards the west entrance booth. The longer he could keep this charade up, the better.

*

Gridion and Manchester entered the swarm of soldiers attacking from the northwest side, firing at anything and everything that moved and wasn't one of their own. But because of the spike wound to Manchester's side they moved slower than the others and were quickly left behind. Gridion would not leave his friend and elven brother's side, instead choosing to cover him as they made their way across the massive floor. But it wasn't all bad. If they could get in and out of the place before the Santas arrived, they might be able to get to the outside world before the entire mountain destroyed itself.

Manchester grimaced and held the bandaged wound as he continued to sharp shoot scientists and guards with his ray gun. He didn't know if his side would heal and his energy was draining out of him, but he would keep up with Gridion and the rest as long as he still had control of his legs.

A deep roar filled the room, and both elves looked up to see something large, red and ugly at the top of the room, climbing in and out of the wires around the portal.

"Santa," Gridion whispered menacingly. "What's that monstrosity doing now?"

Manchester put his hand on Gridion's shoulder. "He's not a concern of ours. Let's secure the area and let the commander and the human worry about him."

The other elf nodded and they resumed their walk across the room, dodging fire from the guards and covering each other's backs.

*

Willow, Baringold and Woufer walked side by side through the warzone, picking off any enemies who got to close. Every few seconds a large ball of blue fire would roar past them or they would hear it blowing away crowds of security guards somewhere nearby. Buffy seemed to be really enjoying the Large-Size Ray Blaster she had strapped to her shoulder. She walked a few yards behind them, stepping over bodies in elf slippers that didn't fit and ignoring the cold winds that ran up her thinly clothed body.

"Willow, there he is!" Baringold said, pointing up at the ceiling far above. Santa was still there; apparently working on the large portal as he hung suspended from the wires.

Willow nodded and looked back at Buffy, who was firing her massive gun at a group of retreating scientists who were shooting their way out of the room. "Hey Buffy, up by the portal!"

Woufer gave her a shocked look and ran back to Buffy, grabbing her before she fired. "Are you crazy?" He shouted. "Follow the wires. There connected everywhere. If you blow him up, everything goes!"

Willow's eyes trailed along the wires. They started at the main computer center in the middle of the room, then headed upwards and hooked individually into the portals above. Finally they all appeared to lead upwards at the large portal.

An elf ran up to them then, out of breath and sweating profusely. He saluted Baringold before speaking. "Sir, we've found the portal back to Sunnydale."

Baringold nodded and winked at Willow. "Good work Belfrey. Where is it?"

The elf shook his head. "That's just it sir. It's gone. The Santas destroyed it."

Bar's eyes went wide. "What? They- well where are they no-"

An explosion ripped through the room, accompanied by the screams of both Liberation and Dark elves. At the south the Santas began to flood inside through a hole they'd made in the wall.

"Get to the mainframe!" Willow shouted as they split up. "It's our only chance!"

*

Mass hysteria soon followed. Explosions rocked the massive room and booths collapsed under heavy firepower. The Santas destroyed everything in their path, heading constantly towards the portals. Not long after word got out the Baringold had sent the order to abandon the operation, and many of the elven warriors on both sides were now struggling to get out and escape the killing spree.

"Fifteen minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Fifteen minutes."

Throughout this chaos, Kristopher Kringle continued to work diligently at the portal, hanging from the ceiling that was almost the length of a football field away from the ground.

*

"Price!"

The head scientist turned from the computer, acknowledging the voice behind him. It was a guard, his gun pointed at two humans. One tall and male, the other shorter and female.

"Yes?" He asked, curious as to why this was brought to his attention.

"I found these two intruders trying to cut the lines to the portals with a ray gun."

Price waited for more, but nothing came. "So what?"

The guard looked dumbfounded. "What do you want me to do with them?"

"Kill them!"

"But they're human."

Price stumbled on his words for a moment before pulling a small gun out of his lab-coat pocket and shooting the guard. He never thought he'd see the day when a guard considered a human above him. He looked down at the two humans, ignoring the screams and rumblings around them. The other scientists continued to work. He raised the gun to kill the male when an arrow pierced his hand. He screamed in pain and let the gun drop, looking around and trying to find the sniper. Another arrow whistled through the air and killed the scientist next to him. Then the scientist next to that.

This did cause the others to look up from their work. By the time the third elf died the others moved to leave.

"No one goes anywhere!" Price roared. "Diablo's life and freedom is what we work for, not our own!"

But after the next scientist keeled over, an arrow through his skull, the remaining six scrambled around each other to get away from the center. Once they were gone Price looked around angrily. "All right, come out of there! You haven't killed me yet, it's obvious you want me for something."

A whoosh of air sounded and a redheaded girl dropped to the ground next to him. He looked up and saw that she'd been using the wires to get around. She seemed extremely pleased with herself.

"Willow!" Dawn and Riley called out simultaneously.

"Well," Price grumbled in an amazingly low voice for an elf, "do you expect me to talk, sharp-shooter?"

She shook her head, aiming the bow and arrow at him. "No Mr. Price, I expect you to die... Either that or turn off the portals, your choice."

Price smiled grimly, his waxy elven face reflecting the red of the fire around them and the blue of the portals. He reached down with his one good hand and took hold of the small pistol. Willow saw this and gave him a disbelieving look. She wondered if he actually had the gall to try anything with an arrow aimed straight at his temple.

But he turned then and stooped over the computer. Willow watched as he typed out an unreadable command and entered it into the mainframe. Above them, the super portal came to life, spinning and spitting out sparks of electricity. Santa was nowhere to be seen.

Willow turned angrily back to Price. "What the hell did you just do?"

His smile had turned from grim to condescending. "How do you humans say it? Long live the king?"

He raised the gun and before Willow could stop him Price stuck the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger, the back of his head spraying onto Dawn and Riley.

"Dammit!" Willow yelled, looking at the monitors for some clue as to what she could do now.

Dawn and Riley got up and joined her, Dawn hugging her tightly.

"Jesus Willow," Riley exclaimed, putting a hand on her shoulder. "What happened to you eye?"

*

Buffy walked towards the center of the room, none of the elves or Santas daring to come near her with the stolen weapon she wielded. Unfortunately, the Santas were quickly becoming like their original. They were now able to dodge the blue balls of fire she shot at them, and the bullet wounds to anything but their faces weren't slowing them down in the slightest. They were showing many signs of comprehension and she could've sworn she saw one of them speaking to another at one point. If this continued for much longer, there wouldn't be any difference between the clones and Santa himself.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

She turned to find Woufer next to her, shooting at a few of the remaining elves. Most of them were gone now, the place mainly belonging to the Santas.

"Yeah..." She fired off another round, but the Santa she fired it at simply moved out of the way. Buffy looked back at the small being next to her. "Where's your commander?"

Woufer searched the room for a moment before pointing to the circle of computers. "He's made it to the mainframe. Look."

Buffy glanced over and nearly cried out. Baringold was there with Willow, and next to them were Dawn and Riley. She broke into a run and despite the added weight of the large gun, it was difficult for Woufer to keep up with her.

She vaulted into the circle, up the steps and into Riley's arms before he even got a good look at her. Dawn saw her and joined in the embrace, pressing the metal of the gun even further into Riley's gut. He let out a rush of air as she kissed him.

"Interesting choice of clothing," Riley said when he'd regained some breath.

Willow smiled at the sight meeting her one eye, but waited somewhat impatiently or them to break apart.

"Buffy," she said once she had the slayer's full attention, "We've discovered what they're going to do with the large portal. It's the final stage of Diablo's release."

Buffy's eyes went wide. "So he's gonna..." She looked up. "Oh shit."

Willow nodded. "Right. It's his entrance to the world. Unless we can destroy it, then he'll be stuck inside of Teufel as it blows up."

The blonde ran her fingers through Dawn's hair affectionately. "Yeah, but the only way we can do that is if we're in here too."

"No," Riley said. "There's the portal back home."

"Destroyed," Buffy replied, her eyes never leaving Dawn.

Riley looked completely defeated, and sat down dejectedly in one of the small elven chairs. "Well, that's it then. We don't stand a chance."

Willow turned back to the computer monitor. "Not necessarily."

"C'mon Willow," Riley stated, "How else are we going to get home?"

The hacker grinned as a map appeared on the screen in front of her. She then pointed up at the portal above them.

"Look," Woufer broke in nervously, "Whatever you guys are going to do you'd better do it fast."

The group observed what was making him so tense. The Santas were climbing the levels and were lining up at the portals. It wouldn't take much longer for one of them to step through.

"It's okay," Willow assured them. "The large portal should destroy everything on it's way down."

"I thought we were going to use it to get home."

Willow smiled deviously at Riley. "You are. Instead of crushing it, this entire center here should be saved when it slips through the portal and," Willow paused for a moment as she carefully navigated the foreign keyboard, "Back into the restaurant in Sunnydale. I've just set the large portal's navigation system."

Buffy glanced at her, surprised. "You learned how-"

Willow shook her head. "Baringold told me what the keys meant. I caught the gist of what was on the computers."

"But I thought that every portal already had a set address."

The redhead pointed at the wires. "It's them. The large portal is connected to every portal."

"Wait, what did you mean when you said, 'you are' going back? We're all going, Will."

Before she could respond Woufer fired his ray gun at one of the higher levels. "Listen guys, we gotta do this now! They're almost through."

Baringold stepped towards his second in command. "Woufer, leave. Go with the others and leave Teufel."

The other elf hesitated. "Sir, I wish to be useful-"

"Then go to the loading docks and find the troop tracking Tara. Help them."

Riley looked at Willow. "Wait, Tara? She's here?"

Woufer saluted his commander and ran off through the rubble and remaining booths.

"We don't have time for this," Willow said. "You're going. Now."

Buffy stepped closer to Willow, fire in her eyes. "And you're coming with us. If Jack will protect Tara, it isn't worth dying ov-"

Whack!

She fell back into Riley's arms, unconscious from the hit. Willow shook her fist. "Damn that hurt."

Riley and Dawn stared at her in awe. She shrugged. "She's still weak from being...uh, where she was when I found her." She'd nearly forgotten that she'd neglected to tell them how Buffy had been captured in the first place. No sense telling them now.

She bent down and took the ray blaster off of Buffy, standing it upright and motioning for Dawn to hold it. Willow then took her jacket as gently as possible from Buffy's limp shoulders and stood up on the circular desk the computer monitors sat on. Grabbing one of the cables with the jacket in her hands, Willow looked back at Riley and Dawn. He held Buffy in his arms while Dawn continued keeping the ray blaster up.

"Oh, Riley. Here. Thought you might want this." Willow reached into the jacket and brought out Riley's lighter, tossing it to him. She then looked to the elf leader as Riley pocketed the Zippo.

"Bar, grab onto me."

"Willow, do we have to go on a cable? Can't we just run?"

"There's no time, the Santas are going through the portals now. GRAB ON!" The elf did so, climbing onto the desk and latching onto her waist.

Riley stared at her nervously. "If this doesn't work, I'm sending Buffy after you."

Willow winked at him, which looked odd without the other eye being in place. "It'll work." She nodded to Dawn, who pressed the trigger.

*

The blue fireball soared upwards through the air, cables incinerating and sparks flying. The portal shook as the ball of light shook its foundations, and slowly tore itself free from the ceiling. With a tremendous groan it began to fall from the top. Fire erupted as it crashed into every portal on the way down, crushing the prone Santas as they began to enter the gateways.

The screaming of metal tearing against metal sang in Dawn's ears as she watched the fire and destruction coming down at them with the speed of a hurricane. Oddly, she wasn't thinking about dying. She was thinking about what Diablo had said to her in the Crystal cavern. He had called her the key. So had the large fairy/elf creature. She was becoming aware that she wasn't who she thought she was, and that she might not even be human. Well, there's only one way to find out.

Next to her, Riley cradled Buffy in his arms, praying for the best. He simply wanted to wake up in the morning with Buffy still in his arms, looking at him while she was still half-asleep and having the chance to make love and stay in bed without having to get up and fight demons for a very long time. Nothing could be heard above the chaos, and he wondered if he'd gone through everything he had only to wind up being crushed to death because Willow pressed the wrong button and the portal led nowhere. Well, there's only one way to find out.

The air blasted Willow in the face as she and Baringold slid along the cable, listening to the horror that was about to rain down on the entire room. They were about twenty feet from the southeast entrance when Willow began wondering if the cord was going to snap. Looking up, she saw something that might or might not have been worse. What was left of her jacket was on fire, and her hand was about to become so as well.

She let go of the cord and they fell to the ground, Baringold giving her a surprised if somewhat anxious look. They got to their feet and ran, listening as the roar grew around them and the heat closed in. Just by the entrance, Baringold's bad leg got the worst of him and he fell. Willow caught him and used every ounce of strength to pick him up. Then she leapt through the doorway and out of the line of fire.

Back in the portal room, Riley held onto Dawn and Buffy, staring up into the face of death. It came crashing down on top of them, and everything turned black and blue.

46. The Casanova and the Lesbian

As the mountain rumbled in a massive explosion not far off, Jack lightly pulled the brakes on the handles as he and Tara entered Loading Dock C. A mass of Dark Elves were scattered around the platform, hurriedly packing crates and other sundry items into a variety of vehicles ranging from elven snowmobiles to Jack's own aircraft. He and Tara slowly rumbled along the stone and up the wooden ramp, Jack's motorcycle humming underneath. None of the elves bothered to stop and observe the humans, instead continuing in their frenzied pace to get out of Teufel. Jack saw something he disliked by the plane and harumphed. As they drew closer Tara's eyes locked onto the jet.

It was the largest of any vehicle in the mountain, easily taking up one fifth of the dock's space. It looked to be in prime condition, a fluorescent shine coming off its bulletproof, stainless steel metal. In many respects it was the same as any other small private aircraft; it held the standard wingspan, fuel gauge and of course, the jet properties themselves, one along each wing. But it also held one thing that most jets did not. A retractable ramp covered the back storage area, which was just large enough to hold a few barrels of fuel, a full-fledged, double-decked and currently loaded rocket launcher; and Frost herself. There were even locks just above the rams to keep the motorcycle in its place when Jack loaded Frost into the plane.

At the moment they sputtered to a stop not twenty feet from the mammoth exit in the cave built especially for Jack's aircraft. Tara dipped her head a little further down as Jack rose off of the bike, but she still could not see the end of the dark tunnel. Many smaller evacuation tunnels surrounded the area, and Tara noted that this must've been where the Dark Elves were hoping to use for their escape. She turned her attention to her captor/smitten wannabe boyfriend. He stood next to a short, cigarette smoking elf and the two of them were in a heated discussion.

"Look," Jack was saying, trying his best to be polite, "Just move the plane forward a little."

The elf shook his head. "No can do Frost, we're running on a hot schedule. This place is on countdown and we're getting the hell out."

Jack went red with indignation. "Listen, if you don't move it forward the second the pilot starts it up the flames from the jets are going to hit the explosives which you and your crew have so ingeniously decided to stick directly behind it!"

The worker shrugged, cigarette smoke curling out in wisps from his small lips. "Sorry Frost, but you ain't my number one guy."

A few of the elves in the general vicinity snickered at this, while others outright laughed.

"It's every man and elf to himself," the worker continued, "That's just the way it is."

Jack pointed his finger in the elf's face. "Either you move those explosives or you move my jet. If you do neither, than setting off the bombs is going to do just as much damage to you as it will to me. These explosives are going to set off a chain reaction with all of the others throughout Teufel, and it isn't going to be pretty when they do. One way or another they're going to go off tonight, but unless you want to be in the line of fire when they do, I suggest you move something."

The elf stood there for a moment longer before walking past Jack and signaling to a few workers to help him out. Jack turned and walked back to Tara smiling warmly at her. "Sorry you had to see that, baby. Just business."

Tara shrugged, getting off the bike. "Where's Xander?"

"Uh, yes. He should be here any moment. We'll wait if that's what you want."

Tara nodded and looked around the room. She had a fairly good vantage-point of the entire loading area from here. Hoping that Jack's people hurried in finding Xander, she decided to stay by the motorcycle until they arrived.

*

A few minutes passed before Tara smelled something foul in the chilly breeze. The effects of the shot Jack gave her seemed to be milder than the portal's itself, and as a result she still shivered from the cold of the room. Sniffing again, the witch guessed that it must have been coming from the north, near the opening of the large tunnel. Jack had gone to check with the elven pilot about the progress made on the bombs and fuel loading.

Dark Elves moved in and out of her line of sight, smoking cigarettes and mumbling inaudibly as they loaded crates full of materials onto and into their escape vehicles. By now they were all so concerned with leaving that no one was paying any attention to her. Slipping off the crate she'd been sitting on, Tara watched the opening of the large tunnel for any sign of movement.

Another draft wafted over her and she gagged from the smell of burnt rubber and flesh. Pulling out her ray gun, Tara wondered for a moment if she should tell Jack before inspecting the foul stench. What's wrong with me, she asked herself, I don't need Jack to protect me. She walked towards the mouth of the tunnel, putting a hand over her nose to lessen the effect the odor had on her. Tara dipped under the nose of Jack's jet and peered into the darkness of the cave.

A hand grabbed her wrist from under the plane. Tara gasped and raised the gun, turning around. A Dark Elf looked back at her, a finger over his lips.

"You don't want to go in there," he whispered. "Follow me."

"What? W-why?"

The elf grinned at her. "My name is Blueball, I'm guessing you're Tara. I'm here to help you get out of here, back to Willow."

Tara's eyes widened and she lowered the gun. "Willow? Where i-is she?"

"I heard her speaking to the Commander before the portals were destroyed. They should be looking for you now. There was an entire team watching you, but I can't seem to find them."

Tara nodded. She opened her mouth to speak when a shout of outrage came from her left. The looked over to see Jack, staring at them (or rather, Blueball) with a look of shock on his face.

"Get your hands off of her, you little bastard!" Jack called out, trotting quickly over to them. "Just who the hell do you think you are?"

"It's okay, Jack, he-"

Frost held up a finger to her but continued to look at Blueball. "Can't you keep your dirty claws to yourself and," Jack sniffed the air, "and what is that horrid smell coming from?"

"Ten minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Ten minutes."

Directly after the electronic voice, a roar and a scream sounded from the opening of the large tunnel, startling all three of them. This was followed by more screaming and the sounds of laser blasts, which temporarily illuminated the tunnel. At least long enough for Tara, Jack and Blueball to see a group of blue elves fighting something black and red. Tara thought it could've been Santa had it not been so horribly deformed.

Both Jack and the elf grabbed one of her arms and tugged in each direction, trying to lead her away from the ensuing chaos.

"Let go of her, you mongrel!" Jack shouted, pulling harder on Tara's arm. She tried to shake free but his grip was too tight.

A stray blast from the battle up ahead glanced off of the nose of the plane and startled Blueball. His hold on Tara slipped and Jack yanked her away, around to the side of the jet. She noticed saw out of the corner of her eye that the explosives had been moved further back, out of the way of the jets. When they reached the side they came upon a ladder which led up to the door of the jet.

Jack let go of her and gave Tara a light push on her shoulders. "Go on," he said. "We don't have much time left."

Tara shook her head. "Jack, I'm not going anywhere with you. Where is Xander?"

Jack breathed out an exasperated sigh. "I'm sure he found some other way back. Now get on baby, hurry!"

Tara pushed him away from her and moved past him to leave. "Stop calling me that. I'm going to find Xander and Willow."

"Oh no, you're not."

She felt an arm wrap around her waist and she was lifted by Jack, who began climbing backwards up the steps of the ladder. To their right the sounds of battle were growing closer. Several feet were running in their direction.

"Let me go!" Tara shouted, struggling to get free. But Jack had an amazingly tight grip and wasn't about to release her again. She gave a frustrated squeal and began kicking wildly until she connected with one of his ankles. They teetered on the ladder for a moment before tipping it over and falling to the icy stone and wood below. In the fall Jack had removed his hands from her waist to protect himself.

Regaining her breath in short gasps; Tara got to her feet as a beam of light whizzed by her ear, singeing her hair.

"Tara, don't do this!" Jack said, rising up. Tara kicked him in his side and started to run, but suddenly thought better of it. Aiming her ray gun at him, Tara waited for Jack to see his predicament. When he did he simply stared at her, confused.

"Where's Xander, Jack?"

Frost held up his hands. Another ray of light swished between them, and the screams grew more frequent. "Really, he's on his-"

"Don't l-lie to me!"

"Listen baby, you don't need Xander or Willow, I'm all you'll ever need. I had to-"

An explosion nearby sent both of them flying off their feet, and the floor underneath of them began to shake. Jack got up first this time and stumbled over to help Tara, also taking the gun that had fallen from her grasp.

"Had to wh-what, Jack? You h-had to what?" Tara yelled at him over the incessant roar.

"Don't worry about it, just get on the jet!" He shouted back. She was about to protest when she noticed that her gun was being pointed at her. Jack smiled charmingly. "That isn't a request."

*

Woufer cried out in pain and frustration. Whatever it was they were fighting wouldn't die, no matter how many times they shot it, no matter what they shot it with. It simply continued coming after them, exiting the dark tunnel and taking out his men one by one. And now the Dark Elves had taken notice and they had to exchange blows with them as well. The large red and burnt black creature smelled of death and burnt flesh, and it would roar each time one of its swipes connected with the flesh of an elf, tearing meat from bone.

He fired again at its skull, looking desperately around for any means of escape. Shooting two Dark Elves blocking his path, Woufer jumped onto a crate and quickly glanced around for Tara. He'd seen her only a moment before...

*

Jack searched the plane for any rope or material he could use as a restraint on Tara. She'd been acting outrageously, stuttering wildly and calling him names he'd never thought any would dare refer to him as. She was silent now though, simply watching him as he kept the gun trained on her. But it was okay, Jack knew there would be rocks in the relationship. Things to get around and move past. It probably wasn't easy getting used to the fact that Jack Frost himself wanted to be with her.

More explosions outside rocked the jet, and Jack worried that a stray blow would set off the bombs nearby. He was just thinking about getting the pilot to start the plane up when the small elf stumbled out, catching both his and Tara's attention. It looked at him with shock in its eyes before toppling over, an arrow in its back. Blueball stepped in after him, bow loaded and a smile on his face. Jack gasped.

Catching him off guard, Tara lunged at him just as a particularly large explosion sounded behind the jet. Jack and Tara struggled for the gun, slamming through a door to the back portion of the jet where fuels of gas lined the gray metal walls. The ground underneath of them shook harder as it seemed the entire mountain trembled.

"Jack," Tara said in a strained voice, arcing the pistol towards him, "Th-there's something I have t-to tell you."

The cargo door was still open, and the ramp that Jack used to load his motorcycle was still out. They fell down onto the ramp, both still fighting for control of the gun. They were mere feet away from the icy stone floor off the plane. The mini-earthquake raged on.

"I'm...a...", Tara leaned forward, her lips almost touching his. "-lesbian." She headbutted Jack, and he stayed underneath her, shocked. She now had control of the gun.

Standing up, Tara backed away from him and held the gun up. He now looked extremely confused and seemed to have forgotten about the gun or indeed anything that was happening around them.

"You...you're a what?"

"Yeah, W-Willow isn't just a f-friend, Jack."

His eyes widened. "B-but...you kissed me."

Tara looked shocked herself for a moment but shook her head. "No, no you kissed me."

Unbeknownst to the two, a fissure was opening below them, just beyond the ramp. Ice and snow fell into it, and all that could be seen inside was darkness. It was a long way down.

"Same difference, you didn't try to move away."

"Y-you were helping me. I wasn't s-sure what to do."

Jack put his hands out in defenseless manner. "I still am, Tara. Now that I took care of Willow, I can change you."

Tara's mouth dropped open and she walked forward, taking the gun in one hand and balling her fist up in the other, she punched Jack across the face. He stumbled back and slipped on a patch of ice. His feet went from underneath him and disappeared into the fissure. He scrabbled to find something to grab onto, and out of reflex Tara grabbed his hand.

The jet rumbled and growled to life.

"Jack, where is she? W-what did you do to her?"

Sweat lined his forehead, his breath wheezing out as his legs flailed beneath him, trying to find some way of climbing up. He no longer looked like the soon-to-be leader of the free world. He simply looked more like a man struggling to survive. "I, I just wanted you."

"What did you do?" Tara asked again, stress growing in her voice.

He just looked at her, not knowing what to say. His chest was pressed directly against the end of the metal ramp and as a result his eyes bulged slightly from lack of air. His sweaty hand began to slip from Tara's grasp, and she wasn't doing anything to stop his descent. "C'mon baby, don't leave me hangin'. W-we can talk this over."

Tara shook her head and let go of him. His arms shot out too late to grab anything else and he disappeared into the massive, still-growing crack in the stone of the mountain. Tara peered over the edge. He was gone.

"You okay?" A voice, behind her. Blueball.

Tara sighed. "No...where were you?"

"Starting the plane. I figured you could take care of yourself. Listen, this place is falling apart. What do you want to do?"

Biting her lip, Tara looked back at the open, large-size shutter that led in and out of loading dock C. She'd given up on Xander as she now figured that Jack had sent his men after her friend, not to help him but to hunt him down. But Willow...she couldn't believe that Willow was dead. Not yet.

Behind her, Blueball waited for a command.

*

Woufer gasped and fell to the cold earth, a blast of lead through his chest. He'd taken down many of them with him, but not enough. He didn't see any of his squadron left standing. They had failed their mission in finding and retrieving the human girl named Tara. And now it seemed somewhat fitting that he would die here, in the place he had despised and wished to be gone all his life. He'd been a factor of the demise of Teufel and Santa Claus, and now he would die for his people.

But on a chance look, out of pure luck, he saw her. It had to be her. On her knees, looking down into a growing hole in the mountain's earth. Next to her stood a dark elf, a bow in his hands and a quiver on his back.

He could still be of use to the mission, he could still ensure her safety for at least a short amount of time. If she hurried, perhaps she could escape. Smiling grimly, Woufer lifted the gun, and as his eyes clouded red with blood and death, he shot down the black-clothed being holding the girl hostage. It fell to its feet, and Woufer past on with that smile on his face and satisfaction in his heart.

The rumble of shifting ice and rock stopped.

*

Tara bent over Blueball, shocked. Turning him over, she gasped and backed away. A third eye peered back at her, gaping and welling up with blood. Right above and between his eyes.

"Aww...do not pity such a wretched creature." A voice scratched. It was less of a voice and more of a nightmarish scream forming words.

Tara looked behind her and cried out at what stood above, leering over her. The face of death. Santa.

47. Leaving the Steak and Ale

Riley breathed out slowly and looked up. A pair of eyes stared directly back at him. Suppressing a shout of surprise he took in a deep breath and sat up quickly. It was a dead elf. Where was he? Looking around, all he could see was debris. Then it all came back to him and he laughed, realizing that the entire computer center must have been sent back with them. Looking down he saw that Buffy was to one side of him and Dawn was at the other, clutching the giant ray blaster like there was no tomorrow.

Well, he thought, there almost hadn't been. He prayed silently that Willow and her elf friend had gotten out successfully, and leaned over to wake Buffy up. Shaking her shoulder, he heard her mumble something and roll over. A bruise was forming below her left eye where Willow had punched her.

After shaking her again Buffy blinked and looked up at him, a tiredness very evident in her eyes. "Hey handsome," she purred. "Wanna do nasty things?"

He chuckled and kissed her softly on the lips. "I don't think that would be the smartest thing right now."

She looked confused for a moment, then observed where they were and what she was wearing. "Great," she murmured, sitting up warily. "I'm still dressed like a Mexican hooker." Her face turned serious and she grasped Riley's shoulder. "Dawn."

He smiled and pointed to the small girl's prone form next to him.

Buffy sighed in relief and reached over, taking her sister in her arms. The ray gun slipped from her fingers and Riley took it, strapping it on himself. It could still be useful to them.

"Where's Willow?" Buffy asked only somewhat angrily.

"She hit you. She's still back in the mountain."

She sighed, shaking her head.

"Where to?" Buffy asked, looking around the unfamiliar territory.

Riley scratched his head and looked around at the ugly green walls. "Uh, this way." He pointed to the double doors. "I'm pretty sure this is where I went through before I got knocked out."

As they were about to go through something loud clatter to the ground in another room close by. They looked at each other and Dawn unconsciously wrapped her arms around Buffy's shoulders, still deep in sleep. Riley whispered that he would go first. Buffy began to protest but he silently pointed out that she was carrying Dawn and he was carrying the only weapon. She nodded hesitantly.

He crept forward and opened one of the double-doors. Was Giles still in here? Had Jack killed him? Riley hated to admit it, but he wasn't going to stay and find out. He had too much to lose behind him. Looking both ways, Riley saw nothing out of the ordinary. Except for the fact that the entire place had been torn to bits. It looked like some sort of massacre had occurred here and he didn't want to know what the dead creature on the counter had at one time been. One light remained, swinging lazily over the bar-top and providing a weak source of light.

Riley looked back and nodded at Buffy. She walked on tiptoes out into the main room, which was difficult but not impossible as she carried Dawn. The doors to the restaurant were only a few yards away, only Xander's car was where the actual entrance had once been. Shards of glass littered the area. They averted their eyes to it, not wanting to know just yet what had become of their friend.

As if on cue, the doors leading to what might have been a kitchen or a storing room swung open silently. It was too dark to tell what was now growling at them, but the light from the swinging lamp did reveal two very big, very hairy paws with sharp, ugly claws.

"Buffy, run!" Riley yelled.

She did so, lurching quickly for the exits and diving around the car as Riley aimed the large gun and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened. Not even a low rumble. The gun didn't light up, it didn't take the energy surrounding it and create ammunition, it simply stayed silent in his arms. It suddenly felt incredibly light and...plastic. Looking down at it frantically, Riley turned the device over and saw something that made his pulse stop momentarily.

A small flap hung on the bottom of the gun and an empty space was there, showing in vivid green detail that four "Double A" batteries were to be placed in the slots. Above that was a small signature reading "Made In Taiwan." The blaster had turned into a toy.

The thing lunged and hit Riley in the chest, knocking him to the ground. He rolled over and saw that the giant, misshapen rat before him was drooling white foam heavily as its worm-infested, rotting face drew closer to his own. He could hear Buffy crying out for him to get up and run for the exit. He rolled over and to the side just as the over-sized rodent snapped its jaws in the air where his head had been.

He reached out for the first heavy thing he could find and hefted it up, bringing it around as the rat leaped towards him. He battered it with the object, stopping its assault in mid-air. He continued to hit the creature until he heard its neck crack. A deep hiss emanated from its curled-back lips and a foul odor rushed to his senses. More noises were coming from the kitchen now.

Riley got up to leave the restaurant when he noticed what it was he'd killed the rat with. The fire extinguisher. Looking around the car at Buffy (who was now at the street, not wanting to leave Dawn) and the kitchen doors, Riley decided to get rid of the Steak and Ale once and for all. A quick inspection of the bar uncovered a soaked and tattered tablecloth. He took it and stooped down by the large red canister, opening the nozzle and quickly stuffing the cloth inside.

The doors to the kitchen once again opened.

Beads of sweat covered Riley's face as he took out his lighter, which he was ecstatic to once again have in his possession. He would light the cloth, which would create Molotov Cocktail of deadly proportions. Riley opened the gray head and flicked the black roller with one scarred thumb, waiting for the beauty that was a single wisp of flame.

A few sparks spit out like the end of a firework, but no flame. Riley could here the paws as they neared him. He pressed down and around on the roller again. Still nothing. Shaking the lighter, Riley realized his Zippo was finally empty. The creatures rushed towards him. A strong force blew against the young man and he was lifted off his feet. He bounced off of the hood of Xander's car and landed in the street amidst a small lining of glass. Riley wasted no time in getting up and looking at what had thrown him.

He saw an axe raised in the air. A Mithral Axe. He saw someone (looking oddly halfway transparent) holding the axe in the air and bringing it down over the fire extinguisher. A small explosion blew him and Buffy off their feet, landing them in the middle of the street. Dawn stayed in Buffy's arms while the Slayer held a glazed look in her eyes, still too tired to completely understand everything that was happening. Riley glanced back at the restaurant. Through the strong and numerous amounts of flames Riley saw a grim face staring back at him. An Englishman, with tired eyes and an aristocratic complexion.

Then the fire in the room reached underneath Xander's vehicle. The flames licked metal and wire. With a bit of lucky foresight Riley stumbled up and ran to Buffy and Dawn, covering them with his arms and body as the car and (subsequently) the Steak and Ale was destroyed behind them. Everything else was drowned out by the noise and Riley only saw red for the longest of moments. The earth shook and sirens screamed far off.

A heavy ran suddenly fell on them.

Riley blinked and raised his head from Buffy's cheek. A fire hydrant had been destroyed nearby and jets of water were now splattering everything in sight, including them. Not caring to look back at what was left of the building, the ex-soldier laughed out loud, rolling over next to Buffy and hitting the wet street. He looked up at the stars, not fully able to believe that it was over.

"I love you." Buffy. To his left. Still awake.

He grinned and turned his head, falling into her eyes. "I love you more."

The sirens continued, and Riley realized that it was the sound of law enforcement, fire trucks and ambulances racing throughout the town.

Which meant that the people of Sunnydale were once again awake and active. Which meant the spell was broken.

"It's over," She whispered, barely audible.

Riley nodded and closed his eyes, letting the water fall over him.

Soon afterwards the parade of authorities and fireman arrived along with two ambulances. Lights red and blue filled the night sky and Riley and Buffy prayed that they would see Willow and Tara again soon. Dawn, her nose already healed (in fact, her body was once more perfectly unscarred) slept in peace. She had a way of making the bad things disappear.

48. Santa and the Jew (The Last Escape)

Willow and Baringold entered Loading Dock C through the large metal shutter. The redhead shifted her glance both ways and a gust of icy wind blew across her face. Her bangs fluttered and settled back down again as she craned her neck to view the entire loading (and apparent escape) room through her remaining eye. Her partner stayed to her side silently, a bow and quiver at the ready. Most of the survivors from his army had already escaped Teufel, but he was hoping to find his second in command before leaving himself.

"I don't see her," Willow muttered.

"I don't see anyone."

Willow looked at the elf quizzically. "So where did they go?"

Baringold pointed to the small dark tunnels lining the walls of the mountain room. "Those caves lead to exits. It may be a long walk but with the vehicles they have I imagine they could get out in about four minutes, cargo included."

Willow swept her newly acquired ray gun (having discarded Gridion's bow) across the snowmobiles and elf jeeps that were strewn out in between the spikes. "Well then why did they leave everything here?"

Her compatriot shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe we got lucky and they all died before they could reach the loading docks."

Willow hesitated a moment longer before jumping from the wooden wharf to the snow-covered stone floor below. "I don't see Tara, but I'm guessing that's Jack's jet-plane."

Baringold took the safer route, walking above Willow on the platform. He looked down at her. "Well, what do you want to do?"

"Keep looking, if Jack hasn't taken her here yet he will soon. There's no faster way out for him. Besides, I don't think he'd just leave his jet...or his motorcycle." She said as she observed Frost, sitting in a parked and idle state, the thick kickstand out.

Wait a minute, she thought, if Jack's motorcycle is here, then why-

A familiar, static-filled electronic voice filled the room. "Five minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Five minutes."

This was soon followed by a noise of struggle from the inside of the jet. Willow and Baringold both watched the bunker of the plane as Tara's head and part of her body popped out. She looked to be in a great deal of pain. "Willow, it's a trap!"

Willow's eyes widened as she saw a rotting, black and burnt hand cover Tara's mouth and pull her back inside. Suddenly the heads of Dark Elves were popping up everywhere, from behind large spikes, crates and vehicles to storming out of the exits. And all of them had guns trained at her and Bar.

She dove for cover behind a wooden crate as lead bullets shook pockets of snow out from the ledge behind her. Willow crawled to the left as more shots made the box tremor harshly. Peeking around the edge, she saw that the elves were getting closer in an effort to corner her, their dangling snowcaps jingling all the way. She didn't want to think about what would happen after that. She quickly fired three shots (all hitting their marks) and rolled to the next box. One step closer to Tara.

Meanwhile, Baringold was fortuning better hobbling down one of the many rickety jetties that stuck out from the stone walls and led into the middle of the loading area. If he could simply get around to the front of the jet, he might be able to surprise whoever was keeping Tara hostage. But the few elves that had homed in on him were persistent, the bullets from their weapons actually causing the platform he ran along to sway.

Baringold was nearing the intersection of the jetties when a board he stepped on cracked underneath him. The small elf fell through, landing on stone and cold ice. He seemed almost surrounded in ice spikes. Getting up and not bothering to brush himself off, Bar took notice of his position. There were three elves ranging from the north to the southeast and another four from the south to northwest. A block of ice an inch from his head was blasted into non-existent by a close bullet.

Taking out a few arrows from his quiver, Baringold leveled the bow in his sight and took out the first and nearest elf to the southeast. He then rolled backwards, narrowly missing a spray of bullets and loading another arrow. A second later another elf was down, and then one more. Baringold grinned and turned around, ready to face the four left on his left flank. The next arrow was loaded into his bow.

Except that they were all ready for him. Each had a pistol aimed in his direction, and none looked like they were going to miss as snow drifted down onto them.

Baringold frowned, looking above the elves. A very large crate hung suspended over their heads. No doubt it was to have been loaded in Jack's plane, for nothing else could have possibly carried it. Baringold quickly put his bow up in the air and pointed. All four elves looked curiously upwards and gasped.

He let the arrow fly, and it soared towards the rope keeping the large crate in the air. Only it missed by a fraction of an inch, going past the rope and bouncing off the stone ceiling. The closest elf grinned and looked back down the near cage of spikes that held Bar.

He wasn't there.

*

Tara leaned against the wall, four jagged cuts along her cheek where Santa's long and gnarled claws had raked her. She watched him warily, knowing that at any moment he chose he could end her life. He looked worse than anything she had ever seen, like something only a nightmare could produce.

He had transformed into a hideous beast, with his skin turned inside out and his flesh like a side of bacon that had been burnt to the point of becoming brittle. Some of the pudginess of his face remained, and bits and pieces of waxy flesh hung off his ears and cheekbones. But like a cracked walnut his stomach was open, and horrid liquids and chunks of rancid meat were falling out, slapping onto the floor.

His eyes were the worst to her, and the reason why she could not look him directly in the face. They no longer held pupils or even slits. They were simply two blood-filled balls stuck in his leaking eye sockets, but she could tell that he was still surveying everything.

To either side of her were two heavily armed Dark Elves, all four watching her every move.

She couldn't see any possible way to escape.

"Four minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Four minutes."

Santa pointed one claw at the elf farthest to her right. "You, go start this machine," he demanded in a voice that had become oddly human, like Renfield from an old Dracula movie. "I do not want her to come aboard."

The elf nodded and left, averting his eyes from the sight of his leader.

Once the elf was gone, Santa turned to her and Tara was forced to look into his hellish features or be cut again. He leered at her.

"I know what you're thinking, you filthy little whore. You're asking yourself, 'Why hasn't he killed me yet, and what could have possibly occurred to create such a horrid creature?' Well, the answer to those questions is one and the same. That...that thing outside has done this to me! Do you know what it's like to be burned and electrocuted at the same time while you're halfway through a portal?"

Spittle, black slime and blood covered her face, but she said nothing. She had a feeling it was a rhetorical question.

"No, you couldn't possibly. Well believe me, you will know. When that slut sees you she'll be the last human being ever to catch sight of you and still recognize you as one of her own! She'll die knowing that there is a world of torment and pain in your future, and that is the best thing I could ever inflict upon her."

With that said, that jet began to move.

*

Willow ran crouched below the crates, every so often firing a blast from her ray gun to match the hail of bullets that rained everywhere around her. With her limited vision she had to stay in each area twice as long as it would normally take, just to make sure she was headed in the right direction.

She took a deep breath and leapt out into a criss-cross of crates, her ray gun firing all the way. By the time she reached the other end three elves were dead and another badly wounded. Looking up over a box, she saw that the jet was still quite a distance away, and worse yet there was a deep chasm blocking her way. Going around it would mean more time spent. Time that she didn't have, especially now that the jet had begun to move towards the exit.

Something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Frost, Jack's motorcycle. She'd ridden with Tara before and had a fairly good grasp of how to handle one. It was her only chance now. Unfortunately, about seven black elves were between her and the ride, scoping out the area for her. Most of the others were getting into the jeeps and snowmobiles, then riding off towards the exits.

Making the best of her situation, Willow waited until the elves were in the worst possible places and stood up, the air frying around her blaster.

*

Baringold observed the spacious and beautiful bedroom as he crawled, hidden in the heart of Jack Frost's airplane. Luxury was one of Jack's top priorities, that much was easy to see. Almost the entire room was red, with luscious carpeting and a rather large, undoubtedly comfortable bed. It was a king-size, which black silk-satin sheets and a plush red comforter. And it was in the shape of a heart. A player till the end, Bar thought. Where was Jack, anyway?

Suddenly, the plane jerked to life and he fell onto his stomach, his long sunny bangs falling into his eyes.

"Oh no, Willow!" He whispered to himself. Had she gotten on?

Getting to his feet as silently as he could with one gimp leg, Bar crossed the red "love room" to another door at the end. Pressing his ear against the metal door, the elf could barely make out voices on the other side.

"You'll n-never get away with th-this!" The voice was Tara's, he presumed. It sounded like the voice that had called out to warn Willow back in the loading dock. And the one that had screamed when she'd seen him in the ventilation shafts.

"Had to get that in, didn't you?" Another voice, it ran shivers down the small elf's spine. He didn't know who it was, and didn't want to. "Place her near the ramp, I want that witch to see me cut her!"

"Yes sir," came two twin voices simultaneously.

"Sir," another voice shouted, "She's on a motorcycle, and she's gaining on us!"

"What? Never mind, she'll kill herself trying to cross the chasm...but load the rocket launcher just in case-"

Trying to get a better listening advantage, Baringold pressed further into the door, not realizing until too late that it was partially open. He fell through, landing in a heap before two horrid excuses for legs. Looking up, he nearly screamed.

The face that looked down at him now might've been smiling, he couldn't tell. "Ah, how fortunate. I was getting awfully hungry anyway." It laughed like an infant would wail and a piece of its flesh fell off its face, landing next to Baringold. He shuddered and cringed as the demon-thing approached.

*

Willow reared the wheel up as she approached the large chasm. Looking behind her, she shot down a Dark Elf who was running along a wharf after her. Then the bottom wheel left the earth and her breath sucked out of her lungs.

It was almost as though she was caught in slow motion, watching as lights of guns being fired blinked all around her. Particles of snow and ice flew up as bullets narrowly missed her. Even the roar of the engine slowed down and she could see the wheels turning beneath her, almost begging for solid ground. The lights on the front and end of the cycle flared as she crossed the middle of the chasm, and she could hear one of them pop in the tail end. Her eyes were wide and cold sweat covered her face. Her empty eye socket swelled and itched in the severe cold, and her broken lips were as white as the enamel on her teeth. She became completely self-aware of everything around her.

Then Frost slammed back down on the other side of the chasm, jumping a little, and she was back to driving with one hand, shooting with the other. An Uzi-obsessed elf jumped from a large crate above, landing in the snow and firing one submachine gun in each hand at her. Unfortunately, he'd miscalculated the jump and had landed directly in front of an incoming Jeep. It ended his life with a mercifully short fwap, crunch and then roared into another gear as the elf began to pursue Willow.

Thinking she could easily lose him in the nearby maze of spikes that led to the tunnel (the jet simply crushed them underneath its wheels) she was surprised by two snowmobiles appearing at either side, flanking her.

She dodged the first wave of spikes jutting from the ground easily, but all three of her opponents fared the same, and were now focusing their weapons at her unprotected back. Weaving to the left, she swerved around a very large spike and tried to ignore the sprays of bullets that were hitting marks inches away from her head and zipping past her ears.

The first snowmobile and the Jeep past through unscathed, but the second snow-cruiser tried to navigate around the big spike too late, and an explosion signaled his demise. She fired a few shots at the first cruiser but they were off due to her poor sight. A machine gun from the Jeep tattered out a response, and one of the bullets ricocheted off of the wrong side of the bulletproof cover on the cycle. It nicked her in the arm and she nearly lost control from shock.

Suddenly, a loud hiss filled the area and a few yards from the three of them an ice-spike exploded in a cloud of mist. Willow turned and gaped in horror at the jet. The bunker ramp was still open and they were now deep into the tunnel, but Willow could just make out two Dark Elves loading another rocket into the launcher. To add to this, the plane was quickly gaining speed as the engines heated up. Soon she would be left in the dust.

A shocking tremor ran through Frost's rear and the wheel jerked crazily to one side, throwing Willow off balance. Looking back she saw that the elf driving the snowmobile had bucked into her. He was now speeding up to ride alongside her. If he did it now, he would crush her leg. She pressed down on the gas as far as it would go just as the Jeep opened up another volley of gunfire.

"Three minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Three minutes."

An idea occurred to her and she took the opportunity, crossing diagonally in front of the snow cruiser. The elf firing the machine gun in the Jeep simple kept on pulling the trigger, following her every move. Even as she zoomed in front of the cruiser so that it was between her and the Jeep. Bullets riddled the elf driving the small snowmobile and he slumped over the now shot, crackling controls. The vehicle veered off to the left and a few seconds later she heard a loud crash. Looking back she cried out and tried to turn the motorcycle before slamming headfirst into a spike. She turned in time, but the wasted time regaining control allowed another bullet from the Jeep to hit her, tearing through her thigh.

Another telltale hiss of air and Willow looked up, straight into the face of an incoming rocket. She screeched to the side, the entire vehicle she rode pushing forth on the right flank of its wheels. The rocket past overhead and she kicked back up, looking back at the smoking trail. The elves in the Jeep directly behind her screamed at the missile in their sight but had no time to do anything else. It obliterated the vehicle and much of the surrounding area.

Willow sighed in relief and once again trained her sights on the plane. It was no use; the vehicle was traveling much too fast now for her to catch up. But something dragged at her brain, something she should've remembered in the first place. The jet propulsion system! Glancing at the back of the motorcycle, Willow saw the twin jet packs she'd seen earlier in Jack's underground lab.

She quickly looked over the small dashboard. Keyhole, with key. Gas light, fuel meter, speedometer, metal switch. There it was, the switch had to control the jets, there was nothing else that she could see. Bracing herself, Willow flicked the metal switch upwards.

*

"And now, you disgusting tramp," grinned the monstrosity looking down on her, "Your pain can truly begin."

One of the guards suddenly cried out in surprise. "Sir, she's coming up fast!"

Santa glared at him and shot a glance outside of the bunker. She'd turned on the jets. That fool Jack just had to leave his motorcycle outside!

Baringold smiled briefly, before the pain overtook his body. Apparently the demon-Santa enjoyed his meals beaten and bruised. He now sat crouched in one of the corners, to weak to move.

"Load up another rocket, this bitch isn't boarding!" He growled.

But as the two elves who had been guarding Tara slid in another rocket, a beam of light shot past them, hitting the trigger elf in the forehead. His body crumpled to the floor.

In desperation and anger, Santa reached out and ripped an elf Uzi from one of the guard's waistbands. He would've had his own arsenal, had it not been destroyed in his escaping the portal room.

Turning to the still-lowered ramp he opened fire and laughed maniacally as his shots danced crazily around the fast approaching, one-eyed redhead. She maneuvered the vehicle she drove around the decreasing number of spikes and carefully averted the streams of fire to either side of her, coming from the jets on the aircraft. She was almost at the ramp when one of the bullets hit inside the metal covering over the bike and blew the front tire.

Tara screamed and ran forward, wrestling a gun away from one of the elven guards and turning it on him. Her fire blew the small being out of the jet, his body bouncing along the snow behind them, quickly fading into darkness.

Willow leapt off of the bike as it jerked underneath her, the cycle lurching and arcing downwards from its sharp contrast in decompression. The metal and steel of the bike clanked to the stone and snow, one hand on a twisted gray knob keeping Willow on the ramp. Santa reached out one clawed foot to step on her fingers.

The one remaining guard fought a useless and short battle against Tara, firing only a few lead bullets at her before he was slammed into the wall. By now the plane was going so fast that his lifeless body began to drift towards the exit. Then float. And then he was gone, sucked out by the force of speed.

"Two minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Two minutes."

The vacuum effect caused Santa to stumble, and his gnarled foot landed precariously on the ramp next to Willow's hand instead of on top of it. The allowed the girl to put another hand on the ramp and begin to climb inside.

Tara and Baringold were now searching desperately for anything to grab onto. In his weak state, the elf wouldn't last long. Tara clawed her way over to him.

"C-can you fly this thing!?" She shouted through the wind.

He opened his mouth to respond but then simply nodded, conserving energy.

"Go, bef-fore the suction is too strong! Take c-ccare of the p-pilot!"

Baringold nodded again and started to inch his way towards the open doors. Tara turned, looking for anything that would close the ramp.

Willow, now halfway up, realized that she'd lost her gun in the fall. She had nothing to defend herself against the red-eyed creature that had once been a Santa. Eyes. His hands clawed at her shoulders and he lifted her up, into the wind. He screamed silently at her, his entire body shaking.

"Why do you have to destroy everything!" He roared, then turned and threw her bodily across the room, into the bunker. The force of air was just as strong though, and she began to shoot back out.

She grappled at anything heavy and came up with a stack of fuel barrels. Looking back she saw that the charred, black Santa was still at the opening and was starting to walk towards her, his strength still above that of the suction.

She examined the line of fuel drums. Each were strapped together in tight black cords that seemed welded to the steel of the barrels. Thinking quickly, she unhooked the first barrel and sent it flying at Kringle. It was a direct hit to his chest, but he caught it deftly in his hands.

Willow's grasp on the barrels weakened and the reached over to the metal hooks of the rocket launcher, her feet now fully up in the air. She saw Tara out of the corner of her eye, grabbing onto various things and still looking for anything that would close the ramp.

Santa suddenly through the barrel back at her. She easily moved out of the way, rolling and grabbing another part of the launcher, but she suddenly wished she hadn't. To the three occupants of the bunker, it looked as though the small fuel barrel was floating at about five miles an hour, but they knew better. The force behind the throw was huge, and the barrel was now headed straight for the rocket, which Willow had been blocking when Santa had thrown it. She would've gasped had she had any breath.

The steel of the barrel actually shredded before her eyes, impaling itself directly onto the rocket. The tank must've been at least partially empty. The strike of flint against metal would've created a spark, and from their they all would've been dust.

"Two minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Two minutes."

The power and speed of the plane was now even too much for Santa, who started to inch his way towards them, black claws outstretched. Willow tried to back away but there was nowhere else to go. Pieces of Santa were now being sucked off of him. His entrails were dangling in the wind and his face was more like a stretched piece of a plastic bag. Yet his eyes remained the same. Eyes.

Willow shook her head, trying to concentrate when she felt like her brains were going to be sucked out of her ears. Santa was now a foot from her, and her grabbed the rocket launcher with one hand. With the other he caressed her cheek with his claws. At least, now it felt like a simple touch. But her face was so numb that had she not seen the streaming blood fly out into the wind she wouldn't of realized that he had cut her at all. There was no pain, which explained his persistence in trying to kill her. Right now every nerve had been burnt from his body. He most likely felt nothing, save rage. For her. Eyes. S.

Willow looked down and saw that he was holding the front of the launcher with both hands. She reached around and put him in a tight bear hug. Confused at her actions, Santa freed one hand again and began stroking her back. She knew that those wounds were going to be some of the worst. Taking the welded cord on the barrel that had been used to tie all of the other together; she wrapped it tightly around her adversary and connected it to the other side of the barrel. Santa looked at what she'd done and laughed at first, but the looked again.

She pinned him to the metal barrel. The metal barrel that was impaled on the rocket. The rocket that was loaded. A gentle electronic hum filled the room and Willow realized that Tara must've found the switch. She'd have (Eyes) to (Eyes) ac-(Eyes)-t fast.

"I don't know you." Santa whispered to her. She didn't understand how she could hear him over the wind, but there was too much going on to give attention to the supernatural. "You're a sick pervert, a sinning child of God that has broken every cardinal rule. Yet I do not know your name. You were never on my list. You don't exist."

As he spoke, she pulled herself around to the back of the rocket launcher, using every last bit of strength to keep from flying out into the open air. Her waist and back were slick with her own blood but she paid it no heed as she straddled the large device between her slim thighs.

"Who are you?" He questioned, every ounce of fight gone from him, but pure hatred evident in his voice.

"Sixty seconds until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Sixty seconds."

She stared into his eyeS as she wrapped her hands around the large trigger. "I'm Jewish."

His eyeS widened in recognition and she pulled on the trigger.

*

A single, deformed creation erupted from the bunker of "The Jack Frost For World Leader Campaign Tour Jet" (as it was so called by its previous owner) and roared down the stone-white tunnel towards the end of its existence. At the bottom it would bounce slightly on it's chest and change direction, heading directly for a series of explosives that had been recently moved to sit against the mountain wall. After that, the rest is obvious.

Fire would race up the tunnel, chasing after a lone jet traveling at speeds that would be just enough to shoot out of the mountain as the flames surrounded it. The Dark Elves trying to escape the mountain would realize that they had left too late, and that's the last thing that would run through their heads.

And the Dark Lord Diablo, who had been freed from his crystal prison would now realize that without the massive portal he would be stuck here in this mountain forever. Only, he would be dead some time later, frozen to ice in his own pit of hell. His freedom would be his demise. A replacement for the ruler would be found soon. But until then, no new demons would walk the earth.

*

Gridion stood with the rest, cheering and screaming with joy into the night. The fall of Teufel meant a new life for all of them. One without oppression or tyranny. One where they didn't have to make toys for humans all of their lives.

He stooped down to Manchester, who had been placed on a makeshift stretcher.

"We did it, Brother!" He whooped gleefully.

The wounded elf smiled back weakly. "Yes. Now we can go home."

Gridion laughed and patted his brethren's shoulder. "You're gonna be okay, man. We all are now."

*

Willow lied down on the cold metal floor, taking in huge gasps of air as she heard the beautiful sound of the ramp locking into place. Tightly shut.

Soon an even more beautiful sound and sight filled her head. Tara was above her, stroking her hair and smiling lovingly down at her.

"You're hurt," she said, now moving her hand to Willow's waist.

The redhead shuddered as warmth finally began to spread through her, both from the lack of cold air rushing inside the jet and Tara's fingers on her skin. Willow smiled back lazily. "I'm not dead." She gazed up at Tara. "Where's Jack?"

A flash of anger went through Tara's eyes. "He di-didn't stay onboard."

A voice piped up cheerfully from an intercom above them. "We're out. You two all right? I see on the monitor up here that the bunker is closed."

"We're f-fine." Tara called out in reply; here eyes (Eyes) locked with Willow's. "For the most part, an-an-an...anyway."

Willow frowned as darkness began to sweep over her and she started to drift off. "Tara...that Santa, there was something wrong with him. I wish I could just put my finger on it."

Her love leaned down and kissed her lips softly, adding a gently bite. "You've j-just saved the w-world. Now sleep."

Willow did so, forgetting forever the small detail that had at one point been racking her brain. It was insignificant anyway.

*

"My name's Baringold. I'm the leader of the Liberation Elf Army."

"N-nice to meet you. I'm Tara."

He smiled, offering her a seat beside him. "I know. I've been chasing you around this mountain for quite a while now. That was me in the ventilation shaft behind you."

Tara stared at him with wide eyes. "O-oh. Oh no, I'm so sorry. You were moving s-so fast I-"

He put up a hand reassuringly. "It's okay, really. I'm just happy that my people are free from Diablo's reign of terror."

They stayed silent for a moment, simply watching the night sky filled with stars and the peaks of mountains in the distance. "You really should have seen Teufel go up. It was the most spectacular thing I've ever witnessed. It was just...poof."

Tara shook her head and continued watching the stars. "I've seen en-enough explosions for th-the rest of my life."

After another long, peaceful moment Jack nodded his head to the back. "How is she?"

A worried look crossed over Tara's face. "She'll b-be okay. I need to find the-the right healing herbs, but she'll get b-bbetter soon. I'm just worried about...about her mind. If she'll deal with d-death okay. If one of the oth-others...if they didn't make it. Like Spike, and Mrs. Summers."

Baringold stayed silent, not knowing what to say. Soon after, Tara got up, nodded politely and left. Bar noticed that as she closed the door to the bedroom, she locked it.

Epilogue

49-A. Ambulance Ride

Dawn stared out of the ambulance window, lightly tracing figures of pointy-eared elves and big, round Santas on the transparent glass. The scenery outside consisted of an early-morning Sunnydale, still too dark to see anything save shadowy green trees and orange halos on the pavement cast by street lamps up above. The chill air hadn't completely left yet, and the snow was still present, causing the windows to fog up and create the drawing board for her entertainment.

In the back, Riley was lying down upon a stretcher; an I.V. hooked up to his arm and a slight glaze in his eyes. He just wanted to sleep for days, and he hoped that Buffy was able to get some rest in the other ambulance.

Dawn left the window and unbuckled her seatbelt, moving wordlessly past the driver to sit next to Riley in the back.

He glanced up at her and smiled. "You okay?" He asked in a low voice.

She nodded and smiled back before her demeanor became serious once more. "What are we going to do?" She whispered.

Riley shrugged. "I don't know. I think Buffy will want to start searching for Willow as soon as we get out of the hospital, and I doubt she'll want to stay here."

Dawn looked down at the floor. "...I know I don't."

He sighed. "Yeah, me neither."

The young girl frowned. "But what about, you know..." She leaned in closer, "The Hellmouth?"

"Buffy quit the council officially, but they're still using her. They didn't have to appoint a new slayer because Buffy was taking care of everything. When they learn that she's left Sunnydale they'll send someone else."

"Hey," the driver piped up, "What are you two kids mumbling about back there?"

Neither answered the question, lost in their own thoughts. As long as they still had Buffy, Dawn and Riley felt that they could keep their lives together. But they knew that if she didn't find Willow, Buffy would never be the same. All they could do was hope that she'd found Tara and had made it out in one piece.

49-B. Rescue Party

The pilot sat at the control panel of the observation helicopter, a Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate warming his lap as he waited for word back from his partner.

He just didn't understand it. This had to of been some sort of phenomena. A mountain which no one had ever heard of or had ever even been charted before suddenly and without reason collapsed in on itself deep in the heart of the North Pole. It didn't make sense. A mountain that (judging by the amount of destruction around the area) had been that huge should have been charted and mapped ages ago.

His radio crackled to life and beeped, startling the pilot. He jumped in his seat and some of the cocoa jostled and spilled over onto his lap. Taking the radio and rubbing his crotch emphatically, the pilot pushed down on the relay.

"What is it?" He asked in a high-pitched, pained voice.

"What's wrong with you?" His partner inquired.

"I spilled my drink on myself, what's up?"

"You're not gonna believe this." His partner seemed ecstatic about something.

"You found Jimmy Hoffa?"

"No, but I did find somebody! A survivor!"

The pilot spluttered out the chocolate he'd been drinking and burned himself again. "Dammit Hugh, what the hell are you talkin' about. There's no possible way anybody within a thousand yards of this place could've survived its going down."

"I'm bringing him up," Hugh shouted out from his radio, ignoring his friend's protests.

Greene, the pilot, sighed and shook his head. He switched off the radio. "We're not a rescue team, Hugh," he told himself. "We were just supposed to check the place out."

A few minutes later his co-pilot's face appeared in the window of the chopper and Hugh knocked hurriedly on the door. Greene opened it and watched as Hugh climbed in and unlatched the back, opening it and clearing a small area.

"C'mon in, warm yourself up!"

A young, handsome twenty-something man with wavy dark hair hopped inside, sitting in the spot they usually reserved for equipment. "Thanks for the ride, gentleman." He smiled and gave them both a thumbs-up.

Greene mockingly returned the gesture and gave his partner a dirty look. Hugh made a silent 'what?' face and turned to grin at the survivor.

"Are you all right, man?"

The dark-haired stranger nodded, rubbing his fingers over something he held in his hands.

Sighing, Greene started up the chopper and Hugh closed and latched the doors. On an impulse the wearisome pilot gave a questioning look to what Jack held in his hands. "What 'cha got there?"

The survivor grinned, revealing a dark, black stone. "This, my friend is my ticket to world domination."

The researchers looked at each other and laughed genuinely, thinking that the young man was joking. But in the back of the chopper, Jack Frost was forming a plan. One day soon he would unlock the powers of the artifact and then the world would be in his hands again. He smiled, running a thumb of the lightly revealed face of a blonde, curly-haired girl inside the stone. The fear in her eyes was captured forever, as if knowing that the stone was the key to pure darkness itself.

The chopper rose up into the air, a storm of snow surrounding it. Inside, there was only one thing on Jack's mind that was more important to him than world domination. One thing that he couldn't have. And he would get it. One day, he would find her. She'd left him for dead in that mountain, had let him fall into a pit of darkness. He was lucky that the chasm had acted as a refuge and had also been home to the stone. Revenge was a dish best served cold, and who better to serve it up and dish out then the Casanova of Ice himself...

50-A. Sunrise

Baringold watched the gray sky just before sunrise, piloting the jet in the elven-made cockpit. Apparently Jack had never intended to fly the thing himself.

A giggle sounded from the room behind him, and Bar had a sudden flashback to that boiler room in the main generator that had powered his village. Catching the female elf he'd admired so much getting down with a fairy from the next village over. Grinning, he shook his head and continued to monitor the flight. He was itching for a pack of Keebler's to sooth his frazzled nerves and some serious healing herbs to put on the bruises that covered his body, but for now he'd let them rest. After all, they deserved it.

*

Tara curled up next to Willow under the warm sheets, feeling their skin run together and caress. She was careful not to touch certain places which would invoke pain and not pleasure in her love, as Santa had done quite a number on Willow before she'd blown him out of the plane. Willow didn't move her back as the long jagged rakes across it would've brought searing pain throughout her body. Yet she felt nothing but comfort and warmth as Tara's naked skin laid on her own.

Willow giggled again as Tara ran her tongue along the redhead's nipple, biting lightly and bringing on wondrous sensations. Her hand traveled along Willow's stomach, trailing in and around her belly button and waist.

"You-you aren't supposed to laugh."

Willow tried to stop the giggles that racked her but she couldn't. "I, I'm not?"

Tara smiled and shook her head, leaning in and kissing her, running her lips together with Willow's. "You're umm, you're supposed to moan or something. Like in p-porno."

Willow laughed and nodded. "Oh, okay. Mmmmm, Tara. Do it again. Yeah, just like that."

Tara shook her head. "You aren't supposed to m-mock me either. I'm th-the dominant one right now." To demonstrate this, the stooped her head over Willow's breasts so that her hair ran along them.

Willow closed her eye and shuddered, but the smile remained. "That, that tickles."

Tara looked up at her and nuzzled into her neck, placing kisses along the length of her jugular.

This time Willow moaned in earnest. "Hmm, now that feels excellent." She opened her right eye. "May I?"

Tara shook her head again. "I'm not l-letting you move until I can heal you pr-properly."

Willow stuck out her lip playfully. "That doesn't sound like much fun."

Her love rose up until they were eyes to eye, touching foreheads and noses. "I...I can make it fun." She kissed her. "I promise." She kissed Willow again, their lips parting and tongues meeting together in a warm embrace. This continued until Tara could tell that Willow was hard of breath and she removed her tongue from Willow's mouth, licking the girl's lips.

Willow gasped as Tara's hand roamed down farther from her stomach. "Oh, you're a goddess. I-I love you."

Tara grinned. "I love you too. And I th-think I know just the way to show it."

As the blonde lowered herself beneath the sheets, and Willow cried out in ecstasy, the sun rose up over the peaks of the snow-capped mountains outside. It created a dazzling sight to the eye, a brilliant washboard of soft-red and fire orange, with tints of purple and blue shading here and there. But neither girl noticed, and the world went on.

50-B. Caribbean Shores

Far, far away from the freezing, below-zero temperatures of the North Pole; a small, five year old girl sat along the wet, sandy shores of a tiny Caribbean Island. The sunset was just as dazzling here; with clouds lining the western horizon turning dark purple and a deep pink-red hue filling the rest of the sky.

The waves crashing against the nearby rocks and seagulls flapping and crying overhead were the most prominent sounds out at the moment. Earlier a Maruichi band had been playing an upbeat melody, but they'd drifted off with the rest of the crowd when the sunlight began to dwindle. Now only residents of the island remained, basking in the glory of a beautiful night.

A particularly large wave crashed into the girl, soaking her small bathing suit and her blonde, cropped-and-parted hair. Giggling madly, she got up and started to run up the beach towards her mother, her small feet leaving fresh imprints in the sand.

She stopped halfway though, her eyebrows narrowing down and then shooting up in surprise.

"Mommy, mommy!" She shouted, "It's Santa Claus! And he's almost naked momma, look!"

Her shades on and her face-wax setting, the mother nodded and waved at the girl nonchalantly without moving.

Dashing across the sand as fast as the girl's little feet would take her, she came up to the object of her affection. "Santa?"

The old man grinned, his wide, unclad belly protruding over some extremely large boxers. His fat legs drooped over the edge of the reclining beach stretcher his large berth was threatening to snap in two. His white beard thankfully covered the majority of his flabby chest.

"Santa?" The girl questioned him again. "Why are you wearing an eye patch?"

"Santa had an accident, sweety." He said in a normal old man's voice. "An evil witch poked it out."

The little girl's eyes went even wider. "Oh, is she dead?"

He sighed. "No honey, she got away. But don't worry, Santa tricked her, he put a spell on her and her friends, so they would think that one of his clones was him and he could escape through a magical portal just before it blew up into itsy bitsy bits."

The five-year-old just stood there. Everything he'd said had plainly gone over her head. "My mommy told me you weren't real."

"Did she now?"

"Megan! Megan, oh no!"

The girl looked back and saw that her mother was quickly rushing over, green face wax and all. She got a better look at the old man and stopped, having to force back a laugh. She looked like she was caught between major embarrassment and humor. "I'm terribly sorry," she said, wrapping her arms around her daughter's shoulders, "Megan shouldn't have called you that name. She knows better."

"Oh, it's quite all right." He glanced back at the girl. "Here, I have something for you." Reaching down beneath the beach stretcher, he pulled out a remarkably clean porcelain doll.

The mother gasped, realizing the cost the doll must be worth. "We couldn't possibly-"

"Please, I insist."

"But we're Jewish."

He flinched at this, but neither woman nor girl noticed it. "And surely you know I am not Santa Claus. This is merely a gift."

The mother hesitated a moment longer before nodding, and the girl rushed up, hugging him and taking the doll. She even kissed his pudgy cheek. Oh, the wonders of an appearance enchantment. To everything on the outside world, he seemed like every other human...if fat and down one eye, but no spell was perfect.

"Would you like to join us for dinner tonight? It's just me and my daughter here and it gets lonely sometimes. We'd love to have you over..." The mother requested. She seemed as though she would actually like some company, and it wasn't just a courtesy invite.

He smiled widely, showing off some faux pearly whites. "I'd love to."

"Good, we live at-"

"I know," he interrupted, "where you live." On her worried glance he chuckled, his belly vibrating. "I've seen you and your daughter before, of course."

She smiled wanly and nodded, turning to get back to her spot in the rapidly fading sunset. The young girl remained a moment longer, smiling at him. He winked back. "I'll see you tonight, Meggy. And remember, my thousand eyes are watching."

She giggled and turned, running back to her mother. Santa laid down on his stretcher once more and took a deep breath of salty-sweet Caribbean air. Tonight he'd be having quite the Kosher meal, if the two women tasted as good as they looked. Laughing, he plotted out the places he'd visit after this.

The score between himself and the horrid Jew/lesbian/witch had been settled, he felt. Perhaps he was simply frightened of her, but when weighing his choices, chasing a worthy adversary around the world or enjoying his retirement for the rest of his days seemed like an easy decision.

He licked his lips with a fat, bloated tongue. Retirement was golden.

The End

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The Ugly: Author's Afterward

Heya! You made it to the end (or you skipped profusely), congratulations! This is just a small note to tell you a few things about the story. First off, when I started this mammoth thing back in late November of 2000 it was only supposed to be about thirty kilobytes long, believe it or not. It wasn't supposed to be almost six hundred and thirty. Originally I had planned for just about everybody to die. The sword fight between Willow and Jeneva in the Steak and Ale was supposed to have been her and a possessed Riley, then a possessed Giles. Instead the whole body snatching half-elf half-fairy creature popped into my mind. So of course I had to give her a crazy brother, and that explained why Riley had seen Joyce when she was already dead back in the Summer's house.

But getting around to the essentials, the comment I make in the beginning of each chapter that fans of Willow and Tara will like this story was supposed to be somewhat sarcastic, as I had planned on killing her(Tara) off at the end. I had this big showdown in hell (which was beneath the restaurant, ala' portals) where Diablo was going to use Tara and Giles as sacrifices to enter into their reality. It was all very dark and Buffy originally was to be thrown up half-digested and extremely dead in the end. Actually Willow would cut Santa's stomach open and the blonde would've just slid out amidst other essential vitamins and minerals.

Icky.

But things change, and I seem to be a sucker for the happy endings. Santa was supposed to die on that plane to the very end, but as I wrote the epilogue I felt really dirty about killing him like that, and I wondered how I was going to explain the fact that most of you guys will still get presents every year after this. So I went back and made the whole faux Santa sub-plot thing. I gave him a Hannibal Lecter-type ending, which I really enjoyed writing. As my friend Marth Stewart would say, it was a rich cornucopia of Winter bedazzlement.

Characters have a way of begging me to survive. I get tracked by the bastards all of the time. I knew Baringold was going to live through the thing from the moment I invented him, but Jack was supposed to die in that pit. In an early version the Santas all got together before the portal chapter and ate him. I thought it would be a mix of Frankenstien meets Day of the Dead. Very 'necro-ironic', if I do say so myself.

Riley's living came completely from the fans. I had no intentions of letting him live, but so many people wrote telling me they liked him that he took every advantage to use this on me. "See, see Donald? They like me, yeah, they really really like me! You can't kill me now, you daft bastard! Hahahaha..." He'd go on for a while and then throw up, curl next to me on the couch and fall asleep in a pile of his own cow-hormones. Needless to say, I decided to let him live, even after the forces of darkness inhabited his body.

Now would probably be a good time to make the apology. Yeah, I think so. I'm extremely, on bended knee sorry for this taking so long to get out. After a while it was like pulling a train with my hair in braids (and I have rough hair folks, it wasn't pretty) just to get a damn sentence out. I'm proud of the story as a whole, and there are many moments that I damn-well love. But the Portal chapter scars me still. I don't know, I just don't like it. It seems too rushed and hackneyed, with too much dialogue and not enough action. I don't think I was able to reach that peak of excitement I had with Riley in the basement of the Summer's House until the last action sequence of the story. But I tell you, I'm not going to mess with it. I'll be releasing a hyped up and revised version soon, wherein I actually spell the word Menorah correctly (gasp!). But I won't touch the portal scene. It's like sticking a finger into a scab, getting oozing pus and blood on my skin and underneath my fingernail and never really making it better, but instead infecting it further cause, folks, I don't wash my hands when I write.

Maybe that's my problem.

As to the question of what's next for me; well, I'm leaving the Buffy section of FF. Net for a while. I've been promising a friend for months now that I'd write him a Roswell story and that's just what I'm gonna do. Actually, I'm gonna write a small (yeah, right) Roswell trilogy having to do with Liz and some very weird, very erotic (I hope) and very scary (I hope more) dreams. It's gonna be my first NC-17 and I tell you, I'm downright ecstatic about the whole project. I just have to make sure my mother doesn't read it. And hey, I'll be sixteen in March, so it will almost be legal! Yah!

When I return to you guys I'll have plenty of stories to write and put up. 9/10 (horror, featuring everybody); Five by Eighteen (action/adventure, feat. everybody); A Dinner at the Rosenberg's (Romantic Comedy, Willow/Spike) and two others that are in pre-production (in other words, I have to flesh them out a bit more first). One is entitled The Porcelain Factor which is a port of a Text Adventure I'm creating. In it, Xander picks up a box containing killer porcelain dolls and is framed for the murders they commit. It's a world-spanning espionage/horror yarn. The other is Cheese 2: The Power of Destiny. This is basically where I wrap up every story I started in the first. I know, I wasn't planning on writing a sequel. But hey...it's all good.

Donald P. Pike February 11, 2001
New York, New York (I wish)

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...Well, that's it peoples. It's almost creepy, I'm listening to "Knowing Me, Knowing You" by Abba. It's a song about breaking up, and I feel that this is what we're doing now. "Breaking up is never easy I know, but I had to go, Knowing me, knowing you, it's the best I can do." For any of you that actually read all of this, I thank you profusely. Thank you, thank you, thank you. It means a lot to me. I hope you review and hope even more that you enjoyed it. As I stated previously, I'm gonna take a small break from Buffy to write some Roswell fanfiction (wacky porn, really) and I'll miss you guys in the Buffy section. Until I return, I bid you all a good day. And remember, unless you're Jewish......Santa's watching......... MUHAHAHAHAAAAAAHHHHhhhhh cough-cough> ughh, I need some Halls....

Ain't that sweet?

Donald Pike (Lyle)

No, but this is.
"I am, you know." "What?" "Yours..."