Willow:
We stand together in a nervous group in the old library,
the anticipation weighing heavily on our shoulders. A miscellaneous crowd of
soldiers, college students, ex- and present demons, not to mention a former cheerleader
and a very stuffy Englishman, all waiting to be catapulted into a life or death
situation. This battle could decide the future of every single person on the
earth and yet it is not thoughts of the fight that consume me. I keep looking
around the blackened room and remembering all the little things that passed in
here. The stacks used to be over there, where I once caught Cordelia and Xander
kissing. And I can place exactly the former location of the book cage, where we
used to lock Oz when he turned wolf. But these small recollections are nothing
compared to the echoes of conversations that bounce off the walls into my mind.
We have all experienced so much anguish and happiness and love and heartbreak
here, and as much as we think we have moved on we keep being drawn back to this
exact spot. Maybe it isn't just demons the Hellmouth attracts.
Tara touches my arm, jolting me back into reality. I
check my watch. Eleven twenty-nine. The ritual is supposed to be performed at
midnight, which only gives us another half hour to kill all the demons. I can't
help worrying about how fine we are cutting things.
"Don't you think Spike should be here by now?" I ask
Buffy anxiously.
"Don't worry – he'll show," she replies. "He values his
miserable unlife too much."
"Isn't there a chance he's just bailed on us?" Cordelia
suggests, not particularly helpfully.
Angel shakes his head, his eyes dark. "He won't. I gave
him my word I'd hunt him down and kill him if he tried."
There is an uncomfortable silence in the wake of Angel's
violent intensity, which Buffy breaks with affected cheerfulness. "So, is
everybody prepared?"
There is a series of nods and muttered agreements. "We're
all A-okay in the magic corner," Xander looks up from the pile of supplies he
is guarding. "What say you head-Wicca-gal?" He turns to me and I scrunch my
nose up in a frown.
"There are just a couple of things I'm a little worried
about. Everyone knows about the barrier spell, right?"
One of the soldiers speaks up. "The what?"
Buffy turns to Riley impatiently. "I thought you
explained all this to them."
"I did," he insisted. "It's just that magic is still a
bit of a foreign concept to most of the recruits. They're having a bit of
trouble understanding."
"Well, they've got about thirty seconds to learn." She
snaps.
Sensing the tension I step in with about my fourth
explanation of the spell I decided to cast this afternoon, in order to raise
our chances in the battle. "I'm going to create a magical shield around this whole
building," I distil the details of force-fields and energy flows down to the
simplest account of their final effects. "Basically, it will prevent any
creature from entering or leaving the high school, from the moment it is set up
to the moment we stop the spell. This means once the demons have arrived they
won't be able to escape."
"But won't we be stuck here too?" Another soldier
enquires.
"Essentially, yes," I confirm. "But since it's us doing
the spell, then we can end it at any time. So, if something goes really wrong
we'll be able to get out of here. Now I just need some volunteers to help with
the chanting."
There is a deadly silence, until Anya pipes up. "Oh, I
can help. I'm good at chanting. In fact, Xander says I am generally good at anything
that involves making excessive noise."
I smile gratefully at her, for once actually softening
towards Anya. Scanning the crowd, I wonder who else I can inveigle into the
task. None of the soldiers seem either willing or able. Buffy and Angel will be
fighting. Tara is helping me with the ritual. Wesley and Xander have agreed to
keep the demons away from us as we cast our magic. And that leaves only…
"Cordelia!" I exclaim enthusiastically. "You'll help won't you?"
She manages to look absolutely horrified by the idea.
"Not if I have to work with Little Miss Screw Xander Senseless."
Anya is about to protest when Wesley steps in graciously.
"Really, Cordelia we would all be most grateful if you would do this. It
absolutely is an essential task." He leans over to whisper conspiratorially in
her ear. "Besides, I believe your help may be needed to keep Anya focused."
She breaks out into a pleased smile. "Well, if it's
really that important…"
"Great! That's settled then," Buffy jumps in before any
other objections can be made. "We're all ready on the slice 'em, dice 'em and
throw 'em into the Hellmouth side," she continues, brandishing an axe. "So, I
guess all that's left now is to wait for Spike."
"What did you tell him to do exactly?" I ask.
Buffy shrugs. "Just to get the demons here however he
could."
Riley frowns. "What do you think he'll do?"
He has barely finished the question when a loud yell
echoes from the corridor outside the library. "Incoming!"
Seconds later Spike barrels through the door, at least
twenty angry demons on his tail.
"Whoa, guess Spike came through after all." Xander
remarks, his eyes widening in fear as the demons stop in the middle of the
room, their six foot forms bristling with fury when they realise they have been
led into an ambush.
"CHARGE!" The lead commando yells, directing all
the soldiers straight into battle. The level of activity in the room
immediately increases one hundred fold, as shouts of pain and victory ring out
and bright blue bolts of electricity from the soldiers' tazer guns fly through
the air.
"Remember to sacrifice them alive!" I shout uselessly
into the melee. But nobody hears me. Turning my attention instead to other
matters, I quickly shove a piece of paper with a written incantation on it into
Cordelia's hands. "Just keep repeating this," I tell her. "Don't stop, whatever
you do."
She and Anya briefly fight over who gets to hold the cue
card, until I glare at them fiercely and they begin to chant sheepishly.
Almost immediately, I sense the mystical barriers
starting to go up around the building and am pleased to see one demon try and
escape out of a window, only to bounce back off an invisible force-field and
fall to the floor. Another demon flies past me, kicked by Buffy, who, in the
intervening lull between attacks, turns around to grab hold of a rapidly
retreating Spike.
"Did you have to make them this mad?" She shouts in his
ear.
"I got them here, didn't I?" He yells back at her. "What
else did you expect me to do? Invite them to a little moonlight soiree where
they got to be the appetiser? Plan a quiet evening of dinner and dancing around
the mouth of Hell?" He shrugs. "I figured if I pissed them off enough they'd
chase me – and I was right too. I honoured my end of the bargain – now it's
your turn to let me go."
"Oh no, you don't," Buffy shakes her head. "Not until
you've pulled your weight in the fight. Here," she shoves a weapon in his hand.
"Demons. In. Pit. It's not really a difficult concept." She shoves him roughly
from behind, pushing him into the battle before jumping back in herself.
Tara's hand on my shoulder makes me jump and I tear my
eyes away from the carnage in front of me, instead turning my attention to the
most vital task of the evening. Re-casting the ritual.
Buffy:
Demons seem to be coming at me from all sides. I had no
idea there were actually this many. I kick one out the way, sending it
sprawling to its knees then easily dodging another's spiny claws by executing a
swift flip over to one side. Vaguely, I register that there is more than one
species of demons here, not all of them members of the initial group that cast
the ritual. Thanks Spike. I always knew he wasn't exactly a favourite amongst
Sunnydale's non-human society, but did he have to bring nearly every single one
of his enemies here tonight for us to fight?
Landing next to Wesley, who is carefully shooting
crossbow bolts at any demons not involved in hand to hand combat, I quickly
remind him to protect Willow and Tara at all costs. If they don't get the
ritual done then all this fighting will have been pointless. The message
received and understood, I rush headlong into the fight once more, leaving
Wesley and Xander steadfastly guarding the spell casters' little corner.
A demon rushes up on my left side and I reward it with a
punch in the face. It shrieks and clutches at its eye, allowing me the
opportunity to pummel it with further blows, knocking it flat on its back near
the edge of the Hellmouth. Bending over, I place my hands on its body, pushing
sharply in order to roll the demon over and down into the abyss. Pleased with
myself, I stand up again, slipping easily back into fighting stance. One down,
only about twenty more to go.
I work my way gradually across the room, feet and fists
flying, conscious of little else but the sea of demons throwing themselves at
me, and their ultimate decimation. After a while I give up trying to throw them
in the Hellmouth myself, instead leaving their unconscious bodies on the ground
for the soldiers to dispose of. Suddenly I feel a sharp pain in the back of my
neck and fall to the floor. Landing on my hands and knees, I twist abruptly
round to see a particularly nasty demon looming over me, a smirk on its face. It
reaches out clawed hands towards my neck and pins me in a stranglehold,
oblivious to my wriggling and kicking in an attempt to get away.
My head begins to go light as my airway is cut off. My struggles
grow weaker and I close my eyes, waiting for the inevitable to overtake me,
hoping against hope that even after my death we go on to win the battle and
save the world. Then, after what seems like an eternity of oxygen deprivation,
the demon's grip loosens. It issues a loud scream and I open my eyes once more,
looking up straight into Angel's determined gaze. He lowers his axe, the blade
tarnished with demon blood from where he just sliced off the creature's arm.
Then with a last glace to check I'm okay he drags the demon to the edge of the
Hellmouth, pushing it in then throwing its severed arm after it.
I climb swiftly to my feet before I can become victim to
another opportunist demon. The fighting is easier now, however, with demon
numbers significantly reduced and I start to hope that maybe we are winning.
Willow and Tara's chanting soars and the adrenaline floods through me as I
deliver a powerful roundhouse kick to another demon, spinning around to punch
his fighting partner in the gut just seconds later. I do a quick head count of
demons and see only half the original number of demons left. Angel has taken on
two, Spike has one in stranglehold and Riley is wrestling with another. Three
soldiers have one easily cornered, Xander and Wesley are fighting one more and
the last two are the focus of any remaining commandoes' attention. Only a few
more minutes to go and then we'll have done it. We are so close to victory.
I allow myself to start enjoying the battle, a thrust
here, a parry there. The demon falls to the ground. Nearly done now. I briefly
look up from my quarry, gauging the positions of the other's once more. Angel
seems to be doing fine; having abandoned his axe in favour of brute force he is
now down to only one opponent. The soldiers are all okay too, their high-tech
weapons proving extremely useful. Riley, on the other hand, I realise with a
shock, appears to be in a little trouble. My movements freeze as I watch him
fall to the ground dangerously close to the edge of the Hellmouth, dragging the
demon he is fighting down with him. The two roll over together, each lost in
the fight, the demon appearing to have the upper hand as it uses its sharp
claws to scratch deep ridges into Riley's torso.
In one last desperate attempt to get the upper hand,
Riley clamps his hands around the demon's throat, trying to pull himself up on
top of the creature. Their bodies twist together on the ground, the sideways
movement causing them to roll closer towards the Hellmouth. For one long,
agonising second they balance precipitously on the lip of the chasm. Then,
almost in slow motion, they topple down together into the depths of Hell.
Spike:
I slam the face of the demon I am fighting into the
ground, actually starting to enjoy myself. It has been ages since I ended up in
the middle of a good punch-up. Admittedly, they're usually the most fun when
you're a little drunker, but I'll take on some gratuitous demon-bashing any day
of the week, even if I am helping the white hats out at the same time.
Some idiot soldier points his tazer gun at me and I whip
it out of his hand, before he even realises what's happening. Bloody Americans
– they'll let any halfwit into their army nowadays. I break his nose with the
weapon, following up with a swift kick to the balls. Ha! That'll teach you for
putting a chip in my damn head you Yankee bastard! The commando crumples up in
pain, collapsing easily to the floor.
Pushing his prone body out of the way, I turn back to the
demon I was busy thrashing, only to find it unconscious too. Disappointed I scoop
it up, ready to dump it in the Hellmouth, like a good little Slayer's pet
should do. But before I can toss the thing away I glance down into the
crevasse. Clinging at the top is Captain Cardboard himself, the Slayer's
current squeeze. My first instinct is to kick him in the face and watch him
drop down into Hell – just for the fun of it really. Then I catch Summers
herself watching me from across the room, her eyes wide and staring, and
sighing loudly I bend down to offer soldier boy my outstretched hand. The
things a bloke will do for the opposite sex.
"Go on take it, you wanker," I wave my hand in Finn's
direction, puzzled by his lack of movement. If I were hanging by my fingertips
over the mouth of Hell then I'd be pretty quick to accept any lifeline offered
to me. "It's okay. I won't bite."
Riley shakes his head grimly. "I don't trust you," he
gasps through the pain of holding his body in place with just the strength left
in his arms and shoulders.
"Tough luck, mate," I reply. "Because I'm all you got
right now. Now I'm trying to do you a favour here. Just take my fucking hand!"
He dislodges his grip from the rock face, reaching out
tentatively to me with outstretched fingers. I lean as far down as I dare, my
fingertips just meeting his. Before I can get a decent hold however, his other
arm gives way and he falls down into the darkness, his palm grazing straight
past mine as he slides out of my grasp.
His yell echoes off the walls of the abyss, fading
gradually away as he falls deeper into nothingness. I shrug, muttering to
myself. "Oh well, never mind. One less complete prick in the world."
Climbing back up to my feet, I look back at the Slayer.
She has turned her face away once more and is fighting two demons with
desperation. Her blows are wild and uncontrolled and totally lacking her usual
deadly precision. Quickly, I dispose of my unconscious demon, deciding to make
helping the Slayer my last good deed of the evening. But before I can cross the
room to help her a blur of putrid purple flesh rushes past me, swiftly followed
by another running figure this one a lot more familiar. Angelus, in pursuit of
whatever minion of Hell thought it could get away with making the Scourge of
Europe mad. I turn to follow the outcome of the chase – this promises to be
entertaining.
The demon rushes straight into that annoying young upstart
friend of the Slayer's – the Harris boy – who, with the help of Watcher Mark
Two (the new improved version with added stuffiness), slams a crossbow bolt
into its neck. But while they are occupied dispatching Angelus' escaped prey,
the demon they had previously forced back into a corner begins to advance again
towards the group of chits in the middle of spell casting. The demon launches
itself at the mouthy one with the long dark hair, tackling her to the ground.
She stops her chanting with a loud scream and there is a definite change in
atmosphere as whatever mystic conjurings they were working on slip out of
existence.
Angel roars loudly as he throws himself at the demon, pulling
it off the struggling Cordelia and launching himself into a tooth and nail
fight with the creature. They wrestle their way around the area, nearly
upsetting the redheaded witch's cauldron of spell ingredients as they do so. A
snapping of bones, unmistakably the demons not Angelus', and a spray of
yellow-tinted blood, convince me that this particular fight is pretty much
decided, so instead I head over to help Buffy instead.
Twisting around, I look over to where the Slayer and the
two demons were battling sixty seconds ago. One of the demons lies unconscious
on the ground, but the other has Buffy pinned up against the wall. My lips have
barely had chance to form the word "NO!" when the demon forms its hand into a
tight fist, pulling backwards and then thrusting one of the large spines on the
back of its hand into Buffy's chest. She collapses to the ground, a bright red
bloodstain spreading across the front of her shirt.
Incensed, I rush over and pummel at the demon
mercilessly, pounding my fists into it until it falls limply to the floor. With
an angry yell, that is lost in the cacophony of frantic chanting, I raise the
demon's battered form above my head, tossing it bodily into the Hellmouth,
making it – with the help of the commandoes and the rest of the Slayer's motley
crew – the final demon to be sacrificed.
End of Part Sixteen
(A/N ~ Yay! I sent Riley
to Hell! Hurrah!)