Solitude1056 | Marcus had been walking for about a half-hour when he began to stumble. He was tired, physically and mentally. Cursing himself, he forced his head upright and continued criss-crossing the town's streets. He still had his wallet, he could check into a hotel... if I could just find one, he muttered silently. But he knew he'd been leaving clear traces since the afternoon, and hadn't made an effort to deviate while carrying the witch back to her apartment. I should've found a reason not to carry her, I should've slipped away from them, he argued with himself. At the same time, he knew full well that the two witches might be his one good chance at fighting off his cousins. His feet kept moving, automatically, and he studied the dark sidewalk as it flashed by under his long strides. His mind narrowed and focused into a single beam of intensity. Five more steps, it chanted, five more steps. And at the fifth pace, he started over. Five more steps. He'd passed darkened houses, a graveyard, and a corner gas station. Cheering up at the prospect of something to drink, he turned into the parking lot, only to see the interior lights click off as he approached. Disgusted at his timing, he picked up his pace, randomly turning corners without care as to his direction. If I'm lost, so be it, he told himself. It won't be the first time I've gotten lost in an unfamiliar city, but at least this time I speak the language. Dully he considered that he didn't, really. The Slayer's friends not only had a cadence in their speaking that was unfamiliar, they were open and upfront with him. "And all I've been able to do is tell them lies in return," he suddenly said aloud. Startled at the noise in the silent streets, he glanced around. No movement except his own feet, flashing in and out of the bottom of his vision. More importantly, he couldn't feel anything, either. Maybe they're still nursing their wounds, he reassured himself. Or better, maybe they've given up and gone home. He doubted it, but it was a pleasant thought. Five more steps... five more steps. Finally, Marcus turned a corner where he thought recognized the street sign. Another couple of steps, and his nostrils flared. An ominous silence seemed to fill the street, and slowly Marcus came to a halt. His eyes narrowed against the streetlights, he turned in a full circle. A soft keening sound whispered in his ears and he nearly moaned out loud. Turning around again, he listened, trying to get his bearings. |
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"Why run?" The voice was soft, and echoed hollowly in the alleyway. Marcus whirled around to face the alley. The air crackled. Giving the pendant to Mr. Giles was suicide, he rebuked himself. There's nothing anyone could do for me now. I don't have the strength to fight. "Ari," Marcus choked out. "Show yourself and let's get this done." Marcus' voice was barely audible. He laughed silently, a bitter sound echoing in his head. Once, the bond between he and Aeralyus had been strong despite the fact that Marcus and Talia could barely tolerate each other. Their differences in opinion and goals had driven them apart. And look where we are now, he observed distantly. "My dearest cousin," Aeralyus responded tolerantly as he stepped around the corner, "our last conversation was truly disastrous." Marcus shook his head, his hand on the door to steady himself. "Why talk to me?" Marcus coughed again, his chest flexing in pain. "You consider me an abomination." Aeralyus shrugged. "I have my reasons. Although," he reflected, amused, "it was entertaining to see Talia so infuriated." Marcus scowled and closed his eyes, trying desperately to conceal the agony in his lungs and legs. When Marcus opened his eyes again, he was staring directly into his cousin's clear blue eyes. Marcus gritted his teeth. "Marcus," his cousin chided him gently. "I am quite shocked at your behavior, thinking you can elude us. You're alive only because I convinced Talia that you'll have a change of heart once you've fully realized your potential." Aeralyus placed his hand on Marcus' shoulder, a comforting gesture. "You belong with us. We're family." Marcus leaned back, unable to muster the energy to jerk out away from his cousin's touch. Aeralyus continued as if they were having a conversation over tea, just as they used to when Marcus was younger. "You're lucky I found you before Talia did. Personally, I believe in giving you another chance to come to your senses." Marcus laughed, and the effort set him to coughing. The older man waited patiently until Marcus was able to speak. "So why with the sideshow and howling?" Marcus asked. He was annoyed, and that was overcoming his fear. "You could have hurt a great many people this afternoon. If you didn't intend to kill me right out, then what's the deal?" Marcus glanced past his cousin. "And where's the Claw Queen?" Aeralyus chuckled. "You idiot. The sideshow, as you so delicately put it, was for Talia's benefit. If she knew I'd found you and not told her, she'd first kill you, and then make me miserable for more than a lifetime." Aeralyus chuckled again, quieter. "Given the option, death might be preferred... I sent her to Father, and she's still nursing the bruises from the combined effort of your shove and his welcome. Your defense, on its own, was impressive but hardly sufficient. There is not much time before she realizes where we are, and when she does, you cannot be here. I won't be able to stop her." "So?" Marcus retorted, a guttural sound. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. "I want to live my life, and be left alone. Why can't you get it through your thick skull that I don't want any part of your schemes!" |
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As if in response to Buffy's question, the pendant in Giles's hand began to emit a blue light that steadily grew in intensity. Buffy said, "Uh oh." The pendant, as if drawn up by an invisible hand, began to rise from the handkerchief, until it was suspended in front of them. It began a slow counterclockwise spin. Blue light began to streak the walls, ceiling, and floor of the room. Giles stared at the empty handkerchief, then pulled off his glasses and used the linen to wipe them quickly. "Please tell me I'm not the only one seeing that," Buffy said softly. Willow shrugged helplessly. "I'm seeing glowy, floaty, and spinny." "Extraordinary!" Giles exclaimed as he replaced his glasses, peering closely at the pendant. Nervously, Buffy asked, "Any ideas, Will?" "Um... I think it's warning us." Tara's movement drew their attention. She stood up and walked slowly towards the spinning pendant. "No," she said calmly. "It's warning him." Giles frowned. "Tara, I'm afraid I'm not really certain..." "I am." She turned to Willow and put out her hand. "Help me." Willow climbed out of bed and took Tara's hand. "Make a circle," Willow told Buffy and Giles. Forming a circle around the spinning pendant, all four linked hands, a current of electricity running under their skins. The pendant began circling faster. Tara's face was illuminated with a pure blue light. She stared into it, her eyes wide and unblinking. "Marcus," Tara whispered. A thin tendril of blue light shot out from the pendant. "Marcus." The witch's voice was as clear in his ears as though she was standing beside him. God, please no. Not now. Feebly, he pushed the witch out of his head. He could feel her: probing, sensing, touching. |
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"Ari," Marcus managed to spit. The witch was pouring into every crevice, consuming his awareness, and angrily he shoved her away. "Ari," Marcus said again, gathering his last ounce of self-control. "Go to hell." |
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There was a long pause, and then Tara blinked suddenly, and took a deep breath. "I've found him," she said, and the rest of the group exchanged curious glances. There was another long pause while Tara seemed to listen intently. She frowned and glanced at Willow. "Let's do it." Willow, catching the hint, nodded, and returned her gaze to the pendant. When Tara spoke again, her voice was unwavering. "I am the Ancient of Names," Tara whispered, her words hanging in the air after she spoke. "She who is called Aradia, Hecate, Astarte." Willow's voice joined Tara's. "I am the White Lady of deep mysteries, ancient and powerful." The ray of light from the pendant grew stronger, more powerful. Giles and Buffy remained motionless, watching and waiting. For a second there, Willow thought she heard another voice joining theirs. |
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For a moment, there was complete silence. Distantly, Marcus heard his cousin laugh, a cruel sound. Before Marcus could react, a stab of molten hot agony pierced his chest, and he sank to his knees, screaming. Two jagged ridges had appeared down the front of his shirt. As his blood welled up and spilled down the front of his shirt, he reached for his pendant. Blood seeped through his shirt, down his thighs and stained his hands. Gasping, he clutched at his chest, the fire and pain mingling in his numbed brain. |
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But what are you doing? Marcus silently begged the witches, helpless against the intrusion. |
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"I am the Protector. I am the Guardian." Tara squeezed Willow's hand. Willow nodded. Giles began to breath harshly. Buffy felt as if something were being pulled out of her. Three voices, blended together, now spoke. The room was spinning, and the witches could hear an anguished howl. Startled, Tara and Willow exchanged a glance, and then Tara swallowed hard, her eyes wide. "I am kith and kin to Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Spirit. That which is not of me, must flee me!" A burst of blue energy flashed outward from the pendant. Buffy and Giles flinched, but held the circle. The pendant, now dark, fell to the floor. |
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"That which is not of me, must flee me!" Marcus roared the final line of the incantation as his cousin's talons darted under Marcus' raised hands and ripped through his chest a second time. There was a flash of darkness, and he closed his eyes, screaming as he sank to the ground. Marcus clutched his chest where two more gashes had appeared. Blood filled his vision. He retched as spasms wracked his body. Slowly, bitterly, he sobbed, his body curling across the back steps of the Magic Box.
Slowly, the four released their hands. Tara was
swaying slightly on her feet, her face pale. "We got it," Tara said, then
frowned. "I didn't see what it "Werewolf?" Buffy asked sharply. "No, worse." Tara's shaky voice cut her off. "Something that feeds on pain." Willow put an arm around Tara to steady her, ignoring the sharp ache in her ankle as she put weight on it. Tara focused the last of her energy on Buffy and Giles. "I saw blood, and pain, terrible pain... Marcus is behind the Magic Box. Hurry." Buffy reached for the pendant right as Giles put out his arm. "Don't touch it," he warned. "It's only safe for Marcus." Giles shook his handkerchief open and scooped up the pendant before dashing out the door after Buffy. "Hurry, please," Willow called after them. With her command echoing in their ears, both ran. Giles drove the convertible straight down the alley, striking the assorted refuse that lined it. He stopped on a dime, barely avoiding the fast-approaching wall. Marcus was huddled in the doorway, shivering, clutching his chest. He looked up, his eyes wide and vulnerable. Buffy leapt out of the car and swung the car door open wide. "Get in," she whispered harshly. Buffy looked around uneasily, slipping the pendant out of her pocket and gingerly tugged the cord over his neck. Marcus shuddered as the pendant thumped once against his chest and Buffy jumped back, startled. "Get in the bloody car. Now." Giles's voice was low, but full of menace. Buffy steeled herself and reached down, lifting Marcus. He was bent over, but he managed to struggle the few feet before collapsing into the tiny back seat. Giles put the car in reverse and backed out of the alley, tires screaming. Lucky for me, he thought, the coppers are on their requisite doughnut breaks. Giles smiled grimly and continued to drive as if chased by the hounds of hell. "Anybody following?" he asked Buffy quietly. She shrugged noncommittally. "Dunno. Don't think so." "He's gone, for now." Marcus' voice was reed-thin. Buffy and Giles exchanged a look. Giles pulled into the parking lot at his old apartment. Marcus was unable to move without help; Buffy and Giles half-carried, half-dragged him into the apartment. Buffy lowered Marcus onto a dust-covered sofa as Giles snapped on a nearby light. Buffy sucked in her breath. There was a splattering of blood on the sheet - and a lot more on Marcus' shirt. "You're hurt," she snapped. "Why didn't you say anything in the car?" "I wasn't bleeding if I wasn't moving," Marcus quipped, and smiled weakly. "I didn't want to get blood on the leather. Hell to get out." Buffy began opening the buttons on his shirt quickly, ripping it even more in her haste. Marcus tried a weak chuckle. "Not in the mood right now, truth be told." Buffy ignored him. "Giles, I need something to stop the bleeding." Giles gathered supplies from the bathroom. He threw some towels, gauze, tape, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide on the sofa. "I'll take it from here, Buffy." Buffy moved aside. She folded a towel into a thick pad and soaked it with hydrogen peroxide while Giles carefully pulled the shirt aside. "Good God," Giles said blankly. Four deep gouges ran in parallel lines down Marcus' chest. After a glance at Buffy, he began to clean them as gently as possible. Buffy's face registered no expression. "Whatever's chasing you needs a manicure. Or a pedicure." Marcus closed his eyes and said nothing. "Why don't you check in with Willow?" Giles suggested to Buffy. Buffy headed for the phone. She tucked a strand of hair behind her hair while she waited for Willow to answer. "Hi Will, it's me. We've got him. Yes... okay... some cuts, but he'll heal. How's Tara?" Buffy nodded to Giles, relief apparent on her face. "Good. No, it can wait until tomorrow. He needs sleep, Tara needs sleep, you need sleep, I need sleep. It's almost..." Buffy looked at her watch and groaned. "The time, Will, gotta run!" She hung up. Giles looked up. "Tara?" He had almost finished bandaging a clearly exhausted and now half-asleep Marcus. "She's fine." She paced back and forth in front of the sofa. "Giles, I hate to do this, but I've gotta go. I totally forgot about Dawn." "Isn't Spike with her?" he asked. Buffy stopped pacing and the tension visibly drained out of her. "Right. Spike's home." She stopped for a beat. "I mean, Spike's with her." She smiled wryly. "I'm tired." Giles stood up. Marcus appeared to be fast asleep. "I'll take it from here." He briefly dropped his hand on Buffy's shoulder. "You go home." |
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Giles walked back into the kitchen after checking on Marcus. The boy's stamina is amazing, he mused. Marcus had appeared asleep when Buffy left, Giles recalled, but one eye had opened as soon as he heard the door shut. "Is she gone now?" he'd whispered hoarsely. Giles shook his head, unable to stop himself from being amused at a young man's pride. And the boy still had the audacity to demand a bath. Giles grumbled to himself, but not unhappily so, as he poured himself a drink. He'd sat in a chair close to the bathroom door reading; not because he feared Marcus was an escape risk, but because he was afraid the young man might fall asleep in the tub and drown. His concerns were moot. Marcus had been awake enough to splash at uneven intervals. Probably knew I was listening, too, Giles thought, amused. Marcus had not resisted when Giles helped him to the back bedroom, nor complained while Giles replaced the water- and blood-soaked bandages with new ones. By the time Giles was done, Marcus was truly asleep. Giles had carefully laid a blanket over the young man and quietly crept from the room. And now, an hour later, awake and still pondering, Giles found himself checking on the sleeping figure for a second time. The young man's breathing was even and deep, the sleep of the truly exhausted. Giles nodded in satisfaction, and quietly closed the bedroom door. |
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