Part 3 ...
Giles had found time at some point during the day to have his door repaired. Carefully, Buffy tapped it, trying not to do any damage. They were all assembled when she and Angel entered. Willow and Xander – looking tired and dishevelled. Cordy, looking – well, like Cordy. Giles in front of them, backing slowly away, one hand slightly behind his back. And the gypsy, standing at a window with her back to the door. The smell of life and blood hit Buffy as soon as they walked into the room, and she growled without even realising it, face Changing as the blood-craving rose in her, the ever present hunger rising.
Xander, Willow and Cordy scrambled back. Giles looked at her sadly and quickly raised the cross that had been hanging by his side. The gypsy had prepared him for this, that the Spell would be taking effect, bit by bit. That it would slowly strip away what was Buffy, her humanity, and simply leave the demon with her memories. Buffy hissed, face contorting with fear and pain, and twisted away from the cross, hands coming up to shield her face. Angel's features sharpened with pain, then he gently took her by the shoulders and guided her away, murmuring gently. When she turned back to them, she was in control again.
She spoke directly to Catriana. "Do you have everything you need? Can we get this done?" The gypsy nodded, eyes dark with an emotion that Buffy couldn't identify.
"I have spoken to your friends. We are prepared. We can conduct the Ritual. We have everything we need."
Buffy and Angel stood to one side, watching as the others prepared. Furniture was pushed to the sides of the room, and a large circle chalked onto the floor. Odd symbols were drawn at points round it, and seven fat black candles placed and lit, flames wavering. Catriana directed everything from a slim, tattered volume that she had produced from her coat. Giles and Xander swung silver chains with incense burners, filling the room with scented smoke that wreathed and curled in the corners, growing slowly thicker. Willow and Cordy scattered handfuls of herbs at certain areas of the circle and around the candles.
At Catriana's gesture, Buffy and Angel finally moved into the circle, the gypsy with them.
"One thing. Before we begin," Catriana said. "You must not - under any circumstances - leave the circle. You must stay within it, or the Ritual will fail and Taros will claim you." She glanced at the others. "And then nothing, on this earth or out of it, will be able to help your friends."
Her voice was low at first, rising on the unfamiliar words. Buffy began to feel dizzy as the smoke rose around them, and closed her eyes, listening to the rise and fall of the woman's voice as she chanted the ancient words of an Invocation, feeling the sharp-sweet scent of the herbs fill her brain. She felt Angel's hand grip hers, and as the words went on and on, swayed in time to the faceless voice beside them. She felt as though she was falling, the words spiralling round, pulling her down. Nothing but the voice and the smoke and the spell. Redness, thick and cloying. Then emptiness. Falling. Empty. Light. White and pure, bright. Falling … … …
* * * *
Giles coughed and rolled onto his side. Staggering to his feet, he rose, weaving unsteadily over to a window, shoving it open, trying to clear the room of the murky grey mist that remained. Red flickered at its edges, and he rubbed his face as he thought about what they'd watched.
The smoke from the incense had become thicker than should have been possible, covering almost everything. Catriana's voice had risen and fallen in what seemed to be the distance, as she sang-chanted-spoke the words of the spell. There was only her voice and the sharply scented smoke. Till the howling, screaming roar of pain and anger as – something was ripped from the two figures who had slumped to the floor in the circle. It had hovered above them, pulsing and red and black edged, flickering, and even Giles had felt the hate, the malevolence coming from it. Then the light – white and pure, spearing the thing, spreading out. He remembered falling, the power beating down on him. The gypsy screaming, voice rising into an unbearable shriek of pain. Then … … slowly waking.
He could see them in the smoke, lying crumpled at what had to be the centre of the circle. The others were beginning to stir, like him. Coughing, coming slowly to their knees. Wiping his eyes against the acrid sting of the smoke – sharper now than simply incense and herbs – Giles made his way to Buffy and Angel, huddled against each other, hands clasped, eyes closed. As the smoke cleared slowly he was reassured to see that they were breathing. And the realisation came to him. Breathing! Something that vampires didn't need to do. But where was the gypsy?
He found her body where she'd been flung out of the circle, the book lying tumbled by her hand. He picked it up gingerly, looking at the page it was open at. And read, slowly, haltingly translating the language it was written in. An ancient tongue, so old that the Ritual didn't even have a name. He wondered briefly where she'd found it. The Ritual had worked, alright. But what none of them had realised was that the gypsy had sacrificed herself. One life given up in exchange for one soul, one pure heart, given willingly.
He looked at the huddled figures on the floor. Wondering. One heart for one soul – yet the gypsy had given one heart – for two souls. She'd had no choice. Couldn't have Angel without a soul – almost no evil equalled his years of blood and death – but you couldn't have Buffy with the strengths of demon and Slayer roaming free either. She'd known that. She must have trusted in her abilities, in the power of the Ritual to be strong enough to work for two souls in danger. Wearily, Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose. Xander had helped Cordy and Willow to their feet, and they stood, arms round each other for comfort, murmuring together, warily looking at Buffy and Angel. Waiting ……