Buffy vs. the Evil Dead
by Demon-Fighter Ash
Chapter 1: Nightfall
1
"And he seemed pretty wiggy," Buffy asked as she dropped her bookbag onto the store-counter, glancing back out the window as the mid-afternoon sun began to sink across the sky, instinctively planning tonight's patrol through the vampire-infested town of Sunnydale, even though lately the nightly patrols had grown so uneventful that she'd actually started to bring books-on-tape with her to help catch up with her the audited college classes she'd enrolled in lately.
She looked around at the rest of the gang: Xander sat with Anya at one of the tables and Willow stared at the store computer's screen, cocooning herself within the familiar world of java-scripts and internet protocols, while Tara watched her from the counter with concern, her head resting in her folded arms.
"REALLY wiggy," Willow corrected her as she typed nervously on the store's computer and fretted, "he was completely wigged. Whole new dimensions of wigginess. Tell her, Xander!"
"Yeah," Xander answered, "it was a definite highlight in wigging history. It's like he went into a trance as soon as he got that phone- call."
"You don't suppose he really did," Buffy asked suspiciously.
"Oh no," Willow reassured her, "he was himself, just...wigged self. I overheard some of what he said on the phone and the names he mentioned...like the Necronomicon. I've read that name before and it's never been good. It's always evil destroy-the-world kinda stuff."
"But if he was involved in something like that," Buffy asked, "why wouldn't he tell us?"
"You know how he gets about these things," Willow pouted, "he turns all it's my responsibility, I have to handle it and I can't put any of you in danger,' like staying in Sunnydale's supposed to be safe."
"Yeah," Buffy answered as she sat down at a table, "I've seen that before. So what do we do?"
"What do we do about what," Dawn called out as she stepped through the back door of the Magic Box and jogged into the main shop, dropping her bookbag by the door as she pulled out a chair and sank into it, exhausted from school.
"Giles getting wiggy with it," Buffy answered, smiling a little at the sight of her younger sister.
"That's never good," Dawn replied, "so what are we going to do about it?"
"We don't even know where he's going," Anya shrugged.
"Actually, I do," Willow answered with a twinge of guilt as she looked up from the monitor, "I heard him say the name Knowby, then he said Raymond, so I did a search on that name, checking with all the college listings first because, well, it's Giles. I found a Professor Raymond Knowby of Dextin University, a professor of ancient history and archeology. He also teaches courses in folklore and mythology."
"Not good combinations in our experience," Xander sighed, "so you think Giles went to visit him?"
"Uh-uh," Willow shook her head, "Giles took those hiking boots he bought for that camping trip we took a few years ago, the ones he hated, so he's probably going out to the woods. I searched the state records for property listed under the name Raymond Knowby and I found a cabin in a state forest, same state as the university."
"You really are worried," Buffy said softly, trying to remember the last time she'd seen her best friend doing this much computer-hacking, "do you think we should go up there and check it out, make sure he's okay?"
"I've got a really bad feeling," she answered, "he's got an hour head- start, but you know how Giles drives. If we hurry, we could probably beat him there, or at least catch up with him."
"And what if he really is just checking up on an old friend," Buffy asked.
"Then we could go on a camping trip," Tara answered as Willow bit her lip nervously, "we'll stop by on the way and, if everything's okay, we'll just keep going to the campgrounds."
"I'm not doing anything this weekend," Dawn replied.
"That sounds pretty manly," Xander offered, "I could show off all my wilderness skills, doing things like pulling fish out of water with strings and fending off small furry animals. It'd be fun."
"What kind of small furry animals," Anya asked apprehensively.
"Just squirrels, honey," he reassured her, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand as she relaxed.
"Alright," Buffy answered, "one spur-of-the-moment camping trip coming right up. Do you think Spike can handle patrols this weekend until we get back?"
"What," Spike answered from the back door, his shadow looming through the store, "and let the lot of you have all the fun? Not a chance--I've got my own trees to hug, mother nature to commune with, or whatever."
"There is no way," Buffy said slowly, "I am spending a weekend in the woods with..."
"Why would you even want to go," Xander asked sharply.
"Boredom, really," Spike shrugged as he walked through the store, "Sunnydale's been dead all month and I figure there's always a few stray demons hanging around in the woods I can beat up on."
"Come on," Dawn pouted at Buffy, "we could always use some backup."
"She's right," Willow said, "if something really is going on, we might need his help. And we haven't seen a vampire in weeks," she stuttered awkwardly as Spike silently glared silently, always sensitive about the rest of the gang taking his harmlessness for granted, "except, of course," she quickly switched subjects, "you know how trouble follows us...Sunnydale'll probably be better than ever while we're gone."
Buffy glanced from Dawn to Willow curiously. She'd half-expected Dawn, who'd lately started to develop a crush on Spike, to take up for him, but Willow was a completely different matter. Willow knew how awkward dealing with the slayer-smitten vampire could be--she'd never suggest bringing him unless she really thought it was important. Buffy sighed and simply shrugged as she gave in to the three.
"Alright, you're coming too, Spike," she shot him a quick glare, "but you know the rules."
"Yeah, yeah," he waved his hand with boredom, "I pretend you don't exist, got it."
"That just leaves one question," Xander asked, "who's driving the mystery machine?"
2
The sun sank behind the tree-covered hills and low sloping mountains as an old white station-wagon drove slowly through the winding single-lane roads, disappearing behind clumps of bare leafless branches and crawling up along steep rocky cliffs as the car made its way into the depths of the rugged mountain wilderness.
"Didn't anybody else see the Blair Witch Project," Xander asked nervously as he peered over the steering wheel at the small barely-paved road leading still deeper into the forest, "what if there's a witch out here? I mean a bad witch, like that?"
"Xander," Buffy answered from the back seat, "that was just a movie."
"Yeah, besides," Willow said, her voice rising to a squeak of indignation, "that was just some Hollywood poophead making up lies about witches. Real witches don't run around woods leaving sticks hanging, they help people and do nice things like leaving," she paused, "I dunno, ribbons hanging..."
"Actually, she was the real thing," Spike tossed in from the back of the station-wagon, perched behind the back seats, the rear windows covered by blankets, "good camerawork too."
"What?"
"Oh yeah," he said with a shrug, as though discussing the latest football game, "Blair witch, terrorizing the campers, making old hermits go nuts and off a few kiddies, that's her alright. You should meet her," he glanced down at Willow, "you might learn a spell or two. Place is a little run-down but it's right up in the mountains."
Willow twisted her head out to look at the passing trees and narrow pine-covered cliffs, too flustered to speak as Spike smirked from his blanket-covered perch in the back of the station-wagon.
"Well, that's not a witch," Tara said gently as she patted Willow's knee, trying to calm her down, "it's just some demon impersonating a witch, or..or probably Bigfoot..."
"Nope, she's a real witch," Spike answered smugly,"what, do you think all you witches are tulip-wearing sissies? Some of you actually know how to have a good time."
"Hey, we're coming up on a bridge," Xander called out as the station- wagon tumbled over an old wooden bridge spanning a deep rocky gorge. The bridge rattled beneath the wheels and Buffy looked out the window nervously, staring into the misty darkness hanging below them.
"Are you sure this bridge is safe?"
"Don't worry," Xander answered with a grin, "this baby is as solid as a..."
"BUNNIES!!!"
Everybody jumped as Anya's scream filled the car, ringing in their ears for several moments as she yanked away from the door and tugged frantically on Xander's flannel sleeve.
"Three of them, out there in the woods," Anya muttered to herself in short panicked gasps, "they were just staring at me with their beady little black eyes and listening with those ears...we have to turn around right now!"
"Anya, calm down," Xander sighed, then jolted as she lunged for the steering wheel, twisting the car back around, "hey, let go of the wheel," as he tried to wrestle the wheel away from her, "come on, let go...let..."
"You didn't tell me there were going to be bunnies out here," Anya shouted as she tugged and fought with him over the steering wheel, "I am NOT going into any forest that has bunnies in it!"
"You'll be fine," Xander tried to reassure her as he fought with her over the steering wheel, "I'll protect," and then the station-wagon rolled sideways across the road, the front half tumbling over the side of the bridge, the front wheels spinning in the air as the engine died, the car dangling halfway over the edge of the chasm.
3
"Why am I in the back seat," Anya pouted from the back of the car as they continued down the dirt road, "you're my boyfriend, I should get dibs on the front seat! Besides, the oldest person in the car always gets to sit in the front seat. Everybody over a thousand, raise your hands. See, dibs are all mine. My dibs."
"Trust me, honey, It's for your own good," Xander said as Buffy sat beside him, and he whispered to her, "and ours."
"How deep in the woods are we," Dawn asked, glancing nervously out the window, "I mean, if the car wrecked again and we got stuck out here, we could be lost for days. We could starve or..."
"We'll be fine, Dawn," Buffy turned around to reassure her little sister, "it's just a camping trip."
"Well, I'd be fine anyway," Spike remarked, "dunno about the rest of you, though."
"You wouldn't dare," Buffy snarled, and then a confused look crossed her face, her head tilting, "actually, you couldn't anyway."
"Let's see, bad headache or starve to death, bad headache or starve to death...oh wait, that's easy," Spike answered, his voice lowering in a decisive, threatening tone, "bad headache," he paused a moment as the rest of the gang stared into the blanket-cave he'd set up, and he continued in an exasperated tone, "oh come on, you humans would do it in a second. Donner party anyone? Or that movie with the airplane, whatsitcalled..."
"Oh yeah, Alive. I liked that movie," Dawn answered with a smile, trying to be helpful, and then her face slowly sank into a frowning mix of dismay and revulsion as she realized what he meant, "oh."
"Nobody's eating anybody," Xander called out into the car firmly, "because we're here."
The car slowly followed along a winding dirt road through the hills and the woods suddenly opened into a small clearing filled with rotting leaves and twisted bare trees. Xander pulled the car in front of an old wooden cabin crouched in the middle of the hollow and the group began to crawl out of the car.
"Alright," Xander shuddered as she looked around, "this couldn't be creepier."
Dismal gray clouds covered the sky, a faint crimson glow hovering over the western horizon as they looked around at the black leafless trees and the warped wooden planks of the dark cabin, then at a small workshed perched behind the cabin, almost hidden by the overgrown bushes and weeds. Spike slowly reached his fingers out through the back of the station-wagon, testing the air for sunlight, then hopped out onto his feet.
"Does anybody else feel anything," Buffy said nervously, looking around at the empty forest.
"Like what," Willow asked.
"Like there's something here," she said softly, "like we're being watched..."
Invisible eyes stared out of the forest at the group, a low rumbling chant of primordial hatred silently filling the air as it began to tumble down the hill, rushing over the damp festering leaves and snapping through twigs and branches as it glided over the hood of the station-wagon toward Buffy.
Buffy felt something snatching at her neck and she suddenly whirled around, grabbing a gnarled hand and dropping to her knees as she flipped the creature over her shoulder onto its back.
"Giles!"
Xander and Willow bent to the ground to help Giles back to his feet while Buffy glanced around in shock, then noticed his glasses lying on the ground and bent down to pick them up. Giles rubbed his face wearily as Dawn helped dust off his tweed jacket, then took his glasses back from Buffy and put them back on.
"I'm sorry," Buffy stammered, her colorless face blushing as she realized he was alright, "Giles, I thought you were...I mean, I felt like we were being watched, and then...I thought..."
"Yes, well," he shook his head, trying to get his bearings, "that's alright--there might be a reason for your instincts as a slayer being heightened in this...in this place," then he tilted his head as he came to his senses, "but what are all of you doing here anyway?"
"We were," Tara said after looking around at the silent group, "going on a...camping trip..."
"Right," Willow nodded, "and we saw your car while we were camping..."
"Doing tough manly things," Xander offered, "like hunting large hairy animals and eating them..."
"Except for bunnies," Anya said quickly in a panic, "we leave the bunnies alone..."
"And so," Buffy concluded with an innocent smile, "we just stopped by to say hi."
"Scooby gang got worried and followed you," Spike said with a cock- eyed backward glance at the rest of the group as they suddenly glared at him, "I got bored and wanted some fresh air."
"While we were on," Dawn said, her voice sinking as she finally gave up, "our camping trip?"
"I see," Giles answered, still rubbing his forehead with his fingertips, "well, as long as you're here, I should explain what's going on. I'm meeting with Annie Knowby, the daughter of an old friend of mine, Raymond Knowby, but," he gestured toward the two cars, his convertible and the station-wagon, "she doesn't seem to have arrived yet. Professor Knowby is supposed to be at this cabin, but we want to make sure he's alright."
"Is he in the cabin," Buffy asked.
"I don't know," Giles answered, "I haven't checked. I've only been here a few minutes."
"We should check it out then," she answered as she turned toward the cabin.
They walked slowly through the piles of damp leaves and half-rotted twigs, the porch groaning under their weight as they climbed slowly up the steps, the porch-swing on the right side of the porch rocking softly as though invisible children were kicking it back and forth. Buffy shuddered and tried to put the thought out of her mind, then noticed the plain wooden front-door--and the two holes smashed through it. She looked back at Giles with concern, then grabbed the doorknob and pushed it open.
The cabin lay drenched in darkness and she groped alongside the door, finding a light switch and flipping it on. A dim flickering electric bulb illuminated the living room and Buffy glanced back at the others.
"Electricity still works," she said nervously with a shrug, then continued forward.
The living-room was obviously the greater part of the cabin, a large room with a bare wooden floor covered by oriental rugs. A writing desk and wooden chair sat in one corner, topped by notebooks and a large tape- recorder, and she looked around at the rest of the room. A fireplace sat against the right wall of the living room and a mounted deer's head stared out from above the fireplace with black marble eyes. An old green couch lay pressed against the adjoining wall and a rocking chair sat in the middle of the room. She glanced down at the floor and noticed a trap-door built into the floorboards, fastened by chains and a thick padlock. The cellar.
"Now this is what I'm talking about," Spike said eagerly as he picked up a double-barrel shotgun from the couch and studied it closely, "a twelve- gauge double-barreled Remington, made in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Walnut stock, cobalt-blue steel...and a hair trigger."
"Spike," Buffy said firmly, hand outstretched, "give me the gun."
"Are you joking," Spike scoffed, "go find your own! This is MY boomstick!"
"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes, "you can't do anything with it anyway. Besides," she said as she bent down to pick up a woodaxe leaning against the wall, "I've got an axe. Cooler than a gun anyday."
"You wish," Spike taunted, then paused as Buffy looked around, feeling a chill running along her spine, as though something were watching her. She turned around and noticed a bulk propped against one of the corners, the dim shadows covering it, keeping her from making out anything more than its size--but she felt her heart jumping into her throat at the size of it. She slowly walked forward, listening to the floorboards creak beneath her shoes, and she gradually became aware of another sound: flies swarming around the corner. She grabbed a pair of shoes sticking out of the darkness and dragged them forward, covering her mouth as a sudden stench filled her nostrils.
"Giles," she choked, twisting her head away from the sight, "I think we've found Annie."
4
Spike grunted as he stabbed the earthen floor of the cabin's fruit cellar, shovelling another handful of moldy dirt from the coffin-deep hole he and Giles had dug into the basement floor. He glanced back up at the thin shafts of light pouring through the open trap-door above, listening for a moment to the rest of the gang as they explored the back rooms of the cabin and talking in hushed whispers, then he turned to Giles.
"That's fine," Giles gasped with a nod, leaning on his shovel, "that's deep enough."
Spike shook his head with bewilderment then shrugged and rolled Annie's body into the hole, shovelling the dirt across her back. He patted down the few inches of damp earth covering her with the back of the shovel and shook his head with dismay as he realized that the dagger sticking out of her back could still be seen.
"That's barely covering her," Spike complained, and then he gave a knowing look to Giles, "but then, you didn't really bring her down here just to bury her, did you?"
"Spike," Giles answered wearily, "this isn't your concern."
"Like hell it isn't," Spike growled, "I helped you bury her. I'm here just like the rest of you and whatever's going on in this cabin affects me just like it does you. The scoobies might be content to stay in the dark, but I'm not, not when I'm not involved. Now why did we bury her down here, why not outside?"
"Alright," Giles sighed, shaking his head, "how old did Annie look to you?"
"I dunno," Spike answered, thinking about it, "twenty-two, twenty- three maybe?"
"How long do you think she was dead?"
"A few days, maybe a week. No more than that."
"Right. The last time I saw Annie Knowby was more than eight years ago."
"Must have not been too torn up over it then," Spike shrugged.
"She was like a daughter to me," Giles said through clenched teeth, then relaxed, "but that's not the point. The point is that when I saw her eight years ago, she looked just like she did now: twenty-two years old."
Spike lit a cigarette and took a long deep breath, then started talking again.
"But she's still fresh," Spike said softly, puzzled, "so you think she went vamp. One problem with that: we don't leave bodies. We're pretty handy that way, no mess and all."
"No," Giles answered, thinking, "I don't think she turned into a vampire. I think Annie really did die eight years ago, it would make sense. That's probably when it all began."
"But she didn't rot...and, wait a minute, you got that phone call from her," Spike said and he looked up slowly, his eyes gleaming with sudden realization, "I was right, you weren't really worried about burying her at all. You brought her down her so she'd be locked up, just in case..."
"That's enough," Giles whispered sharply, "it's just a precaution. Until we know why I was called out here and who or what made the call, we can't take any chances."
5
Willow paced back and forth across the living room, flipping through some of the yellowed pages of the notebooks she'd found in the writing desk, shaking her head with frustration as she finally walked back to the desk and sat down, flopping the booklet back onto the desk as she sighed.
"I can't make out anything in these notes. It has something to do with an expedition to Kandar, but nothing else makes any sense...and his handwriting's terrible."
"What about that tape-recorder," Dawn said, leaning back on the couch as she half-heartedly studied one of the notebooks herself, flipping it upside-down and right-side up, "why don't you try playing it?"
"Yeah, maybe," Willow answered reluctantly as she glanced to the bulky machine, "we've read everything here, so I guess that's the only thing left," and she pushed the button, the machine whizzing to life.
"...recorded here," a refined elderly voice spoke from the machine, "are the phonetic pronunciations of the text I've managed to translate so far."
"The professor," Tara asked as she walked in from the kitchen, fingers twisted through the handles of three mugs of hot chocolate, handing one to Dawn and then sitting the other two on the writing desk.
"Yeah," Willow answered, listening intently to the tape.
"Kandar," the scholarly voice began, "ames trovyn hasarta..."
"What language is that," Dawn asked curiously, perking up from the couch.
"I'm not sure," Willow answered as she leaned toward the machine.
Deep within the heart of the forest, the faint sound of crickets and birds began to slowly fade, leaving only deathly silence in the branch- tangled depths of the woods. The trees slowly began to fade, the deep crimson branches and tree-trunks fading pale gray, while leaves tumbled and whirled down from the sky...
"Tendyr," the tape continued, "manaph mys hasaan-sobar..."
"It sounds like it might be Sumerian," Tara offered.
"Yeah," Willow answered softly, "but the syntax is all wrong. I think some of it predates Sumerian."
"That's not possible," Tara muttered, confused, "nothing's older than Sumerian."
"And the verbs, the phonetics...it's not just older, it's more advanced than Sumerian."
Clouds rolled across the darkening sky as though answering the tape's summons, dark boiling storms sweeping over the horizon as the distant roar of thunder echoed across the forest. A rising wind howled through the branches and, somewhere deep within the shadowy darkness of the woods, the leaf-covered ground began to shudder. A faint crimson light began to glow from beneath the dried leaves and wisps of fog began to rise from the ground, as though slumbering spirits were emerging from the very roots of the trees.
"Kandar!"
"Willow," Tara said nervously as Willow listened to the tape, trying to decipher the words.
The wind howled and seemed to form words, a groaning chorus of voices formed by the creaking tree-branches, as a flock of ravens scattered across the sky, shrieking as they fled the woods. Distant flashes of heat lightning flickered across the horizon and the sudden roar of thunder shook the cabin. Twisting fog filled the depths of the forest, rising up from the glowing cracks in the earth, and seemed to take grotesque boiling shapes as it rolled between the tree-trunks, engulfing the isolated cabin.
"Kandar!"
"Willow," Tara screamed, trying desperately to get her attention, "that's not a text, it's a spell!"
Glass shattered all around them and Tara ran over to the couch to shield Dawn as Willow ducked, all the windows in the cabin suddenly imploding at once, shards of glass flying through the rooms and smashing across the floor. The front door flew open and Buffy, Xander and Anya came running into the cabin, still holding the sleeping bags and backpacks they'd been unpacking. Spike poked his head up from the cellar and looked around with mild, detached curiosity, then he leaped into the cabin and out of the way as Giles rushed up the stairs.
"That," Willow stammered, clutching her arms around her chest, "was definitely a spell."
6
"I didn't know it was this close to sunset," Giles muttered, shaking his head as he tossed the last sleeping bag into the back of the old station-wagon and looked back up at the crimson rim of the setting sun shining through the distant mountains and bare treetops, "forget about the rest of it, we're leaving now!"
"What was on the tape," Willow asked as he opened the car doors and began ushering the confused group into the car. He pushed her into the back seat and slid into the driver's seat, starting the engine.
"Probably an incantation from that damned book," he answered under his breath, "at any rate, we're not staying here to find out," as he pulled the car away from the cabin.
"Giles," Buffy asked nervously from the front seat beside him, "I don't get this. We've fought vampires, demons, stopped more apocalypses than I can even remember...whatever that spell did, can't we handle it?"
Giles didn't answer, but instead stepped on the gas, the white station-wagon tearing down the dirt road, ripping through hanging branches, wheels skidding through the dirt as the car raced through the forest and down the dirt road leading to the bridge.
"Okay," Buffy murmured to herself in surprise, staring out at the rushing tunnel of branches and rolling mountains, then suddenly screamed, "Giles, look out!"
The whine of the skidding brakes filled the ear and Giles twisted the car sideways as it neared the chasm that separated the main road from the dirt trails of the forest. The car screeched as it slowly slid to a stop, and Buffy raised her hand to everyone else, silently gesturing for them to stay in the car, then stepped out of the car into a sea of rolling, blowing mist, staring around at the forest and the road before her eyes adjusted to the gloom.
She looked at the bridge leading over the chasm, then shook her head and looked again.
Something had smashed it to pieces. The bent rails and steel girders reached upward into the darkening sky like the outstretched talons of a giant's claw and she looked across the wide gaping chasm, shaking her head as she tried to figure out what could have completely destroyed a bridge that stretched over at least half a mile of empty air over the chasm. Her first thoughts were ridiculous: Godzilla, King Kong, Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man...
The scorching rays of the dying sun faded behind the mountains and it rose up from the chasm, howling and roaring in a silent chant of primeval words that were never meant to be heard by living creatures. It reached through the bent girders and smashed through dangling wooden planks, its prey standing in paralyzing terror as it swept over the half-frozen mud toward them.
"Drive," Buffy shouted as she leapt into the front seat, as Giles fumbled with the ignition, "NOW!"
The car roared to life and quickly swung around, wheels spinning through the festering leaves as it tore back through the overgrown road toward the cabin. Howls and groaning chanting voices filled the air behind them and Giles slammed his foot into the gas pedal, the car smashing through tangled branches and tree-limbs as drops of red liquid splattered across the windshield.
"Is that," Dawn asked from the back seat, "no, that can't be, we didn't hit anything but branches..."
"Giles," Buffy screamed, "watch out!"
A thick gnarled tree-trunk creaked sideways across the road and for a moment Buffy thought it was falling, knocked down by the unspeakable thing chasing them. Then, as the trunk bent and twisted down like a serpent and the bark split open to reveal giant glistening human eyes, she realized the truth.
Giles swung the car to the right and it squeezed between the wall of trees and the tip of the living tree's flailing branches. Sharp wooden claws smashed through the back windows and Willow screamed as the branches curled around her left arm, their sharp tips digging into her skin and drawing thin streaks of blood, the tree glaring into the car with its gleaming eyes, before the car finally tore loose from the tree, the sprawling, spidery branch ripping from the snarling tree-trunk in a shower of blood.
The station-wagon finally broke free of the waving, clutching tunnel of living trees-branches and hurtled toward the cabin, sliding to a sudden stop as Giles killed the engine and pulled open all the car doors, yanking each one of the group out of the car and then hurtling onto the porch to unlock the cabin. Buffy and Spike jogged up to help look for the keys, Willow and Tara staying by Dawn while Anya and Xander stared out into the twilight.
It reached out of the woods and swept over the tire-tracks toward the car and the people huddled around the cabin, a whirling storm of airborne leaves and fluttering twigs twisting around it as it neared the cabin and its cowering prey. It sensed a familiar presence and, among the group, one whose aura flickered differently than the others, a kindred darkness within her...but still as nothing compared to its darkness...
"Oh no," Anya groaned as she watched it emerge between the thrashing branches, "not again."
"Huh," Xander asked, and then he felt something grab his arm and yank him backward. Buffy threw him through the open doorway and then rushed back out into the night, making sure everyone made it through the door into the cabin before finally slamming the door shut and bolting it, amid the sounds of a roaring, frustrated tempest of dead rasping voices dying away into a steady howling wind outside.
7
"It's only been a few hours since I translated and spoke aloud," Professor Knowby said on the old tape recorder, his voice trembling slightly, "the first of the demon-resurrection passages from the Book of the Dead. May God forgive me for what I've unleashed upon this Earth…"
"Alright," Buffy demanded as Giles turned off the recording, "what is going on? What is that thing out there, why were trees attacking us, and what was that weird tape-recording all about?"
"I don't know the details yet," Giles stammered, "but the recording was an incantation from a book I helped the professor unearth," he paused for a moment, "Necronomicon Ex Mortis...Book of the Dead."
"The WHAT," Buffy shouted, "god, don't you ever read any nice boring non-demony books?! I'm serious, when we get back I am going to get you started on Harry Potter!"
"Yes, well," Giles answered, rubbing the back of his neck, "Knowby was always a skeptic, he didn't believe in the legends himself. I never imagined he'd try to use the book, much less record his attempt."
"What is it, exactly," Willow asked guiltily. She leaned within the kitchen doorway and figetted nervously as Giles carefully wiped his glasses and adjusted them atop his nose.
"Long before man," Giles said slowly as he recited from memory, "the Dark Ones trod the ways of darkness. Their maliciousness was great upon the Earth and all Creation bowed beneath Their might."
"Sounds like Shakespeare," Spike remarked as he checked the windows, "after he went vamp."
"After he what," Willow asked, eyes wide in shock.
"It's not written by Shakespeare," Giles answered with a quick glare at Spike, "it's the only line from the book that's managed to survive to the present day. The book has been lost and found throughout history and only that one line has ever been recorded...only the vaguest rumors surround what else is written in it..."
"We'll settle for rumors," Tara replied.
"It comes from a time when spirits ruled the Earth," Giles answered, sitting down at the end of the couch and cleaning his glasses yet again as he continued, "when demon-haunted forests covered the land and the seas ran red with blood. The Dark Ones used that blood to ink the book and they bound it with human flesh."
"Okay, we're dealing with these Dark Ones," Buffy answered, "what do we know about them, other than that they're old, they're dark, and they think people make good bookbinding tools?"
"We know they've been dead for thousands of years," Giles said, rubbing his brow, "the Dark Ones lost their hold on this world and now exist only as a kind of composite entity lingering in the darkness between worlds, comprised of all the souls they've taken over the centuries.""
"The book is a relic of their extinct race," he continued, "it contains prophecies, funerary incantations, and demon-resurrection passages. It was, according to legend at least, the passageway between this world and the evil worlds beyond."
"Let's add this up," Xander said as he lit the fireplace, "demon- resurrection, evil worlds beyond, and an evil soul-stealing entity lurking in the outer darkness. So your friend the professor was looking for this because...no, wait," he slapped his forehead in mock realization, "he wouldn't have been looking for it, because that would be nuts!"
"He wasn't really looking for the book," Giles answered, " Knowby led an expedition to the ruins of Kandar eight years ago. He was an old friend and colleague and so I helped with some of the preliminary research. There was no reason to believe that the Book of the Dead would be anyway near Kandar, but he found it buried in a secret vault beneath the main castle. I tried to convince him that the book might be dangerous, but he didn't believe in the legends..."
Something whizzed through the air and Buffy leaped sideways with a scream, knocking Giles to the ground as a meat-cleaver flew forward, the blade stabbing deep into the wall, the wood handle still shuddering. Buffy lifted her head up from the floor and looked up across the room, toward the kitchen. Willow stood at the doorway, her head turned downward, her arms tensed and trembling, as everybody slowly looked toward her.
"Willow," Buffy asked nervously.
Willow suddenly lifted her face and Buffy heard Tara scream in shock from the other side of the room. Willow leaped upward, clothes flapping as she hovered in the center of the room, limbs convulsing as she twisted her head left and right, her dark bright eyes replaced by blind white orbs, her face pale and cracked with black spidery veins as her thin dried hair fluttered around her shoulders.
"Oh my god," Buffy whispered, "what happened to her?"
by Demon-Fighter Ash
Chapter 1: Nightfall
1
"And he seemed pretty wiggy," Buffy asked as she dropped her bookbag onto the store-counter, glancing back out the window as the mid-afternoon sun began to sink across the sky, instinctively planning tonight's patrol through the vampire-infested town of Sunnydale, even though lately the nightly patrols had grown so uneventful that she'd actually started to bring books-on-tape with her to help catch up with her the audited college classes she'd enrolled in lately.
She looked around at the rest of the gang: Xander sat with Anya at one of the tables and Willow stared at the store computer's screen, cocooning herself within the familiar world of java-scripts and internet protocols, while Tara watched her from the counter with concern, her head resting in her folded arms.
"REALLY wiggy," Willow corrected her as she typed nervously on the store's computer and fretted, "he was completely wigged. Whole new dimensions of wigginess. Tell her, Xander!"
"Yeah," Xander answered, "it was a definite highlight in wigging history. It's like he went into a trance as soon as he got that phone- call."
"You don't suppose he really did," Buffy asked suspiciously.
"Oh no," Willow reassured her, "he was himself, just...wigged self. I overheard some of what he said on the phone and the names he mentioned...like the Necronomicon. I've read that name before and it's never been good. It's always evil destroy-the-world kinda stuff."
"But if he was involved in something like that," Buffy asked, "why wouldn't he tell us?"
"You know how he gets about these things," Willow pouted, "he turns all it's my responsibility, I have to handle it and I can't put any of you in danger,' like staying in Sunnydale's supposed to be safe."
"Yeah," Buffy answered as she sat down at a table, "I've seen that before. So what do we do?"
"What do we do about what," Dawn called out as she stepped through the back door of the Magic Box and jogged into the main shop, dropping her bookbag by the door as she pulled out a chair and sank into it, exhausted from school.
"Giles getting wiggy with it," Buffy answered, smiling a little at the sight of her younger sister.
"That's never good," Dawn replied, "so what are we going to do about it?"
"We don't even know where he's going," Anya shrugged.
"Actually, I do," Willow answered with a twinge of guilt as she looked up from the monitor, "I heard him say the name Knowby, then he said Raymond, so I did a search on that name, checking with all the college listings first because, well, it's Giles. I found a Professor Raymond Knowby of Dextin University, a professor of ancient history and archeology. He also teaches courses in folklore and mythology."
"Not good combinations in our experience," Xander sighed, "so you think Giles went to visit him?"
"Uh-uh," Willow shook her head, "Giles took those hiking boots he bought for that camping trip we took a few years ago, the ones he hated, so he's probably going out to the woods. I searched the state records for property listed under the name Raymond Knowby and I found a cabin in a state forest, same state as the university."
"You really are worried," Buffy said softly, trying to remember the last time she'd seen her best friend doing this much computer-hacking, "do you think we should go up there and check it out, make sure he's okay?"
"I've got a really bad feeling," she answered, "he's got an hour head- start, but you know how Giles drives. If we hurry, we could probably beat him there, or at least catch up with him."
"And what if he really is just checking up on an old friend," Buffy asked.
"Then we could go on a camping trip," Tara answered as Willow bit her lip nervously, "we'll stop by on the way and, if everything's okay, we'll just keep going to the campgrounds."
"I'm not doing anything this weekend," Dawn replied.
"That sounds pretty manly," Xander offered, "I could show off all my wilderness skills, doing things like pulling fish out of water with strings and fending off small furry animals. It'd be fun."
"What kind of small furry animals," Anya asked apprehensively.
"Just squirrels, honey," he reassured her, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand as she relaxed.
"Alright," Buffy answered, "one spur-of-the-moment camping trip coming right up. Do you think Spike can handle patrols this weekend until we get back?"
"What," Spike answered from the back door, his shadow looming through the store, "and let the lot of you have all the fun? Not a chance--I've got my own trees to hug, mother nature to commune with, or whatever."
"There is no way," Buffy said slowly, "I am spending a weekend in the woods with..."
"Why would you even want to go," Xander asked sharply.
"Boredom, really," Spike shrugged as he walked through the store, "Sunnydale's been dead all month and I figure there's always a few stray demons hanging around in the woods I can beat up on."
"Come on," Dawn pouted at Buffy, "we could always use some backup."
"She's right," Willow said, "if something really is going on, we might need his help. And we haven't seen a vampire in weeks," she stuttered awkwardly as Spike silently glared silently, always sensitive about the rest of the gang taking his harmlessness for granted, "except, of course," she quickly switched subjects, "you know how trouble follows us...Sunnydale'll probably be better than ever while we're gone."
Buffy glanced from Dawn to Willow curiously. She'd half-expected Dawn, who'd lately started to develop a crush on Spike, to take up for him, but Willow was a completely different matter. Willow knew how awkward dealing with the slayer-smitten vampire could be--she'd never suggest bringing him unless she really thought it was important. Buffy sighed and simply shrugged as she gave in to the three.
"Alright, you're coming too, Spike," she shot him a quick glare, "but you know the rules."
"Yeah, yeah," he waved his hand with boredom, "I pretend you don't exist, got it."
"That just leaves one question," Xander asked, "who's driving the mystery machine?"
2
The sun sank behind the tree-covered hills and low sloping mountains as an old white station-wagon drove slowly through the winding single-lane roads, disappearing behind clumps of bare leafless branches and crawling up along steep rocky cliffs as the car made its way into the depths of the rugged mountain wilderness.
"Didn't anybody else see the Blair Witch Project," Xander asked nervously as he peered over the steering wheel at the small barely-paved road leading still deeper into the forest, "what if there's a witch out here? I mean a bad witch, like that?"
"Xander," Buffy answered from the back seat, "that was just a movie."
"Yeah, besides," Willow said, her voice rising to a squeak of indignation, "that was just some Hollywood poophead making up lies about witches. Real witches don't run around woods leaving sticks hanging, they help people and do nice things like leaving," she paused, "I dunno, ribbons hanging..."
"Actually, she was the real thing," Spike tossed in from the back of the station-wagon, perched behind the back seats, the rear windows covered by blankets, "good camerawork too."
"What?"
"Oh yeah," he said with a shrug, as though discussing the latest football game, "Blair witch, terrorizing the campers, making old hermits go nuts and off a few kiddies, that's her alright. You should meet her," he glanced down at Willow, "you might learn a spell or two. Place is a little run-down but it's right up in the mountains."
Willow twisted her head out to look at the passing trees and narrow pine-covered cliffs, too flustered to speak as Spike smirked from his blanket-covered perch in the back of the station-wagon.
"Well, that's not a witch," Tara said gently as she patted Willow's knee, trying to calm her down, "it's just some demon impersonating a witch, or..or probably Bigfoot..."
"Nope, she's a real witch," Spike answered smugly,"what, do you think all you witches are tulip-wearing sissies? Some of you actually know how to have a good time."
"Hey, we're coming up on a bridge," Xander called out as the station- wagon tumbled over an old wooden bridge spanning a deep rocky gorge. The bridge rattled beneath the wheels and Buffy looked out the window nervously, staring into the misty darkness hanging below them.
"Are you sure this bridge is safe?"
"Don't worry," Xander answered with a grin, "this baby is as solid as a..."
"BUNNIES!!!"
Everybody jumped as Anya's scream filled the car, ringing in their ears for several moments as she yanked away from the door and tugged frantically on Xander's flannel sleeve.
"Three of them, out there in the woods," Anya muttered to herself in short panicked gasps, "they were just staring at me with their beady little black eyes and listening with those ears...we have to turn around right now!"
"Anya, calm down," Xander sighed, then jolted as she lunged for the steering wheel, twisting the car back around, "hey, let go of the wheel," as he tried to wrestle the wheel away from her, "come on, let go...let..."
"You didn't tell me there were going to be bunnies out here," Anya shouted as she tugged and fought with him over the steering wheel, "I am NOT going into any forest that has bunnies in it!"
"You'll be fine," Xander tried to reassure her as he fought with her over the steering wheel, "I'll protect," and then the station-wagon rolled sideways across the road, the front half tumbling over the side of the bridge, the front wheels spinning in the air as the engine died, the car dangling halfway over the edge of the chasm.
3
"Why am I in the back seat," Anya pouted from the back of the car as they continued down the dirt road, "you're my boyfriend, I should get dibs on the front seat! Besides, the oldest person in the car always gets to sit in the front seat. Everybody over a thousand, raise your hands. See, dibs are all mine. My dibs."
"Trust me, honey, It's for your own good," Xander said as Buffy sat beside him, and he whispered to her, "and ours."
"How deep in the woods are we," Dawn asked, glancing nervously out the window, "I mean, if the car wrecked again and we got stuck out here, we could be lost for days. We could starve or..."
"We'll be fine, Dawn," Buffy turned around to reassure her little sister, "it's just a camping trip."
"Well, I'd be fine anyway," Spike remarked, "dunno about the rest of you, though."
"You wouldn't dare," Buffy snarled, and then a confused look crossed her face, her head tilting, "actually, you couldn't anyway."
"Let's see, bad headache or starve to death, bad headache or starve to death...oh wait, that's easy," Spike answered, his voice lowering in a decisive, threatening tone, "bad headache," he paused a moment as the rest of the gang stared into the blanket-cave he'd set up, and he continued in an exasperated tone, "oh come on, you humans would do it in a second. Donner party anyone? Or that movie with the airplane, whatsitcalled..."
"Oh yeah, Alive. I liked that movie," Dawn answered with a smile, trying to be helpful, and then her face slowly sank into a frowning mix of dismay and revulsion as she realized what he meant, "oh."
"Nobody's eating anybody," Xander called out into the car firmly, "because we're here."
The car slowly followed along a winding dirt road through the hills and the woods suddenly opened into a small clearing filled with rotting leaves and twisted bare trees. Xander pulled the car in front of an old wooden cabin crouched in the middle of the hollow and the group began to crawl out of the car.
"Alright," Xander shuddered as she looked around, "this couldn't be creepier."
Dismal gray clouds covered the sky, a faint crimson glow hovering over the western horizon as they looked around at the black leafless trees and the warped wooden planks of the dark cabin, then at a small workshed perched behind the cabin, almost hidden by the overgrown bushes and weeds. Spike slowly reached his fingers out through the back of the station-wagon, testing the air for sunlight, then hopped out onto his feet.
"Does anybody else feel anything," Buffy said nervously, looking around at the empty forest.
"Like what," Willow asked.
"Like there's something here," she said softly, "like we're being watched..."
Invisible eyes stared out of the forest at the group, a low rumbling chant of primordial hatred silently filling the air as it began to tumble down the hill, rushing over the damp festering leaves and snapping through twigs and branches as it glided over the hood of the station-wagon toward Buffy.
Buffy felt something snatching at her neck and she suddenly whirled around, grabbing a gnarled hand and dropping to her knees as she flipped the creature over her shoulder onto its back.
"Giles!"
Xander and Willow bent to the ground to help Giles back to his feet while Buffy glanced around in shock, then noticed his glasses lying on the ground and bent down to pick them up. Giles rubbed his face wearily as Dawn helped dust off his tweed jacket, then took his glasses back from Buffy and put them back on.
"I'm sorry," Buffy stammered, her colorless face blushing as she realized he was alright, "Giles, I thought you were...I mean, I felt like we were being watched, and then...I thought..."
"Yes, well," he shook his head, trying to get his bearings, "that's alright--there might be a reason for your instincts as a slayer being heightened in this...in this place," then he tilted his head as he came to his senses, "but what are all of you doing here anyway?"
"We were," Tara said after looking around at the silent group, "going on a...camping trip..."
"Right," Willow nodded, "and we saw your car while we were camping..."
"Doing tough manly things," Xander offered, "like hunting large hairy animals and eating them..."
"Except for bunnies," Anya said quickly in a panic, "we leave the bunnies alone..."
"And so," Buffy concluded with an innocent smile, "we just stopped by to say hi."
"Scooby gang got worried and followed you," Spike said with a cock- eyed backward glance at the rest of the group as they suddenly glared at him, "I got bored and wanted some fresh air."
"While we were on," Dawn said, her voice sinking as she finally gave up, "our camping trip?"
"I see," Giles answered, still rubbing his forehead with his fingertips, "well, as long as you're here, I should explain what's going on. I'm meeting with Annie Knowby, the daughter of an old friend of mine, Raymond Knowby, but," he gestured toward the two cars, his convertible and the station-wagon, "she doesn't seem to have arrived yet. Professor Knowby is supposed to be at this cabin, but we want to make sure he's alright."
"Is he in the cabin," Buffy asked.
"I don't know," Giles answered, "I haven't checked. I've only been here a few minutes."
"We should check it out then," she answered as she turned toward the cabin.
They walked slowly through the piles of damp leaves and half-rotted twigs, the porch groaning under their weight as they climbed slowly up the steps, the porch-swing on the right side of the porch rocking softly as though invisible children were kicking it back and forth. Buffy shuddered and tried to put the thought out of her mind, then noticed the plain wooden front-door--and the two holes smashed through it. She looked back at Giles with concern, then grabbed the doorknob and pushed it open.
The cabin lay drenched in darkness and she groped alongside the door, finding a light switch and flipping it on. A dim flickering electric bulb illuminated the living room and Buffy glanced back at the others.
"Electricity still works," she said nervously with a shrug, then continued forward.
The living-room was obviously the greater part of the cabin, a large room with a bare wooden floor covered by oriental rugs. A writing desk and wooden chair sat in one corner, topped by notebooks and a large tape- recorder, and she looked around at the rest of the room. A fireplace sat against the right wall of the living room and a mounted deer's head stared out from above the fireplace with black marble eyes. An old green couch lay pressed against the adjoining wall and a rocking chair sat in the middle of the room. She glanced down at the floor and noticed a trap-door built into the floorboards, fastened by chains and a thick padlock. The cellar.
"Now this is what I'm talking about," Spike said eagerly as he picked up a double-barrel shotgun from the couch and studied it closely, "a twelve- gauge double-barreled Remington, made in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Walnut stock, cobalt-blue steel...and a hair trigger."
"Spike," Buffy said firmly, hand outstretched, "give me the gun."
"Are you joking," Spike scoffed, "go find your own! This is MY boomstick!"
"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes, "you can't do anything with it anyway. Besides," she said as she bent down to pick up a woodaxe leaning against the wall, "I've got an axe. Cooler than a gun anyday."
"You wish," Spike taunted, then paused as Buffy looked around, feeling a chill running along her spine, as though something were watching her. She turned around and noticed a bulk propped against one of the corners, the dim shadows covering it, keeping her from making out anything more than its size--but she felt her heart jumping into her throat at the size of it. She slowly walked forward, listening to the floorboards creak beneath her shoes, and she gradually became aware of another sound: flies swarming around the corner. She grabbed a pair of shoes sticking out of the darkness and dragged them forward, covering her mouth as a sudden stench filled her nostrils.
"Giles," she choked, twisting her head away from the sight, "I think we've found Annie."
4
Spike grunted as he stabbed the earthen floor of the cabin's fruit cellar, shovelling another handful of moldy dirt from the coffin-deep hole he and Giles had dug into the basement floor. He glanced back up at the thin shafts of light pouring through the open trap-door above, listening for a moment to the rest of the gang as they explored the back rooms of the cabin and talking in hushed whispers, then he turned to Giles.
"That's fine," Giles gasped with a nod, leaning on his shovel, "that's deep enough."
Spike shook his head with bewilderment then shrugged and rolled Annie's body into the hole, shovelling the dirt across her back. He patted down the few inches of damp earth covering her with the back of the shovel and shook his head with dismay as he realized that the dagger sticking out of her back could still be seen.
"That's barely covering her," Spike complained, and then he gave a knowing look to Giles, "but then, you didn't really bring her down here just to bury her, did you?"
"Spike," Giles answered wearily, "this isn't your concern."
"Like hell it isn't," Spike growled, "I helped you bury her. I'm here just like the rest of you and whatever's going on in this cabin affects me just like it does you. The scoobies might be content to stay in the dark, but I'm not, not when I'm not involved. Now why did we bury her down here, why not outside?"
"Alright," Giles sighed, shaking his head, "how old did Annie look to you?"
"I dunno," Spike answered, thinking about it, "twenty-two, twenty- three maybe?"
"How long do you think she was dead?"
"A few days, maybe a week. No more than that."
"Right. The last time I saw Annie Knowby was more than eight years ago."
"Must have not been too torn up over it then," Spike shrugged.
"She was like a daughter to me," Giles said through clenched teeth, then relaxed, "but that's not the point. The point is that when I saw her eight years ago, she looked just like she did now: twenty-two years old."
Spike lit a cigarette and took a long deep breath, then started talking again.
"But she's still fresh," Spike said softly, puzzled, "so you think she went vamp. One problem with that: we don't leave bodies. We're pretty handy that way, no mess and all."
"No," Giles answered, thinking, "I don't think she turned into a vampire. I think Annie really did die eight years ago, it would make sense. That's probably when it all began."
"But she didn't rot...and, wait a minute, you got that phone call from her," Spike said and he looked up slowly, his eyes gleaming with sudden realization, "I was right, you weren't really worried about burying her at all. You brought her down her so she'd be locked up, just in case..."
"That's enough," Giles whispered sharply, "it's just a precaution. Until we know why I was called out here and who or what made the call, we can't take any chances."
5
Willow paced back and forth across the living room, flipping through some of the yellowed pages of the notebooks she'd found in the writing desk, shaking her head with frustration as she finally walked back to the desk and sat down, flopping the booklet back onto the desk as she sighed.
"I can't make out anything in these notes. It has something to do with an expedition to Kandar, but nothing else makes any sense...and his handwriting's terrible."
"What about that tape-recorder," Dawn said, leaning back on the couch as she half-heartedly studied one of the notebooks herself, flipping it upside-down and right-side up, "why don't you try playing it?"
"Yeah, maybe," Willow answered reluctantly as she glanced to the bulky machine, "we've read everything here, so I guess that's the only thing left," and she pushed the button, the machine whizzing to life.
"...recorded here," a refined elderly voice spoke from the machine, "are the phonetic pronunciations of the text I've managed to translate so far."
"The professor," Tara asked as she walked in from the kitchen, fingers twisted through the handles of three mugs of hot chocolate, handing one to Dawn and then sitting the other two on the writing desk.
"Yeah," Willow answered, listening intently to the tape.
"Kandar," the scholarly voice began, "ames trovyn hasarta..."
"What language is that," Dawn asked curiously, perking up from the couch.
"I'm not sure," Willow answered as she leaned toward the machine.
Deep within the heart of the forest, the faint sound of crickets and birds began to slowly fade, leaving only deathly silence in the branch- tangled depths of the woods. The trees slowly began to fade, the deep crimson branches and tree-trunks fading pale gray, while leaves tumbled and whirled down from the sky...
"Tendyr," the tape continued, "manaph mys hasaan-sobar..."
"It sounds like it might be Sumerian," Tara offered.
"Yeah," Willow answered softly, "but the syntax is all wrong. I think some of it predates Sumerian."
"That's not possible," Tara muttered, confused, "nothing's older than Sumerian."
"And the verbs, the phonetics...it's not just older, it's more advanced than Sumerian."
Clouds rolled across the darkening sky as though answering the tape's summons, dark boiling storms sweeping over the horizon as the distant roar of thunder echoed across the forest. A rising wind howled through the branches and, somewhere deep within the shadowy darkness of the woods, the leaf-covered ground began to shudder. A faint crimson light began to glow from beneath the dried leaves and wisps of fog began to rise from the ground, as though slumbering spirits were emerging from the very roots of the trees.
"Kandar!"
"Willow," Tara said nervously as Willow listened to the tape, trying to decipher the words.
The wind howled and seemed to form words, a groaning chorus of voices formed by the creaking tree-branches, as a flock of ravens scattered across the sky, shrieking as they fled the woods. Distant flashes of heat lightning flickered across the horizon and the sudden roar of thunder shook the cabin. Twisting fog filled the depths of the forest, rising up from the glowing cracks in the earth, and seemed to take grotesque boiling shapes as it rolled between the tree-trunks, engulfing the isolated cabin.
"Kandar!"
"Willow," Tara screamed, trying desperately to get her attention, "that's not a text, it's a spell!"
Glass shattered all around them and Tara ran over to the couch to shield Dawn as Willow ducked, all the windows in the cabin suddenly imploding at once, shards of glass flying through the rooms and smashing across the floor. The front door flew open and Buffy, Xander and Anya came running into the cabin, still holding the sleeping bags and backpacks they'd been unpacking. Spike poked his head up from the cellar and looked around with mild, detached curiosity, then he leaped into the cabin and out of the way as Giles rushed up the stairs.
"That," Willow stammered, clutching her arms around her chest, "was definitely a spell."
6
"I didn't know it was this close to sunset," Giles muttered, shaking his head as he tossed the last sleeping bag into the back of the old station-wagon and looked back up at the crimson rim of the setting sun shining through the distant mountains and bare treetops, "forget about the rest of it, we're leaving now!"
"What was on the tape," Willow asked as he opened the car doors and began ushering the confused group into the car. He pushed her into the back seat and slid into the driver's seat, starting the engine.
"Probably an incantation from that damned book," he answered under his breath, "at any rate, we're not staying here to find out," as he pulled the car away from the cabin.
"Giles," Buffy asked nervously from the front seat beside him, "I don't get this. We've fought vampires, demons, stopped more apocalypses than I can even remember...whatever that spell did, can't we handle it?"
Giles didn't answer, but instead stepped on the gas, the white station-wagon tearing down the dirt road, ripping through hanging branches, wheels skidding through the dirt as the car raced through the forest and down the dirt road leading to the bridge.
"Okay," Buffy murmured to herself in surprise, staring out at the rushing tunnel of branches and rolling mountains, then suddenly screamed, "Giles, look out!"
The whine of the skidding brakes filled the ear and Giles twisted the car sideways as it neared the chasm that separated the main road from the dirt trails of the forest. The car screeched as it slowly slid to a stop, and Buffy raised her hand to everyone else, silently gesturing for them to stay in the car, then stepped out of the car into a sea of rolling, blowing mist, staring around at the forest and the road before her eyes adjusted to the gloom.
She looked at the bridge leading over the chasm, then shook her head and looked again.
Something had smashed it to pieces. The bent rails and steel girders reached upward into the darkening sky like the outstretched talons of a giant's claw and she looked across the wide gaping chasm, shaking her head as she tried to figure out what could have completely destroyed a bridge that stretched over at least half a mile of empty air over the chasm. Her first thoughts were ridiculous: Godzilla, King Kong, Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man...
The scorching rays of the dying sun faded behind the mountains and it rose up from the chasm, howling and roaring in a silent chant of primeval words that were never meant to be heard by living creatures. It reached through the bent girders and smashed through dangling wooden planks, its prey standing in paralyzing terror as it swept over the half-frozen mud toward them.
"Drive," Buffy shouted as she leapt into the front seat, as Giles fumbled with the ignition, "NOW!"
The car roared to life and quickly swung around, wheels spinning through the festering leaves as it tore back through the overgrown road toward the cabin. Howls and groaning chanting voices filled the air behind them and Giles slammed his foot into the gas pedal, the car smashing through tangled branches and tree-limbs as drops of red liquid splattered across the windshield.
"Is that," Dawn asked from the back seat, "no, that can't be, we didn't hit anything but branches..."
"Giles," Buffy screamed, "watch out!"
A thick gnarled tree-trunk creaked sideways across the road and for a moment Buffy thought it was falling, knocked down by the unspeakable thing chasing them. Then, as the trunk bent and twisted down like a serpent and the bark split open to reveal giant glistening human eyes, she realized the truth.
Giles swung the car to the right and it squeezed between the wall of trees and the tip of the living tree's flailing branches. Sharp wooden claws smashed through the back windows and Willow screamed as the branches curled around her left arm, their sharp tips digging into her skin and drawing thin streaks of blood, the tree glaring into the car with its gleaming eyes, before the car finally tore loose from the tree, the sprawling, spidery branch ripping from the snarling tree-trunk in a shower of blood.
The station-wagon finally broke free of the waving, clutching tunnel of living trees-branches and hurtled toward the cabin, sliding to a sudden stop as Giles killed the engine and pulled open all the car doors, yanking each one of the group out of the car and then hurtling onto the porch to unlock the cabin. Buffy and Spike jogged up to help look for the keys, Willow and Tara staying by Dawn while Anya and Xander stared out into the twilight.
It reached out of the woods and swept over the tire-tracks toward the car and the people huddled around the cabin, a whirling storm of airborne leaves and fluttering twigs twisting around it as it neared the cabin and its cowering prey. It sensed a familiar presence and, among the group, one whose aura flickered differently than the others, a kindred darkness within her...but still as nothing compared to its darkness...
"Oh no," Anya groaned as she watched it emerge between the thrashing branches, "not again."
"Huh," Xander asked, and then he felt something grab his arm and yank him backward. Buffy threw him through the open doorway and then rushed back out into the night, making sure everyone made it through the door into the cabin before finally slamming the door shut and bolting it, amid the sounds of a roaring, frustrated tempest of dead rasping voices dying away into a steady howling wind outside.
7
"It's only been a few hours since I translated and spoke aloud," Professor Knowby said on the old tape recorder, his voice trembling slightly, "the first of the demon-resurrection passages from the Book of the Dead. May God forgive me for what I've unleashed upon this Earth…"
"Alright," Buffy demanded as Giles turned off the recording, "what is going on? What is that thing out there, why were trees attacking us, and what was that weird tape-recording all about?"
"I don't know the details yet," Giles stammered, "but the recording was an incantation from a book I helped the professor unearth," he paused for a moment, "Necronomicon Ex Mortis...Book of the Dead."
"The WHAT," Buffy shouted, "god, don't you ever read any nice boring non-demony books?! I'm serious, when we get back I am going to get you started on Harry Potter!"
"Yes, well," Giles answered, rubbing the back of his neck, "Knowby was always a skeptic, he didn't believe in the legends himself. I never imagined he'd try to use the book, much less record his attempt."
"What is it, exactly," Willow asked guiltily. She leaned within the kitchen doorway and figetted nervously as Giles carefully wiped his glasses and adjusted them atop his nose.
"Long before man," Giles said slowly as he recited from memory, "the Dark Ones trod the ways of darkness. Their maliciousness was great upon the Earth and all Creation bowed beneath Their might."
"Sounds like Shakespeare," Spike remarked as he checked the windows, "after he went vamp."
"After he what," Willow asked, eyes wide in shock.
"It's not written by Shakespeare," Giles answered with a quick glare at Spike, "it's the only line from the book that's managed to survive to the present day. The book has been lost and found throughout history and only that one line has ever been recorded...only the vaguest rumors surround what else is written in it..."
"We'll settle for rumors," Tara replied.
"It comes from a time when spirits ruled the Earth," Giles answered, sitting down at the end of the couch and cleaning his glasses yet again as he continued, "when demon-haunted forests covered the land and the seas ran red with blood. The Dark Ones used that blood to ink the book and they bound it with human flesh."
"Okay, we're dealing with these Dark Ones," Buffy answered, "what do we know about them, other than that they're old, they're dark, and they think people make good bookbinding tools?"
"We know they've been dead for thousands of years," Giles said, rubbing his brow, "the Dark Ones lost their hold on this world and now exist only as a kind of composite entity lingering in the darkness between worlds, comprised of all the souls they've taken over the centuries.""
"The book is a relic of their extinct race," he continued, "it contains prophecies, funerary incantations, and demon-resurrection passages. It was, according to legend at least, the passageway between this world and the evil worlds beyond."
"Let's add this up," Xander said as he lit the fireplace, "demon- resurrection, evil worlds beyond, and an evil soul-stealing entity lurking in the outer darkness. So your friend the professor was looking for this because...no, wait," he slapped his forehead in mock realization, "he wouldn't have been looking for it, because that would be nuts!"
"He wasn't really looking for the book," Giles answered, " Knowby led an expedition to the ruins of Kandar eight years ago. He was an old friend and colleague and so I helped with some of the preliminary research. There was no reason to believe that the Book of the Dead would be anyway near Kandar, but he found it buried in a secret vault beneath the main castle. I tried to convince him that the book might be dangerous, but he didn't believe in the legends..."
Something whizzed through the air and Buffy leaped sideways with a scream, knocking Giles to the ground as a meat-cleaver flew forward, the blade stabbing deep into the wall, the wood handle still shuddering. Buffy lifted her head up from the floor and looked up across the room, toward the kitchen. Willow stood at the doorway, her head turned downward, her arms tensed and trembling, as everybody slowly looked toward her.
"Willow," Buffy asked nervously.
Willow suddenly lifted her face and Buffy heard Tara scream in shock from the other side of the room. Willow leaped upward, clothes flapping as she hovered in the center of the room, limbs convulsing as she twisted her head left and right, her dark bright eyes replaced by blind white orbs, her face pale and cracked with black spidery veins as her thin dried hair fluttered around her shoulders.
"Oh my god," Buffy whispered, "what happened to her?"