Summary: When an unforeseen evil once again threatens to destroy the world,
Buffy and the gang, along with some unexpected help, join together to
release a reluctant champion from the clutches of hell. But will he be the
prophesized savior or will he destroy them all?
Notes: Contains spoilers from BtVS seasons one through three.
Feedback: Any and all comments are welcome and appreciated.
Chapter Thirteen
"It's happening," Drusilla moaned softly.
Annoyed, Spike growled quietly to himself. He loved Drusilla, he really did, and at times he even thought he would die for her if necessary, God knows he'd killed for her. But sometimes his dark princess reminded him of the irritating little blonde girl from the movie Poltergeist, and those were the times he thought he could stake her himself or at least strangle her. Of course staking her was completely out of the question, the mere thought of her dust made him break into a cold sweat, but strangling her, now there was an interesting idea. "What's that, love?" he asked patiently as he pondered that thought.
She may have answered, or at least tried, but as the ground began to tremble violently beneath his feet, her reply was lost on him. He tried to keep his balance, but the floor beneath him seemed to have a mind of its own, landing him on his backside with his dignity in shambles. A loud creaking caught his attention, pulling him out of his shocked daze. Unnecessary air caught in his throat as he watched a crack the size of a grown man race across the factory's ceiling, even as its twin climbed up a wall towards an inevitable meeting. "Dru!" He cried out, his eyes darting around furiously. She was standing right behind him, the oddest expression smeared across her porcelain face, and all the while the ground beneath her feet was bucking madly. "Drusilla, we've got to get out of here," his own voice sounded like a stranger's, hoarse and terrified as he struggled to scream over the earth's roaring thunder.
Somehow he made it to his feet, someway he managed to pull the maddened Drusilla with him as he ran out of the crumbling factory. Irrationally, while he ran like mad, as the ground beneath him shook itself free of any restraints it might have ever had, his boyhood religious studies came rushing back. Sodom and Gomorrah, his mind gibbered, don't look back. And even in his terror he could find the irony in the comparison; Lot, the righteous, had been spared by the will of God, by whose will would a demon be spared? So he ran like a creature insane, his hand clamped over his lover's, his feet struggling to keep their balance and the rumbling sound of the crashing factory in his ears.
Inevitably he stumbled and fell on his hands and knees, pulling Drusilla down with him. A roaring cloud of dust engulfed him, blinding him, forcing him to lay still on the treacherous earth and cling to his lover's hand like a lifeline. "Bloody hell!" He panted when he finally realized the earth had stopped moving and it was him that was shaking. The rumble of the ruined factory had deteriorated into a strange gagging sound, almost a cackle of sorts. A sound, he finally grasped as the dust began to clear, that was coming from the prone woman lying beside him. Concerned he rushed to her side, "Dru? Pet?" He murmured, his hands grabbing at her slender shoulders, shaking her involuntarily. "Moppet, talk to me, love." She blinked and looked up at him, the strange sounds still coming from her mouth. It was only then that he recognized that she was laughing. They had nearly been buried alive, well undead anyway, under the pile of rubble that had once been their home and the silly tart was laughing! With a disgusted grunt he pushed her away from him. Staking her had never seemed so appealing.
"Ring around the rosy," Drusilla sang as he turned away from her.
His jaws clenched tightly together as he strained to keep his temper in check, "Dru, love." He began patiently, "do you know what just happened?"
"Pockets full of posies," she sang on, but her eyes had a distant look in them, the look of a seer. Despite her madness, though sometimes Spike suspected it was because of it no matter what Angelus said, she could still see things others couldn't. And those things often tore at her fragile mind.
"Please, Dru," He begged. He got down on his knees on the ground beside her, his hands gripping her shoulders again, though gently this time, "if you know, love, I need you to tell me."
She looked up at him, the rare glow of lucidity shining in her eyes, "it's finally happened, Spike," she whispered, choking on the words. "He gave himself to her. Mind, body," she paused as her features suddenly became distressed, "and soul," she breathed desperately. "The Slayer told him she didn't want him anymore," her slender body began to tremble, "she's changed him. It's nearly complete."
Spike's eyes widened with shock, his nerves were hanging by a wire holding the capacity to snap, spiral out of control at the slightest provocation. This was something he definitely didn't need to hear, "why?" He managed to spit out through his tightly clenched teeth.
But her moment of sanity was over, "ashes, ashes," she sang as crystalline tears streamed delicately down her dust-covered face, creating rivers of mud along her cheeks. The river Styx, Spike thought grimly, then shook his head in anger. Will these damn death metaphors never go away? "They all fall down."
His mind full of questions, his body aching with repressed terror, and his demon screaming for Slayer blood, Spike embraced his weeping princess as he tried to figure out what he would do next.
"Is everyone all right?" Giles asked as he crawled from under the table he had taken cover under. The lights were flickering wanly, trying to gain some semblance of control, but inevitably surrendering to the darkness.
"Well, I definitely felt that one," Xander grumbled as he lifted himself from off Cordelia. Unhesitating, he leaped to cover her with his own body as soon as the earthquake started. The cheerleader for once said nothing, she simply climbed to her feet and brushed the dust and rubble off her clothes, but her eyes held an oddly bemused look in them as if she had realized something for the first time.
"We're fine," Willow said as she Oz and Buffy crawled out from beneath a desk and began dusting themselves off. "Too bad we can't say the same about the electricity," the darkness was gaining an unnerving stronghold in the odd battle between natural darkness and artificial lights.
"Looks like Richter's going to have to get himself a bigger set of scales," Buffy mumbled as she examined a particularly nasty tear in her shirtsleeve. Oh well, she thought unhappily, another expensive article of clothing bites the dust, so to speak. "This place is a mess," she said as she peered at the damaged library.
The bookshelves had toppled one on top of the other in a domino formation, leaving precious books in a state of disarray. But most disturbing was the wide crack in the floor where the Hellmouth had once opened. Other then that a bit of plaster had fallen off the high ceiling and from the walls, but the structure in itself seemed mostly intact.
As if on cue the lights had finally surrendered, plunging them in absolute darkness. No one spoke as six sets of eyes frantically tried to adjust themselves to the darkness. A moment later a lighter flickered creating a comforting aura around Oz's hand. "Here," he said, handing Willow his lighter, then, after a few seconds of fishing in his pockets he retrieved three more of the same and handed them to the others.
"Boy scout much? For someone who doesn't smoke you're a handy person to have around," Buffy said as Giles took another lighter and went off in search of candles.
Oz shrugged, "I carry these around for the concerts." He waved his lighter around from side to side above his head at their blank looks, "it helps get the audience in the right mood. Makes them think we play better then we do."
Xander shook his head and smiled, "the secret to musical success," he said, "props."
"Never said we were successful," Oz replied, his features never shifting from their stoic expression. "I guess plan A just got nixed," he said quietly as Giles returned with a few candles.
They stared.
"Unless plan A happened to be hiding in the stacks just now or is seriously afraid of the dark," Xander finally said, pointing at the piles of ravaged books, "I really don't see the connection."
"Every time there was an earthquake it had something to do with Angel," Oz explained, as his eyes sought out his guitar. Finally he located it lying upside-down beneath a chair, "all the other earthquakes were relatively small compared to this one, but the changes in Angel were pretty big." His eyes clouded over as he discovered that several of his guitar strings had been torn, and a fresh scratch ran up the instrument's neck. "This one was pretty big. I'm only guessing here, but I figure reasoning with Angel is pretty much hopeless at this point." He strummed the remaining strings experimentally, then, pleased at the sound, he played out a strange little three stringed tune.
"No!" Cordelia was the first to react. She clutched on to Xander's hand instinctively, he seemed surprised, but not entirely displeased with their sudden closeness. "No, no, no, no, no! You can't know that, we're in southern California, earthquakes happen here all the time. You can't just give up on plan A like that, for all we know this has nothing to do with Angel."
Willow and Buffy exchanged knowing looks, this had everything to do with Angel and Oz was probably right. "Buffy," Willow began quietly.
Buffy understood what Willow was trying to say, she had to tell them about Angel. They had a right to know what was going on, "I," she began, but she couldn't, not just yet. They had all been forced into this situation because of her naivete, and it was up to her to figure out exactly what the situation was. "I'll go see Angel," her voice was hollow, empty of emotion, "I'll see if it's really true."
Unhappy concern marred Willow's pretty face, but true to her word she said nothing. Giles, however, had his own reservations, "no, Buffy," the Watcher objected, "if he's given himself to Cirta then it'll be too dangerous for you to be anywhere near him. He won't be in his right mind."
"And I'd really hate to see him in his wrong mind," Xander murmured.
"I'll be fine. We need to know what's going on to figure out what we're going to do next, you know that." Her voice was convincingly calm, but her mind was racing hysterically. There was no question as to whether Angel had given himself or not, and it was all her fault. She had betrayed him, again. "I'll be careful, mom," she said with a forced smile. "How's about you do something constructive in the meantime and clean up this room. You really have let this place go lately."
"Buffy," Giles began warningly.
"Or you could research the curse some more," she suggested glibly as she made her way towards the swinging doors, "if you find the right books in all this mess. Maybe you can find a loophole that won't get everybody killed." With that she quickly left, leaving a baffled Watcher and very worried teenagers behind.
They stared at the swinging doors in silence, the only sound filling the room was Oz's three stringed melody. "So it's the end of the world," Xander murmured.
"As we know it," Willow added. "Sorry," she said as they glared at her, "I couldn't help it."
"And we're all going to die," he went on. Respectful silence filled the room again, its nature so oppressive it even managed to force Oz to stop playing his damaged guitar.
"Hmm," Cordelia said sympathetically. "You think any pizza places deliver after an earthquake?"
The mansion was glowing. A pale blue nimbus of light surrounded it, mystifying it, separating it from the reality of the rest of the world. As Buffy watched slack-jawed, the light pulsed, grew then withdrew with the unfulfilled threat of malevolent power. She stood in the shadows of a half- uprooted tree, yet another victim of the earth's rebellion, her gaze mesmerized to the blatant aura of evil surrounding the structure that was her lover's in her mind.
"Well, well," Spike said as he walked up from behind her tree, looking for all the world as if he were out on an evening stroll. But his eyes were slightly wild, and the hand holding his unlit cigarette trembled violently, "funny to run into you here on a nice, quiet night like this. Say," sarcasm dripped off his voice like poison, "do you notice anything different?"
"Spike," she didn't really know what to say to him. She needed his help, that much was obvious, but after all that's happened how could she possibly ask for it?
He never gave her the chance. He turned on her, moving with whip like speed. He pinned her to the tree with murder in his golden eyes, "We nearly got killed tonight," he hissed in her face through sharp fangs. "Dru and I. I'm not very fond of being buried alive, pet," he spit the last in her face as he pressed her even harder into the tree. "So I'm going to ask you this just once. What. Did. You. Do." He annunciated each word, his body still pressing her forcefully into the rough bark, his furious demonic features a hairsbreadth from her own.
"I lied to him," she choked, "I told him I didn't love him anymore, that I couldn't help him." Why she was telling Spike what she couldn't bring herself to tell her friends was beyond her. She needed his help, but she needed theirs too.
"Why?"
"The elders, Gerrico, he convinced me it was the only way," with a frustrated grunt she pushed the angry vampire off her, her Slayer instincts coming to her aid where her humanity had failed. "He lied to me!" She screamed, all the penned-up rage and betrayal she had kept hidden raged out of her in a flood of emotion. "This was his own personal vendetta against Angel! He'd sacrifice everything, including himself, to see Angel destroyed!"
Spike's eyes widened with shock, his face unconsciously slipping back into his human mask, "how do you know?"
"Angel killed," she caught herself here, she couldn't reveal everything, not to Spike, "people a hundred years ago. People who were important to Gerrico, so he fooled me into lying to Angel and push him straight into Cirta's arms." Did she even have arms? Buffy couldn't help wonder through her anguish.
"Damn, Slayer," Spike whistled appreciatively, "when you set your mind up to muck up the waters there's just no clean spring in sight, is there?" He brought his cigarette to his lips and made a feeble effort to light it, "what are we going to do about this?" He asked, motioning towards the glowing mansion.
"Angel," she began, as he tried to light his cigarette again and failed. His hands were trembling too much and the lighter's flame kept flickering out of existence every time it went anywhere near his mouth. "I don't know what to do about Angel. But Cirta's a different story. Oh, let me do that already!" She grabbed his lighter and held it steady till he managed to make good use of it. Bemused, she observed him visibly relax as he inhaled deeply. Maybe I should take up smoking, she wondered. Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky and that'll be the thing that kills me.
"How do you want to get rid of Cirta without Angel?" His voice seemed steadier, and his whole demeanor felt less on edge. Yep, smoking was definitely an option to consider. If she managed to survive this, that is.
"We curse her, like they did before. We lock her away and hope no one else has to deal with her ever again." Feverishly she prayed he didn't know much about her history, about the complete annihilation those who locked Cirta the first time had suffered.
But as his eyes widened and he tossed the half-smoked cigarette casually to the ground she felt her hopes crumble, "do you think I'm daft or just illiterate?" He demanded. Okay, so maybe nicotine wasn't a suitable replacement for Prozac as far as calming vampire nerves went. "Why the bloody hell did you think we got Angel out of Hell in the first place? To avoid this, you silly tart! And now you want me to join you in a fight you have no chance of surviving? Well I say find yourself another sap, love, because this one has had enough!"
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm saying I'm leaving, pet. I'm taking Dru and we're getting as far away from here as we can get, and you'd be smart to do the same." Stunned into silence she watched him turn and leave, his pale form quickly fading from sight in the dark night.
She watched the glowing mansion for a while longer, then turned to leave as well. She knew what she had to do, and she was slowly coming to terms with it. A year and a half ago she had been told she would have to die so that others may live. And though her youth had rebelled at the unfairness of it all and her heart cried out to run, she had stood her ground and did what she had to do. This time was different, this time she was promising a harsh, painful death to anyone who dared help her. And though her soul was already weeping for those who must die, she walked bravely to the library to tell those she loved that it must be so.
The streets of Sunnydale were unnaturally dark and dismal as Buffy made her way to the library. Were they this dark when she went to the mansion? She couldn't remember. In her haste to reach Angel she never noticed or thought about anything else. The earthquake had struck Sunnydale as a whole and now that she was taking the time to look, the damages were clearly abundant. The power lines were obviously damaged, but even in the darkness she could see the telltale signs of wounded houses and crippled cars. But there were no sounds of the sirens she had come to expect after a natural disaster, and there were no people. Where were all the people?
Her breath caught in her throat as the first real pangs of fear rang through her chest. She made a sharp turn and began to run home, cursing herself for her stupidity even as she ran. This was where she should have gone first. But no, she had never once given any thought to whether her mother was all right. She'd never even stopped to worry.
Breathless and furious she stopped dead in her tracks when she finally caught sight of her house. Even at a distance the roof's collapse into the house's second floor, into the bedroom floor, was clear. "Mom?" She tried to call out, but terror had deteriorated her voice into a pathetic whisper. She forcefully moved her frozen body, gaining speed as she neared the house till she was practically running to the front door. "Mom!" She yelled anxiously as she jerked the door open. The house was dark, empty and devoid of life. She moved quickly through the rooms, wincing at the pile of debris that had reduced her bed to splinters, when she stepped into her own room.
Finally she allowed herself to breathe her relief. Her mother was obviously not there, but where was she then? And where had all the people gone for that matter? Confused, and more than a little afraid at what she might find, she resumed her trek to the high school.
The flickering lights of candles and the hushed buzz that signified the presence of a large group of people did little to calm the small Slayer's tightly wound nerves. She made her way gingerly between the small groups of people huddled together in the high school's hallway, ignoring people she knew as her confused mind demanded attention. Sunnydale's missing occupants had obviously come here, but why?
Soft arms engulfed her in a bear hug, destroying her train of thought, "oh Buffy, thank God!" Joyce Summers breathed into her daughter's cheek.
"Mom!" Buffy choked. For a moment the two hugged, then, fueled by urgency, Buffy gently disentangled herself from her mother's embrace. "What're you doing here? What's everybody doing here?"
"Mister Giles said you were all right, that you weren't hurt," her mother blurted, too caught up in her own relief to answer any questions. "But I was sure something happened to you. When I went into your room and saw your bed it was like some sort of omen," she shook her head, tears of remembered anguish springing to her eyes, "I just ran here as fast as I could, but I couldn't find you. Mister Giles said that you were..."
"All right?" Buffy completed with a quirky half smile. She hated to see her mother worry over her, but then there were the times when it was nice to feel loved.
"I'm babbling, aren't I?" Joyce said sheepishly. She took a deep, cleansing breath to steady her nerves, "I don't know why everyone's here. I was just so anxious to find you that I never bothered asking them anything except if they saw you." A horrified expression suddenly appeared on her face, "oh God, they must think I'm horrible!"
"I think the neighbors will forgive your lousy holocaust etiquette, mom," Buffy said, suppressing a smile. "Where's Giles?"
"The library, I think," Joyce replied, her mind obviously elsewhere. "Maybe I should ask them if they need anything." Satisfied that her daughter was among the walking and talking, she was ready to turn her attentions to those who needed them.
"Great, I'll be in the library if you need me."
Her friends were busy pondering over books in candlelight when she stepped through the swinging wooden doors. "What's with the new refugee look happening out there?" She asked, motioning towards the area outside the library.
They turned their attentions away from their respective tomes to stare at her gravely, "this, typically, is the only place left standing in Sunnydale within walking distance," Xander replied. "It couldn't have been the pizza place or the arcade," he mourned.
"No electricity," Oz reminded him.
"This is like something out of my worst nightmare," he complained, ignoring the laconic boy. "No wait, it's like something out of my worst nightmare's worst nightmare." They stared at him, "oh, it's just evil."
"Wait, why walking distance?"
"None of the cars would start," Cordelia replied irritably, "you want to take a guess as to how we found that out?"
"Why?"
"I think it has something to do with an electromagnetic wave that was released when the earthquake hit." Willow explained, completely missing the blank look on her friends' faces. "See, new cars have these complex electrical systems and an electromagnetic disruption would..."
"Um, Will?" Buffy said gently.
The redheaded hacker's blushing face was obvious even in the wan candlelight. "Well why did you ask if you don't really want to know?" She said sullenly as she retreated into her boyfriend's arms. "You're supposed to stop me when I do that," she accused him gently.
"I like it when you do that," he replied, affectionately running his fingers through her hair. Her answer to that was a soft poke to his ribs.
"Wait," Cordelia suddenly said. "If the electrical system mumbo-jumbo only lives in new cars, why wouldn't your car start?" She asked the Watcher pointedly.
"I-it was having problems lately," Giles replied uncomfortably, "I've been meaning to take it to a mechanic, but..."
"See what happens when you procrastinate mister," Buffy said with a slight smile, fully realizing she was doing the same. "Angel's not on our side anymore," she blurted, needing to get that off her chest.
"Yeah, we kind of figured that out," Xander replied. "The people who came here told us about the mansion," he explained at her questioning look. "Of course it kind of came last in a long list of things they told us. My house collapsed on top of me, everything I own in the world's been destroyed, and oh yeah, did you know the mansion on Crawford street was glowing?" He shook his head at his own dark humor, "it kind of took awhile before anyone got around to elaborate on that last part."
"Buffy," Giles began grimly, immediately catching everyone's attention, "I believe this has all happened for a reason."
Buffy groaned inwardly as her friends shifted uncomfortably. They had obviously discussed this during her absence. She hated it when they did that, it was so much harder to protest when they had all the ins and outs figured out. "What reason is that?" Buffy asked carefully.
"Do you remember the passage I read to you the other morning?" Buffy tried to think back, but so much had happened since then that it seemed so long ago. Giles began fumbling through a book at her blank look, "and she shall empower him with the strength above all others, for it is known that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely," he recited.
Buffy shivered slightly, the words had been disturbing yesterday, but now they were positively unnerving. "I believe that is exactly what happened." He slammed the book down on the table with an uncharacteristic show of frustration, "I don't know how I could have missed it!" He exclaimed, "I should have known what was about to happen, it was right under my nose this entire time!"
"You can't blame yourself, Giles," Willow said, moving the offending book out of the Watcher's range just in case. "Can he, Buffy?" She said pointedly.
"No, he can't," Buffy echoed hollowly.
"So there's only one way to do this, and we've got all these lucky people that are stuck here and they get to help us do it," Xander said sarcastically. "Anybody else not thinking coincidence?"
Giles shook his head, apparently in full control of his temper, "coincidence or not, we're all agreed that this is our only option?"
They all stared at Cordelia, expecting her to protest, "what?" She said indignantly, "so we're all going to die. I can live with that."
Notes: Contains spoilers from BtVS seasons one through three.
Feedback: Any and all comments are welcome and appreciated.
Chapter Thirteen
"It's happening," Drusilla moaned softly.
Annoyed, Spike growled quietly to himself. He loved Drusilla, he really did, and at times he even thought he would die for her if necessary, God knows he'd killed for her. But sometimes his dark princess reminded him of the irritating little blonde girl from the movie Poltergeist, and those were the times he thought he could stake her himself or at least strangle her. Of course staking her was completely out of the question, the mere thought of her dust made him break into a cold sweat, but strangling her, now there was an interesting idea. "What's that, love?" he asked patiently as he pondered that thought.
She may have answered, or at least tried, but as the ground began to tremble violently beneath his feet, her reply was lost on him. He tried to keep his balance, but the floor beneath him seemed to have a mind of its own, landing him on his backside with his dignity in shambles. A loud creaking caught his attention, pulling him out of his shocked daze. Unnecessary air caught in his throat as he watched a crack the size of a grown man race across the factory's ceiling, even as its twin climbed up a wall towards an inevitable meeting. "Dru!" He cried out, his eyes darting around furiously. She was standing right behind him, the oddest expression smeared across her porcelain face, and all the while the ground beneath her feet was bucking madly. "Drusilla, we've got to get out of here," his own voice sounded like a stranger's, hoarse and terrified as he struggled to scream over the earth's roaring thunder.
Somehow he made it to his feet, someway he managed to pull the maddened Drusilla with him as he ran out of the crumbling factory. Irrationally, while he ran like mad, as the ground beneath him shook itself free of any restraints it might have ever had, his boyhood religious studies came rushing back. Sodom and Gomorrah, his mind gibbered, don't look back. And even in his terror he could find the irony in the comparison; Lot, the righteous, had been spared by the will of God, by whose will would a demon be spared? So he ran like a creature insane, his hand clamped over his lover's, his feet struggling to keep their balance and the rumbling sound of the crashing factory in his ears.
Inevitably he stumbled and fell on his hands and knees, pulling Drusilla down with him. A roaring cloud of dust engulfed him, blinding him, forcing him to lay still on the treacherous earth and cling to his lover's hand like a lifeline. "Bloody hell!" He panted when he finally realized the earth had stopped moving and it was him that was shaking. The rumble of the ruined factory had deteriorated into a strange gagging sound, almost a cackle of sorts. A sound, he finally grasped as the dust began to clear, that was coming from the prone woman lying beside him. Concerned he rushed to her side, "Dru? Pet?" He murmured, his hands grabbing at her slender shoulders, shaking her involuntarily. "Moppet, talk to me, love." She blinked and looked up at him, the strange sounds still coming from her mouth. It was only then that he recognized that she was laughing. They had nearly been buried alive, well undead anyway, under the pile of rubble that had once been their home and the silly tart was laughing! With a disgusted grunt he pushed her away from him. Staking her had never seemed so appealing.
"Ring around the rosy," Drusilla sang as he turned away from her.
His jaws clenched tightly together as he strained to keep his temper in check, "Dru, love." He began patiently, "do you know what just happened?"
"Pockets full of posies," she sang on, but her eyes had a distant look in them, the look of a seer. Despite her madness, though sometimes Spike suspected it was because of it no matter what Angelus said, she could still see things others couldn't. And those things often tore at her fragile mind.
"Please, Dru," He begged. He got down on his knees on the ground beside her, his hands gripping her shoulders again, though gently this time, "if you know, love, I need you to tell me."
She looked up at him, the rare glow of lucidity shining in her eyes, "it's finally happened, Spike," she whispered, choking on the words. "He gave himself to her. Mind, body," she paused as her features suddenly became distressed, "and soul," she breathed desperately. "The Slayer told him she didn't want him anymore," her slender body began to tremble, "she's changed him. It's nearly complete."
Spike's eyes widened with shock, his nerves were hanging by a wire holding the capacity to snap, spiral out of control at the slightest provocation. This was something he definitely didn't need to hear, "why?" He managed to spit out through his tightly clenched teeth.
But her moment of sanity was over, "ashes, ashes," she sang as crystalline tears streamed delicately down her dust-covered face, creating rivers of mud along her cheeks. The river Styx, Spike thought grimly, then shook his head in anger. Will these damn death metaphors never go away? "They all fall down."
His mind full of questions, his body aching with repressed terror, and his demon screaming for Slayer blood, Spike embraced his weeping princess as he tried to figure out what he would do next.
"Is everyone all right?" Giles asked as he crawled from under the table he had taken cover under. The lights were flickering wanly, trying to gain some semblance of control, but inevitably surrendering to the darkness.
"Well, I definitely felt that one," Xander grumbled as he lifted himself from off Cordelia. Unhesitating, he leaped to cover her with his own body as soon as the earthquake started. The cheerleader for once said nothing, she simply climbed to her feet and brushed the dust and rubble off her clothes, but her eyes held an oddly bemused look in them as if she had realized something for the first time.
"We're fine," Willow said as she Oz and Buffy crawled out from beneath a desk and began dusting themselves off. "Too bad we can't say the same about the electricity," the darkness was gaining an unnerving stronghold in the odd battle between natural darkness and artificial lights.
"Looks like Richter's going to have to get himself a bigger set of scales," Buffy mumbled as she examined a particularly nasty tear in her shirtsleeve. Oh well, she thought unhappily, another expensive article of clothing bites the dust, so to speak. "This place is a mess," she said as she peered at the damaged library.
The bookshelves had toppled one on top of the other in a domino formation, leaving precious books in a state of disarray. But most disturbing was the wide crack in the floor where the Hellmouth had once opened. Other then that a bit of plaster had fallen off the high ceiling and from the walls, but the structure in itself seemed mostly intact.
As if on cue the lights had finally surrendered, plunging them in absolute darkness. No one spoke as six sets of eyes frantically tried to adjust themselves to the darkness. A moment later a lighter flickered creating a comforting aura around Oz's hand. "Here," he said, handing Willow his lighter, then, after a few seconds of fishing in his pockets he retrieved three more of the same and handed them to the others.
"Boy scout much? For someone who doesn't smoke you're a handy person to have around," Buffy said as Giles took another lighter and went off in search of candles.
Oz shrugged, "I carry these around for the concerts." He waved his lighter around from side to side above his head at their blank looks, "it helps get the audience in the right mood. Makes them think we play better then we do."
Xander shook his head and smiled, "the secret to musical success," he said, "props."
"Never said we were successful," Oz replied, his features never shifting from their stoic expression. "I guess plan A just got nixed," he said quietly as Giles returned with a few candles.
They stared.
"Unless plan A happened to be hiding in the stacks just now or is seriously afraid of the dark," Xander finally said, pointing at the piles of ravaged books, "I really don't see the connection."
"Every time there was an earthquake it had something to do with Angel," Oz explained, as his eyes sought out his guitar. Finally he located it lying upside-down beneath a chair, "all the other earthquakes were relatively small compared to this one, but the changes in Angel were pretty big." His eyes clouded over as he discovered that several of his guitar strings had been torn, and a fresh scratch ran up the instrument's neck. "This one was pretty big. I'm only guessing here, but I figure reasoning with Angel is pretty much hopeless at this point." He strummed the remaining strings experimentally, then, pleased at the sound, he played out a strange little three stringed tune.
"No!" Cordelia was the first to react. She clutched on to Xander's hand instinctively, he seemed surprised, but not entirely displeased with their sudden closeness. "No, no, no, no, no! You can't know that, we're in southern California, earthquakes happen here all the time. You can't just give up on plan A like that, for all we know this has nothing to do with Angel."
Willow and Buffy exchanged knowing looks, this had everything to do with Angel and Oz was probably right. "Buffy," Willow began quietly.
Buffy understood what Willow was trying to say, she had to tell them about Angel. They had a right to know what was going on, "I," she began, but she couldn't, not just yet. They had all been forced into this situation because of her naivete, and it was up to her to figure out exactly what the situation was. "I'll go see Angel," her voice was hollow, empty of emotion, "I'll see if it's really true."
Unhappy concern marred Willow's pretty face, but true to her word she said nothing. Giles, however, had his own reservations, "no, Buffy," the Watcher objected, "if he's given himself to Cirta then it'll be too dangerous for you to be anywhere near him. He won't be in his right mind."
"And I'd really hate to see him in his wrong mind," Xander murmured.
"I'll be fine. We need to know what's going on to figure out what we're going to do next, you know that." Her voice was convincingly calm, but her mind was racing hysterically. There was no question as to whether Angel had given himself or not, and it was all her fault. She had betrayed him, again. "I'll be careful, mom," she said with a forced smile. "How's about you do something constructive in the meantime and clean up this room. You really have let this place go lately."
"Buffy," Giles began warningly.
"Or you could research the curse some more," she suggested glibly as she made her way towards the swinging doors, "if you find the right books in all this mess. Maybe you can find a loophole that won't get everybody killed." With that she quickly left, leaving a baffled Watcher and very worried teenagers behind.
They stared at the swinging doors in silence, the only sound filling the room was Oz's three stringed melody. "So it's the end of the world," Xander murmured.
"As we know it," Willow added. "Sorry," she said as they glared at her, "I couldn't help it."
"And we're all going to die," he went on. Respectful silence filled the room again, its nature so oppressive it even managed to force Oz to stop playing his damaged guitar.
"Hmm," Cordelia said sympathetically. "You think any pizza places deliver after an earthquake?"
The mansion was glowing. A pale blue nimbus of light surrounded it, mystifying it, separating it from the reality of the rest of the world. As Buffy watched slack-jawed, the light pulsed, grew then withdrew with the unfulfilled threat of malevolent power. She stood in the shadows of a half- uprooted tree, yet another victim of the earth's rebellion, her gaze mesmerized to the blatant aura of evil surrounding the structure that was her lover's in her mind.
"Well, well," Spike said as he walked up from behind her tree, looking for all the world as if he were out on an evening stroll. But his eyes were slightly wild, and the hand holding his unlit cigarette trembled violently, "funny to run into you here on a nice, quiet night like this. Say," sarcasm dripped off his voice like poison, "do you notice anything different?"
"Spike," she didn't really know what to say to him. She needed his help, that much was obvious, but after all that's happened how could she possibly ask for it?
He never gave her the chance. He turned on her, moving with whip like speed. He pinned her to the tree with murder in his golden eyes, "We nearly got killed tonight," he hissed in her face through sharp fangs. "Dru and I. I'm not very fond of being buried alive, pet," he spit the last in her face as he pressed her even harder into the tree. "So I'm going to ask you this just once. What. Did. You. Do." He annunciated each word, his body still pressing her forcefully into the rough bark, his furious demonic features a hairsbreadth from her own.
"I lied to him," she choked, "I told him I didn't love him anymore, that I couldn't help him." Why she was telling Spike what she couldn't bring herself to tell her friends was beyond her. She needed his help, but she needed theirs too.
"Why?"
"The elders, Gerrico, he convinced me it was the only way," with a frustrated grunt she pushed the angry vampire off her, her Slayer instincts coming to her aid where her humanity had failed. "He lied to me!" She screamed, all the penned-up rage and betrayal she had kept hidden raged out of her in a flood of emotion. "This was his own personal vendetta against Angel! He'd sacrifice everything, including himself, to see Angel destroyed!"
Spike's eyes widened with shock, his face unconsciously slipping back into his human mask, "how do you know?"
"Angel killed," she caught herself here, she couldn't reveal everything, not to Spike, "people a hundred years ago. People who were important to Gerrico, so he fooled me into lying to Angel and push him straight into Cirta's arms." Did she even have arms? Buffy couldn't help wonder through her anguish.
"Damn, Slayer," Spike whistled appreciatively, "when you set your mind up to muck up the waters there's just no clean spring in sight, is there?" He brought his cigarette to his lips and made a feeble effort to light it, "what are we going to do about this?" He asked, motioning towards the glowing mansion.
"Angel," she began, as he tried to light his cigarette again and failed. His hands were trembling too much and the lighter's flame kept flickering out of existence every time it went anywhere near his mouth. "I don't know what to do about Angel. But Cirta's a different story. Oh, let me do that already!" She grabbed his lighter and held it steady till he managed to make good use of it. Bemused, she observed him visibly relax as he inhaled deeply. Maybe I should take up smoking, she wondered. Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky and that'll be the thing that kills me.
"How do you want to get rid of Cirta without Angel?" His voice seemed steadier, and his whole demeanor felt less on edge. Yep, smoking was definitely an option to consider. If she managed to survive this, that is.
"We curse her, like they did before. We lock her away and hope no one else has to deal with her ever again." Feverishly she prayed he didn't know much about her history, about the complete annihilation those who locked Cirta the first time had suffered.
But as his eyes widened and he tossed the half-smoked cigarette casually to the ground she felt her hopes crumble, "do you think I'm daft or just illiterate?" He demanded. Okay, so maybe nicotine wasn't a suitable replacement for Prozac as far as calming vampire nerves went. "Why the bloody hell did you think we got Angel out of Hell in the first place? To avoid this, you silly tart! And now you want me to join you in a fight you have no chance of surviving? Well I say find yourself another sap, love, because this one has had enough!"
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm saying I'm leaving, pet. I'm taking Dru and we're getting as far away from here as we can get, and you'd be smart to do the same." Stunned into silence she watched him turn and leave, his pale form quickly fading from sight in the dark night.
She watched the glowing mansion for a while longer, then turned to leave as well. She knew what she had to do, and she was slowly coming to terms with it. A year and a half ago she had been told she would have to die so that others may live. And though her youth had rebelled at the unfairness of it all and her heart cried out to run, she had stood her ground and did what she had to do. This time was different, this time she was promising a harsh, painful death to anyone who dared help her. And though her soul was already weeping for those who must die, she walked bravely to the library to tell those she loved that it must be so.
The streets of Sunnydale were unnaturally dark and dismal as Buffy made her way to the library. Were they this dark when she went to the mansion? She couldn't remember. In her haste to reach Angel she never noticed or thought about anything else. The earthquake had struck Sunnydale as a whole and now that she was taking the time to look, the damages were clearly abundant. The power lines were obviously damaged, but even in the darkness she could see the telltale signs of wounded houses and crippled cars. But there were no sounds of the sirens she had come to expect after a natural disaster, and there were no people. Where were all the people?
Her breath caught in her throat as the first real pangs of fear rang through her chest. She made a sharp turn and began to run home, cursing herself for her stupidity even as she ran. This was where she should have gone first. But no, she had never once given any thought to whether her mother was all right. She'd never even stopped to worry.
Breathless and furious she stopped dead in her tracks when she finally caught sight of her house. Even at a distance the roof's collapse into the house's second floor, into the bedroom floor, was clear. "Mom?" She tried to call out, but terror had deteriorated her voice into a pathetic whisper. She forcefully moved her frozen body, gaining speed as she neared the house till she was practically running to the front door. "Mom!" She yelled anxiously as she jerked the door open. The house was dark, empty and devoid of life. She moved quickly through the rooms, wincing at the pile of debris that had reduced her bed to splinters, when she stepped into her own room.
Finally she allowed herself to breathe her relief. Her mother was obviously not there, but where was she then? And where had all the people gone for that matter? Confused, and more than a little afraid at what she might find, she resumed her trek to the high school.
The flickering lights of candles and the hushed buzz that signified the presence of a large group of people did little to calm the small Slayer's tightly wound nerves. She made her way gingerly between the small groups of people huddled together in the high school's hallway, ignoring people she knew as her confused mind demanded attention. Sunnydale's missing occupants had obviously come here, but why?
Soft arms engulfed her in a bear hug, destroying her train of thought, "oh Buffy, thank God!" Joyce Summers breathed into her daughter's cheek.
"Mom!" Buffy choked. For a moment the two hugged, then, fueled by urgency, Buffy gently disentangled herself from her mother's embrace. "What're you doing here? What's everybody doing here?"
"Mister Giles said you were all right, that you weren't hurt," her mother blurted, too caught up in her own relief to answer any questions. "But I was sure something happened to you. When I went into your room and saw your bed it was like some sort of omen," she shook her head, tears of remembered anguish springing to her eyes, "I just ran here as fast as I could, but I couldn't find you. Mister Giles said that you were..."
"All right?" Buffy completed with a quirky half smile. She hated to see her mother worry over her, but then there were the times when it was nice to feel loved.
"I'm babbling, aren't I?" Joyce said sheepishly. She took a deep, cleansing breath to steady her nerves, "I don't know why everyone's here. I was just so anxious to find you that I never bothered asking them anything except if they saw you." A horrified expression suddenly appeared on her face, "oh God, they must think I'm horrible!"
"I think the neighbors will forgive your lousy holocaust etiquette, mom," Buffy said, suppressing a smile. "Where's Giles?"
"The library, I think," Joyce replied, her mind obviously elsewhere. "Maybe I should ask them if they need anything." Satisfied that her daughter was among the walking and talking, she was ready to turn her attentions to those who needed them.
"Great, I'll be in the library if you need me."
Her friends were busy pondering over books in candlelight when she stepped through the swinging wooden doors. "What's with the new refugee look happening out there?" She asked, motioning towards the area outside the library.
They turned their attentions away from their respective tomes to stare at her gravely, "this, typically, is the only place left standing in Sunnydale within walking distance," Xander replied. "It couldn't have been the pizza place or the arcade," he mourned.
"No electricity," Oz reminded him.
"This is like something out of my worst nightmare," he complained, ignoring the laconic boy. "No wait, it's like something out of my worst nightmare's worst nightmare." They stared at him, "oh, it's just evil."
"Wait, why walking distance?"
"None of the cars would start," Cordelia replied irritably, "you want to take a guess as to how we found that out?"
"Why?"
"I think it has something to do with an electromagnetic wave that was released when the earthquake hit." Willow explained, completely missing the blank look on her friends' faces. "See, new cars have these complex electrical systems and an electromagnetic disruption would..."
"Um, Will?" Buffy said gently.
The redheaded hacker's blushing face was obvious even in the wan candlelight. "Well why did you ask if you don't really want to know?" She said sullenly as she retreated into her boyfriend's arms. "You're supposed to stop me when I do that," she accused him gently.
"I like it when you do that," he replied, affectionately running his fingers through her hair. Her answer to that was a soft poke to his ribs.
"Wait," Cordelia suddenly said. "If the electrical system mumbo-jumbo only lives in new cars, why wouldn't your car start?" She asked the Watcher pointedly.
"I-it was having problems lately," Giles replied uncomfortably, "I've been meaning to take it to a mechanic, but..."
"See what happens when you procrastinate mister," Buffy said with a slight smile, fully realizing she was doing the same. "Angel's not on our side anymore," she blurted, needing to get that off her chest.
"Yeah, we kind of figured that out," Xander replied. "The people who came here told us about the mansion," he explained at her questioning look. "Of course it kind of came last in a long list of things they told us. My house collapsed on top of me, everything I own in the world's been destroyed, and oh yeah, did you know the mansion on Crawford street was glowing?" He shook his head at his own dark humor, "it kind of took awhile before anyone got around to elaborate on that last part."
"Buffy," Giles began grimly, immediately catching everyone's attention, "I believe this has all happened for a reason."
Buffy groaned inwardly as her friends shifted uncomfortably. They had obviously discussed this during her absence. She hated it when they did that, it was so much harder to protest when they had all the ins and outs figured out. "What reason is that?" Buffy asked carefully.
"Do you remember the passage I read to you the other morning?" Buffy tried to think back, but so much had happened since then that it seemed so long ago. Giles began fumbling through a book at her blank look, "and she shall empower him with the strength above all others, for it is known that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely," he recited.
Buffy shivered slightly, the words had been disturbing yesterday, but now they were positively unnerving. "I believe that is exactly what happened." He slammed the book down on the table with an uncharacteristic show of frustration, "I don't know how I could have missed it!" He exclaimed, "I should have known what was about to happen, it was right under my nose this entire time!"
"You can't blame yourself, Giles," Willow said, moving the offending book out of the Watcher's range just in case. "Can he, Buffy?" She said pointedly.
"No, he can't," Buffy echoed hollowly.
"So there's only one way to do this, and we've got all these lucky people that are stuck here and they get to help us do it," Xander said sarcastically. "Anybody else not thinking coincidence?"
Giles shook his head, apparently in full control of his temper, "coincidence or not, we're all agreed that this is our only option?"
They all stared at Cordelia, expecting her to protest, "what?" She said indignantly, "so we're all going to die. I can live with that."