Part Nine
Angel and Gunn scrambled into the cave, both soaked
to the skin. They needed somewhere out of the driving wind and rain to consult
the key, and make sure they were still headed in the right direction. They had
seen the trail of Willow's seeking spell zoom past this opening in the rocks,
but had then lost sight of it.
"Demon dimensions always like this?" Gunn
grumbled, wiping excess rain from his face as he peered outside.
"Pylea wasn't," Angel reminded him, opening
the box that held the Kravlarian Key.
"Well this place ain't on my
'dying-to-see-again' list," Gunn told him, remembering the sunshine and
simplicity in Lorne's home world but not particularly keen to go back there.
"I've seen worse," Angel said quietly.
Gunn looked at him. He knew from Cordelia
that Angel had been returned to hell by Buffy a few years ago, and by all
accounts had spent decades there rather than the few months he'd been gone from
Sunnydale reality. Gunn also knew that, as Angelus, the vampire had been
capable of bringing his own version of hell to countless innocent victims. Not
wanting to dwell on that, he peered over Angel's shoulder into the box.
The Kravlarian Key was made from a rough
surfaced metal, fashioned into a nine-inch blade, the top half of which was
cross-sectioned with three different lengths of the same metal, like a cross
with extra bars. At each point – top, bottom, and six edges – there was a
different coloured gem, and at each cross-section intricate sigils had been
carved with amazing detail. Lying in the box on a bed of soft material, similar
to velvet, it glowed slightly, and three of the gems flashed with tiny sparks.
"What's it doing?" he asked.
Angel concentrated. Kenjiin had explained
quickly how the key would work, and Angel was not in any particular hurry to
test it. He was wary of anything that might bring his demon to the fore, and
had a feeling that this key would do that.
"Listen," he said, turning to Gunn. "You
heard what Kenjiin said, right? If I go all demon-y on you, be careful, but … I
… I think I'll be okay. Like in Pylea, remember?"
"I remember," Gunn said grimly, hefting the
axe he'd brought with him, and pulling a stake from his waistband as he took a
few steps back. "But we don't know that, do we?"
With a resigned sigh, Angel placed his thumb,
middle finger and little finger on the three flashing gems. Something akin to
electricity surged through him, and he cried out in shock but did not – could
not – break his contact with the key. For a brief moment he vamped out,
snarling ferally, but just as quickly his features returned to normal. He
stumbled backwards into the wall of the cave, cradling the box in one hand
while his other hand felt like it was being welded to the key.
Gunn moved further back, stake and axe at the
ready, and watched warily as Angel closed his eyes and slid down the wall. He
sat there for several minutes, not moving, but Gunn did not approach him: lack
of significant movement in a vampire did not mean he wasn't fully alert, and
until he knew what he was dealing with – Angel, or the demon version – Gunn was
not about to take any chances.
At last, the glow from the box dimmed, and
Angel lifted his hand from the key, clenching and stretching his fingers. He
looked up at Gunn with a solemn expression.
"That was …" he paused, and rubbed the back
of his head. "Painful," he decided.
Gunn continued to watch him from several feet
away, maintaining a fighting stance. He hadn't met Angelus, but he knew the
vicious vampire was a devious bastard.
Angel stood up slowly, closing the box, and
regarded Gunn with a mixture of hurt and understanding.
"It's okay," he said, "nothing's changed."
"How do I know you ain't Angelus?" Gunn
voiced his deepest fear, jutting his chin out in challenge to mask it.
"You're still alive," Angel pointed out.
"It could be a trick," Gunn argued. "You
might be plannin' to torture me."
The look of shame on Angel's face made Gunn
feel bad, but he had to be sure the vampire could still be trusted – his life
depended on it, and so did Buffy's.
"If you think I'm him," Angel said, holding
his arms wide, "stake me."
Without hesitation, Gunn threw the stake at
Angel's chest. It pierced the vampire's skin just above the heart, but Angel
had done nothing to stop it.
"You missed," Angel said, wincing as he
pulled the stake out.
"Figured Angelus woulda caught it," Gunn
said. "Had to be sure."
Angel understood. He knew Gunn wouldn't
apologise, no matter how uncomfortable he felt about his actions, but he felt
his friend's remorse. However, he wasn't sure that Gunn realised what he could
have been up against.
"Your aim was off," he told his friend.
"You'd have let your guard down, and I could have killed you."
Gunn stared at him, and brought the axe into
readiness.
"Then I guess you still might," he said
defiantly. "Bring it on."
The vampire held wide his arms again, trying
to prove he, rather than his demon, was in control. Gunn sighed, and took a
leap of faith, recognising the no-win situation they were in.
"So what did it do?" he asked, nodding at the
cross, eager to move on.
"Not sure," Angel admitted. "I know where to
go, but don't ask me how." He massaged his forehead, closing his eyes in a
frown. "And if this is anything like the pain Cordy gets from her visions, we
need to get her some stronger painkillers."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy moaned as the tingling sensation swept over
her again. It was like a very mild electric shock, not entirely unpleasant, and
it was trying to pull her out of the portal. She didn't want to go. Eyes
closed, she sighed dreamily and shrugged her shoulders as if that would make
the strange prickling go away.
Lulled into a luxurious sense of peace, she
was still aware that she was floating and decided she was still inside the
portal, but she was beyond caring: she just wanted to stay like this forever.
She shook her hand petulantly, mildly irritated by the tickling little shocks
which buzzed in her fingertips.
Suddenly, she felt Angel's presence. She
could smell him, that delicious tangy-sweet-powdery scent that she'd long ago
wished she could have bottled. She smiled, and thought she was in heaven – she
had always been convinced they would end up there together. She tried to open
her eyes, so that she could look upon his beloved face, but they remained
firmly shut. She calmly held out her hand, and was aware that tiny sparks
surrounded her fingertips.
"Where are you?" she asked, not alarmed. "I
can't see you."
"I'll find you," Angel's voice assured her.
"Even if I was blind."
Déjà vu trilled up the back of Buffy's neck
and she frowned slightly. Something wasn't quite right. If she was in heaven,
or at least on the way there, then Angel should be there with her. Why was he
looking for her? Why wasn't he there with her?
She felt she should be doing something other
than just floating in this warm and comforting void, but she couldn't for the
life of her think what it was. She sighed, and smiled in the knowledge that
Angel would figure it out, and he'd be waiting for her when she finally got to
heaven.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Los Angeles
3.30 pm
Gavin Park smiled at the demon, and reached
for his cell phone.
"Cyril," he said, eyes on his client. "Stage
three – make sure our team are there when they step through that portal. No
loose ends. Understood?"
He closed the cell phone, and reached for a
remote control module.
"Would you care to watch?" Gavin asked,
indicating an array of small television screens banked together in the centre
of his floor-to-ceiling bookcase.
"Watch?" the demon repeated.
"When Angel and Kenjiin return through the
portal," Gavin nodded, pressing a button on the remote control, "we will
retrieve the Key, and kill them both."
The screens came alive, all but one of them
showing empty rooms. The demon moved closer, squinting in the glare of the
screen, and looked closely at the central image. He recognised the hotel lobby,
and the portal which shimmered behind the wooden counter. He did not recognise
any of the humans who sat near it, but they did not concern him.
Hrahek nodded, and watched, and waited.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sunnydale
4 pm
Xander sat behind the driver's wheel of his
car, scanning the students who poured through the school doors thirty yards to
his right. He knew Dawn would spot him easily, but he liked to give her a
cheery 'beep-beep' to let her know he wasn't just there out of duty. He
understood more than the others how left out Dawn often felt. She had no
special skills or powers to help in the fight against demons, and her
over-protective sister didn't even like her getting involved in research. He
himself had often felt like an outsider, and even a burden to the Slayer, since
he too was just a normal human being. But, hey, having an ex-vengeance demon
for a fiancée had certainly upped his points on the Zeppo scoreboard.
At last he spotted her, amongst the final few
who traipsed out into the sunshine, and his face fell. Dawn was dawdling, a
scowl on her face as she watched her feet shuffle down the path, bag in one
hand and almost scraping the floor.
Xander hit the horn in two short blasts, and
waved cheerfully at her as she looked up. Dawn raised her hand, but did not
smile. She looked tired, and miserable.
"Rough day?" Xander guessed as the teenager
dropped into the passenger seat. He started the engine, and manoeuvred into the
traffic.
Dawn pushed out the side of her mouth and
sighed.
"I hate school," she stated.
Xander nodded.
"And that makes you different because ..?" he
enquired, raising his eyebrows at her.
"Because I can't tell anyone why I'm
not paying attention in class," Dawn sulked, "and I don't get cut any slack cos
my sister's in some demon dimension, and I haven't slept properly for a week. I
just get extra homework or have to report to the Principal every afternoon.
Everyone thinks I'm a freak. Responsibility sucks."
"Dawnster, you're not a freak," Xander
assured her. "I went through the same hell every day, and look at me – I
survived." He smiled encouragingly at her, ignoring her withering sideways
glance.
"Any news from LA?" she asked half-heartedly.
"I'm figuring 'not', cos … well, cos you don't exactly have 'yay she's back'
face."
Xander frowned, and sighed. Tough audience.
"No news," he confirmed. "But I'm sure …"
"Yeah," Dawn said without conviction, and
stared out the window.
Ten minutes later, they reached the Magic Box
to find the door locked, and the 'Closed' sign hanging in its little glass
window. Xander peered through the shop window, and tapped on it to get Anya's
attention. She glanced his way, and waved a hand impatiently as if telling him
to go away. When he looked closer, he could see that she stood in a circle with
Wesley, Fred, and Cordelia, and there were candles on the floor.
"What's going on?" Dawn asked anxiously,
pressing her nose against the glass and shielding her eyes from the reflection
on each side of her face. "What are they doing?"
"Looks like some kind of spell," Xander
answered uneasily. He knew Anya had had plenty of practice in certain magicks
over the centuries, but didn't think the others were fully competent in such
matters.
Feeling the sudden absence of his teenage
charge, he looked up to see Dawn heading into the alley that would take her to
the rear of the store. He followed, and caught up with her as she opened the
training room door. Not wanting to insult her, or further damage her bruised
ego, he was glad that she made no noise, but tiptoed across the room to the
door that led into the shop, and stopped to listen.
Wesley seemed to be reading the spell out
loud. Neither Dawn nor Xander could understand the words, but they could tell
it was not being delivered from memory.
"I think it's something to do with the
portal," Dawn whispered. "That word – 'porta' – I heard that a lot when they
were practicing the portal spell. And 'manere' means remain, or continue: Tara
told me."
Xander's expression told her he was
impressed, and Dawn's spirits lifted a little. Wesley had finished speaking,
and all was silent on the other side of the door, so they cautiously entered
the shop. The others had broken the circle and Wesley, Fred and Cordelia were
now seated around the table, whilst Anya was unlocking the shop door.
"You almost ruined it!" Anya accused, as
Xander went to greet her with a hug.
"Not really," Wesley allowed. "A small break
in your concentration, perhaps, but the spell itself was unaffected."
"What's happening?" Xander asked them.
"What's with the mojo?"
"Trying to make sure the portal stays open,"
Fred informed him.
"Is everything okay?" Dawn asked tremulously,
almost afraid of the answer.
Wesley smiled sympathetically at her, and
stood up again.
"We're in constant touch with Giles and the
others in Los Angeles," he told her. "The portal remains open, and Willow's
seeking spell appears to have entered the dimension successfully. Fred
discovered another spell, which we've performed to insure that the portal will
not close prematurely."
"But they're not back yet?" the girl pressed.
"No," came four resigned and worried replies.
"But time moves differently …" Wesley began,
hoping to assuage their concerns.
"We know, Wesley," Cordelia interrupted, her
face pale with fatigue. "We know."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Los Angeles
5 pm
Giles removed his glasses, and rubbed wearily
at the bridge of his nose. He looked across at the portal, which hovered behind
the hotel's reception desk, and wished he could think of something to do. The
waiting was interminable. And the lobby seats were probably the most
uncomfortable ever made.
He stretched to his feet, careful to make no
noise lest he disturb the two slumbering witches who had curled themselves,
head to head, around the rest of the circular seat. Leaning his head from one
shoulder to the other, grimacing at the crunching he felt, Giles pulled his
hanky from a pocket in his jacket and rubbed absent-mindedly at a lens. He
wandered across the lobby to examine the contents of Angel's armoury, admiring
the workmanship that had gone into the double-headed axes and ancient swords
that were stored there. He was about to open the cupboard fully, to look more
closely at the Chinese stars, certain that they were fifth or sixth century,
when Lorne emerged from the rear corridor and raised his eyebrows.
"Hinge squeaks," the demon warned him in a
hushed tone.
Giles nodded.
"I've made tea," Lorne said, holding the
coffee pot up as proof. "No bone china, I'm afraid, but it's pretty good – one
of the more popular English brands, the store keeper told me."
"Very kind," Giles smiled, suddenly desperate
for a cuppa.
They'd cleared everything from behind the
reception counter in order to re-open the portal, and the cups and coffee
machine were now in the inner office. Giles followed Lorne in there, and the
demon filled two cups with what looked like very strong tea. Adding milk to his
taste, Giles sipped at the hot liquid.
"You drink tea?" he asked Lorne. He knew that
few Americans partook of the beverage, wasn't even sure if Spike did, even
though the vampire's human counterpart had been English.
"Only socially," Lorne answered, almost
apologetically. "Not good for the skin."
Curious, and not entirely sure if the demon
was serious, Giles was forming another question when something caught his eye.
A tiny light, like a glow-worm, flittered across the lobby from the reception
desk, and hovered over Willow's head.
"Willow!" Giles called, heading in her
direction.
As she stirred, and lifted her head from the
padded seat, the light spiralled above her, and then seemed to thrust itself
into her head. With a startled gasp, Willow sat bolt upright, mouth open in a
surprised 'o'. Giles crouched beside her, deeply concerned, and Lorne stood
close behind.
"Are you alright?" the Watcher asked.
Tara sat up, half asleep, and looked up at
them all, puzzled.
"Buffy," Willow nodded, her face awash with
emotions. "She's there, the locator spell found her. But … but … she isn't
there. She's not …she's not …she's …"
Her tear-filled eyes and trembling lip turned
Giles cold, and he sank to his knees.
"Dear God," he murmured.
Tara drew Willow into a tight embrace, and
the redhead clung to her, shoulders shuddering as she sobbed silently into her lover's
neck. Lorne patted her gently on the back, and laid his other hand on Giles'
shoulder, staring sorrowfully at the ever-shimmering portal.
He wondered if Angel knew, or would ever know
– would the vampire stay in the Kravlar dimension, eternally searching for his
lost love, not realising it was futile?
'Probably,' Lorne decided. 'We so need to get
him out of there.'
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Gunn stumbled over a clump of the strange purple
grass, and fell to his knees. Exhausted, and not at all happy, he stayed where
he was and watched Angel's retreating back for a few moments before hanging his
head in an effort to calm his breathing. Harsh black mountains loomed above him
to his right, and far off in the distance there was another, higher range. The
wind and rain had stung his face until it was numb, and the incessant thunder
had given him a headache. He was cold, wet, tired, and hungry, and not entirely
confident that they were going to get out of this alive. Once his breathing was
back to normal, he looked up again and saw that Angel had come back for him.
"You okay?" the vampire asked.
"Sure," Gunn replied, getting to his feet.
"But I ain't got no superhero powers, you know?"
"Sorry," Angel nodded grimly. "I just …"
"I know," Gunn said, pushing the vampire back
in the direction they'd been headed. He knew how he'd feel if it was Fred who'd
been imprisoned in this nightmare place. "Let's go."
Following Angel once more, it dawned on Gunn
that they had been travelling in more or less a straight line – they seemed to
go around bluffs and rocky clumps, and even mountain ranges, without actually
changing direction. Angel had tried to explain the information he'd received
from the key, but the closest Gunn got to understanding it all was that somehow
Angel knew what to do and where to go, as if some instinct had been instilled
into him. He knew better than to try and rationalise it – living amongst and
battling demons on a daily basis had taught him to give up that human trait a
long time ago – so he simply followed, ready to help Angel in any way he could.
Angel forged ahead, hardly looking at his
surroundings, but simply following his feet. He felt as though he was being
drawn forward, as if his body knew where to go even though his mind didn't. And
the further they went, the more convinced he felt that Buffy was near. The key
had infused him with absolute certainty that he would find her, and take her
home, and he followed that conviction unhesitatingly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy opened her eyes, and saw Willow walking towards
her. Her friend was crying, and did not seem to notice her. Buffy looked down
towards her feet, and realised she was still floating, although she could feel
the ground through her shoes. Puzzled, she looked up and called Willow's name, although
her mouth didn't open.
Willow stopped and looked
at her, eyes red-rimmed and tortured.
"Where are you?" the redhead asked, her voice
catching with a sob.
"You'll find me," Buffy heard herself answer,
and the repetition of this conversation brought memory flashes to her mind's
eye. She remembered previous dreams, and wondered absently if this was also a
dream.
Buffy watched as tears slid down Willow's cheeks, and she
tried to move towards her friend to hug her, but she was frozen in place. She
felt warm and safe, but could not move, and it puzzled her.
"You have to find me," she said. "I don't
think I'm supposed to be here."
It was the first negative thought she'd had
since entering the portal, and she felt something around her change: a slight
chill, a mere hint of danger. She looked at Willow again, but the
witch was turning away from her.
"Find me," Buffy called, her voice
sounding small and distant.
Willow walked away,
dissolving into the colourless void that surrounded them.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
