Part Ten
Sunnydale
5.30 pm
Spike stormed into the Magic Box, slamming
the door closed in an obvious attempt to knock the little bell off its bracket.
He stomped down the steps and was heading for the training room when he
realised the atmosphere was less jolly than it had been the night before. He
paused, and regarded the trio who sat glumly at the table. They returned the
look solemnly.
"What?" Spike demanded, reaching for his
cigarettes. "Don't tell me you're having a bad day – you haven't got the bloody
Stamkesh tribe dossing with you. You have no idea …" He paused to light a
cigarette, and looked around as he did so, and realised he wasn't going to get
any sympathy. "Where's the lil bit? She's usually here by now."
"Xander and Anya have taken her home,"
Wesley answered. "We thought it best …"
"Yeah," Spike agreed, "Slayer doesn't like
her getting too involved in all the book stuff … What is wrong
with you people? You look like someone …"
He took the cigarette from his mouth, and
looked at each of their faces.
"…died," he finished, never one to be delicate
in such matters.
Wesley cleared his throat.
"Willow seems to think …"
he began, then stopped. No point in beating about the bush – the others knew
the situation, and Spike was a demon, after all. "Willow's seeking spell
worked, but she says Buffy isn't there. She seems to think she's no longer …"
Despite himself, Wesley couldn't say it.
"Spells don't always work the way you think
they will," Spike said with a shrug. "She could be wrong. I mean, they brought
her back, and … erm … never mind. She could be wrong," he repeated, hoping
fervently that that was the case.
Fred and Cordelia tried to look hopeful, but
worrying about Angel and Gunn had taken its toll and they failed miserably.
"So what you hanging around here for then?"
Spike asked insolently. "Shouldn't you be heading back to Tinsel Town, to pacify our
hero?"
"They're not back yet," Wesley stated, his
tone clipped in defence of the two girls' feelings. "We're staying here until
they return, since Giles, Willow and Tara are there – keeping
the balance, you might say."
Spike raised his eyebrows, but decided
against uttering his retort – getting in a fight with these three would be
pointless, especially since he couldn't actually hurt them – he'd just end up
feeling more wound up than he did already.
"Well that's just fine," he said instead,
"but don't get in me way when we're on patrol."
He sucked hungrily at his cigarette, and
strolled as casually as he could into the training room, closing the door
behind him.
Minutes later, they heard the unmistakable
thump-clank-thud of the punching bag being knocked from its hook.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Los Angeles
6 pm
Willow and Tara stepped close to
the portal, hand in hand. Taking a deep breath, Willow squeezed her
lover's hand before letting it go.
"Ready?" she asked, and smiled at Tara's small nod.
They both turned to face the portal, side by
side, and closed their eyes. Then, as one, they recited the seeking spell,
waving their hands in unison as they repeated the word "reperire" and
simultaneously sent a tiny spark into the shimmering gateway. They paused,
breathed deeply, and opened there eyes on each other's faces, smiling hopefully.
Giles was deeply impressed. He'd watched the
two witches develop their magick skills over the last couple of years, and had
at times worried that Willow was using the dark
skills too often, but seeing them work in such natural unity was quite breathtaking.
Having phoned Sunnydale earlier, and
discussed Willow's experience
regarding the spell she'd performed to locate Buffy, he'd persuaded her to try
again; it had been Tara's idea to perform a double spell. They had
at first planned to cast a duplicate locator for Buffy, but then decided it
would be better to search for both the Slayer and Angel, since the two had a
psychic connection – the spell might even enhance their chances of a reunion in
the demon dimension.
"Nice work," Lorne commented appreciatively.
"Do you two sing?"
"God no!" the girls exclaimed in twin horror.
"Should they?" Giles asked, wondering if the
Anagogic demon sensed something.
"Hell, yeah," Lorne enthused. "If they're
that much in tune they could make a fortune on the club circuit."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As they rounded a small hill, Angel stopped
suddenly. He scanned the horizon, and stared for a while towards a cluster of
rocks and caves several hundred yards to their left. A small, squat building
stood just beyond the rocky outcrop.
"That's it," he told Gunn, nodding his head
once in that direction. "She's in there."
Gunn nodded.
"You think it's guarded?" he asked. "Can you
tell if we have a fight on our hands?"
Angel shook his head.
"You ready?" he asked.
"Guess so."
They didn't bother trying to sneak up on the
building, but walked straight towards it, accustomed now to the wind and rain
and thunder and lightening and the dim eerie light from the sunless sky. When
they were less than ten yards from the building, Angel hesitated, and turned to
look behind them. Gunn followed his gaze.
Two tiny bright lights streamed through the
air towards them.
"How'd you know about them?" Gunn hissed.
"Man, this psychic business is giving me the creeps."
"Locator spells," Angel said, watching the
sparks approach. He smiled as one hovered over him, and watched the other enter
the building through a barred opening in the wall. "Let's go."
Angel tried the first door he came to, but it
did not open. Using Gunn's axe, he hacked at the handle to break the lock, and
then kicked the door off its hinges.
"Not going for the softly, softly approach, then,"
Gunn commented wryly, following the vampire down dark stone steps, the tiny
locator spell giving them scant illumination.
At the bottom of the steps, they reached a
corridor which seemed to run the length of the building. Huge wooden doors lined
the corridor, and the dank air was filled with inhuman groans and cries. Gunn
shivered.
Angel scanned each door in turn, waiting for
the strange intuition to tell him which one to open. Nothing happened.
Frowning, he opened the first door. A tiny, cat-like creature leapt at him,
screeching, and drove its six clawed feet into his thigh. Stepping back, Angel
grabbed the thing around its middle, tore it from his leg and threw it back
into the cell. Gunn slammed the door shut.
"What happened to your psychic gig?" he
asked.
"Don't know," Angel admitted. "Maybe it
doesn't work with people."
He stopped at the next door and listened. A
low keening sound came from the other side, so he moved on. At the fourth door,
the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Buffy was in the cell beyond: he
could feel her.
He handed Gunn the box and his weapons, then
carefully pushed open the huge wooden door, cringing as its hinges creaked.
Gunn turned his back to the door, scanning the corridor in case someone – or
something – came to challenge them. He heard Angel gasp, and glanced over his
shoulder to see the vampire hurrying to the Slayer's body, which lay prone
against the far wall of the cell, a tiny locator spark hovering above her.
"Buffy," Angel said, kneeling beside her,
listening desperately for her heartbeat or breathing or some sign that she was
alive. Her face was bruised and cut, her hair damp and matted, and she was
bound hand and foot, but she was alive – just. He quickly untied her, and
scooping the girl into his arms, hurried out of the cell with Gunn at his back.
They were halfway up the stairs when movement
above him made Angel stop in his tracks. With lightening flashing behind them,
three huge demons descended the stairs towards them, growling menacingly.
Gunn turned and leapt down the steps,
followed closely by Angel, and ran along the corridor to the far end, hoping
there was another door there. There were more steps, leading up into darkness.
Gunn knew they couldn't chance there being an unlocked door at the top, and
turned resignedly to Angel, who had reached the same conclusion.
The vampire carefully placed Buffy on the
bottom step, leaning her against the wall so that she wouldn't slip or topple
over. He placed the box on her lap, and took his axe and sword from Gunn.
The three demons approached them cautiously,
each of them wielding a huge lance. The one in the middle seemed distracted by
the locator spells, which still hovered over Buffy and Angel, but the other two
continued to growl at the two well-armed intruders.
"We don't want to fight," Angel said, his
tone implying that he was not afraid to do so. "We just came for …"
He was interrupted by the demons, which
pointed at Buffy and began to talk animatedly to themselves. Angel and Gunn
exchanged looks, but remained ready for battle. Then the central demon pointed
at Angel and said something that had very little consonants in it. Angel
shrugged at him, clueless.
The demon continued speaking and pointed
again at Angel, then at Buffy. He made a sign in the air with his a
long-taloned finger.
"Was that a benediction?" Gunn whispered.
"Hope not," Angel replied.
"It looked like a cross," Gunn insisted.
As the demon continued to talk and gesture,
Angel looked over his shoulder at Buffy, and realised the demons were agitated
not so much by the locator spells but by the box which he'd left on Buffy's
lap. With his eyes on the demon spokesman, he carefully placed his sword and
axe on the ground, ignoring Gunn's muttered curse.
He stepped back slowly, so as not to alarm
the demons, and reached for the box. They gasped, and seemed to tense, watching
him in silent alarm as he opened the box. Knowing that Gunn was fully alert,
ready to spring if the demons so much as twitched in their direction, Angel
concentrated on the key, and imagined the lobby at the Hyperion. The stylised
cross started to glow, and tiny sparks illuminated three different gems. He
placed his thumb, middle finger, and little finger on the three gems, and felt
the static surge rush through him.
The three demons growled deeper as Angel's
features momentarily transformed into those of the vampire, but they didn't
move. Gunn watched them, tension eating into his shoulders, while Angel
struggled to remain upright, leaning against the wall and bracing his legs to
keep them from buckling under him. He groaned slightly, frowning in obvious pain,
then pulled his hand out of the box and shook it, trying to dispel the fierce
tingling sensation.
Behind him, Buffy moaned softly. Angel handed
Gunn the box, then turned and gently lifted the unconscious Slayer into his
arms once more.
"Follow me," he said quietly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy tingled all over, as if her entire being
was humming with mild benevolent electricity. It reminded her a little of the
strange sensation she felt whenever Angel was near. She smiled. She knew he was
close, she'd felt his presence long before the static buzz had returned.
She turned her head, curious now about the
journey she was making through the portal's void. She had no idea how long
she'd been in there, but it didn't worry her: she felt it was where she
belonged. She just figured she'd have been there by now.
Except … Buffy frowned, and shivered a
little. She thought there was somewhere else she should be, somewhere else that
she belonged. It pulled at her, sending cool ripples through the comforting
colourless embrace of the nothingness that enveloped her. There was somewhere
else, where she would feel warm and safe and loved, another place, far from
heaven. She didn't want to have to choose.
The tingling subsided, and Buffy felt Angel's
presence dissipate. She suddenly felt alone, and didn't like the feeling.
She moaned softly, and reached out for him
into the empty grey void.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sunnydale
8 pm
The dining room at 1630 Revello Drive hadn't been so full
of people for a long time. Helping herself to a third slice of pizza, Dawn
looked around the table and wondered what her school friends would say if they
could see her now, and if they knew the backgrounds of the seemingly normal people
seated at the table with her.
Okay, so Xander was pretty normal, and most
of her school friends knew him from the arcades and comic shops. And Dawn
scored 'cool' points for hanging with him, even though she herself often saw
him as her babysitter.
Some of her friends might remember Cordelia
from high school – they had sisters the same age, and Cordy's rep as high
school princess was legendary – but they didn't know the woman she had become,
or the gift of visions she had inherited.
Wesley – mild-mannered and hesitant, and so
very English – hid his hardened inner core well, and no-one would guess that
he'd been a rogue demon hunter, or that he battled demons on a daily basis. Or
that he could speak the weirdest foreign languages, and decipher ancient texts
so old they made you sneeze. He was a mini-Giles, only more annoying, Dawn
decided.
She looked at Anya, pulling stringy cheese
from her mouth with gusto, and wondered how the ex-Vengeance demon viewed the
world. Dawn's friends knew her from the Magic Box – as they did Giles – and
they thought she was kooky, but in a cool way. They would totally freak if they
knew what powers she'd once possessed.
Dawn glanced at Fred, who was chewing
thoughtfully, eyes downcast. She didn't know much about the young Texan woman,
other than that she'd spent some time in Lorne's dimension and it hadn't been a
pleasant experience. She liked Fred, and knew she was immensely intelligent,
but her odd behaviour sometimes creeped her out. She guessed her friends would
label the young woman a schizoid.
And then there was Spike. The vampire
slouched at the far end of the table, regarding the feast with distaste as he
sipped pig's blood from one of her mother's best china mugs. How weird was
that? Her friends didn't even believe that vampires existed – or any of the
other beings, alive or dead, that went bump in the night – and if she tried to
convince them they'd label her a total mental case.
Dawn sighed. Her school friends were cool,
and funny, and completely on her wave-length, but she knew they thought she was
a bit strange, and they also thought she'd inherited that from her
always-in-trouble big sister. If only they knew …
If only they knew that her sister was the
Slayer, a modern day heroine and champion of the world, saving the human
population on a daily basis. If only they knew that, less than two years ago,
Dawn herself hadn't even existed – she'd been created from some mystical
energy, and imprinted on the entire collective memory as the youngest Summers.
If only they knew that the Summers blood that coursed through her veins was
there because Buffy had made it so, to reinforce their sisterhood when Dawn had
been so desperately confused and lost and …
"You with us, Dawnster?" Xander's gentle
elbow in her side brought the teenager back to the present.
"Um?" the girl asked, mouth full of pizza.
Xander smiled, and for a moment Dawn felt the
flush of excitement that her long-established crush on him used to induce. But
she was over that now: she knew he loved Anya, and would only ever see her as
Buffy's little sister.
"Tomorrow," Xander said.
"Heading up to LA for the meet-and-greet."
Spirits had been lifted by Giles's call an
hour earlier, when he'd told them of the successful locator spells. This time, Willow had sensed Buffy's
aura, and, although not strong, she was convinced that the Slayer could be
saved. It was a mystery why the previous spell had given such devastatingly
negative feedback, and they were still worried about Buffy's condition, but
everyone believed that Angel would find her and bring her home.
Dawn's eyebrows shot up. Tomorrow? How had
she missed that? Not only an opportunity to skip school, but also a trip to the
city, and, more importantly, a reunion with her sister. She nodded, quickly
swallowing the cheesy dough.
"All of us?" she asked, grinning
with excitement.
"Yeah," Xander nodded, pleased to
see her so animated. "First thing ..."
"Ahem." Everyone looked at Spike,
whose 'forgetting something?' expression was met with puzzled looks.
"Oh I see," the vampire said,
getting to his feet. "Leave old Spike to mind the store, is that it? While
you lot go off on a jolly."
"No!" Anya cried, horrified at the
thought of someone else in charge of her beloved business.
"Speaking figuratively, love,"
Spike informed her with disdain. "I ain't no bloody shopkeeper."
The two demons started bickering about the
merits of independent trading, whilst the others watched in fascinated silence
for a minute or so. Finally, Cordelia slammed her hand on the table, and
everyone looked at her.
"God!" she said. "I thought
this place was weird when I lived here, but now ..." She shook her head,
and frowned at Spike. "I can't even start with you," she said,
"it's just ... off the chart, you being part of the Scooby gang."
"Hey!" Xander said, indignantly.
"He isn't ..."
"Whatever," Cordelia said
dismissively, hints of her old self coming to the fore. She turned again to
Spike, and her tone was hostile. "You wanna come to LA? Do the old friends
act with Angel? Be my guest."
Spike looked at her with renewed respect.
He'd always considered her to be a vain shallow airhead, and had wondered how
on earth his sire hadn't broken her pretty little neck before now. Obviously,
she'd grown up, and learned how to think of others, and he didn't doubt that
she would stake him rather than let him upset Angel in any way. Which was
another interesting factor ...
"Angel won't have eyes for anyone but
the Slayer," Spike shot back, knowing he'd touch a nerve with that one,
and smirking when he saw his words hit home. "He's not gonna notice me."
Cordelia flushed slightly, and clenched her
jaw in an effort to quell the jealous and possessive pangs that the vampire's
words had stirred in her. Fortunately the others hadn't noticed, but she glared
at Spike as Wesley took control of the conversation.
"If I may," he said, holding up a
hand. "Common sense dictates that we can't all go. Firstly, Spike,"
he regarded the vampire with curiosity, "it will be broad daylight, which,
I believe, still works against you. Secondly, we have Gunn's truck, and
Xander's car - just enough room to ..."
"Forget it," Spike said, losing
interest. "Didn't want to go anyway - not over keen on seeing them two all
over each other again."
Only Dawn and Fred smiled at that, both young
and naïve enough to see only the romance - the others, for different reasons,
had several concerns regarding any reunion between the Slayer and her former
lover.
Satisfied that he'd ruffled a few feathers,
and shattered the happy holiday mood that had irked him because he was
excluded, Spike raised his hand in a half-hearted wave and let himself out. He
hoped that Sunnydale was over-run with demons tonight, because he really really
needed to hurt something badly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Los Angeles
10.30 pm
Jayce drove past the Hyperion, and took the
next turning.
"'Sup?" Donny asked, knowing his
friend hadn't simply missed the hotel.
"Think they got company," Jayce
answered thoughtfully. "Gonna sweep by again. Maybe head on in, a
different way."
Donny nodded, instantly alert without
changing his body language. Jayce drove around the block and headed back
towards the hotel from the opposite direction. Without slowing, he scanned the
alleys and parked cars that he passed, and nodded to himself.
He turned off the road, heading down another
street, and pulled in at a 7-11 several blocks down. Behind it, a disused
subway entrance provided shelter for the homeless, and access to the sewer
systems.
He used the store's payphone to alert Giles
that the hotel seemed to be surrounded by demons, all placed in the shadows
near doors or windows on the ground floor. Relieved by Giles' news that the
hotel was protected against demon attack, Jayce nevertheless called some of his
crew to meet him in the sewer system below the Hyperion, so they could provide
reinforcements if the demons managed to get through.
Following Donny down the slippery subway
steps, Jayce glanced uneasily over his shoulder. He was fairly sure they hadn't
been followed, but he felt as though they were being watched. In the gloom, he
saw Donny lift the manhole cover and drop down into the dark tunnels beneath.
By the time he heard Donny's strangled cry, it was too late, and he felt a
white-hot pain in his stomach before his feet even hit the ground. A huge
scaly-skinned demon grinned wickedly at him as it ulled its wide spade-shaped
weapon from Jayce's midsection; Jayce fell backwards on top of Donny, and
closed his eyes to block out the view of the weapon coming towards his head.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
