DARKEST 5
By Annie
Disclaimer: Again, not mine to do with as I wish; too bad.
Rated: PG13
Summary: When things can go wrong, they certainly will.
Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net
DARKEST 5
It was harder than you would think to gather up five vampires without turning them into dust. I had to search out two different nests to accomplish this, and then beat the tar out of them and keep them in line with a crucifix all the way back to Spike's crypt. One at a time, so it took longer than I had planned.
I had told Xander to get to Spike's as soon as he gathered all the necessities, and had called Anya to ask her to meet us at midnight. Anya was glad for the timing, as she wouldn't have to close the shop to any potential customers. Despite Dawn's protests, she was safely tucked away with Willow, and was probably filling her in on all the details. Willow would have to be told eventually anyway, but I knew she would be itching to be here.
I had the large wooden crate Xander had supplied in the middle of Spike's floor, sitting on top of the five-pointed star I had painted in white earlier. At each point of the star, Xander had used a cement drill to anchor steel rings into the floor. The five lengths of chain went from the floor rings, around the feet of the vampires, around their wrists and were then attached to the crate with padlocks, which I had purchased as an afterthought.
Anya's job was to circle the whole set-up, with the crucifix constantly in sight of the vamps, as a warning to stay where they were. She also had a stake, as did Xander and I, although I had no intention of our using them. We needed these five vamps and if I had to break their legs to keep them here, I would.
Of course, with that thought came the one that should logically follow; here I was, ready to sacrifice five vampires I should have slain for one I also should have slain. It was, after all, my duty in life.
Duty was beginning to be a dirty word for me.
I had been listening to the far-off rumbling of thunder the whole evening, and I realized now that the storm had just reached Sunnydale, counterpoint to the Black Arts we were about to perform. I should have taken it as an omen. But we were ready now, and I wouldn't let any logic invade my resolve.
"So, we're ready?" I asked out loud, even though I knew we were.
Anya, walking the circle assigned to her nervously, trying to stay out of the reach of any fangs or mesmerizing gazes, nodded anxiously.
"I don't know why I let you people talk me into this," she complained. "I'm sure we could find you another nasty-tempered demon to consort with."
"I agree," Xander told me quietly. "Buffy, are you absolutely sure you want to do this? I have registered my opinion more than once today, and it hasn't changed."
I was absolutely sure. And I wasn't. A loud clap of thunder reverberated through the dark walls of the crypt, which was only lighted by some of Spike's candles. There had been no moon, and even if there had been, the storm clouds would have blacked it out anyway. I looked around for a second, looked at the crate, wherein lay the grainy remains of a thing I was supposed to hate. Looked at the five sacrificial vamps, rationalizing that since I was supposed to slay them anyway, it probably didn't matter much how they met their end. Looked at Xander and Anya, seeing the doubt in their eyes, thankful still for the friendship and love that made them help me. Looked back to the crate once more, heart starting to pound, wanting more than anything to see the sarcastic sneer once more, the raise of an eyebrow that could speak volumes to me, the gaze that could look into mine and know what I felt even if I said something different.
"I'm sure," I told them, as the rumble of the thunderclap faded away and another one started gaining momentum in the distance. I started reading aloud from the papers in my hand. Hard to do by candlelight, but I had already practically memorized it, and Xander had a copy as well, for his part.
"As it was written, they shall prepare the way and the very gate of hell shall open. That which is above shall tremble, for that which is below shall arise. And the world shall know the beast shall know the world."
The crypt seemed to tremble with the force of the thunder just then. Probably not an altogether good sign.
I walked to each of the five captive vampires in turn, reciting the words, Xander taking his cue from me, Anya following closely at my heels with the crucifix, to discourage the vampires from trying anything rash.
"Five are without breath," I said at the first point of the star.
"Yet they live," Xander answered.
"Five are without time," for the second.
"Yet they live."
"Five are without soul."
"Yet they live."
"Five are without sun."
"Yet they live."
"Five are dead."
"Yet they live."
I was standing at the head of the crate now, and finished the ritual shakily, aware of the growing thunder and lightening outside.
"And the five shall be a sacrifice, and the one who is dead shall live. Even as life and death are not two things but one, in darkness is the light, in light is the darkness. Arise! Arise! Arise! Arise! Arise! Arise!"
Horrific thunder and lightening punctuated the end of the spell. The five vampires exploded simultaneously into dust, and the floor of the crypt began to tremble. A huge whirlwind formed out of nowhere, tracking its' way around the perimeter of the crate and gathering all the newly-formed demon dust in its' wake, then sucking into the seams at the edges of the crate, taking all the vamp dust with it.
A ring of furious light radiated intensely from the box, throwing the three of us across the crypt.
All was silent then, except for the continued rumble of thunder in the cemetery outside, lessening in intensity as it started to move away to inundate the next town.
"Anya, Xander!" I called. "Are you all right?"
Xander was helping Anya to her feet, brushing her off lightly, then himself. I did the same.
"I guess we'll be all right, as long as that spell didn't do something crazy, like open the Hellmouth. It's just popped into my head that maybe we should have checked that with Wes before we went all hog wild with the magic."
"The spell wasn't written for the purpose of opening the Hellmouth," I mumbled, walking slowly closer to inspect the crate. It looked the same, but in the dim candlelight it was hard to be sure. Xander was about to say something else, but I raised my hand for silence, peripherally catching sight of him picking up his stake from the floor, where it had landed when the light threw us around. I looked back at him sharply, warningly, and he put it back down. Reluctantly.
I was only about two feet away from the crate when the top flew upward in thousands of wooden bits and pieces, and with a roar that sounded anguished, Spike was there.
A very naked, very confused Spike. Spike in vamp face.
"Spike, it's all right..." I started to say, but he launched himself out of the box and toppled me onto the floor effortlessly. It wasn't a welcome back hug. He was on the attack. I threw a few punches and managed to crawl out from under him, kicking him away frantically, disturbingly reminiscent of a few weeks ago in my bathroom. Xander had retrieved his stake after all, and Anya was looking around dazedly for her crucifix.
"Xander, no!," I shouted, but as he approached Spike, the newly- resurrected vampire lashed out with his feet, using that momentum to both knock Xander down and get himself up from the floor. Xander went after him again with the stake, heedless of my warnings, but Spike fought back. The incongruous sight, in the candlelight, of a naked Spike fighting with Xander, no holds barred it seemed, registered on my brain as a very weird thing, and I thought at first it was the lack of clothes that was strange. But then it hit me suddenly, even as Anya, finally locating her crucifix, ran over and bashed Spike on the head with it, that Spike was fighting with Xander. Spike was punching and kicking a human and he was not having a migraine at the same time.
The cross burned him, and he turned, still in vamp face, flinging Anya away from him to slam into a stone wall and fall unconscious to the floor.
Spike, having knocked Xander down once more, stepped on his throat to hold him there. Frozen in place, not comprehending what could have gone wrong, I watched Xander trying to reach his fallen stake, which he was in no position to use anyway. I looked up into Spike's face, his snarly vamp face.
"Spike," I tried, but he growled once more and then fled from the crypt, into the wet night.
I went to Anya then, and picked her head up to put it on my lap. She was breathing, so she was probably going to be okay, but I couldn't shake the sight of Spike and Xander fighting.
"I'm sorry, Anya," I whispered, as I felt the tears start to make their way down my face.
At least I knew what the consequence of my magic was; Spike had come back without his chip. People would die.
I would have to destroy him.
This was the darkest day of my life.
To be continued
By Annie
Disclaimer: Again, not mine to do with as I wish; too bad.
Rated: PG13
Summary: When things can go wrong, they certainly will.
Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net
DARKEST 5
It was harder than you would think to gather up five vampires without turning them into dust. I had to search out two different nests to accomplish this, and then beat the tar out of them and keep them in line with a crucifix all the way back to Spike's crypt. One at a time, so it took longer than I had planned.
I had told Xander to get to Spike's as soon as he gathered all the necessities, and had called Anya to ask her to meet us at midnight. Anya was glad for the timing, as she wouldn't have to close the shop to any potential customers. Despite Dawn's protests, she was safely tucked away with Willow, and was probably filling her in on all the details. Willow would have to be told eventually anyway, but I knew she would be itching to be here.
I had the large wooden crate Xander had supplied in the middle of Spike's floor, sitting on top of the five-pointed star I had painted in white earlier. At each point of the star, Xander had used a cement drill to anchor steel rings into the floor. The five lengths of chain went from the floor rings, around the feet of the vampires, around their wrists and were then attached to the crate with padlocks, which I had purchased as an afterthought.
Anya's job was to circle the whole set-up, with the crucifix constantly in sight of the vamps, as a warning to stay where they were. She also had a stake, as did Xander and I, although I had no intention of our using them. We needed these five vamps and if I had to break their legs to keep them here, I would.
Of course, with that thought came the one that should logically follow; here I was, ready to sacrifice five vampires I should have slain for one I also should have slain. It was, after all, my duty in life.
Duty was beginning to be a dirty word for me.
I had been listening to the far-off rumbling of thunder the whole evening, and I realized now that the storm had just reached Sunnydale, counterpoint to the Black Arts we were about to perform. I should have taken it as an omen. But we were ready now, and I wouldn't let any logic invade my resolve.
"So, we're ready?" I asked out loud, even though I knew we were.
Anya, walking the circle assigned to her nervously, trying to stay out of the reach of any fangs or mesmerizing gazes, nodded anxiously.
"I don't know why I let you people talk me into this," she complained. "I'm sure we could find you another nasty-tempered demon to consort with."
"I agree," Xander told me quietly. "Buffy, are you absolutely sure you want to do this? I have registered my opinion more than once today, and it hasn't changed."
I was absolutely sure. And I wasn't. A loud clap of thunder reverberated through the dark walls of the crypt, which was only lighted by some of Spike's candles. There had been no moon, and even if there had been, the storm clouds would have blacked it out anyway. I looked around for a second, looked at the crate, wherein lay the grainy remains of a thing I was supposed to hate. Looked at the five sacrificial vamps, rationalizing that since I was supposed to slay them anyway, it probably didn't matter much how they met their end. Looked at Xander and Anya, seeing the doubt in their eyes, thankful still for the friendship and love that made them help me. Looked back to the crate once more, heart starting to pound, wanting more than anything to see the sarcastic sneer once more, the raise of an eyebrow that could speak volumes to me, the gaze that could look into mine and know what I felt even if I said something different.
"I'm sure," I told them, as the rumble of the thunderclap faded away and another one started gaining momentum in the distance. I started reading aloud from the papers in my hand. Hard to do by candlelight, but I had already practically memorized it, and Xander had a copy as well, for his part.
"As it was written, they shall prepare the way and the very gate of hell shall open. That which is above shall tremble, for that which is below shall arise. And the world shall know the beast shall know the world."
The crypt seemed to tremble with the force of the thunder just then. Probably not an altogether good sign.
I walked to each of the five captive vampires in turn, reciting the words, Xander taking his cue from me, Anya following closely at my heels with the crucifix, to discourage the vampires from trying anything rash.
"Five are without breath," I said at the first point of the star.
"Yet they live," Xander answered.
"Five are without time," for the second.
"Yet they live."
"Five are without soul."
"Yet they live."
"Five are without sun."
"Yet they live."
"Five are dead."
"Yet they live."
I was standing at the head of the crate now, and finished the ritual shakily, aware of the growing thunder and lightening outside.
"And the five shall be a sacrifice, and the one who is dead shall live. Even as life and death are not two things but one, in darkness is the light, in light is the darkness. Arise! Arise! Arise! Arise! Arise! Arise!"
Horrific thunder and lightening punctuated the end of the spell. The five vampires exploded simultaneously into dust, and the floor of the crypt began to tremble. A huge whirlwind formed out of nowhere, tracking its' way around the perimeter of the crate and gathering all the newly-formed demon dust in its' wake, then sucking into the seams at the edges of the crate, taking all the vamp dust with it.
A ring of furious light radiated intensely from the box, throwing the three of us across the crypt.
All was silent then, except for the continued rumble of thunder in the cemetery outside, lessening in intensity as it started to move away to inundate the next town.
"Anya, Xander!" I called. "Are you all right?"
Xander was helping Anya to her feet, brushing her off lightly, then himself. I did the same.
"I guess we'll be all right, as long as that spell didn't do something crazy, like open the Hellmouth. It's just popped into my head that maybe we should have checked that with Wes before we went all hog wild with the magic."
"The spell wasn't written for the purpose of opening the Hellmouth," I mumbled, walking slowly closer to inspect the crate. It looked the same, but in the dim candlelight it was hard to be sure. Xander was about to say something else, but I raised my hand for silence, peripherally catching sight of him picking up his stake from the floor, where it had landed when the light threw us around. I looked back at him sharply, warningly, and he put it back down. Reluctantly.
I was only about two feet away from the crate when the top flew upward in thousands of wooden bits and pieces, and with a roar that sounded anguished, Spike was there.
A very naked, very confused Spike. Spike in vamp face.
"Spike, it's all right..." I started to say, but he launched himself out of the box and toppled me onto the floor effortlessly. It wasn't a welcome back hug. He was on the attack. I threw a few punches and managed to crawl out from under him, kicking him away frantically, disturbingly reminiscent of a few weeks ago in my bathroom. Xander had retrieved his stake after all, and Anya was looking around dazedly for her crucifix.
"Xander, no!," I shouted, but as he approached Spike, the newly- resurrected vampire lashed out with his feet, using that momentum to both knock Xander down and get himself up from the floor. Xander went after him again with the stake, heedless of my warnings, but Spike fought back. The incongruous sight, in the candlelight, of a naked Spike fighting with Xander, no holds barred it seemed, registered on my brain as a very weird thing, and I thought at first it was the lack of clothes that was strange. But then it hit me suddenly, even as Anya, finally locating her crucifix, ran over and bashed Spike on the head with it, that Spike was fighting with Xander. Spike was punching and kicking a human and he was not having a migraine at the same time.
The cross burned him, and he turned, still in vamp face, flinging Anya away from him to slam into a stone wall and fall unconscious to the floor.
Spike, having knocked Xander down once more, stepped on his throat to hold him there. Frozen in place, not comprehending what could have gone wrong, I watched Xander trying to reach his fallen stake, which he was in no position to use anyway. I looked up into Spike's face, his snarly vamp face.
"Spike," I tried, but he growled once more and then fled from the crypt, into the wet night.
I went to Anya then, and picked her head up to put it on my lap. She was breathing, so she was probably going to be okay, but I couldn't shake the sight of Spike and Xander fighting.
"I'm sorry, Anya," I whispered, as I felt the tears start to make their way down my face.
At least I knew what the consequence of my magic was; Spike had come back without his chip. People would die.
I would have to destroy him.
This was the darkest day of my life.
To be continued