Chapter 11

Help

Why do I do the things I do? I continue to do evil, and I feel bad about it, but I do it anyway. Why do I hurt those I love, and why can I not control it? It's so hard to adjust to this sort of life; things were much easier when I could kill on a whim and not feel horrid about it. Was Sarah right? Does having a soul just mean we have the ability to do good, but that we don't necessarily choose to. I've never really thought about it. It's like being reborn, with the childish quality of either being able to save the world, or destroy it. I wonder which one I'll choose?

"The powers that be are involved?" asked Tara.

"More than involved, they're the cause. What do you know, Billowa?" demanded Willow, turning to look at her, but finding air instead.

A dark flash of light deepened the air in the room. In a brilliant moment the air turned an intense white before returning to the normal look, but with the windowed-wall missing, and instead a dark light remained.

"It's back," stated Xander, standing next to Willow in an instant.

"The pain, the horror it will bring. But only because of her. Things weren't supposed to be this way," said Anya, coming up behind them. Xander lost his solemn face and gasped for a breath, putting all his weight on Willow while Anya examined a long, thin blade in her hand. Without warning, she too collapsed with a lunge for air, letting the blade drop and vanish with wide-eyes, just as Dawn stalked forward.

"She'll have to pay; for this dimension's ruin, the blame is on her," she whispered, then faltered and feinted backwards, landing in the chair of the living room.

"Just hope you realize which side we should be on when it comes," uttered Tara, emerging from the shadows as a figure began to emerge from the light.

"It draws near. Saliris will fix the mistake. It will correct the wrong path she took those years ago, as well as mine," stated Angel, watching the illuminated figure walk up to them.

It was not the same figure that had stalked them before, this one was smaller and the details much clearer. The child-sized figure had bouncy, blonde curls and a red shirt with the words "I Love My Mummy" printed on it. The child moved clumsily and stuttered forward, giggling and spouting about things being silly and pretty.

Within no time at all, the figure changed into the silhouette of the slim-figured enchantress that had haunted the Scooby Gang not too long ago; her purple-locks still shimmering, and her blue dress still flowing. Just as soon as she appeared, she disappeared.

"It comes," whispered Willow, turning around to the scream of a woman behind her. The picture frozen in time before her was one of Isobel, long blade in hand, having thrust it through a woman with long, blonde hair, was smiling at her mom. Buffy turned and gave one last look at Willow, with blood seeping from the wound down her stomach, before the light grew to encase the room, blinding everyone. Willow jumped up from her sleep, her head aching.

"It came again," wept Tara, rocking on the couch, the windowed-wall behind her.

"Didn't even leave a good-bye fruit basket. Hmm, neither did Billowa," mused Xander.

"Saliris. That was its name, I'm sure of it. But it tried to tell us somethi—" started Dawn, halting mid-sentence to follow Anya's gaze at Isobel. "Oh yeah, then there's her stabbing Buffy."

"Dawn, shut up," said Anya, never removing her gaze from Isobel's t-shirt, which read "I Love My Mummy".

* * *

"Zack, did you use all the soap?" demanded Cordy, rushing out of the hotel bathroom into her room in nothing but a towel.

"Does he even use soap?" pondered Fred. "What with all the scales, he'd have to use a lot, wouldn't he? Come to think of it, does he even shower? I mean he is a demon and all. I wond—"

"I don't know," interrupted Cordy, with a quick huff of breath," but I do know that I'd much rather be back at the Hyperion than this drag." She muttered the rest as she walked back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

The door the room opened as Gunn walked in, giving a smile towards Fred. "Got some pancakes," he grinned. Fred leapt off the bed and swung her arms around him, giving him pre-pancake-kisses.

"I missed you," said Fred, tugging at the collar of Gunn's shirt.

"So I see," he replied, the grin never fading.

* * *

"Damn monster," gasped Sarah, breathing hard and crying in her voice," I can't believe he would do something like that. But I suppose that means I fell into the lie that having a soul makes you good."

She wiped the tears from her eye. She continued breaking the sticks until she had a large assortment of oddly shaped, wooden stakes.  She struggled against the urge to change her plans, the horror of the situation won. She resolved to have her revenge on Mark, and anyone who would stop her. She picked up three of the broken sticks.

* * *

Angel struggled to remain conscious, rocking back on forth on the chair. The Scooby Gang had all taken seats again, struggling to think of what had happened in the dreams not too long ago. Angel feared that many of the puzzle pieces had been lost when Isobel's shirt was looked upon.

A knock came at the door that made even Angel jump. "That can't be good if Dead Boy even gets frightened," stated Xander. No one found the comment funny and instead cast dark glances at the door as another knock resounded through the house.

Dawn slowly made a move to head toward the door, but was blocked by a quick movement from Angel. She steadied her balance as he glided towards the door, not making a sound. He rested in front of the door and jumped again when another knock came, quicker and louder.

Reaching his hand toward the door, he clasped the handle in his hand as it began to shake violently, and finally threw the door open, gazing at a bleary-eyed blonde-headed woman, who, shaking, lifted her head to look at Angel's eyes. She started to cry again and thrust her hands to her eyes, trying to push the tears back. Her face was full of pain and anger, love and disgust, and peace and torture. "Please," choked Buffy," Help me."