TWENTY-SEVEN

* * *

She hit something, hard, as she closed to them, flew back against a tree. Spike had moved even as she did, yelling as he went, and he too was thrown back. His stiletto then flashed in the air, spinning towards Warren, bouncing off of something invisible and tumbling harmless to the ground.

A shield.

"Tara!" Buffy cried. "I need you!"

Andrew's chanting slowed, and Buffy saw that Warren had taken notice of them.

"Aha. It's the slayer. Look, boys."

Buffy was on her feet, stepping close to the invisible wall. She struck it with her fist; it was like hitting steel.

"Go ahead," Warren mocked. "You can't bring it down, slayer."

He laughed.

"Warren, listen to me. You hurt her, and ...."

"And what? You'll kill me? Oh, my. I don't think so, little girl. When I'm through with you, you'll be begging me to kill you."

Buffy hit the barrier again. Nothing. "Tara!"

Tara's voice, then, soft, nearby.

Latin.

Open, open, open.

Another drop of hot wax tumbled, and Willow cried out as it caught her in the eye. Andrew's chanting grew in intensity.

"Geyrz! Geyrz!"

Buffy moved as Willow cried out again, as she struggled. Buffy eyed Jonathan, pressed her hand against the barrier.

"Jonathan, you can stop this. You know it isn't right. You know you're better than this."

But Jonathan didn't move at all. It was like he wasn't even there.

"Jonathan, listen to me ...."

Warren laughed again. "He knows the score, slayer. You never liked him; you thought you and your pretty friends were the outcasts, but you cut him off just like Cordelia did. I know all about what you've done to him. He knows who his real friends are."

"Geyrz!" Andrew cried suddenly. "We bring you an offering! We, humble slaves to your might, invoke you!"

Something was there now, something close. The air itself seemed not quite right anymore, and then Buffy saw as above Willow, something began to form.

Willow saw it too.

And Willow screamed.

#

Something. Twisted and wrong. A shape, black and gray and swirling, a stench that was death and blood and filth, that Buffy could smell even despite the barrier. A maw, a mouth, fanged and dripping with poison.

A voice, like rusty nails on bone, echoing over the chant, over Tara's futile magics, over Buffy's cries and Willow's screams.

"Who has dared call my name?"

Andrew, his hands raised high, called back.

"Behold, mighty Geyrz! We bring you an offering in supplication! We bring you a witch, most powerful! We implore your favor. Consume!"

"Consume!" Warren cried.

"Consume!"

The thing drew back as Buffy hammered her fists uselessly against the barrier. It regarded Willow, who now, one eye blinded, looked up in terror.

"This one?" the demon hissed.

"Yes!" cried Andrew. "She has great power! Consume!"

The thing called Geyrz reached down, one sickening claw gripping Willow, raising her into the air, holding her as she writhed like a worm on a hook. She was screaming still, the sound of it echoing through the dark forest, as final terror overtook her, as Warren watched with a gleam of joy in his eye, as Jonathan stood unmoving, as Andrew chanted loudly into the night.

"Consume! Consume!"

#

"No!"

Buffy was screaming now, helpless, her hands beating against the barrier, watching as the thing raised her friend to its fangs, hearing the screams, the overwhelming horror, as slowly it brought Willow into its mouth, as inch by inch her friend was drawn into the thing's gullet, struggling in agony as her skin peeled away, her body melting into a mass of jelly, though through it she still lived.

And still screamed.

And still. And still.

And then.