Title: One For All (7/?)
Author: Cyclone
Feedback: Please be gentle.
Distribution: Gimme credit and a link. Plus, archived at
Rating: I'm gonna go say PG.
Spoilers: Up to Graduation, then AU version of events after that.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to the almighty Joss. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: Thanks to Xander's sacrifice, the Slayer and Slayerettes can live normal lives... until now.
Author's Note: Read the previous parts -- including the prologue -- or this is not going to make any sense whatsoever.
* * *
Diego Salvatore lunged at the Slayer, aggressively thrusting his sword toward her. She easily caught the blade on her own, deflecting the initial attack, but with a flick of his wrist, Diego pressed the assault, keeping her on the defensive.
He swung his sword horizontally across her midsection, missing by mere inches as she leaped back.
She winced when she felt the tip of his weapon press against her throat. She closed her eyes and awaited the inevitable.
"Ginny, you're still relying too heavily on your Slayer instincts," Diego said, disappointed. "They've served you well, but against an intelligent and skilled foe, they'll get you killed."
Her name was Virginia Maxwell. It was 1883, and they had arrived at the Hellmouth only a few days ago.
"Things are different here on La Boca," the Spaniard said with a frustrated sigh. "Vampires are stronger and faster than they were in Jamestown, and they won't be the only diablos we'll be facing."
"I don't know what all the fuss is about," Ginny said indignantly. "I have this." She held up her Peacemaker. It was a beautiful weapon, nickel-plated, pearl-handled, with scroll-work engraved along the barrel and the symbol she had designed inlaid in silver on either side of the handle. It was a cross with the letter "S" -- for "Slayer" -- intertwined around it.
"Silver bullets won't kill everything, Lone Ranger," Diego reminded her, using the nickname she had acquired on the road here, "and you only have six shots. The old ways are still best."
"Right, right," the English orphan said dismissively.
Diego frowned disapprovingly, "You wield my family's ancestral sword, and yet, you mock the tradition that comes with it." Shaking his head in resignation, he said, "Just remember, senorita. A good marksman needs bullets, but a good swordsman merely requires a sharp blade."
He straightened and said, "Again."
"Senor Salvatore!" a friendly voice called.
Diego turned and smiled, "Dick, what is it? And how many times must I tell you to call me Diego?"
Richard Wilkins smiled and shook his head, "That just wouldn't be proper. As for the reason I'm here, one of the prospectors dug up something a little strange. I was wondering if you'd mind taking a look at it."
"Not at all," Diego said. He turned to Ginny, "Looks like you get out of training early today. We begin again tomorrow at dawn."
The Slayer groaned.
* * *
"Hmm..." Diego examined the massive stone block. "Fascinating... the markings here appear similar to certain Oriental scripts," shaking his head, he murmured thoughtfully, "but I can't imagine how something like this could make its way to the New World."
"Is it dangerous?" Tyler -- the prospector who had found it -- asked anxiously.
"Possibly," Diego hedged. "The Chinese had developed gunpowder long before it made its way to the West. It may be booby-trapped. I suggest we handle with... extreme caution." He looked up, "I think we'd best leave it where it is until we've had more time to study it."
There were nods of agreement all around, and after a moment, Wilkins clapped his hands cheerfully, "Well! Enough of that gloominess. What say we get started on figuring this thing out, hmm?"
* * *
Diego raced home, swearing in his native language, and when that proved insufficient, he switched to English. Then Latin.
"Ginny!" he called, swinging the door open.
"Whaaad?" the Slayer asked, yawning sleepily as she climbed down the stairs. "'Snot dawn yet. 'S'nother vampire?" Although they were living on La Boca Del Infierno, the population was small enough that vampires were a fairly infrequent problem.
Diego shook his head, "Tyler unearthed a demon yesterday."
That snapped her to full alertness, "A demon? What kind?"
"I am not sure," Diego shook his head. "It's a sarcophagus of some kind. While I was studying his find, it opened."
"All right," Ginny said, grabbing the lever-action. "Let me get dressed."
"No," Diego shook his head, "you're not going out there until we can be sure we know how to kill it." He took the lever-action from her and turned to put it back on the rack above the fireplace.
He never saw Ginny's blow coming.
* * *
Xander's eyes snapped open, and he gasped for air blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted. That was one hell of a dream. He shuddered and looked around.
And froze.
Curled up against him, his right arm wrapped around her, was one Willow Danielle Rosenberg Osbourne. She had an arm draped over him and a contented smile on her sleeping face.
*What the HELL?!*
"Willow?" he squeaked.
"Mmm..." she moaned, snuggling closer. She blinked her eyes open, "Yeah, Xander?"
A moment passed in utter silence, and then her eyes bulged, "Xander?!"
He nodded, "Could I, uh, could I have my arm back?"
"Eep!" she eeped and scrambled away from him. "Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God." She looked at him in wild-eyed panic, "I cheated on Oz! Again! Really cheated!"
Xander shook his head, "No, no. We didn't... we didn't do anything. Look, we're still dressed, right?"
She looked down, then sighed in relief.
"Um," Xander stammered, "well, uh... I'll... be going now." He swung his legs off the bed and stumbled off to the bathroom.
* * *
Xander shivered in the shower as the cold water cascaded over him. It was a little uncomfortable, but after the... incident... that morning, he welcomed the biting cold.
After a moment, he turned up the heat, and let the hot water soak into his body, still battered and bruised from the fights the previous night. Strained muscles and abraded skin stung for a moment at first, but the sensation quickly turned soothing, and he luxuriated in the feeling.
"Ahh..." he sighed. He slumped against the tiled wall, eyes closed as the memories returned. "Damn it..." he muttered, his tears blending with the shower water.
'I-I'm sorry,' the memory replayed itself in his mind's eye, as clear as the night it had happened. 'But if I wanna make things right with Oz, my hands, my -- all my stuff -- has to be for him only.'
* * *
"So, what's the news?" Xander asked, towelling his hair and looking around. His heart sank when he looked at Willow, who studiously ignored him.
"I'm sorry, Xander, but..." Giles shook his head, "...I'm afraid we have yet to find anything conclusive."
He frowned, "All right. You guys keep working on that. I'll check in on Deadboy."
Xander turned and slipped into the guest room, pushing it open only enough to let him and closing the door behind him. "Hey, Paleface, how you doing?"
The vampire looked up and said quietly, "Been better." Angel studied Xander thoughtfully for a long moment, then asked, "Why?"
"Why what?" Xander asked, puzzled.
"Why didn't you stake me?" Angel elaborated. "You... you know what I'm capable of without my soul. I thought... I thought, of all people, I could trust you to do... what needed to be done."
Shaking his head, Xander explained, "Ends and means, Angel, ends and means. I've seen the good you do in L.A. You're a Champion. The world needs you."
"I never thought I'd ever hear a compliment from you."
"Yeah, well," Xander shrugged, turning back to the door, "don't expect it to happen again any time soon."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Angel grinned.
* * *
"This isn't helping," Xander muttered, throwing the book down. "I'm gonna check on Buffy and Tara, then maybe see if I can shake some info out of the local scum." He glanced at Giles, "Is Willy still running his place?"
Giles nodded, "Indeed."
"You want some backup, X?" Faith asked.
Xander hesitated, then nodded, "Yeah. With the Hellmouth reopening, who knows what might be in there now."
He turned and walked out, not noticing the forlorn look on Willow's face as she watched him go, Faith a step behind him.
* * *
"So, how'd it go with Red last night?"
"How'd what go?" Xander asked, irritated.
"You know..." Faith said suggestively.
He froze as he came to a realization. He turned, "It was you, wasn't it? That put her in bed with me."
"Well, yeah."
"How could you?" he asked in disbelief. "God, Faith, she's a married woman! I know you like to play fast and loose with things like that, but _some_ people take those things seriously."
"Hey, I was just..."
"Trying to help?" he finished bitterly. "Faith, she can't even _look_ at me, she's so ashamed. I don't need that kind of help."
"Oh, come on, Xander," Faith growled in frustration. "Didn't you see how she looked at you last night? She still loves you, X."
He snorted, "No, she doesn't. If she did, she wouldn't have gone back to Oz after the Fluke. You know what I'm talking about; you were there." Turning and walking toward the stairwell, he added, "Besides, I can't let myself fall in love again."
Faith called after him, "It's too late for that, X." He paused, and she continued, "I can see it in your eyes."
Xander shook his head and continued on his way.
The Slayer sighed and blinked back tears. "Damn it, X," she murmured softly, frustrated and hurt by his anger, "I was just trying to help."
* * *
"Hey, Tara."
"A-Alexander," she stammered. "Y-you came back."
He smiled, "Hey, just I 'cause I couldn't stay never meant I wasn't gonna come back. How are you feeling?"
"F-fine, I guess," she said, stepping aside and waving for him to enter. He obliged her and looked around the hotel room for a long moment before speaking.
"You didn't talk to Giles or Faith," he commented.
She cringed, "I... I was afraid."
He turned and stroked her cheek. His voice soft, he said, "Hey, I'm not accusing you or anything. It's just... I really think they can help you."
She smiled faintly. "Th-thank you, but..." she shook her head, "...I don't think I'm ready for that yet."
He nodded and said gently, "All right. I can understand that. Just... just promise me you'll talk to someone, okay? Open up a little. As cute as the shy act is, it's good to have friends."
The witch blushed and said quietly but firmly, "O-only if you do the same."
Xander blinked, "What?"
"Y-you're hurting, Alexander," she said softly. "I-I can see it in your aura. In your eyes." He flinched, and she wrapped her arms around him and whispered in his ear, "Let me help?"
He brushed her hair back and murmured, "Tara, I really don't think... mmph!"
Xander reassessed his situation and decided he liked it. Okay, so there _was_ the bout of depression from the whole incident with Willow... but this was definitely not of the bad.
When she pulled away, he paused to catch his breath and said, "Well, uh, that was... unexpected."
"Shh..." she said, sliding her hands up the back of his shirt. "No need for words now, Alexander." She pulled him close and kissed him again.
* * *
Faith knocked on the door to Xander's apartment, but the response came from behind her.
"Faith," Xander said flatly. "What are you doing here?"
The Slayer turned away from the door to his apartment and poked him in the chest angrily, "Looking for you, you jackass! We're on apocalypse watch again, remember?"
His expression darkened, "Anything happen?"
Faith rolled her eyes, "If it had, would we be standin' around talking about it? Where the hell _were_ you, X? I stopped by Willy's, he didn't even know you were back in town. I thought you were gonna shake him down?"
Xander bristled and turned away, growling, "That's none of your business, Faith."
"It damn well is my business!" she shot back, grabbing his shoulder. "We're on the clock here, Xandman, and you _know_ what happens if the timer hits zero."
He spun and knocked her arm away, drawing his fist back. He froze for a moment, then lowered his hand and bit out, "I told you. It's none of your business. Did Willy have anything to say?"
Faith shook her head, "No word, assuming he wasn't lying his ass off again."
"Damn."
* * *
There was a knock on the door to Faith's apartment. Faith and Angel were out looking for Xander, and Willow was snoozing peacefully on the couch.
Which left Giles to answer the door.
The visitor smiled when the ex-Watcher opened the door.
"Hello, Rip-..."
POW!
Sprawled on the floor of the hallway, Ethan Rayne rubbed the bruise rapidly forming on his cheek and glared at Giles, "Bloody hell, Ripper! Is that any way to greet an old friend?"
"I don't have time for your antics, Ethan," Giles said evenly as the chaos mage picked himself up. Giles's eyes narrowed as a thought struck him, "Ethan, if you're responsible for these cult killings..."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Ethan held up his hands defensively. "That's not me! Outright murder's not my style; you _know_ that, Ripper."
"Then why are you here?"
"I know who contracted the Order."
* * *
Heather Michaels ran as fast as she could through the park. So far, her track team training was keeping her ahead of the... things... that were chasing her... but only just barely.
Her foot caught on a root, and she stumbled, crying out in pain. She forced herself to her feet, ignoring what felt like a twisted ankle, and hobbled along.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm, and she shrieked in fear.
"Hey, whoa, I'm on your side," the black-clad figure reassured her, his voice strong but comforting. "Don't worry. I'll take care of them."
He turned, and something popped out of his sleeves as he lunged at Heather's pursuers. With a strange wooshing sound, they vanished. She couldn't be sure in the darkness, but it looked like they had just... crumbled in place.
She hobbled over to her savior, "A-are they dead?"
"Yes," he said.
"Thank you," she said, sighing in relief. "If you hadn't come, I..."
She froze when she saw his face.
And screamed.
* * *
Author's Postscript:
Whew! That one took awhile. But here we are! Part seven. Hope you enjoyed it. Again, props to Garrett for his beta work and for allowing me to bounce ideas off of him.
Author: Cyclone
Feedback: Please be gentle.
Distribution: Gimme credit and a link. Plus, archived at
Rating: I'm gonna go say PG.
Spoilers: Up to Graduation, then AU version of events after that.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to the almighty Joss. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: Thanks to Xander's sacrifice, the Slayer and Slayerettes can live normal lives... until now.
Author's Note: Read the previous parts -- including the prologue -- or this is not going to make any sense whatsoever.
* * *
Diego Salvatore lunged at the Slayer, aggressively thrusting his sword toward her. She easily caught the blade on her own, deflecting the initial attack, but with a flick of his wrist, Diego pressed the assault, keeping her on the defensive.
He swung his sword horizontally across her midsection, missing by mere inches as she leaped back.
She winced when she felt the tip of his weapon press against her throat. She closed her eyes and awaited the inevitable.
"Ginny, you're still relying too heavily on your Slayer instincts," Diego said, disappointed. "They've served you well, but against an intelligent and skilled foe, they'll get you killed."
Her name was Virginia Maxwell. It was 1883, and they had arrived at the Hellmouth only a few days ago.
"Things are different here on La Boca," the Spaniard said with a frustrated sigh. "Vampires are stronger and faster than they were in Jamestown, and they won't be the only diablos we'll be facing."
"I don't know what all the fuss is about," Ginny said indignantly. "I have this." She held up her Peacemaker. It was a beautiful weapon, nickel-plated, pearl-handled, with scroll-work engraved along the barrel and the symbol she had designed inlaid in silver on either side of the handle. It was a cross with the letter "S" -- for "Slayer" -- intertwined around it.
"Silver bullets won't kill everything, Lone Ranger," Diego reminded her, using the nickname she had acquired on the road here, "and you only have six shots. The old ways are still best."
"Right, right," the English orphan said dismissively.
Diego frowned disapprovingly, "You wield my family's ancestral sword, and yet, you mock the tradition that comes with it." Shaking his head in resignation, he said, "Just remember, senorita. A good marksman needs bullets, but a good swordsman merely requires a sharp blade."
He straightened and said, "Again."
"Senor Salvatore!" a friendly voice called.
Diego turned and smiled, "Dick, what is it? And how many times must I tell you to call me Diego?"
Richard Wilkins smiled and shook his head, "That just wouldn't be proper. As for the reason I'm here, one of the prospectors dug up something a little strange. I was wondering if you'd mind taking a look at it."
"Not at all," Diego said. He turned to Ginny, "Looks like you get out of training early today. We begin again tomorrow at dawn."
The Slayer groaned.
* * *
"Hmm..." Diego examined the massive stone block. "Fascinating... the markings here appear similar to certain Oriental scripts," shaking his head, he murmured thoughtfully, "but I can't imagine how something like this could make its way to the New World."
"Is it dangerous?" Tyler -- the prospector who had found it -- asked anxiously.
"Possibly," Diego hedged. "The Chinese had developed gunpowder long before it made its way to the West. It may be booby-trapped. I suggest we handle with... extreme caution." He looked up, "I think we'd best leave it where it is until we've had more time to study it."
There were nods of agreement all around, and after a moment, Wilkins clapped his hands cheerfully, "Well! Enough of that gloominess. What say we get started on figuring this thing out, hmm?"
* * *
Diego raced home, swearing in his native language, and when that proved insufficient, he switched to English. Then Latin.
"Ginny!" he called, swinging the door open.
"Whaaad?" the Slayer asked, yawning sleepily as she climbed down the stairs. "'Snot dawn yet. 'S'nother vampire?" Although they were living on La Boca Del Infierno, the population was small enough that vampires were a fairly infrequent problem.
Diego shook his head, "Tyler unearthed a demon yesterday."
That snapped her to full alertness, "A demon? What kind?"
"I am not sure," Diego shook his head. "It's a sarcophagus of some kind. While I was studying his find, it opened."
"All right," Ginny said, grabbing the lever-action. "Let me get dressed."
"No," Diego shook his head, "you're not going out there until we can be sure we know how to kill it." He took the lever-action from her and turned to put it back on the rack above the fireplace.
He never saw Ginny's blow coming.
* * *
Xander's eyes snapped open, and he gasped for air blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted. That was one hell of a dream. He shuddered and looked around.
And froze.
Curled up against him, his right arm wrapped around her, was one Willow Danielle Rosenberg Osbourne. She had an arm draped over him and a contented smile on her sleeping face.
*What the HELL?!*
"Willow?" he squeaked.
"Mmm..." she moaned, snuggling closer. She blinked her eyes open, "Yeah, Xander?"
A moment passed in utter silence, and then her eyes bulged, "Xander?!"
He nodded, "Could I, uh, could I have my arm back?"
"Eep!" she eeped and scrambled away from him. "Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God." She looked at him in wild-eyed panic, "I cheated on Oz! Again! Really cheated!"
Xander shook his head, "No, no. We didn't... we didn't do anything. Look, we're still dressed, right?"
She looked down, then sighed in relief.
"Um," Xander stammered, "well, uh... I'll... be going now." He swung his legs off the bed and stumbled off to the bathroom.
* * *
Xander shivered in the shower as the cold water cascaded over him. It was a little uncomfortable, but after the... incident... that morning, he welcomed the biting cold.
After a moment, he turned up the heat, and let the hot water soak into his body, still battered and bruised from the fights the previous night. Strained muscles and abraded skin stung for a moment at first, but the sensation quickly turned soothing, and he luxuriated in the feeling.
"Ahh..." he sighed. He slumped against the tiled wall, eyes closed as the memories returned. "Damn it..." he muttered, his tears blending with the shower water.
'I-I'm sorry,' the memory replayed itself in his mind's eye, as clear as the night it had happened. 'But if I wanna make things right with Oz, my hands, my -- all my stuff -- has to be for him only.'
* * *
"So, what's the news?" Xander asked, towelling his hair and looking around. His heart sank when he looked at Willow, who studiously ignored him.
"I'm sorry, Xander, but..." Giles shook his head, "...I'm afraid we have yet to find anything conclusive."
He frowned, "All right. You guys keep working on that. I'll check in on Deadboy."
Xander turned and slipped into the guest room, pushing it open only enough to let him and closing the door behind him. "Hey, Paleface, how you doing?"
The vampire looked up and said quietly, "Been better." Angel studied Xander thoughtfully for a long moment, then asked, "Why?"
"Why what?" Xander asked, puzzled.
"Why didn't you stake me?" Angel elaborated. "You... you know what I'm capable of without my soul. I thought... I thought, of all people, I could trust you to do... what needed to be done."
Shaking his head, Xander explained, "Ends and means, Angel, ends and means. I've seen the good you do in L.A. You're a Champion. The world needs you."
"I never thought I'd ever hear a compliment from you."
"Yeah, well," Xander shrugged, turning back to the door, "don't expect it to happen again any time soon."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Angel grinned.
* * *
"This isn't helping," Xander muttered, throwing the book down. "I'm gonna check on Buffy and Tara, then maybe see if I can shake some info out of the local scum." He glanced at Giles, "Is Willy still running his place?"
Giles nodded, "Indeed."
"You want some backup, X?" Faith asked.
Xander hesitated, then nodded, "Yeah. With the Hellmouth reopening, who knows what might be in there now."
He turned and walked out, not noticing the forlorn look on Willow's face as she watched him go, Faith a step behind him.
* * *
"So, how'd it go with Red last night?"
"How'd what go?" Xander asked, irritated.
"You know..." Faith said suggestively.
He froze as he came to a realization. He turned, "It was you, wasn't it? That put her in bed with me."
"Well, yeah."
"How could you?" he asked in disbelief. "God, Faith, she's a married woman! I know you like to play fast and loose with things like that, but _some_ people take those things seriously."
"Hey, I was just..."
"Trying to help?" he finished bitterly. "Faith, she can't even _look_ at me, she's so ashamed. I don't need that kind of help."
"Oh, come on, Xander," Faith growled in frustration. "Didn't you see how she looked at you last night? She still loves you, X."
He snorted, "No, she doesn't. If she did, she wouldn't have gone back to Oz after the Fluke. You know what I'm talking about; you were there." Turning and walking toward the stairwell, he added, "Besides, I can't let myself fall in love again."
Faith called after him, "It's too late for that, X." He paused, and she continued, "I can see it in your eyes."
Xander shook his head and continued on his way.
The Slayer sighed and blinked back tears. "Damn it, X," she murmured softly, frustrated and hurt by his anger, "I was just trying to help."
* * *
"Hey, Tara."
"A-Alexander," she stammered. "Y-you came back."
He smiled, "Hey, just I 'cause I couldn't stay never meant I wasn't gonna come back. How are you feeling?"
"F-fine, I guess," she said, stepping aside and waving for him to enter. He obliged her and looked around the hotel room for a long moment before speaking.
"You didn't talk to Giles or Faith," he commented.
She cringed, "I... I was afraid."
He turned and stroked her cheek. His voice soft, he said, "Hey, I'm not accusing you or anything. It's just... I really think they can help you."
She smiled faintly. "Th-thank you, but..." she shook her head, "...I don't think I'm ready for that yet."
He nodded and said gently, "All right. I can understand that. Just... just promise me you'll talk to someone, okay? Open up a little. As cute as the shy act is, it's good to have friends."
The witch blushed and said quietly but firmly, "O-only if you do the same."
Xander blinked, "What?"
"Y-you're hurting, Alexander," she said softly. "I-I can see it in your aura. In your eyes." He flinched, and she wrapped her arms around him and whispered in his ear, "Let me help?"
He brushed her hair back and murmured, "Tara, I really don't think... mmph!"
Xander reassessed his situation and decided he liked it. Okay, so there _was_ the bout of depression from the whole incident with Willow... but this was definitely not of the bad.
When she pulled away, he paused to catch his breath and said, "Well, uh, that was... unexpected."
"Shh..." she said, sliding her hands up the back of his shirt. "No need for words now, Alexander." She pulled him close and kissed him again.
* * *
Faith knocked on the door to Xander's apartment, but the response came from behind her.
"Faith," Xander said flatly. "What are you doing here?"
The Slayer turned away from the door to his apartment and poked him in the chest angrily, "Looking for you, you jackass! We're on apocalypse watch again, remember?"
His expression darkened, "Anything happen?"
Faith rolled her eyes, "If it had, would we be standin' around talking about it? Where the hell _were_ you, X? I stopped by Willy's, he didn't even know you were back in town. I thought you were gonna shake him down?"
Xander bristled and turned away, growling, "That's none of your business, Faith."
"It damn well is my business!" she shot back, grabbing his shoulder. "We're on the clock here, Xandman, and you _know_ what happens if the timer hits zero."
He spun and knocked her arm away, drawing his fist back. He froze for a moment, then lowered his hand and bit out, "I told you. It's none of your business. Did Willy have anything to say?"
Faith shook her head, "No word, assuming he wasn't lying his ass off again."
"Damn."
* * *
There was a knock on the door to Faith's apartment. Faith and Angel were out looking for Xander, and Willow was snoozing peacefully on the couch.
Which left Giles to answer the door.
The visitor smiled when the ex-Watcher opened the door.
"Hello, Rip-..."
POW!
Sprawled on the floor of the hallway, Ethan Rayne rubbed the bruise rapidly forming on his cheek and glared at Giles, "Bloody hell, Ripper! Is that any way to greet an old friend?"
"I don't have time for your antics, Ethan," Giles said evenly as the chaos mage picked himself up. Giles's eyes narrowed as a thought struck him, "Ethan, if you're responsible for these cult killings..."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Ethan held up his hands defensively. "That's not me! Outright murder's not my style; you _know_ that, Ripper."
"Then why are you here?"
"I know who contracted the Order."
* * *
Heather Michaels ran as fast as she could through the park. So far, her track team training was keeping her ahead of the... things... that were chasing her... but only just barely.
Her foot caught on a root, and she stumbled, crying out in pain. She forced herself to her feet, ignoring what felt like a twisted ankle, and hobbled along.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm, and she shrieked in fear.
"Hey, whoa, I'm on your side," the black-clad figure reassured her, his voice strong but comforting. "Don't worry. I'll take care of them."
He turned, and something popped out of his sleeves as he lunged at Heather's pursuers. With a strange wooshing sound, they vanished. She couldn't be sure in the darkness, but it looked like they had just... crumbled in place.
She hobbled over to her savior, "A-are they dead?"
"Yes," he said.
"Thank you," she said, sighing in relief. "If you hadn't come, I..."
She froze when she saw his face.
And screamed.
* * *
Author's Postscript:
Whew! That one took awhile. But here we are! Part seven. Hope you enjoyed it. Again, props to Garrett for his beta work and for allowing me to bounce ideas off of him.
