"Buffy?" Willow's eyes lit up, as if her friend's return had cast her from
the shadows back into the light. She rushed over to the shorter blonde and
hugged her with such a force Buffy staggered backwards. She buried her
head past Buffy's shoulder and persisted while Buffy tried to free herself
from the redhead's vice-like grip.
"Why'd you do it?" asked Xander, who appeared a combination of relieved and angry. Buffy finally freed herself from Willow and addressed him.
"I needed a break, that's all. But I suppose it wasn't the best time to take one considering your condition," Buffy grinned, trying to joke off the gravity of their situation. Wesley looked furious enough that he would strike her, but he walked forward and raised his arms as if to give the slayer a warm welcome to supplement Willow's.
"Woah there, Wes!" Buffy raised her hand in a polite no thank you motion and Wes backed off. "I not sure but I don't think this is a time to hug and kiss."
"Right, how silly of me," Wes shifted back into warrior mode.
Angel walked up to Buffy. "Can you fight?" he asked as he towered above the woman he still loved, but seemed to have no intention of returning it. She shrugged, "sure, I think I'm up to it."
The gang, immensely relieved by this apparent stroke of good fortune, joined together and proceeded to barricade the doors and the windows. Giles and Wesley barricaded the hallway upstairs and locked themselves in a room with Dawn, acting as a last ditch defense. Meanwhile, Buffy and the others gathered beyond the door and prepared for the upcoming battle. The slayer marshaled her troops and assigned people who were armed with missile weapons to the backs of those armed with hand-to-hand weapons.
She found herself clutching the hand of the tall, dark-haired vampire who had been her greatest lover years before. It was a discreet embrace, no one seemed to notice it, but Angel seemed happier than usual. He glanced over at Buffy and Buffy returned it, her blue eyes showing despair. Angel understood that even the best warrior of the bunch knew it would be a tough fight ahead and not all of them would survive this fight.
Willow stepped away from the group and began readying her spells. Her eyes became an opaque black and she silently chanted protection spells for the others and prepared to unleash her power against the bloodthirsty horde outside. She had promised Kennedy that she wouldn't use magic or at least to try to avoid it after they all left Sunnydale. But she also understood that if her friends were in grave danger and her powers were necessary for their survival, then she would have no choice but to utilize the dark forces of magic to save them. She was dressed in a black outfit consisting of black jeans, blouse and shoes which matched the color of her hair and her eyes. Kennedy looked back at her from among the ranks that awaited the assault. Willow could only return her fearful glance with a blank expression from her vacant face. Kennedy then turned around and kneeled down, aiming her crossbow at the center of the door.
The doors of the church where Faith and La Morte had consummated their love burst open as Faith walked outside. She had managed to fully dress herself and retain her old self, but parts of her were still overcome with angst- ridden desire. Faith realized that she was carrying weapons, a feeling which would have made herself feel almost naked only days before, but she felt as if she didn't need them. She hoped to avert the catastrophic battle ahead and save both her friends and her lover from the other's blades. It was a futile attempt, but an undying hope within her as Faith hurried back to the Hyperion, the wind blowing her hair in the wind. She ignored the rising pain within her and persisted on running at the fastest pace possible. It seemed pathetic to her that she felt so much affection for a cruel killer, but a part of her wanted him, needed him.
La Morte, Gideon and the army finally reached the hyperion within a span of a few minutes. Gideon marshaled the troops outside, ordering the best fighters to the back but the strongest ones with axes and polearms to the front. He grinned as the hundreds upon hundreds of men and women lined up in front of the hotel, raised their weapons and awaited his command with perfect discipline. He was surprised at this, being that most religious mobs were usually unruly and unmanageable, but it seemed that Micah Luke had trained his followers well, or at least in some manner entranced them into the obedient, driven machines that they were now. His huge muscular frame towered above the scrawny, emaciated poverty-stricken masses he commanded assured him of his dominant presence among them. He called for La Morte to join him. The black knight walked up beside him and nodded, his pale, gaunt face gleaming with bloodlust. Gideon raised his blade and shouted for the soldiers to break down the door and kill all inside. With that, the horde rushed at the door, the front ranks consisting of the stronger, taller ones capable of hewing through the barricaded door with axes, spades and hammers.
Inside, Buffy and the others watched apprehensively as the doors imploded with the fast force applied against them. The barricade shook with each pounding blow wrought upon the door until it could take no more. It would take only a few minutes for Micah Luke's soldiers to break down the door, plunge into the room and descend upon the slayer and her allies. In the precious few time, allowed them, Buffy and Angel kissed, only briefly, almost passionless, but Angel felt a glimmer of love within the expressionless eyes of the slayer. Finally, Willow could take the suspense no more and cried something out in Latin. Fireballs appeared in the palms of her hands and she tossed one after the other at the door. The scorching balls of fire ripped through the door into the front ranks of the army, incinerating the front ranks.
La Morte and Gideon saw their chance and urged the wavering vagrant soldiers to follow them. They charged into the room screaming battle cries in the same language the redheaded witch had just used to wield her magic against them. Their followers surged behind them and dozens of them rushed in front of their commanders to meet unpleasant fates at the hands of flying crossbow bolts or upon the blades of the front ranks. Oz cringed and fell to the ground as he felt the bestial instincts course through him. He quickly became a massive wolf like creature and jumped into a group of scythe-armed fanatics. They sliced him and struck him with their weapons, but Oz ignored the pain as if it were mosquito bites. He howled and ripped apart one of them, then gutted a woman who tried to thrust her spear into him. He stared into the hateful eyes of the fanatics as they shouted their curses and battle cries and charged at them, hewing away at any foe that came near him.
Buffy looked at Angel, who instantly vamped out and blocked the blow of a ragged street dweller. Buffy fought beside him, blocking blows and striking out with her fist and her blade, cutting down foe after foe.
La Morte stood in the middle of the surging mass as they charged forward. His raucous laughter filled the room as his face gleamed with pure malevolence. He felt his demon side take control of him and he raised his sword, smiling as he charged at the first target he instantly saw. His laughter continued, drowning out the sounds of the battle.
"Why'd you do it?" asked Xander, who appeared a combination of relieved and angry. Buffy finally freed herself from Willow and addressed him.
"I needed a break, that's all. But I suppose it wasn't the best time to take one considering your condition," Buffy grinned, trying to joke off the gravity of their situation. Wesley looked furious enough that he would strike her, but he walked forward and raised his arms as if to give the slayer a warm welcome to supplement Willow's.
"Woah there, Wes!" Buffy raised her hand in a polite no thank you motion and Wes backed off. "I not sure but I don't think this is a time to hug and kiss."
"Right, how silly of me," Wes shifted back into warrior mode.
Angel walked up to Buffy. "Can you fight?" he asked as he towered above the woman he still loved, but seemed to have no intention of returning it. She shrugged, "sure, I think I'm up to it."
The gang, immensely relieved by this apparent stroke of good fortune, joined together and proceeded to barricade the doors and the windows. Giles and Wesley barricaded the hallway upstairs and locked themselves in a room with Dawn, acting as a last ditch defense. Meanwhile, Buffy and the others gathered beyond the door and prepared for the upcoming battle. The slayer marshaled her troops and assigned people who were armed with missile weapons to the backs of those armed with hand-to-hand weapons.
She found herself clutching the hand of the tall, dark-haired vampire who had been her greatest lover years before. It was a discreet embrace, no one seemed to notice it, but Angel seemed happier than usual. He glanced over at Buffy and Buffy returned it, her blue eyes showing despair. Angel understood that even the best warrior of the bunch knew it would be a tough fight ahead and not all of them would survive this fight.
Willow stepped away from the group and began readying her spells. Her eyes became an opaque black and she silently chanted protection spells for the others and prepared to unleash her power against the bloodthirsty horde outside. She had promised Kennedy that she wouldn't use magic or at least to try to avoid it after they all left Sunnydale. But she also understood that if her friends were in grave danger and her powers were necessary for their survival, then she would have no choice but to utilize the dark forces of magic to save them. She was dressed in a black outfit consisting of black jeans, blouse and shoes which matched the color of her hair and her eyes. Kennedy looked back at her from among the ranks that awaited the assault. Willow could only return her fearful glance with a blank expression from her vacant face. Kennedy then turned around and kneeled down, aiming her crossbow at the center of the door.
The doors of the church where Faith and La Morte had consummated their love burst open as Faith walked outside. She had managed to fully dress herself and retain her old self, but parts of her were still overcome with angst- ridden desire. Faith realized that she was carrying weapons, a feeling which would have made herself feel almost naked only days before, but she felt as if she didn't need them. She hoped to avert the catastrophic battle ahead and save both her friends and her lover from the other's blades. It was a futile attempt, but an undying hope within her as Faith hurried back to the Hyperion, the wind blowing her hair in the wind. She ignored the rising pain within her and persisted on running at the fastest pace possible. It seemed pathetic to her that she felt so much affection for a cruel killer, but a part of her wanted him, needed him.
La Morte, Gideon and the army finally reached the hyperion within a span of a few minutes. Gideon marshaled the troops outside, ordering the best fighters to the back but the strongest ones with axes and polearms to the front. He grinned as the hundreds upon hundreds of men and women lined up in front of the hotel, raised their weapons and awaited his command with perfect discipline. He was surprised at this, being that most religious mobs were usually unruly and unmanageable, but it seemed that Micah Luke had trained his followers well, or at least in some manner entranced them into the obedient, driven machines that they were now. His huge muscular frame towered above the scrawny, emaciated poverty-stricken masses he commanded assured him of his dominant presence among them. He called for La Morte to join him. The black knight walked up beside him and nodded, his pale, gaunt face gleaming with bloodlust. Gideon raised his blade and shouted for the soldiers to break down the door and kill all inside. With that, the horde rushed at the door, the front ranks consisting of the stronger, taller ones capable of hewing through the barricaded door with axes, spades and hammers.
Inside, Buffy and the others watched apprehensively as the doors imploded with the fast force applied against them. The barricade shook with each pounding blow wrought upon the door until it could take no more. It would take only a few minutes for Micah Luke's soldiers to break down the door, plunge into the room and descend upon the slayer and her allies. In the precious few time, allowed them, Buffy and Angel kissed, only briefly, almost passionless, but Angel felt a glimmer of love within the expressionless eyes of the slayer. Finally, Willow could take the suspense no more and cried something out in Latin. Fireballs appeared in the palms of her hands and she tossed one after the other at the door. The scorching balls of fire ripped through the door into the front ranks of the army, incinerating the front ranks.
La Morte and Gideon saw their chance and urged the wavering vagrant soldiers to follow them. They charged into the room screaming battle cries in the same language the redheaded witch had just used to wield her magic against them. Their followers surged behind them and dozens of them rushed in front of their commanders to meet unpleasant fates at the hands of flying crossbow bolts or upon the blades of the front ranks. Oz cringed and fell to the ground as he felt the bestial instincts course through him. He quickly became a massive wolf like creature and jumped into a group of scythe-armed fanatics. They sliced him and struck him with their weapons, but Oz ignored the pain as if it were mosquito bites. He howled and ripped apart one of them, then gutted a woman who tried to thrust her spear into him. He stared into the hateful eyes of the fanatics as they shouted their curses and battle cries and charged at them, hewing away at any foe that came near him.
Buffy looked at Angel, who instantly vamped out and blocked the blow of a ragged street dweller. Buffy fought beside him, blocking blows and striking out with her fist and her blade, cutting down foe after foe.
La Morte stood in the middle of the surging mass as they charged forward. His raucous laughter filled the room as his face gleamed with pure malevolence. He felt his demon side take control of him and he raised his sword, smiling as he charged at the first target he instantly saw. His laughter continued, drowning out the sounds of the battle.
