Chapter 26

All's Well that Ends

Sunnydale – May 25th

"Well, he may know a bit o' magic, but the lad can't aim it for crap," Mac told the group at the Magic Box. The crystal had gone through his shoulder, missing all the vital organs. He'd bled quite a lot in the graveyard before the Scooby gang had found him. But he refused hospitalization and instead talked Anya through cleaning and wrapping it. His right arm was bound to his side now, suspended in a sling.

Willow hadn't fared so well. The chill of the grave had yet to leave her. Her skin had an unhealthy pallor, and her eyes were sunken. She gazed out at nothing most of the time, only rarely coming back to the present. The battle with Madame LaFusce had left her haunted.

Tara did her best to care for her. She wrapped her in blankets and sat her in a corner of the meeting table. She brought her a cup of tea and sat next to her, stroking her hair. "Here's some tea, baby," she said. "Drink it up, it'll help."

Willow forced a smile at her love. "Thank you, sweetie," she said softly. "It smells all sweet and minty."

"Yeah," Tara whispered, kissing Willow's brow. "Nothing's too good for you." She continued to stroke her hair, and looked up at the others. "How long," she stuttered, and paused to collect herself. "How long will she be like this?"

Giles looked at Willow carefully. "A touch from the grave is a terrible thing. Some people never recover from its sensation." Tara started to protest, but Giles held up his hand to stop her. "But," he continued, "Most people do recover, given time, patience and love. You'll just need to keep her focused on the here and now." He smiled at them. "And the tea helps."

They all lapsed into a companionable silence for a few moments. The congressman had returned in the morning in time to hold his conference at the Red Lion. The safehouse where the SAS team had been hiding had been cleared out. There was no sign of them. The portable command console that Mac had showed no GPS signals anywhere in the area.

"The team is probably falling back to some secondary mission, given that the primary mission has failed," Mac said. "I have a suspicion about what that may be, and I've got to try to stop them."

"You think they're going after Faith," Giles said matter-of-factly.

"Aye," he said. "It would make sense."

"Angel needs to know," Buffy said quietly. "I'll take you to meet him."

"Angel? Who's that?" Mac asked.

"Long story, bad ending," Xander supplied. "Let's not go there." He waved his hand in dismissal. He stopped abruptly, noticing the handcuff still attached to his wrist. "And does anyone know how to get these things off?" he asked extravagantly.

"Let me see that, laddie," Mac said. He looked at the cuff with his good hand, and then shifted to place it in the one held by the sling. He reached up and snatched a pin from Anya's hair. With two quick movements, he opened the cuff. "Give me the other one," Mac said, and in a few moments it too was off.

"Oh my God," said Xander, rolling his eyes back, "I can feel my wrists again." He looked up at Mac. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. If you ever need somebody to shine your boots for you, just let me know. Now that I have wrists again and all."

Mac shook his head and laughed.

"They had us from the very beginning," Buffy said absently. "Everything was planted well in advance." She shook her head in disbelief. "The attack on Spike, the CD-ROM, everything. Even my little conversation with Vic was phony."

"Well, not exactly," Spike said. "All the stuff Vic told you about the management was true. And the parts about me, of course. Well, the flattering parts anyway." He shrugged. "He just lied about an executive coming to visit, to make you think it was the congressman. I just hope this doesn't bring too much attention to this little burgh of ours. Sunnydale can't deal with it." He got up and walked towards the door. "I think I'll head back to my place. Beats hangin' out with you lot."

Mac watched him go. "Quite a piece of work," he said. "Can't say as I'll miss him."

"Some of us are sorry that you did miss him," Xander said. "At least you nailed his coat."

"True enough," Mac said. Turning to Buffy he said, "We better get going."

"Right," she said, and got up. "See you all later."

Buffy and Mac left, followed closely by Xander and Anya. "Let me take you home and give you the big hero treatment," Anya was saying as she left. Giles didn't even want to consider the implications.

Willow looked up from her tea to stare at Giles. "What do you think happened to Madame LaFusce?" she asked. A ghost of revulsion played across her face.

"I don't know, Willow," Giles said. He didn't know what had happened in the witches' duel. Some powerful magic had been used, but to what cost he wasn't sure. "You're lucky to be alive. You went one-on-one against an incredibly powerful witch. It's a testament that you made it through, and I think she must have survived also. Somehow, though, I think this Arinoth character will not take kindly to her failure."

* * *

Madame LaFusce put down the quill pen. She had just finished reporting all that had transpired to the Creator of the Circle. The Ring Maker. Arinoth. The corruption of her flesh had continued unabated. It had spread across her right arm, shoulder, and the right half of her chest. In mere hours, it would take reach her heart.

She had nothing left to lose, nothing left to fear. If Arinoth chose to take her life, it would only be less painful than what she suffered now. So she told him all, writing slowly and deliberately with her left hand. It had taken a long time. Before she was halfway done, she was coughing up blood with wretched shaking, for the spell had reached her lungs. But she completed the report.

Her redemption was in the last line of the report. "Sheffield has taken his men to free the Slayer. Project Eve will be completed." It was her last act in command of the SAS team. They would go to L.A. and retrieve the girl from the penitentiary; they would bring her to the test site. Her mission – the real mission – would be fulfilled.

She had set out to do two things. The first had been to see whether or not the Amulet of Arinoth would be effective with a Slayer. That had been proven to be true. Had the SAS team managed to kill the vampire with the chip in his head, the second objective would have been achieved. Killing the congressman would have removed the impediment to the peaceful transfer of the second Slayer, Faith, to the Institute. Failing that, the Institute would still have their Slayer. The mission objective would be achieved.

She had told the Creator about everything that had happened, every detail of the battle with the other witch. She had told him everything she could remember, everything she'd felt, everything she'd thought. He would need to know.

She waited. His reply would come soon.

* * *

Spike returned to his crypt by way of the sewers. He had stopped to steal a bottle of Jack Daniels from the basement of the liquor store. He pick-pocketed a pack of cigarettes from another vampire of his acquaintance. He'd even managed to pop into the bottom floor of the hospital for a bag of O negative. All in all, he was feeling grand.

That all changed when he walked into his crypt. Someone was there. He looked around, walking slowly. "Who's there?" he called. "I know there's someone there. Come out." He paused. "You don't know who you're dealing with," he said threateningly.

"Actually, I do," came a voice. "Know who I'm dealing with, that is."

Spike walked around the corner to see someone sitting in his favorite chair. The figure was dressed in an immaculate suit – deep gray, with a black shirt and a gray tie. His face was black. Not black like a charcoal – black like shadow. No features were perceivable but his eyes. His hair, if it could be called that, was flame. It flickered in the darkness.

"Good evening, Spike," said the figure. "You've been a very busy boy, now haven't you?"

"Who wants to know?" Spike said with bravado. Inside, though, his insides were churning.

"You can call me Mr. Gray," the figure said. "I'm with Executive Management."

* * *

The quill picked itself up and began to write. "Excellent work," it wrote out. "Rest well, your sacrifice will not be in vain."

Madame LaFusce smiled. She had completed her mission; she had furthered the cause. With a last effort, she uttered the spell the stopped her own heart.

On the other side of the ocean, Arinoth put his quill down. He turned to the Fourth Speaker, his face serious. "She is dead, but we will have the girl," he said.

"And who will replace Madame LaFusce at the circle?" the Fourth Speaker asked.

"I don't know yet," Arinoth replied, "but Miss Rosenberg shows definite promise." He paused for a moment. "Number Four," he said, "inform the Brigadier that we will have his proof in a week. Then get to California; we'll be conducting the tests there."

"As you wish, Creator," the Fourth Speaker reported.

"And one more thing," Arinoth said. "Tell Mr. Trax that we have a spy in the institute. Someone warned the congressman about us, and I'd like to know who."

* * *

In a small town, halfway between L.A. and Sunnydale, Buffy pulled into an abandoned gas station. A tall dark figure stood by an old car in the shadows of the garage. He made no move to come out into the Sun. "Stay here," Buffy said to Mac. She walked over to the figure.

They embraced briefly, and spoke for a long time. Then they embraced again, and Buffy returned to her car. "That's Angel," she said. "He's expecting you."

"Thanks lassie," Mac said.

"Good luck," she replied. "You're going to need it."

Mac walked a few paces away and then turned back to her. "You did fine, Lass," he said.

"It doesn't feel that way," she replied.

"You asked me if I gambled much. Remember?" He asked. She nodded. "Well, lass, I do. It's a highland tradition, you know. And I tell you something, no one wins when the odds are stacked against you like that. The house had you beat all the way, but you dinna give up." He took a step closer to her. "You dinna give up, lass, and you won. Against the watcher's council, an SAS team, and God alone knows what else. No one else on this green Earth of ours could've done that."

"Really?" she asked, slightly flattered.

"Really," he said. "You won, lass. You saved the Congressman's life, Willow's life, and even my life. You did good, take every victory when you get it."

"Thanks," Buffy said, and smiled at him. And for the first time in a long time, her smile reached all the way to her heart.

Continued in Angel: Project Eve - The Ring of Arinoth Book 2

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