Giles fought with hand to and with one of the fanatics. He had a longer
reach than his foe and he used it to his advantage, striking out with his
weapon and slashing the fanatic across the face with it. The man grunted,
ignoring the pain and slammed right into the tall Englishman with his
shoulder. He flattened Giles against the wall, stunning him briefly. He
raised his hatchet in one hand and was about to bring it down when a hand
grabbed him from behind and snapped his neck. Gile's vision cleared and he
found himself staring up at Angel.
"Thanks," he managed to utter as he staggered to his feet.
"Where's Dawn?" the vampire instinctively asked, staring around the room with the hope of finding Buffy's brunette sister.
"I'm sorry," Giles blurted out, "but there was too many of them. Lorne and I tried to fight them off but they overwhelmed us. They subdued Dawn while we were forced to watch and dragged her away. Then they surrounded Lorne and-" He was unable to continue as he recalled the horrible scene he witnessed.
Angel looked over to the other side of the room. Couches, beds and tables were overturned. Lamps were smashed and broken glasses littered the floor. Corpses of fanatics littered the floor. Giles and Lorne refused to go down without a fight. Then, he saw the body of his trusted demon ally. The singing demon lay against the wall. His feet and hands were nailed to the wall while his body was horribly mutilated. A blade stuck out of his chest next to where his heart was. His face was fixed in a defiant leer. Angel turned his back on the atrocity and tended to Giles while the others arrived. Buffy, Xander, Willow, Kennedy, a couple potentials and a struggling Wesley carrying the limp form of Oz in werewolf form arrived soon after, all horrified at the sight before them.
"They took Dawn," Buffy gritted her teeth as she imagined the thought of those fiends torturing her sister in some grotesque ritual. "I'll find them- "
Giles interrupted her, sobbing "I'm sorry Wesley but they killed Lorne. Twenty fanatics surrounded him and he couldn't fight all of them off. They overpowered him and nailed him to the wall in a mock crucifixion. They tortured him, did horrible things to him and then they finally killed him by ripping out his heart and pouring holy water into the gaping hole. It was so horrible-"
"It's alright," Xander responded, "We'll get them."
"I'm going after La Morte first. He'll know where they are," Angel grimaced, his face a mask full of determination and extreme anger. His mind was still plagued with the anguished memories of watching his son die at the hands of the nefarious black knight. He remembered his brief moments hugging the corpse of his wayward son while blood ran down his hands. His eyes glared with hatred for the creature that had done that horrible act. The tall, black-armored figure that stood yards away from Angel, gloating his victory and snickering at Angel's lamentations.
Buffy nodded, "he's right, La Morte will know where they took Dawn. And I'll tear him apart after what he did to Wood-"
Willow interrupted her, "you can't do that! He's good now, I'm sure of it." Her eyes lit up as she tried to convince the others that La Morte no longer posed a threat and could in fact be a valuable ally. But her arguments fell on deaf ears. Her friends refused to forget the sight of their comrades being skewered by the savage blade of the dark knight and they would avenge them at all costs. The same piercing hatred now took ahold of them as it had their enemies minutes before.
"Xander, Willow, Kennedy, you watch over Oz and make sure he's alright. Wesley, Giles, Angel and I are going after La Morte," Buffy barked her orders, everyone noting the ferocity underlying in her voice.
"Buffy, he could have let me die! But he didn't! He spared me because I drove the demon out of his heart!" Willow blurted out, trying to persuade Buffy. But it was Angel who answered her. Angel, the vampire whose soul was now gripped with the voices of vengeance. "For all I know it could've been an act. He didn't spare Connor and I'll grant him the same quarter he showed Gunn and Fred," Angel growled as he stormed out the room, clutching a sword at his side.
Buffy shot Willow a dirty look as she ran to Angel's side. Wesley and Giles followed her, turning their backs on the cries of reason that Willow tried to offer them as they embarked on their quest to rid the world of the dark knight La Morte.
Willow relented with her protests and started crying. Kennedy rushed over to her and comforted her.
"All the bloodshed, too many dead, too many dead," Willow muttered as she sobbed and Kennedy lay her soft hands on her shoulder. Xander and the potentials carried Oz to a couch and patched up his numerous bleeding wounds. Willow broke from her crying and rushed over to Oz. She murmured some ancient healing spell and watched as Oz's wounds and lacerations vanished as his body quickly healed.
His eyes opened and Oz sat up.
"So did we win? I felt I was dead-" His brief moment of delight was ended by the grave faces of those around him.
"What happened?" He spoke up, awaiting a reply from the others that clustered around him.
"Buffy, Angel, Giles and Wesley are going after La Morte." Xander trailed off, unable to break the despairing news to the werewolf.
"What about the others?"
"They're dead," Kennedy answered him, "La Morte killed them. He almost killed Willow too but she changed him somehow."
Willow remained mute and exchanged a look with Oz. Oz smiled, "I guess not even the most hardened demon can stand up to one of your magically induced rages." Willow managed a slight smile at Oz's joke and she kissed him on the cheek. Oz blushed, turning red, much to Kennedy's chagrin, who was slightly dismayed at her lover's apparent favoritism. Xander sat off in the corner.
"Well, looks like all we have to do is wait until the others return," he spoke to no one. He checked his pockets for any spare shells, noting that they were empty, he tossed his shotgun aside and picked up an axe. "This will do in a jiffy."
He watched while the others talked and Oz tried to comfort the others after their traumatizing losses, but he refused to indulge in it. Lately, he had been suffering from fits of depression. His blindness in his right eye served him no better, crippling him greatly. He wasn't the same old joking Xander anymore. No, he was the product of childhood abuse and countless years of fighting demons. Finally, it had all caught up to him and his life had snuffed out all vestiges of his old exuberant personality, replacing it with a brooding, morose one. He was almost like Willow now, only his redheaded childhood friend still possessed some humor in her life that she could laugh at Oz's corny jokes. He couldn't even laugh it his own, much less anyone else's. Xander knew this life was not for him, neither were these friends and he planned to leave the others and embark on his own journey, to find a new life for his new self since the old one seemed to not care anymore. His stared at the glowing face of Willow and sighed, he was becoming more and more like Buffy as well, a withdrawn bitter figure devoid of all the good qualities it once had.
Faith waited in the shadows of the church for La Morte to return. It didn't matter that he was probably killing her friends. She could've cared less about them, no one of them really seemed to hold her in high regard anyway. No, Faith was still the scheming murderess while Buffy was the brilliant, fearless leader. Well, maybe not anymore for the blonde slayer's case, but Faith knew she was never welcome anywhere Buffy was. Her supposedly superior leadership skills had culminated in a bloody ambush during the final days of Sunnydale and had left scores of potential slayers, her soldiers dead because of her mistake. Of course Buffy would have never made it. The name still made her sick, no matter how much Buffy posed as her friend or how many deep conversations they could have, a part of Faith still burned with hatred towards her. The two sides of Faith seemed to struggle for control and now the darker Faith had returned with a vengeance, finding a perfect counterpart in La Morte. The compassionate, kind side of Faith took a backseat while the wilder, passionate and savage side took over. Wood and the others had only been one night stands, La Morte was the one. He was the perfect boyfriend to her as the mayor had been a father.
He wasn't a self-righteous do-gooder like Buffy's boyfriends had become after she had turned them away from their wilder sides. Nope, he was the same charismatic, cruel and merciless fiend Faith had met on the battlefield, and instantly fallen in love with. She recalled the hours before when they had made love in the desolate church, the walls echoing with sounds of their lovemaking. It was perfect, Faith had never felt happier in her life. Never mind that the bringer of her happiness had tried to kill her only hours before. Trivial things like that didn't matter to Faith.
She heard the loud clunk of La Morte's boots hit the church floor as the door swung open, revealing the interior of the church underneath the pale moonlight. She whirled around to face the tall figure clad in the black armor, the armor stained in the blood of his enemies. She rushed up to him and passionately kissed him on the lips, drawing her tongue inside his mouth. He felt different though, he greeted her advances coldly as if she were a piece of spoiled fish. He pushed her aside and staggered forward, ignoring her as he shuffled forward.
"Are you okay?" She inquired, stunned by his abrupt change of behavior.
He turned around to face her. Faith noticed his change, how his eyes were now a sad blue instead of a glowing red. His face looked paler than ever, more haggard than before. He looked like a depressed, ruined shell of a man, not the wild and bloodthirsty demon she had known.
"Leave me alone," he spoke, brushing her aside as she tried to come onto him.
"Man, R what's going on? You were just like a mad killer moments before and now you're this pathetic boy toy?" Faith walked up to him and reached out with her hand, stroking his cheek gently.
"Your friend, the witch, she freed me from the clutches of the demon. I've never felt free like this before, free from the shackles of war and bloodlust. Yet, my freedom has been accompanied by pangs of guilt. I remember everyone I killed, every face of the men, women and children still burns in my memory and I shall never forget anyone."
"Wow R, you're beginning to sound a little too much like Angel for my comfort, c'mon, where's the burning demon inside of you just wanting to be let out?" Faith grinned as she stroked him.
Robert struck her, knocking Faith onto the floor with the force of his armored fist. Faith licked the blood off of the slight gash that had appeared on her lip. "Woah there tiger, you're getting a little too frisky."
"I shall never be that man again!" La Morte screamed, deafening Faith as his voice echoed across the church. "That abomination murdered thousands and you actually want him to return? You are a sick and depraved woman, milady."
"Milady? Sounds like your demon didn't let you out since four centuries ago," Faith grinned, "and you know you want him back. You loved the bloodlust, well, maybe some part of you did, and you want to have more. I know the feeling, once you have it, there's no turning back."
"Silence- You monster!" Robert La Morte seized her and slammed her against the floor, tears rolling down his face, "do you know how it feels to suddenly be awakened by the screams of the children from a village three hundred years ago as you watched them burn in the safety of their own homes while their parents were gutted on the streets. It burns your mind, you can't drive it out, it maddens you, drives you to the depths of insanity! You never want to kill again, but there's a side of you that loves it, that wants to persist in the butchery. And you never have the strength to drive it out!"
La Morte's words stung Faith, destroying her darker side that had seized control, forcing it back into the recesses of her mind. Her memories of the people she killed, only a tiny fraction of La Morte's bodycount returned, plaguing her. She recalled the innocent face of the deputy mayor, of the volcanologist, of all the others as she mercilessly killed them, laughing in their faces. Those haunting faces returned moaning their wronged cries into her head, racking her with guilt and frustration. She knew she must not ever return to that Faith, the betrayer.
She kissed La Morte, but it felt different to the both of them. This was not the superficial, animal attraction that had created the romance between them. This was a spiritual love unlike either of them had ever encountered. They were both dark and brooding souls searching for answers and redemption from their foul pasts. La Morte returned the kiss and they made out of the bare church floor, both plagued with the tormented cries of their victims and haunted by their consciences. La Morte and Faith barely noticed as four figures stepped into the church.
The couple was started by the loud banging sound as one of the new arrivals picked up a pew and hurled it against the wall, shattering it into splinters. La Morte and Faith both rose to their feet, the knight had unsheathed his claymore while the raven-haired slayer clutched a dagger. They faced the unnerved, vengeful faces of Buffy Anne Summers, Angel, Rupert Giles and Wesley Wyndham-Price.
Angel smiled, his vampiric visage covering his face. "Thought that would grab your attention."
"Thanks," he managed to utter as he staggered to his feet.
"Where's Dawn?" the vampire instinctively asked, staring around the room with the hope of finding Buffy's brunette sister.
"I'm sorry," Giles blurted out, "but there was too many of them. Lorne and I tried to fight them off but they overwhelmed us. They subdued Dawn while we were forced to watch and dragged her away. Then they surrounded Lorne and-" He was unable to continue as he recalled the horrible scene he witnessed.
Angel looked over to the other side of the room. Couches, beds and tables were overturned. Lamps were smashed and broken glasses littered the floor. Corpses of fanatics littered the floor. Giles and Lorne refused to go down without a fight. Then, he saw the body of his trusted demon ally. The singing demon lay against the wall. His feet and hands were nailed to the wall while his body was horribly mutilated. A blade stuck out of his chest next to where his heart was. His face was fixed in a defiant leer. Angel turned his back on the atrocity and tended to Giles while the others arrived. Buffy, Xander, Willow, Kennedy, a couple potentials and a struggling Wesley carrying the limp form of Oz in werewolf form arrived soon after, all horrified at the sight before them.
"They took Dawn," Buffy gritted her teeth as she imagined the thought of those fiends torturing her sister in some grotesque ritual. "I'll find them- "
Giles interrupted her, sobbing "I'm sorry Wesley but they killed Lorne. Twenty fanatics surrounded him and he couldn't fight all of them off. They overpowered him and nailed him to the wall in a mock crucifixion. They tortured him, did horrible things to him and then they finally killed him by ripping out his heart and pouring holy water into the gaping hole. It was so horrible-"
"It's alright," Xander responded, "We'll get them."
"I'm going after La Morte first. He'll know where they are," Angel grimaced, his face a mask full of determination and extreme anger. His mind was still plagued with the anguished memories of watching his son die at the hands of the nefarious black knight. He remembered his brief moments hugging the corpse of his wayward son while blood ran down his hands. His eyes glared with hatred for the creature that had done that horrible act. The tall, black-armored figure that stood yards away from Angel, gloating his victory and snickering at Angel's lamentations.
Buffy nodded, "he's right, La Morte will know where they took Dawn. And I'll tear him apart after what he did to Wood-"
Willow interrupted her, "you can't do that! He's good now, I'm sure of it." Her eyes lit up as she tried to convince the others that La Morte no longer posed a threat and could in fact be a valuable ally. But her arguments fell on deaf ears. Her friends refused to forget the sight of their comrades being skewered by the savage blade of the dark knight and they would avenge them at all costs. The same piercing hatred now took ahold of them as it had their enemies minutes before.
"Xander, Willow, Kennedy, you watch over Oz and make sure he's alright. Wesley, Giles, Angel and I are going after La Morte," Buffy barked her orders, everyone noting the ferocity underlying in her voice.
"Buffy, he could have let me die! But he didn't! He spared me because I drove the demon out of his heart!" Willow blurted out, trying to persuade Buffy. But it was Angel who answered her. Angel, the vampire whose soul was now gripped with the voices of vengeance. "For all I know it could've been an act. He didn't spare Connor and I'll grant him the same quarter he showed Gunn and Fred," Angel growled as he stormed out the room, clutching a sword at his side.
Buffy shot Willow a dirty look as she ran to Angel's side. Wesley and Giles followed her, turning their backs on the cries of reason that Willow tried to offer them as they embarked on their quest to rid the world of the dark knight La Morte.
Willow relented with her protests and started crying. Kennedy rushed over to her and comforted her.
"All the bloodshed, too many dead, too many dead," Willow muttered as she sobbed and Kennedy lay her soft hands on her shoulder. Xander and the potentials carried Oz to a couch and patched up his numerous bleeding wounds. Willow broke from her crying and rushed over to Oz. She murmured some ancient healing spell and watched as Oz's wounds and lacerations vanished as his body quickly healed.
His eyes opened and Oz sat up.
"So did we win? I felt I was dead-" His brief moment of delight was ended by the grave faces of those around him.
"What happened?" He spoke up, awaiting a reply from the others that clustered around him.
"Buffy, Angel, Giles and Wesley are going after La Morte." Xander trailed off, unable to break the despairing news to the werewolf.
"What about the others?"
"They're dead," Kennedy answered him, "La Morte killed them. He almost killed Willow too but she changed him somehow."
Willow remained mute and exchanged a look with Oz. Oz smiled, "I guess not even the most hardened demon can stand up to one of your magically induced rages." Willow managed a slight smile at Oz's joke and she kissed him on the cheek. Oz blushed, turning red, much to Kennedy's chagrin, who was slightly dismayed at her lover's apparent favoritism. Xander sat off in the corner.
"Well, looks like all we have to do is wait until the others return," he spoke to no one. He checked his pockets for any spare shells, noting that they were empty, he tossed his shotgun aside and picked up an axe. "This will do in a jiffy."
He watched while the others talked and Oz tried to comfort the others after their traumatizing losses, but he refused to indulge in it. Lately, he had been suffering from fits of depression. His blindness in his right eye served him no better, crippling him greatly. He wasn't the same old joking Xander anymore. No, he was the product of childhood abuse and countless years of fighting demons. Finally, it had all caught up to him and his life had snuffed out all vestiges of his old exuberant personality, replacing it with a brooding, morose one. He was almost like Willow now, only his redheaded childhood friend still possessed some humor in her life that she could laugh at Oz's corny jokes. He couldn't even laugh it his own, much less anyone else's. Xander knew this life was not for him, neither were these friends and he planned to leave the others and embark on his own journey, to find a new life for his new self since the old one seemed to not care anymore. His stared at the glowing face of Willow and sighed, he was becoming more and more like Buffy as well, a withdrawn bitter figure devoid of all the good qualities it once had.
Faith waited in the shadows of the church for La Morte to return. It didn't matter that he was probably killing her friends. She could've cared less about them, no one of them really seemed to hold her in high regard anyway. No, Faith was still the scheming murderess while Buffy was the brilliant, fearless leader. Well, maybe not anymore for the blonde slayer's case, but Faith knew she was never welcome anywhere Buffy was. Her supposedly superior leadership skills had culminated in a bloody ambush during the final days of Sunnydale and had left scores of potential slayers, her soldiers dead because of her mistake. Of course Buffy would have never made it. The name still made her sick, no matter how much Buffy posed as her friend or how many deep conversations they could have, a part of Faith still burned with hatred towards her. The two sides of Faith seemed to struggle for control and now the darker Faith had returned with a vengeance, finding a perfect counterpart in La Morte. The compassionate, kind side of Faith took a backseat while the wilder, passionate and savage side took over. Wood and the others had only been one night stands, La Morte was the one. He was the perfect boyfriend to her as the mayor had been a father.
He wasn't a self-righteous do-gooder like Buffy's boyfriends had become after she had turned them away from their wilder sides. Nope, he was the same charismatic, cruel and merciless fiend Faith had met on the battlefield, and instantly fallen in love with. She recalled the hours before when they had made love in the desolate church, the walls echoing with sounds of their lovemaking. It was perfect, Faith had never felt happier in her life. Never mind that the bringer of her happiness had tried to kill her only hours before. Trivial things like that didn't matter to Faith.
She heard the loud clunk of La Morte's boots hit the church floor as the door swung open, revealing the interior of the church underneath the pale moonlight. She whirled around to face the tall figure clad in the black armor, the armor stained in the blood of his enemies. She rushed up to him and passionately kissed him on the lips, drawing her tongue inside his mouth. He felt different though, he greeted her advances coldly as if she were a piece of spoiled fish. He pushed her aside and staggered forward, ignoring her as he shuffled forward.
"Are you okay?" She inquired, stunned by his abrupt change of behavior.
He turned around to face her. Faith noticed his change, how his eyes were now a sad blue instead of a glowing red. His face looked paler than ever, more haggard than before. He looked like a depressed, ruined shell of a man, not the wild and bloodthirsty demon she had known.
"Leave me alone," he spoke, brushing her aside as she tried to come onto him.
"Man, R what's going on? You were just like a mad killer moments before and now you're this pathetic boy toy?" Faith walked up to him and reached out with her hand, stroking his cheek gently.
"Your friend, the witch, she freed me from the clutches of the demon. I've never felt free like this before, free from the shackles of war and bloodlust. Yet, my freedom has been accompanied by pangs of guilt. I remember everyone I killed, every face of the men, women and children still burns in my memory and I shall never forget anyone."
"Wow R, you're beginning to sound a little too much like Angel for my comfort, c'mon, where's the burning demon inside of you just wanting to be let out?" Faith grinned as she stroked him.
Robert struck her, knocking Faith onto the floor with the force of his armored fist. Faith licked the blood off of the slight gash that had appeared on her lip. "Woah there tiger, you're getting a little too frisky."
"I shall never be that man again!" La Morte screamed, deafening Faith as his voice echoed across the church. "That abomination murdered thousands and you actually want him to return? You are a sick and depraved woman, milady."
"Milady? Sounds like your demon didn't let you out since four centuries ago," Faith grinned, "and you know you want him back. You loved the bloodlust, well, maybe some part of you did, and you want to have more. I know the feeling, once you have it, there's no turning back."
"Silence- You monster!" Robert La Morte seized her and slammed her against the floor, tears rolling down his face, "do you know how it feels to suddenly be awakened by the screams of the children from a village three hundred years ago as you watched them burn in the safety of their own homes while their parents were gutted on the streets. It burns your mind, you can't drive it out, it maddens you, drives you to the depths of insanity! You never want to kill again, but there's a side of you that loves it, that wants to persist in the butchery. And you never have the strength to drive it out!"
La Morte's words stung Faith, destroying her darker side that had seized control, forcing it back into the recesses of her mind. Her memories of the people she killed, only a tiny fraction of La Morte's bodycount returned, plaguing her. She recalled the innocent face of the deputy mayor, of the volcanologist, of all the others as she mercilessly killed them, laughing in their faces. Those haunting faces returned moaning their wronged cries into her head, racking her with guilt and frustration. She knew she must not ever return to that Faith, the betrayer.
She kissed La Morte, but it felt different to the both of them. This was not the superficial, animal attraction that had created the romance between them. This was a spiritual love unlike either of them had ever encountered. They were both dark and brooding souls searching for answers and redemption from their foul pasts. La Morte returned the kiss and they made out of the bare church floor, both plagued with the tormented cries of their victims and haunted by their consciences. La Morte and Faith barely noticed as four figures stepped into the church.
The couple was started by the loud banging sound as one of the new arrivals picked up a pew and hurled it against the wall, shattering it into splinters. La Morte and Faith both rose to their feet, the knight had unsheathed his claymore while the raven-haired slayer clutched a dagger. They faced the unnerved, vengeful faces of Buffy Anne Summers, Angel, Rupert Giles and Wesley Wyndham-Price.
Angel smiled, his vampiric visage covering his face. "Thought that would grab your attention."