=Chapter Seven=
We spend the day after Christmas immersed in the Niall situation. There is no other topic of conversation, and ten minutes in, I'm wishing we were tinsel fighting again. There's something really, uh, depressing about hearing everyone discuss my life being in danger. And frightening, too. Especially since no one knows what, exactly, to do.
Josh and Olson decide that they're done crashing at our place, and I'm more than a little grateful. Our apartment is too small for five people. Way too small. They leave about an hour before sunset, more than enough time to make the ten-minute drive to their place.
After consuming some leftover ham, Faith wanders upstairs to shower, and I sit on the couch next to Spike.
"So."
He cuts his eyes in my direction and heaves a sigh. "What is it?"
I shrug a little. "Something seems...off about this," I confess.
Spike turns just his head in my direction and narrows his gaze. "But you can't quite put your finger on what," he says knowingly, nodding. "Feels like it's at the tip of my tongue."
Keeping my face purposely blank, I reach back and lightly slap at the back of Spike's head. His narrowed eyed gaze turns to a glare. "Did that work it loose?" I ask with a smile, then I rub his scalp a bit. "I like the longer hair. It's curly."
"Yeah, it is," he says with distaste, brushing my hand away. "When did everything start feeling off?"
"Hm." I take a moment to think about it. "When Niall showed up, I guess. That wind? It threw my bolt off target, which is...well, it *could* have just been bad luck. But there wasn't any wind before. Or after. And it wasn't magically done. What about you?"
"While I was getting information," he tells me. "Some of the blokes seemed to be a little too chatty, if you know what I mean."
We retreat into a thoughtful silence until Faith comes down, her hair blown dry and her make up in place. She sits on the loveseat and pulls on her boots. "Olson and Josh call yet?" she asks absently.
I got still, and next to me I feel Spike do the same. "Um, no, actually," I say carefully.
Faith stops lacing her boots and looks up. "They said they'd call the minute they got home," she says tensely.
Her eyes wander to the window. Even though the curtains are drawn in deference to Spike, we all know it's past sunset. Faith bends down to her boots gain, her motions quick and efficient.
"I'm going out to look for them," she says flatly as she stands up. She points at Spike. "Stay here with Tara and stay by the--"
My cell phone chirps. It's sitting on the table, and the three of us turn to stare at it like it's a SUV doing fifty, and we're deer that just stepped into the road. A second later, a voice that does not belong to either Josh or Olson speaks.
"Very foolish to think daylight would prevent me from getting something." Niall, of course. "I want the witch. Sunnydale Arms in one hour. By the gaudy Uhlrich mausoleum."
He doesn't make a threat against Josh and Olson, but he doesn't have to. The phone chirps as the connection is broken, and I'm having a little trouble breathing.
"Damn," Spike mutters angrily.
It takes effort to tear my gaze from the phone and look at Faith, and when I do my breath leaves my lungs in a hiss. She's like nothing I've ever seen, this tightly wrought Slayer I'm staring at. Her eyes have emptied and her lips are thin.
"Let's go," she says blandly, walking to the closet and pulling out a denim coat.
"Faith..." I whisper.
She shakes her head. "No. Let's go."
I try again. "But--"
"I know," she interrupts me in a calm, eerie voice. "It's a trap. But I've been here before and I know what happens." She glances and me and Spike. "We go, because we can't not go. It's how Buffy got Willow back from me and the mayor. The only difference?" she asks with a shrug. "We're not handing you over."
"Maybe she shouldn't go, then," Spike suggests, watching Faith carefully. I don't blame him for that, because her manner is just...a little alarming, and makes me wonder if she's going to just explode with little provocation.
"She's going," Faith says as she pulls her jacket on and starts loading stakes. "We need the magic. And you're going, because I need the extra muscle. And all of us are going to walk away."
Spike gets to his feet slowly and carefully. "I'm not arguing with you," he says. "But tearing into the cemetery like this? It's not going to do anything but play into Niall's hands. We need something up our sleeve."
She pauses and eyes him skeptically. "Like what?"
He doesn't have an answer for her and truthfully neither do I. We're completely lacking in anything since we have so little information.
Faith takes a deep breath and runs her hands through her hair. When she lowers them, there are more than a few strands wrapped around her fingers. "It sucks," she announces. "I know it. But we have shit. And no time to track down anything else. And a clock ticking Josh and Olson's lives away. So we go and we stand and we make damn sure that we win."
She meets my eyes. "You may not have Willow's power, Ta, but you have power, and it holds out longer than Niall's does. That's an advantage." Her eyes move to Spike. "I've seen you fight like an animal, Spike. Ruthless. Unpredictable. That's an advantage." She points at her chest. "Me, I'm furious right now. A furious Slayer is a Slayer that doesn't give a damn about anything but making the kill. Advantage."
Her shoulders lift in a shrug. "And all three of us have been known to be a little crazy in the past. Big advantage, because it means we can think around things like other people can't." She looks at us intently. "We've got something up our sleeves. Us."
And for some reason, I'm buying it. Really buying it.
***
I shouldn't have bought it. If there's anything I've learned since I've gotten involved with Slayers and the Hellmouth, it's that what sounds good in theory will fall apart in practice.
Josh and Olson are surrounded by more than twenty vampires. Niall is standing off to the side of the group, and waves a hand as we approach. Seven vampires break away from the rest and close ranks behind us, putting Niall at our front and them at our backs.
Niall arches an eyebrow at the same time that Faith almost imperceptibly taps her hand against her thigh. "You're early, I hadn't--"
The vampires around Josh and Olson scatter, and Faith is off in their direction before they land. Spike spins around to face the vampires behind us, and I'm left to face off with Niall. At this point, not only am I not buying it, I'm thinking it's about to buy us. Or something else that makes more sense and describes how I think we're about to lose. A lot.
Niall smiles, and it's a baring of teeth. But he makes no move to stop either Faith or Spike, and that doesn't sit well with me. My skins tingles with electricity, and I toss up a strong barrier just in time to stop Niall's magic from slamming into my chest. He throws more at me, and my stomach churns. The barrier takes a lot to erect and maintain, and he's tossing weak bursts of magic at me. I'm going to tap out before he does.
I scan the area. Olson has been knocked unconscious. Faith and Josh are standing over him and fighting back the vamps, but because they won't leave Olson vulnerable, they're at a disadvantage. They can only hold the vamps off, instead of pushing them back and dusting them.
I don't want to turn my back on Niall, so I concentrate and try to hear what's going on behind me. I have no idea how Spike's doing, and the barrier is wavering in front of me. Niall smirks and sends the weakest bolt yet at me. The barrier manages to absorb it, but flickers out in the process.
There's something triumphant on Niall's face, and I realize he planned for this to happen. For me to get drained quickly, while he maintained a reserve.
"Enough," Niall calls out, and the vampires stop fighting.
Someone bumps into my back, and I crane my head just enough to realize that it's Spike. "I'm done," I whisper to him frantically.
"Shit," he mutters.
Faith and Josh are panting and eyeing the vampires warily. Josh drops to his knees to check on Olson, and Faith moves so that she's somewhere between me and the others. Niall rolls his shoulders and then speaks. "We both know you're empty," he says casually. "I could send another shot at you and take you down. Correct?"
Frowning, I nod hesitantly. Niall's eyes flicker to Faith and then Spike, who is standing beside me now. I get it. He could take me down, but he doesn't want to risk getting drained and having to deal with Spike and Faith. He holds out his hand, gesturing with his fingers that I come forward.
Why? I think he wants to...poof us out of there. Away from the others. So that he can kill me without having to deal with them. Spike turns around, eyeing Niall. "Don't even think of it," he growls at me.
I stare from Niall, to Faith, to Spike, and back at Niall. We're at a standoff. Outnumbered and still alive only because Niall has manipulated us. Niall makes a gesture, and then most of the vampires that are around Josh and Olson head at Faith.
She's good, but there's a lot of them, and she's distracted. Trying to keep an eye on Josh and Olson while she fights.
Spike and I look at one another. "Help her," I whisper.
His eyes darken. "Tara," he sighs helplessly.
And he's right. It's more of us playing into Niall's hands, but what other choice is there? "You can't not help her," I tell him, and he nods just once before speeding towards Faith.
Just as he gets to her side, twelve more vampires slide into the clearing around the mausoleum. They haven't just manifested. There was no shock from the Leviglio. No, they're what Niall had up his sleeve. Half surround Faith and Spike. The other half surround Olson and Josh.
I watch helplessly as Spike and Faith fight a losing battle. There's just too many, coming at them from all directions. Niall calls them off after a couple of minutes, and when the vampires step back I see that neither of them looks good.
Niall has managed to separate me from the others, but it doesn't really matter, does it? We talked the good talk earlier, but we're not the ones with the advantage. Niall is. He holds out his hand again, and I shake my head. "Maybe you need an incentive?" he muses, staring thoughtfully at Spike, whose face is battered and bleeding.
"No!" I exclaim. But he nods anyway and a vampire comes forward. Spike shifts into a fighting stance, and the vampire brandishes a large axe. "Don't!"
But the vampire trips. Just, trips. Which is unusual in and of itself. What's truly amazing, though, is that he lands directly on a branch in the grass. Heart side down. Just...dusted. Niall glares furiously at me, like I had something to do with it. Which I didn't, because I'm as tapped out as he thinks. I couldn't float a feather at the moment, much less trip a vamp and maneuver him to land like that.
In fact, unless the Leviglio has stopped working, I'm quite sure that nothing magical was involved. Just...bad luck? For our side?
"Kill the humans," Niall shouts, and I feel myself screaming as every vampire around us heads towards Josh and the still unconscious Olson.
There's a rush of cold bodies as the vampires from behind me move forward, and then a hand over my mouth. I'm looking into a pair of eyes that should be yellow to go with the fangs and ridges, but they're not. They're the green of soft moss and my own eyes go wide.
"Look and see," the vampire hisses. I struggle in her grip, but she tightens her hold and a flicker of amber sweeps through her eyes. "See!" she snarls, then releases me to join the other vampires.
But there are less than there were, I notice as I look around. Less vampires, because they seem to suddenly be exorbitantly unlucky? As I watch, another vampire falls on a branch. One steps into the path of a sword and beheads himself. But just before it happens, the vampire looks at me, eyes shifting amber and mouth wording what I think is "see".
I make a choked noise when a vampire, stretching out a claw to tear Josh's throat out instead rips another vampire's heart out. And just like the vampire who beheaded himself, this one looks at me as well. Ten more times it happens. Ten vampires killed through some kind of ironic type of bad luck. Ten more oddly colored eyes turning in my directions. Ten more mouths uttering the same words. This isn't bad luck. This is...something else entirely.
Spike and Faith aren't taking the time to wonder at any of it. They're fighting those that are still around and ignoring the oddity of the others. Which is good. Me, I'm suddenly looking in the direction of Niall. Because he's now just a few feet away from me, holding a long metal pole.
I stare at him. That's all I can do. He was--he was way over there a second ago, and now. Now he's right in front of me. And he's raising that pole. Raising it and aiming it at me. My left side. My heart. I say quick goodbyes, because--I'm going to die. I just am. That thing is going to impale me and kill me.
Niall thrusts the pole out and my eyes widen as my breath catches in my chest, in my throat. Then there's a burst of color. Bursts, actually. And I'm on the ground with Faith lying on top of me, facing me. There's panic on her features. Oh. And...pain. I tilt my head down and see it. The pole. Sticking out of the right side of her chest.
I hear a growl and look past her, shocked to see Spike on top of *her*, his back to hers.
"Get the fucking thing out," Faith hisses, slamming her head back so that it collides with Spike's.
He's trying. The pole impaled him through the heart, but it's metal. He's got it in hand and is pulling, but Niall is standing above us all, holding tight. "Shishkabob," he says, lips curling mirthlessly.
Faith braces her hands on the ground on either side of me, pushing herself up and sending the pole deeper through her. She grits her teeth and stares wildly at me, and I slide out from under her. Niall narrows his eyes on me. "Well, well. Looks like we've got an interesting little situation here."
He pushes on the pole and both Faith and Spike scream.
"Stop it," I shout. "Stop it."
"You've got a choice," he tells me, and it sounds like he's relishing every word.
There are tears in my eyes. Faith and Spike...oh god, they're in so much pain. And Olson is still unconscious, Josh standing over him protectively.
I hear Spike scream, an excruciated but furious roar, almost, and my eyes fly to him. He's got a hold of the pole. Oh, god. He's pulling himself forward, snarling as he moves along the pole. Faith is doing the same thing on her end, but she only needs two good tugs.
A vampire breaks out of the pack around Josh and runs at the wounded Slayer. She holds up a stake in one shaking hand, so far off the mark that there should be no hope. But I watch the vampire, see his foot land awkwardly on a rock and shift him towards the right, and I'm not surprised when his eyes meet mine just as he careens into the stake.
Niall is pounding on Spike, the pole tossed aside. Mercilessly and violently. Faith struggles to her feet and stumbles over, her right arm completely useless. But she throws herself at Niall anyway, and he swats her away like a fly.
My eyes move to Josh. He's holding his own, as the vampires are still strangely clumsy and awkward. But there are still nine of them, and even bad luck might not hold out that long. There's nothing I can do, because I'm tapped.
Niall's not, though. He looks up and locks eyes with me as he lands a powerful blow to Faith's midsection. Then he uncurls his fist and holds it out, and something black strikes me in the chest.
I'm about to shake it off--shake the dark magic out, when I change my mind. I look around, and it's like a big chessboard all of a sudden. I don't know who's playing who, or for what purpose, but considering that there's now only seven vampires left, I have to wonder if maybe the big hand moving us all around is actually on my side.
I take a breath, a deep breath, and I stretch out my energy until there's a way for Niall's magic to insert itself, and I draw it in. I draw that darkness in with my white. There's electricity in my veins, and I feel--oh, I feel everything. I want to--do a lot of violent, bloody things that all of these vampires deserve. Thing that will last a long time and hurt for even longer.
My own magic awakens. It's like a warm, soft sweater. And I unball the material and slide it over me. As it slips along me, it brushes away that darkness. I could have kept it. For another few moments, or forever. But I meant what I told Olson; I won't ever go there.
My magic is recharged at its usual level. It's not much compared to what I just felt in me, but it's enough to *see* now that I'm trying to. It's around Niall's neck and it's like a beacon of darkness to my gaze that is strangely open to every bit of energy around.
Niall gathers some power, and I can see and feel it. A moment later there are another fifteen vampires in the clearing. They follow Niall's finger and head towards Josh. Faith is on her knees, gasping. Spike is on his feet, but only barely. No. No.
I hold my hand out, palm up, murmur quietly and watch the small ball of fire come to life just above my flesh. In the air all around me is the dark magic that I shook off. Just gathering itself in preparation for returning to Niall.
Niall's back is to me, and Spike is caught up in the fight. But Faith sees me, and her eyes widen. She throws herself flat on the ground as I lean forward and just blow that dark energy against the ball of fire. It shoots out angrily, catching the vamps who were about to get Faith, and she calls out to Josh. He waits until the very last second before tossing his body onto Olson's.
My hand moves again, and Faith is yelling at Spike, but he doesn't notice because the screams of the last of the burning vampires are so loud. She scurries forward on all fours and catches his ankle, pulling him down. But he knocks against Niall, taking the other vampire down with him, and my flame thrower misses Niall by an inch.
And with that, I'm done. Tapped out worse than before and having a really hard time breathing. I sway and my vision gets foggy. I'm going to pass out, but hopefully I've given us a chance to get away.
I'm forcing myself to stay on my feet when something--someone?--knocks me to the ground and wow, I'm getting kind of tired of that happening. I can hear someone yelling down into my face, and I think it's Niall. There's a hand around my throat. I flail blindly, trying to stay conscious, thrashing under the immoveable force that's settled on my thighs. My hand catches on something. The thing around his neck.
I can barely think, but I close my fingers around it and pull, and then everything goes black.
***
I wake up in a hospital room, and I stare thoughtfully up at the ceiling. I come to several conclusions. 1. Fluorescent lights are just plain evil. 2. My throat feels like I swallowed battery acid, it's so raw. 3. My neck seems to be swollen to several times its normal size and just hurts. 4. I have no idea what happened.
None of these things concern me overmuch. No, really. Because obviously I've been injured and am in the hospital, but I'm alive and awake and that's a very good thing. As for what happened...well, it'll come to me. Right now I'm in the really nice period of calm before memory returns and pokes at my shredded emotions with salty sticks.
I turn my head to the side and meet bright blue eyes. So ends the calm. The memories rush in and I reflexively grab at my throat, like the hands are still wrapped around it. My other hand reaches out for Spike. Because his face looks awful, and even though he's changed his shirt, I can still see that pole impaling him. He takes my hand, squeezing gently, and reaches out to coax my other hand from my throat.
"It's all right," he says quietly. "I'm fine, and you're fine."
It feels like I'm staring at things all wild eyed, which I probably am. I think my eyes get even wilder when I remember that the others were hurt as well. I open my mouth to ask him, but there's only a really guttural noise that comes out, and the pain is just...well, it's a lot of pain. I tighten my fingers around his hand and try to ask him with my eyes how the others are.
"Niall's dust, pet. Everyone's...well, they're not peachy," he admits, "but they'll be fine. Olson has a concussion and Josh is pretty bruised, but they weren't admitted."
That's incredibly good to hear. But what about Faith? I frown, and his lips quirk a little bit as he points to my left. I turn my head and see Faith. On the other hospital bed. Sprawled across it like she owns it, her uninjured arm slung over her head. She's snoring a little, something she claims that she doesn't do. But she does. It's cute, actually. Of course, her actually being on that bed, in a hospital gown, means her injuries were severe enough that she couldn't avoid it; getting Faith into a hospital-- especially *this* hospital--is not easily done. I start to panic at what kind of shape she's in, then remember the Slayer healing. She'll probably be good as new long before me.
My heart slows back down to a normal pace and I relax. Spike pours some water and even though swallowing is really not something I want to do, I drink some. It feels really good and really bad, to drink the deliciously cold water. But the sitting up is really tiring, and when I lean back, I have a difficult time keeping my eyes open.
"Sleep," Spike says, and I let my eyes close.
***
Two days later, I'm in the small laundry room at the back of the apartment complex. It took a whole lot of stubbornness to get here. The doctors said that I stopped breathing at one point, and it kind of scared the others. Consequently, they've been hovering close by while I recuperate, and refused until this morning to tell me anything about what happened after I passed out. But today I woke up and I could speak without excruciating pain, and I decided that I was leaving my room.
Apparently, I missed a bunch of stuff. There was something of an argument/debate about who, exactly, dusted Niall. Josh said that, in the end, it was decided that both Faith and Spike dusted Niall at the same time. Olson grumbled something about it taking four hours to come to that decision. I have opted not to ask for any details on that because with Faith and Spike, I know the entire argument/debate will start all over again if I do.
There was also a Discussion--and it has to be capitalized, because the look on Olson's face when he told me was just...capitalization worthy--about how I turned my cute little ball of fire into a flamethrower. Seems like Spike was the only one who didn't think I'd taken Niall's magic into myself. Everyone else didn't *want* to think it, but they did anyway. I told them the truth of the matter and Spike spent ten minutes looking really smug before his face got all serious.
So, the laundry room. Where I have ostensibly come because Spike's clothing from New Orleans has germinated to a hazardous point. Where I have really come because I need a moment alone. There's a lot going on, even now that Niall has been taken care of. For instance, Spike's serious look means that tonight he's going to tell me that he's leaving. I have to prepare myself not to try to convince him to stay. Because he's made a choice that's his to make, and even if I think it's not a good choice, I need to let him make it. Also, despite research, the others haven't been able to figure out just what was going on with the clumsy vampires in the cemetery.
I close the washing machine lid on Spike's clothes, and then start loading the regular laundry into the second machine. My clothes from the hospital are in a plastic bag, and I upturn the bag into the basin. Something clanks against the metal bottom and I reach in and pull out a necklace of some kind. My eyes widen as I realize that it's what was around Niall's neck in the cemetery. Another thing to think about while the clothes get all summer breeze fresh.
The chain is gold, thick and finely made. There's a circle of--I think it's obsidian. Frowning thoughtfully, I turn it over in my hand and look at the front. Oh my. Absently, I close the lid on the second load and start the machine. I think I might need a little more thought time, so I slip the necklace into my pocket and head to the courtyard. I don't actually get the time.
Just after I sit down on one of the wrought iron chairs, Khentimentiu's Keepers materialize in the courtyard, Khentimentiu's astral form flickering into existence a moment later. If anyone had asked me ten minutes ago if I thought they would show up again, I'd have said no. But seeing them, and thinking about the necklace, a whole lot clicks into place.
However, I *am* surprised at Marianna's appearance. I can think of only one reason why she would be here, and I'm not sure why Khentimentiu would want her to bring me to him in person.
"Hi," I say easily, waving at the five of them.
Khentimentiu, ever the gallant supposed god, nods regally at me. "Will you join me for tea?" he asks politely, gesturing at Marianna.
I get to my feet. "I'd love to."
His rooms at his buried temple are just as modern and technologically stuffed as I remember. The jukebox is playing a classical selection whose name I don't know; I was never really one for classical. But it's pretty, and soothing, and it makes me think that he believes I haven't put it all together yet. I can't really blame him. It takes a while before people figure out that my mind works a lot faster, and smoother, than my mouth does.
But the clues were all there. The very specific information the seer fed to Niall, the item Niall was after that Spike just happened to have seen in New Orleans the week before. Niall being told to target me, specifically.
There is an ornate tea service set up on the coffee table in front of one of the black leather couches. "Please, sit," Khentimentiu invites me, and I do. He settles beside me and pours two cups of tea. His Keepers are situated at the edges of the large room, their seemingly blank gazes undoubtedly aware of every thing around them.
I take a sip of the tea he offers and smile. "This is good. Thank you." He returns the smile and takes his own cup from the table. "You know, for the ruler of the destiny of the undead?" I say quietly. "It's kind of...tacky to manipulate a human into doing your dirty work for you."
He was just taking a sip of tea when I spoke that last part, and he chokes slightly. Even his choking is somehow understated and royal. A bronze hand reaches back to the table for a napkin, which he dabs at his mouth.
"I've killed for lesser accusations," he murmurs quietly, taking another sip of tea.
"Good thing there aren't any humans around to kill me for you," I say teasingly. There's a noise from Lisimba's side of the room, and a quick glance shows me he's trying not to smile. I set my cup and saucer on my knee and watch as Khentimentiu tries to decide whether he's furious or amused by my insolence.
He decides to be amused. Which I kind of knew he would. See, I'm starting to understand him a little. I think he's rather protective of his charges. The dead and the undead alike. Spike said that Gahiji told him Khentimentiu is particularly concerned about motivation when considering petitions for his favors. It would also explain why he had a little temper tantrum when Faith tried to claim Spike, but seemed pleased when and why I did so. I also think he allowed Willow and I to talk during the Cerno just as much for her benefit as for mine.
"When I brought your beloved back," Khentimentiu says blandly, "I acted as a conduit and her soul passed through me. I thought it was merely...a skewered view of someone who loved you, the impression she gave of your brattiness."
"Not really," I say abashedly.
"Yes, I've noticed it of late," he drawls, leaning back on the sofa.
I narrow my eyes and lean forward to put my cup on the table. "You've been watching Spike?" I ask cautiously.
"At first," he admits, also putting his tea aside. "But your pack is rather like a soap opera of sorts, isn't it?" I toss him a sharp look and he reads it expertly. "Never fear. Your privacy is yours again."
"Good." I take the necklace out of the pocket of my skirt and study the marking. "It's your glyph, but...not."
I mean that literally. The small character in front of his glyph acts at a negative or anti. He holds out his hand and I pass him the necklace. "It negates my influence," he says once it's safely in his possession.
That's pretty much what I thought. Unable to rein Niall in, Khentimentiu was forced to work with those he could still influence. I've no doubt that the "seer" who visited Niall was one of Khentimentiu's people. But the problem was that even with Faith's strength and my magic, we couldn't have stopped Niall. He needed Spike there, too, and he knew I would be able to get him there. And, really, what better way to get Spike to focus on the situation than to have Niall target me?
"This wasn't about, um, taking down someone who escaped from under your thumb," I say with certainty.
He leans back, a small, pleased smile at his lips. "No, it wasn't. It was about a vampire who thought to thwart his own destiny, who tried to meddle with others'." He cocks his head to the side. "There is a saying among your kind, about nothing being inevitable except for death and taxes. For my kind, only one of those is truly inevitable."
Everyone has a path. How they walk it, and how they divert from it, is where free will comes in. Some things, though, are beyond our intervention. Things involving other people usually are, and some of the big things involving ourselves generally are. Death definitely is. I can't imagine what kind of knots Niall tied in the skein that is destiny.
"Can...can I ask you a question?" I venture hesitantly.
"You can ask," he says slowly. "But I may not be able to answer."
I decide to keep things as general as possible, in the hopes it will increase my chance of getting an answer. "Why is it that there are vampires who are--who don't seem to be under your dominion?"
I've been curious about this for a while. Spike dismissed Khentimentiu's supposed influence over vampires as the bragging of an ego maniac. He brought up a valid point, though. Angel has never mentioned that one of the Powers That Be is an ancient shapeshifting vampire.
Khentimentiu's face grows thoughtful, and a bit shady. The god is about to answer something he isn't supposed to, in such a way as to not actually divulge anything he shouldn't.
"Dominion is not as clear cut as you think," he says carefully. "In general, I control the destiny of the dead. Some of these individuals, however, are more than dead, or undead. They are...champions, for example." He blinks slowly at me and I raise a placid brow. "No one can serve two masters. Certain of the dead answer to others." He waves a negligent hand. "There are even living beings whom I have dominion over due to a connection of some kind they have to my realm."
"Spike could be a champion," I say forthrightly.
Khentimentiu shakes his head. "No, in fact, he could not." I'm prepared to argue this, but he continues to quickly for me to speak. "The definition differs between my kind and yours. Spike may very well perform acts of a champion in the future, but he will never *be* a champion."
Once again I phrase my question carefully. "What makes someone a champion to the Powers That Be, then?"
"There is a certain level of fanaticism that must be reached," Khentimentiu explains. "Rage. Grief. Guilt. These emotions are usually responsible for it. But whatever triggers it, the result is that it opens the individual to the desire to go to great lengths, sometimes partially blinded to that which he would ordinarily see."
He narrows his eyes at me and I nod, because I understand where he tried to lead me with his answer. By blinding someone in that manner, you make the person the perfect plaything, the perfect *tool*, really. So I guess I get it. Spike will accept himself and go from there, not leaving himself open to being manipulated. However, I think...I think he might be a hero, and I think that might be something even better than a champion. But that's just my opinion, and I think Khentimentiu is done clearing matters up for me.
"Thank you for answering," I murmur. "Oh. And for not getting angry. About the tacky comment."
Khentimentiu smiles a little self-depracatingly. "Let's keep my rather tame reaction between us, shall we?" he says drolly.
I grin at him, and he returns it. "I really need to get back," I say regretfully. "They'll be worried." He gets to his feet and holds out a hand. I take it and let him help me to his feet. "Thank you for the tea."
He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it gallantly. "I am in your debt," he says solemnly. "Remember that."
I nod, because I mean to do so. Having a supposed god owing me a favor? No too shabby.
Khentimentiu waves a hand, gesturing to our left, and I turn and watch Marianna arrive via a passageway, a seed already out and some of its coating already on her finger. I blink a little in surprise, and look at Khentimentiu. He smiles mysteriously and bows.
Shaking my head, I wave at each of the Keepers, then go to Marianna.
***
Spike is the only one in the apartment when I get back, and I catch him pacing in the living room. "How long does it take to put a load of laundry in?" he grumbles, relief flashing briefly across his face.
I'd admonish him for being paranoid, but this *is* the Hellmouth. "I needed some space," I say, which is true. Unfortunately, since I didn't get it, I don't know how ready I am to just let him leave.
Spike latches on to my words. "Space. Speaking of it and all--"
"I'm kind of thirsty," I interrupt. I grimace a little as I swallow. Perhaps I overdid the talking today. "Let me just get some water. Do you want some blood?" I ask solicitously as I head to the kitchen.
He frowns impatiently at me. "Yeah, fine."
I take my time, emerging with a bottle of water and a mug of heated blood. Spike sets the mug aside as soon as I hand it to him. I sit on the sofa and look up at him. "So. Space."
"Space," he repeats, nodding. "Appreciate the blood and mayhem," he says dryly. "But I think it's time to...move on."
I take a long sip of water. "Is that what you want?" Spike is smart enough to know the semantics of the question. *Want* is the key word. He levels a stern stare at me and I smile. "It's a valid question," I point out.
A dozen expressions chase each other across his face, and they don't look like they'll be stopping soon.
"If it is," I tell him, "then you should." I bite my lip. "But if it's-- well, for another reason? You should, uh, give it more thought."
I think that's a nice balance between offering support and fixing. He rubs his forehead and sighs. "Tara--"
The doorbell rings and I stand up. "Hm, can you hold that thought?"
He nods, and I go to the door and open it. I simply stare at the person on the other side. Because she's not supposed to be here. Hank Summers agreed to a kind of Dawn time share that's like shared custody. We had her for Thanksgiving. Christmas was his.
She's also not supposed to be furious, but she is, and I want to groan when I realize that Giles probably told her what I didn't. That Spike is here and he has a soul.
I open the door further and step back. Dawn steps inside and I close the door, watching Spike. He's staring at her with eyes that are shocked, sad, and a little bit...hungry. Not in an ooky way. Just like he's remembered exactly how important Dawn is to him, and how much he's missed her. It's a toss up which of them looks the angriest when the reality of the situation sets in.
Spike glares at me. "Damn it, Tara!" he explodes. "Is this how you stop fixing things?"
"I'm not responsible for this," I insist. "And I didn't tell her."
"No, you didn't," Dawn says sharply, her eyes accusing. "Why didn't you?"
I suppose I could answer her, and then sit down and moderate things between them. But that would probably fall under the category of trying to fix things I have no business trying to fix. So I take my coat from the closet and shrug at Dawn.
"Ask Spike. I'll be at Olson's."
When I call two hours later, to ask one of them to get the laundry from the laundry room, Dawn's sniffling. When I call back later that night to let them know that Faith and I will be staying with Josh and Olson, she's giddy. Smiling lightly, I hang up the phone.
"Reunion's going well, I take it," Olson comments as I join him and the others at the dining room table to continue our fight-filled game of Trivial Pursuit. We broke out the board game after I filled them in on my visit with Khentimentiu.
"Hm," I murmur, looking at the board. I grin at Faith. "You got yellow pie. I'm jealous."
She shrugs and makes some kind of dismissive snorting noise--which is a lot less cute than her snores are. But her eyes, before they slide away, kind of brighten a bit. I just adore her. Faults and all.
Josh gets my attention with a frustrated exhalation of air. "Tara, let's refresh our memory here," he says slowly. "Do we like cryptic?" My lips twitch, but I manage to say no in a properly serious tone of voice. "Good, that's the right answer. Now, let's try this again."
He points at Olson, who sighs and reluctantly says, "Reunion's going well, I take it."
Everyone's watching me expectantly. "Hm," I murmur, and pick up the dice. "Is it my turn?"
Josh points menacingly at me. "I hate you."
"You're a dipshit," Faith exclaims. "Would she have smiled if it was going *bad*?" She snatches the dice from my hand. "And it's my turn. See, yellow pie. Means I got the question right. Means I go again. We all clear on *that*?"
"Crystal," Olson drawls under the weight of her ill-tempered glare. "Roll."
"Hm," I murmur.
Josh picks up my token and dumps my two pieces of pie on the floor. He settles back on his chair and crosses his arms. I stare at him. He scowls at me. I furrow my brow and start to get up. He leans down and picks up the pieces.
Life is pretty good, all things considered.
***
The next evening it's me and Spike at the apartment. Faith is on her first round of patrol, and Josh and Dawn left early this morning to hit the after- Christmas sales at the mall. They're both a lot braver than I am.
The sun's only been down for half an hour when Spike interrupts me in the middle of cleaning up the remains of our dinner. "Fancy a swing, luv?"
I stop and turn to him. That summer after Willow and the others died was just horrible for me. Nothing made sense in my head, but I remembered that it *used* to all make sense. That sensation alone would have been frustrating enough, but then there was also the fact that I couldn't seem to vocalize things properly. Everything was random and illogical when it came from my mouth, and I didn't understand why no one else knew what I was trying to say.
But Spike would take me to the park sometimes. I don't know what prompted him to do it the first time, I'm just glad he did. While I was just flying up and down on that seat, my hands clasping the cold chains, things...well, I don't know if they made sense, or if none of the chaos mattered. I just know that I felt calm.
"Yes," I say softly.
Spike pushes me for a while, and it's comfortable and familiar. And it makes me feel good about myself, and about the recently souled vampire who's holding some of his strength back as he sends me soaring.
Things eventually settle, either on their own or with a little help. If I've learned anything in the time since the others died, it's that. It may not settle into something expected or wanted, but it does settle. But if there's something else I've learned, it's that settling isn't everything. There's also moving on, or moving past, or just plain moving.
That we can be in the park, on the swings, and not simply be reminded of that summer and those losses, means that maybe we did something right while we were stumbling around cluelessly.
"Higher," I call out.
"Fine, but only a little," he grunts back.
When I descend, I hold tighter to the chain, and he puts a little more muscle into the push. Oh, and I remember this, too. Swings are limited. I'll only go so high before there'll be an abrupt jerk that drags me down. It's not the descent that I dislike. It's the abrupt jerk. Smooth, flowing motions are good.
Before that abruptness can interrupt anything, I let go of the chains. Spike catches me so effortlessly that not even the being caught is abrupt. It's just all very seamless. Maybe that's why my awkward mind really liked this when I was insane. It's not half bad when I'm sane, either.
The difference in that moment after he catches me is that I'm laughing, and so is he. His face is level with my stomach, and his head is upturned, and I look down at him and giggle until he has to lower me because I'm going to fall if I keep it up.
We wander back over to the swings, and Spike takes a seat on one, then pats his lap. I sit down and lean back on him, and his toes send us into an easy little gliding motion.
"I'm glad you're staying. Really glad," I add for emphasis.
"Rather figured that out from the way you've been smiling all day," he drawls sarcastically.
"So, um, what happened? After I left yesterday?"
He makes a noise of derision. "Bit's gotten a sharp little tongue on her since I saw her last," he says idly. "Ripped me to shreds with it."
I nod approvingly. "Good for her. You *were* being really stupid about it all."
"Easy for you to say. And her," he adds. "Not an easy thing to adjust to, you know. Bound to cause some confusion."
"And stupidity."
He chuckles and we swing quietly for a bit before he breaks the silence. "You realize Faith's not too happy about my hanging around?"
"Hm. She'll get over it eventually. I hope."
"It's not that simple. Having me here is going to make a lot of things worse for Faith," he says slowly, his voice quiet. "Before I left, she and I were--well, friends would be an exaggeration, but we got on well enough. After that, it was you and her...don't even know if there are words to describe what kind of dynamics are flying there." I can feel him shrug behind me. "And now? I'm not the same vamp she got on well with. And you and I...well, that's a whole other set of dynamics, isn't it? Faith is probably never going to figure out where she fits in with it."
I drop my head back and sigh. With Spike, we've seen so much of each other that it's...easy for us to know what's going on with the other. But I'm not halfway insane, and Faith's not broken down, and I can't fix things.
Spike wraps an arm across my stomach and kind of hugs me. "You--"
"I know," I interrupt quietly. "I don't think I can stop, though. I'm not trying to fix her...just make her feel okay. To be her."
"Need to stop letting her depend on you so much," he says. "You might think it helps her, but it's just a crutch." I crane my head back and he taps me on the nose. "What? Did you forget that I know, too?" I chuckle a little, and he presses a kiss to my forehead. I scoot around, and Spike--well, he knows. Just like he said. So he does most of the work to turn me around so that I'm straddling his thighs and facing him. Which sounds a lot more, uh, intimate than it is. Because it's not. Well, it is. But it's not sexual. At all.
"Faith isn't a people person, pet," he tells me after a long silence. Such a trite little phrase to describe her utter inability to associate with people beyond the casual, beyond the fleeting. No one was there to teach her how to deal with her emotions, so she...doesn't. Instead she closes down, turns on the attitude, and tries to push us away until she can pretend that she can handle everything. "She wants to be, probably more than *you* want her to be. But she's got some pretty strong safeguards in place."
I ask a question I've been wondering for a while. "Is it hopeless?"
"No. But the chance of success? Don't know that it's more than marginal."
I tip back and he shifts his hold on me so that his hands are bracing me at the small of my back. Everything's all perpendicular at this angle, a little strange but still recognizable. His words should discourage me, but they don't. If I can be the sole success story for a ritual that's been around for thousands of years, and if a vampire who earned his name torturing people with railroad spikes can go out and get a soul, then Faith can come out from behind her safeguards.
"Sounds like our kind of odds," I murmur to the night sky.
Spike bends forward to look me in the eyes. "Guess they do."
***
We spend the day after Christmas immersed in the Niall situation. There is no other topic of conversation, and ten minutes in, I'm wishing we were tinsel fighting again. There's something really, uh, depressing about hearing everyone discuss my life being in danger. And frightening, too. Especially since no one knows what, exactly, to do.
Josh and Olson decide that they're done crashing at our place, and I'm more than a little grateful. Our apartment is too small for five people. Way too small. They leave about an hour before sunset, more than enough time to make the ten-minute drive to their place.
After consuming some leftover ham, Faith wanders upstairs to shower, and I sit on the couch next to Spike.
"So."
He cuts his eyes in my direction and heaves a sigh. "What is it?"
I shrug a little. "Something seems...off about this," I confess.
Spike turns just his head in my direction and narrows his gaze. "But you can't quite put your finger on what," he says knowingly, nodding. "Feels like it's at the tip of my tongue."
Keeping my face purposely blank, I reach back and lightly slap at the back of Spike's head. His narrowed eyed gaze turns to a glare. "Did that work it loose?" I ask with a smile, then I rub his scalp a bit. "I like the longer hair. It's curly."
"Yeah, it is," he says with distaste, brushing my hand away. "When did everything start feeling off?"
"Hm." I take a moment to think about it. "When Niall showed up, I guess. That wind? It threw my bolt off target, which is...well, it *could* have just been bad luck. But there wasn't any wind before. Or after. And it wasn't magically done. What about you?"
"While I was getting information," he tells me. "Some of the blokes seemed to be a little too chatty, if you know what I mean."
We retreat into a thoughtful silence until Faith comes down, her hair blown dry and her make up in place. She sits on the loveseat and pulls on her boots. "Olson and Josh call yet?" she asks absently.
I got still, and next to me I feel Spike do the same. "Um, no, actually," I say carefully.
Faith stops lacing her boots and looks up. "They said they'd call the minute they got home," she says tensely.
Her eyes wander to the window. Even though the curtains are drawn in deference to Spike, we all know it's past sunset. Faith bends down to her boots gain, her motions quick and efficient.
"I'm going out to look for them," she says flatly as she stands up. She points at Spike. "Stay here with Tara and stay by the--"
My cell phone chirps. It's sitting on the table, and the three of us turn to stare at it like it's a SUV doing fifty, and we're deer that just stepped into the road. A second later, a voice that does not belong to either Josh or Olson speaks.
"Very foolish to think daylight would prevent me from getting something." Niall, of course. "I want the witch. Sunnydale Arms in one hour. By the gaudy Uhlrich mausoleum."
He doesn't make a threat against Josh and Olson, but he doesn't have to. The phone chirps as the connection is broken, and I'm having a little trouble breathing.
"Damn," Spike mutters angrily.
It takes effort to tear my gaze from the phone and look at Faith, and when I do my breath leaves my lungs in a hiss. She's like nothing I've ever seen, this tightly wrought Slayer I'm staring at. Her eyes have emptied and her lips are thin.
"Let's go," she says blandly, walking to the closet and pulling out a denim coat.
"Faith..." I whisper.
She shakes her head. "No. Let's go."
I try again. "But--"
"I know," she interrupts me in a calm, eerie voice. "It's a trap. But I've been here before and I know what happens." She glances and me and Spike. "We go, because we can't not go. It's how Buffy got Willow back from me and the mayor. The only difference?" she asks with a shrug. "We're not handing you over."
"Maybe she shouldn't go, then," Spike suggests, watching Faith carefully. I don't blame him for that, because her manner is just...a little alarming, and makes me wonder if she's going to just explode with little provocation.
"She's going," Faith says as she pulls her jacket on and starts loading stakes. "We need the magic. And you're going, because I need the extra muscle. And all of us are going to walk away."
Spike gets to his feet slowly and carefully. "I'm not arguing with you," he says. "But tearing into the cemetery like this? It's not going to do anything but play into Niall's hands. We need something up our sleeve."
She pauses and eyes him skeptically. "Like what?"
He doesn't have an answer for her and truthfully neither do I. We're completely lacking in anything since we have so little information.
Faith takes a deep breath and runs her hands through her hair. When she lowers them, there are more than a few strands wrapped around her fingers. "It sucks," she announces. "I know it. But we have shit. And no time to track down anything else. And a clock ticking Josh and Olson's lives away. So we go and we stand and we make damn sure that we win."
She meets my eyes. "You may not have Willow's power, Ta, but you have power, and it holds out longer than Niall's does. That's an advantage." Her eyes move to Spike. "I've seen you fight like an animal, Spike. Ruthless. Unpredictable. That's an advantage." She points at her chest. "Me, I'm furious right now. A furious Slayer is a Slayer that doesn't give a damn about anything but making the kill. Advantage."
Her shoulders lift in a shrug. "And all three of us have been known to be a little crazy in the past. Big advantage, because it means we can think around things like other people can't." She looks at us intently. "We've got something up our sleeves. Us."
And for some reason, I'm buying it. Really buying it.
***
I shouldn't have bought it. If there's anything I've learned since I've gotten involved with Slayers and the Hellmouth, it's that what sounds good in theory will fall apart in practice.
Josh and Olson are surrounded by more than twenty vampires. Niall is standing off to the side of the group, and waves a hand as we approach. Seven vampires break away from the rest and close ranks behind us, putting Niall at our front and them at our backs.
Niall arches an eyebrow at the same time that Faith almost imperceptibly taps her hand against her thigh. "You're early, I hadn't--"
The vampires around Josh and Olson scatter, and Faith is off in their direction before they land. Spike spins around to face the vampires behind us, and I'm left to face off with Niall. At this point, not only am I not buying it, I'm thinking it's about to buy us. Or something else that makes more sense and describes how I think we're about to lose. A lot.
Niall smiles, and it's a baring of teeth. But he makes no move to stop either Faith or Spike, and that doesn't sit well with me. My skins tingles with electricity, and I toss up a strong barrier just in time to stop Niall's magic from slamming into my chest. He throws more at me, and my stomach churns. The barrier takes a lot to erect and maintain, and he's tossing weak bursts of magic at me. I'm going to tap out before he does.
I scan the area. Olson has been knocked unconscious. Faith and Josh are standing over him and fighting back the vamps, but because they won't leave Olson vulnerable, they're at a disadvantage. They can only hold the vamps off, instead of pushing them back and dusting them.
I don't want to turn my back on Niall, so I concentrate and try to hear what's going on behind me. I have no idea how Spike's doing, and the barrier is wavering in front of me. Niall smirks and sends the weakest bolt yet at me. The barrier manages to absorb it, but flickers out in the process.
There's something triumphant on Niall's face, and I realize he planned for this to happen. For me to get drained quickly, while he maintained a reserve.
"Enough," Niall calls out, and the vampires stop fighting.
Someone bumps into my back, and I crane my head just enough to realize that it's Spike. "I'm done," I whisper to him frantically.
"Shit," he mutters.
Faith and Josh are panting and eyeing the vampires warily. Josh drops to his knees to check on Olson, and Faith moves so that she's somewhere between me and the others. Niall rolls his shoulders and then speaks. "We both know you're empty," he says casually. "I could send another shot at you and take you down. Correct?"
Frowning, I nod hesitantly. Niall's eyes flicker to Faith and then Spike, who is standing beside me now. I get it. He could take me down, but he doesn't want to risk getting drained and having to deal with Spike and Faith. He holds out his hand, gesturing with his fingers that I come forward.
Why? I think he wants to...poof us out of there. Away from the others. So that he can kill me without having to deal with them. Spike turns around, eyeing Niall. "Don't even think of it," he growls at me.
I stare from Niall, to Faith, to Spike, and back at Niall. We're at a standoff. Outnumbered and still alive only because Niall has manipulated us. Niall makes a gesture, and then most of the vampires that are around Josh and Olson head at Faith.
She's good, but there's a lot of them, and she's distracted. Trying to keep an eye on Josh and Olson while she fights.
Spike and I look at one another. "Help her," I whisper.
His eyes darken. "Tara," he sighs helplessly.
And he's right. It's more of us playing into Niall's hands, but what other choice is there? "You can't not help her," I tell him, and he nods just once before speeding towards Faith.
Just as he gets to her side, twelve more vampires slide into the clearing around the mausoleum. They haven't just manifested. There was no shock from the Leviglio. No, they're what Niall had up his sleeve. Half surround Faith and Spike. The other half surround Olson and Josh.
I watch helplessly as Spike and Faith fight a losing battle. There's just too many, coming at them from all directions. Niall calls them off after a couple of minutes, and when the vampires step back I see that neither of them looks good.
Niall has managed to separate me from the others, but it doesn't really matter, does it? We talked the good talk earlier, but we're not the ones with the advantage. Niall is. He holds out his hand again, and I shake my head. "Maybe you need an incentive?" he muses, staring thoughtfully at Spike, whose face is battered and bleeding.
"No!" I exclaim. But he nods anyway and a vampire comes forward. Spike shifts into a fighting stance, and the vampire brandishes a large axe. "Don't!"
But the vampire trips. Just, trips. Which is unusual in and of itself. What's truly amazing, though, is that he lands directly on a branch in the grass. Heart side down. Just...dusted. Niall glares furiously at me, like I had something to do with it. Which I didn't, because I'm as tapped out as he thinks. I couldn't float a feather at the moment, much less trip a vamp and maneuver him to land like that.
In fact, unless the Leviglio has stopped working, I'm quite sure that nothing magical was involved. Just...bad luck? For our side?
"Kill the humans," Niall shouts, and I feel myself screaming as every vampire around us heads towards Josh and the still unconscious Olson.
There's a rush of cold bodies as the vampires from behind me move forward, and then a hand over my mouth. I'm looking into a pair of eyes that should be yellow to go with the fangs and ridges, but they're not. They're the green of soft moss and my own eyes go wide.
"Look and see," the vampire hisses. I struggle in her grip, but she tightens her hold and a flicker of amber sweeps through her eyes. "See!" she snarls, then releases me to join the other vampires.
But there are less than there were, I notice as I look around. Less vampires, because they seem to suddenly be exorbitantly unlucky? As I watch, another vampire falls on a branch. One steps into the path of a sword and beheads himself. But just before it happens, the vampire looks at me, eyes shifting amber and mouth wording what I think is "see".
I make a choked noise when a vampire, stretching out a claw to tear Josh's throat out instead rips another vampire's heart out. And just like the vampire who beheaded himself, this one looks at me as well. Ten more times it happens. Ten vampires killed through some kind of ironic type of bad luck. Ten more oddly colored eyes turning in my directions. Ten more mouths uttering the same words. This isn't bad luck. This is...something else entirely.
Spike and Faith aren't taking the time to wonder at any of it. They're fighting those that are still around and ignoring the oddity of the others. Which is good. Me, I'm suddenly looking in the direction of Niall. Because he's now just a few feet away from me, holding a long metal pole.
I stare at him. That's all I can do. He was--he was way over there a second ago, and now. Now he's right in front of me. And he's raising that pole. Raising it and aiming it at me. My left side. My heart. I say quick goodbyes, because--I'm going to die. I just am. That thing is going to impale me and kill me.
Niall thrusts the pole out and my eyes widen as my breath catches in my chest, in my throat. Then there's a burst of color. Bursts, actually. And I'm on the ground with Faith lying on top of me, facing me. There's panic on her features. Oh. And...pain. I tilt my head down and see it. The pole. Sticking out of the right side of her chest.
I hear a growl and look past her, shocked to see Spike on top of *her*, his back to hers.
"Get the fucking thing out," Faith hisses, slamming her head back so that it collides with Spike's.
He's trying. The pole impaled him through the heart, but it's metal. He's got it in hand and is pulling, but Niall is standing above us all, holding tight. "Shishkabob," he says, lips curling mirthlessly.
Faith braces her hands on the ground on either side of me, pushing herself up and sending the pole deeper through her. She grits her teeth and stares wildly at me, and I slide out from under her. Niall narrows his eyes on me. "Well, well. Looks like we've got an interesting little situation here."
He pushes on the pole and both Faith and Spike scream.
"Stop it," I shout. "Stop it."
"You've got a choice," he tells me, and it sounds like he's relishing every word.
There are tears in my eyes. Faith and Spike...oh god, they're in so much pain. And Olson is still unconscious, Josh standing over him protectively.
I hear Spike scream, an excruciated but furious roar, almost, and my eyes fly to him. He's got a hold of the pole. Oh, god. He's pulling himself forward, snarling as he moves along the pole. Faith is doing the same thing on her end, but she only needs two good tugs.
A vampire breaks out of the pack around Josh and runs at the wounded Slayer. She holds up a stake in one shaking hand, so far off the mark that there should be no hope. But I watch the vampire, see his foot land awkwardly on a rock and shift him towards the right, and I'm not surprised when his eyes meet mine just as he careens into the stake.
Niall is pounding on Spike, the pole tossed aside. Mercilessly and violently. Faith struggles to her feet and stumbles over, her right arm completely useless. But she throws herself at Niall anyway, and he swats her away like a fly.
My eyes move to Josh. He's holding his own, as the vampires are still strangely clumsy and awkward. But there are still nine of them, and even bad luck might not hold out that long. There's nothing I can do, because I'm tapped.
Niall's not, though. He looks up and locks eyes with me as he lands a powerful blow to Faith's midsection. Then he uncurls his fist and holds it out, and something black strikes me in the chest.
I'm about to shake it off--shake the dark magic out, when I change my mind. I look around, and it's like a big chessboard all of a sudden. I don't know who's playing who, or for what purpose, but considering that there's now only seven vampires left, I have to wonder if maybe the big hand moving us all around is actually on my side.
I take a breath, a deep breath, and I stretch out my energy until there's a way for Niall's magic to insert itself, and I draw it in. I draw that darkness in with my white. There's electricity in my veins, and I feel--oh, I feel everything. I want to--do a lot of violent, bloody things that all of these vampires deserve. Thing that will last a long time and hurt for even longer.
My own magic awakens. It's like a warm, soft sweater. And I unball the material and slide it over me. As it slips along me, it brushes away that darkness. I could have kept it. For another few moments, or forever. But I meant what I told Olson; I won't ever go there.
My magic is recharged at its usual level. It's not much compared to what I just felt in me, but it's enough to *see* now that I'm trying to. It's around Niall's neck and it's like a beacon of darkness to my gaze that is strangely open to every bit of energy around.
Niall gathers some power, and I can see and feel it. A moment later there are another fifteen vampires in the clearing. They follow Niall's finger and head towards Josh. Faith is on her knees, gasping. Spike is on his feet, but only barely. No. No.
I hold my hand out, palm up, murmur quietly and watch the small ball of fire come to life just above my flesh. In the air all around me is the dark magic that I shook off. Just gathering itself in preparation for returning to Niall.
Niall's back is to me, and Spike is caught up in the fight. But Faith sees me, and her eyes widen. She throws herself flat on the ground as I lean forward and just blow that dark energy against the ball of fire. It shoots out angrily, catching the vamps who were about to get Faith, and she calls out to Josh. He waits until the very last second before tossing his body onto Olson's.
My hand moves again, and Faith is yelling at Spike, but he doesn't notice because the screams of the last of the burning vampires are so loud. She scurries forward on all fours and catches his ankle, pulling him down. But he knocks against Niall, taking the other vampire down with him, and my flame thrower misses Niall by an inch.
And with that, I'm done. Tapped out worse than before and having a really hard time breathing. I sway and my vision gets foggy. I'm going to pass out, but hopefully I've given us a chance to get away.
I'm forcing myself to stay on my feet when something--someone?--knocks me to the ground and wow, I'm getting kind of tired of that happening. I can hear someone yelling down into my face, and I think it's Niall. There's a hand around my throat. I flail blindly, trying to stay conscious, thrashing under the immoveable force that's settled on my thighs. My hand catches on something. The thing around his neck.
I can barely think, but I close my fingers around it and pull, and then everything goes black.
***
I wake up in a hospital room, and I stare thoughtfully up at the ceiling. I come to several conclusions. 1. Fluorescent lights are just plain evil. 2. My throat feels like I swallowed battery acid, it's so raw. 3. My neck seems to be swollen to several times its normal size and just hurts. 4. I have no idea what happened.
None of these things concern me overmuch. No, really. Because obviously I've been injured and am in the hospital, but I'm alive and awake and that's a very good thing. As for what happened...well, it'll come to me. Right now I'm in the really nice period of calm before memory returns and pokes at my shredded emotions with salty sticks.
I turn my head to the side and meet bright blue eyes. So ends the calm. The memories rush in and I reflexively grab at my throat, like the hands are still wrapped around it. My other hand reaches out for Spike. Because his face looks awful, and even though he's changed his shirt, I can still see that pole impaling him. He takes my hand, squeezing gently, and reaches out to coax my other hand from my throat.
"It's all right," he says quietly. "I'm fine, and you're fine."
It feels like I'm staring at things all wild eyed, which I probably am. I think my eyes get even wilder when I remember that the others were hurt as well. I open my mouth to ask him, but there's only a really guttural noise that comes out, and the pain is just...well, it's a lot of pain. I tighten my fingers around his hand and try to ask him with my eyes how the others are.
"Niall's dust, pet. Everyone's...well, they're not peachy," he admits, "but they'll be fine. Olson has a concussion and Josh is pretty bruised, but they weren't admitted."
That's incredibly good to hear. But what about Faith? I frown, and his lips quirk a little bit as he points to my left. I turn my head and see Faith. On the other hospital bed. Sprawled across it like she owns it, her uninjured arm slung over her head. She's snoring a little, something she claims that she doesn't do. But she does. It's cute, actually. Of course, her actually being on that bed, in a hospital gown, means her injuries were severe enough that she couldn't avoid it; getting Faith into a hospital-- especially *this* hospital--is not easily done. I start to panic at what kind of shape she's in, then remember the Slayer healing. She'll probably be good as new long before me.
My heart slows back down to a normal pace and I relax. Spike pours some water and even though swallowing is really not something I want to do, I drink some. It feels really good and really bad, to drink the deliciously cold water. But the sitting up is really tiring, and when I lean back, I have a difficult time keeping my eyes open.
"Sleep," Spike says, and I let my eyes close.
***
Two days later, I'm in the small laundry room at the back of the apartment complex. It took a whole lot of stubbornness to get here. The doctors said that I stopped breathing at one point, and it kind of scared the others. Consequently, they've been hovering close by while I recuperate, and refused until this morning to tell me anything about what happened after I passed out. But today I woke up and I could speak without excruciating pain, and I decided that I was leaving my room.
Apparently, I missed a bunch of stuff. There was something of an argument/debate about who, exactly, dusted Niall. Josh said that, in the end, it was decided that both Faith and Spike dusted Niall at the same time. Olson grumbled something about it taking four hours to come to that decision. I have opted not to ask for any details on that because with Faith and Spike, I know the entire argument/debate will start all over again if I do.
There was also a Discussion--and it has to be capitalized, because the look on Olson's face when he told me was just...capitalization worthy--about how I turned my cute little ball of fire into a flamethrower. Seems like Spike was the only one who didn't think I'd taken Niall's magic into myself. Everyone else didn't *want* to think it, but they did anyway. I told them the truth of the matter and Spike spent ten minutes looking really smug before his face got all serious.
So, the laundry room. Where I have ostensibly come because Spike's clothing from New Orleans has germinated to a hazardous point. Where I have really come because I need a moment alone. There's a lot going on, even now that Niall has been taken care of. For instance, Spike's serious look means that tonight he's going to tell me that he's leaving. I have to prepare myself not to try to convince him to stay. Because he's made a choice that's his to make, and even if I think it's not a good choice, I need to let him make it. Also, despite research, the others haven't been able to figure out just what was going on with the clumsy vampires in the cemetery.
I close the washing machine lid on Spike's clothes, and then start loading the regular laundry into the second machine. My clothes from the hospital are in a plastic bag, and I upturn the bag into the basin. Something clanks against the metal bottom and I reach in and pull out a necklace of some kind. My eyes widen as I realize that it's what was around Niall's neck in the cemetery. Another thing to think about while the clothes get all summer breeze fresh.
The chain is gold, thick and finely made. There's a circle of--I think it's obsidian. Frowning thoughtfully, I turn it over in my hand and look at the front. Oh my. Absently, I close the lid on the second load and start the machine. I think I might need a little more thought time, so I slip the necklace into my pocket and head to the courtyard. I don't actually get the time.
Just after I sit down on one of the wrought iron chairs, Khentimentiu's Keepers materialize in the courtyard, Khentimentiu's astral form flickering into existence a moment later. If anyone had asked me ten minutes ago if I thought they would show up again, I'd have said no. But seeing them, and thinking about the necklace, a whole lot clicks into place.
However, I *am* surprised at Marianna's appearance. I can think of only one reason why she would be here, and I'm not sure why Khentimentiu would want her to bring me to him in person.
"Hi," I say easily, waving at the five of them.
Khentimentiu, ever the gallant supposed god, nods regally at me. "Will you join me for tea?" he asks politely, gesturing at Marianna.
I get to my feet. "I'd love to."
His rooms at his buried temple are just as modern and technologically stuffed as I remember. The jukebox is playing a classical selection whose name I don't know; I was never really one for classical. But it's pretty, and soothing, and it makes me think that he believes I haven't put it all together yet. I can't really blame him. It takes a while before people figure out that my mind works a lot faster, and smoother, than my mouth does.
But the clues were all there. The very specific information the seer fed to Niall, the item Niall was after that Spike just happened to have seen in New Orleans the week before. Niall being told to target me, specifically.
There is an ornate tea service set up on the coffee table in front of one of the black leather couches. "Please, sit," Khentimentiu invites me, and I do. He settles beside me and pours two cups of tea. His Keepers are situated at the edges of the large room, their seemingly blank gazes undoubtedly aware of every thing around them.
I take a sip of the tea he offers and smile. "This is good. Thank you." He returns the smile and takes his own cup from the table. "You know, for the ruler of the destiny of the undead?" I say quietly. "It's kind of...tacky to manipulate a human into doing your dirty work for you."
He was just taking a sip of tea when I spoke that last part, and he chokes slightly. Even his choking is somehow understated and royal. A bronze hand reaches back to the table for a napkin, which he dabs at his mouth.
"I've killed for lesser accusations," he murmurs quietly, taking another sip of tea.
"Good thing there aren't any humans around to kill me for you," I say teasingly. There's a noise from Lisimba's side of the room, and a quick glance shows me he's trying not to smile. I set my cup and saucer on my knee and watch as Khentimentiu tries to decide whether he's furious or amused by my insolence.
He decides to be amused. Which I kind of knew he would. See, I'm starting to understand him a little. I think he's rather protective of his charges. The dead and the undead alike. Spike said that Gahiji told him Khentimentiu is particularly concerned about motivation when considering petitions for his favors. It would also explain why he had a little temper tantrum when Faith tried to claim Spike, but seemed pleased when and why I did so. I also think he allowed Willow and I to talk during the Cerno just as much for her benefit as for mine.
"When I brought your beloved back," Khentimentiu says blandly, "I acted as a conduit and her soul passed through me. I thought it was merely...a skewered view of someone who loved you, the impression she gave of your brattiness."
"Not really," I say abashedly.
"Yes, I've noticed it of late," he drawls, leaning back on the sofa.
I narrow my eyes and lean forward to put my cup on the table. "You've been watching Spike?" I ask cautiously.
"At first," he admits, also putting his tea aside. "But your pack is rather like a soap opera of sorts, isn't it?" I toss him a sharp look and he reads it expertly. "Never fear. Your privacy is yours again."
"Good." I take the necklace out of the pocket of my skirt and study the marking. "It's your glyph, but...not."
I mean that literally. The small character in front of his glyph acts at a negative or anti. He holds out his hand and I pass him the necklace. "It negates my influence," he says once it's safely in his possession.
That's pretty much what I thought. Unable to rein Niall in, Khentimentiu was forced to work with those he could still influence. I've no doubt that the "seer" who visited Niall was one of Khentimentiu's people. But the problem was that even with Faith's strength and my magic, we couldn't have stopped Niall. He needed Spike there, too, and he knew I would be able to get him there. And, really, what better way to get Spike to focus on the situation than to have Niall target me?
"This wasn't about, um, taking down someone who escaped from under your thumb," I say with certainty.
He leans back, a small, pleased smile at his lips. "No, it wasn't. It was about a vampire who thought to thwart his own destiny, who tried to meddle with others'." He cocks his head to the side. "There is a saying among your kind, about nothing being inevitable except for death and taxes. For my kind, only one of those is truly inevitable."
Everyone has a path. How they walk it, and how they divert from it, is where free will comes in. Some things, though, are beyond our intervention. Things involving other people usually are, and some of the big things involving ourselves generally are. Death definitely is. I can't imagine what kind of knots Niall tied in the skein that is destiny.
"Can...can I ask you a question?" I venture hesitantly.
"You can ask," he says slowly. "But I may not be able to answer."
I decide to keep things as general as possible, in the hopes it will increase my chance of getting an answer. "Why is it that there are vampires who are--who don't seem to be under your dominion?"
I've been curious about this for a while. Spike dismissed Khentimentiu's supposed influence over vampires as the bragging of an ego maniac. He brought up a valid point, though. Angel has never mentioned that one of the Powers That Be is an ancient shapeshifting vampire.
Khentimentiu's face grows thoughtful, and a bit shady. The god is about to answer something he isn't supposed to, in such a way as to not actually divulge anything he shouldn't.
"Dominion is not as clear cut as you think," he says carefully. "In general, I control the destiny of the dead. Some of these individuals, however, are more than dead, or undead. They are...champions, for example." He blinks slowly at me and I raise a placid brow. "No one can serve two masters. Certain of the dead answer to others." He waves a negligent hand. "There are even living beings whom I have dominion over due to a connection of some kind they have to my realm."
"Spike could be a champion," I say forthrightly.
Khentimentiu shakes his head. "No, in fact, he could not." I'm prepared to argue this, but he continues to quickly for me to speak. "The definition differs between my kind and yours. Spike may very well perform acts of a champion in the future, but he will never *be* a champion."
Once again I phrase my question carefully. "What makes someone a champion to the Powers That Be, then?"
"There is a certain level of fanaticism that must be reached," Khentimentiu explains. "Rage. Grief. Guilt. These emotions are usually responsible for it. But whatever triggers it, the result is that it opens the individual to the desire to go to great lengths, sometimes partially blinded to that which he would ordinarily see."
He narrows his eyes at me and I nod, because I understand where he tried to lead me with his answer. By blinding someone in that manner, you make the person the perfect plaything, the perfect *tool*, really. So I guess I get it. Spike will accept himself and go from there, not leaving himself open to being manipulated. However, I think...I think he might be a hero, and I think that might be something even better than a champion. But that's just my opinion, and I think Khentimentiu is done clearing matters up for me.
"Thank you for answering," I murmur. "Oh. And for not getting angry. About the tacky comment."
Khentimentiu smiles a little self-depracatingly. "Let's keep my rather tame reaction between us, shall we?" he says drolly.
I grin at him, and he returns it. "I really need to get back," I say regretfully. "They'll be worried." He gets to his feet and holds out a hand. I take it and let him help me to his feet. "Thank you for the tea."
He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it gallantly. "I am in your debt," he says solemnly. "Remember that."
I nod, because I mean to do so. Having a supposed god owing me a favor? No too shabby.
Khentimentiu waves a hand, gesturing to our left, and I turn and watch Marianna arrive via a passageway, a seed already out and some of its coating already on her finger. I blink a little in surprise, and look at Khentimentiu. He smiles mysteriously and bows.
Shaking my head, I wave at each of the Keepers, then go to Marianna.
***
Spike is the only one in the apartment when I get back, and I catch him pacing in the living room. "How long does it take to put a load of laundry in?" he grumbles, relief flashing briefly across his face.
I'd admonish him for being paranoid, but this *is* the Hellmouth. "I needed some space," I say, which is true. Unfortunately, since I didn't get it, I don't know how ready I am to just let him leave.
Spike latches on to my words. "Space. Speaking of it and all--"
"I'm kind of thirsty," I interrupt. I grimace a little as I swallow. Perhaps I overdid the talking today. "Let me just get some water. Do you want some blood?" I ask solicitously as I head to the kitchen.
He frowns impatiently at me. "Yeah, fine."
I take my time, emerging with a bottle of water and a mug of heated blood. Spike sets the mug aside as soon as I hand it to him. I sit on the sofa and look up at him. "So. Space."
"Space," he repeats, nodding. "Appreciate the blood and mayhem," he says dryly. "But I think it's time to...move on."
I take a long sip of water. "Is that what you want?" Spike is smart enough to know the semantics of the question. *Want* is the key word. He levels a stern stare at me and I smile. "It's a valid question," I point out.
A dozen expressions chase each other across his face, and they don't look like they'll be stopping soon.
"If it is," I tell him, "then you should." I bite my lip. "But if it's-- well, for another reason? You should, uh, give it more thought."
I think that's a nice balance between offering support and fixing. He rubs his forehead and sighs. "Tara--"
The doorbell rings and I stand up. "Hm, can you hold that thought?"
He nods, and I go to the door and open it. I simply stare at the person on the other side. Because she's not supposed to be here. Hank Summers agreed to a kind of Dawn time share that's like shared custody. We had her for Thanksgiving. Christmas was his.
She's also not supposed to be furious, but she is, and I want to groan when I realize that Giles probably told her what I didn't. That Spike is here and he has a soul.
I open the door further and step back. Dawn steps inside and I close the door, watching Spike. He's staring at her with eyes that are shocked, sad, and a little bit...hungry. Not in an ooky way. Just like he's remembered exactly how important Dawn is to him, and how much he's missed her. It's a toss up which of them looks the angriest when the reality of the situation sets in.
Spike glares at me. "Damn it, Tara!" he explodes. "Is this how you stop fixing things?"
"I'm not responsible for this," I insist. "And I didn't tell her."
"No, you didn't," Dawn says sharply, her eyes accusing. "Why didn't you?"
I suppose I could answer her, and then sit down and moderate things between them. But that would probably fall under the category of trying to fix things I have no business trying to fix. So I take my coat from the closet and shrug at Dawn.
"Ask Spike. I'll be at Olson's."
When I call two hours later, to ask one of them to get the laundry from the laundry room, Dawn's sniffling. When I call back later that night to let them know that Faith and I will be staying with Josh and Olson, she's giddy. Smiling lightly, I hang up the phone.
"Reunion's going well, I take it," Olson comments as I join him and the others at the dining room table to continue our fight-filled game of Trivial Pursuit. We broke out the board game after I filled them in on my visit with Khentimentiu.
"Hm," I murmur, looking at the board. I grin at Faith. "You got yellow pie. I'm jealous."
She shrugs and makes some kind of dismissive snorting noise--which is a lot less cute than her snores are. But her eyes, before they slide away, kind of brighten a bit. I just adore her. Faults and all.
Josh gets my attention with a frustrated exhalation of air. "Tara, let's refresh our memory here," he says slowly. "Do we like cryptic?" My lips twitch, but I manage to say no in a properly serious tone of voice. "Good, that's the right answer. Now, let's try this again."
He points at Olson, who sighs and reluctantly says, "Reunion's going well, I take it."
Everyone's watching me expectantly. "Hm," I murmur, and pick up the dice. "Is it my turn?"
Josh points menacingly at me. "I hate you."
"You're a dipshit," Faith exclaims. "Would she have smiled if it was going *bad*?" She snatches the dice from my hand. "And it's my turn. See, yellow pie. Means I got the question right. Means I go again. We all clear on *that*?"
"Crystal," Olson drawls under the weight of her ill-tempered glare. "Roll."
"Hm," I murmur.
Josh picks up my token and dumps my two pieces of pie on the floor. He settles back on his chair and crosses his arms. I stare at him. He scowls at me. I furrow my brow and start to get up. He leans down and picks up the pieces.
Life is pretty good, all things considered.
***
The next evening it's me and Spike at the apartment. Faith is on her first round of patrol, and Josh and Dawn left early this morning to hit the after- Christmas sales at the mall. They're both a lot braver than I am.
The sun's only been down for half an hour when Spike interrupts me in the middle of cleaning up the remains of our dinner. "Fancy a swing, luv?"
I stop and turn to him. That summer after Willow and the others died was just horrible for me. Nothing made sense in my head, but I remembered that it *used* to all make sense. That sensation alone would have been frustrating enough, but then there was also the fact that I couldn't seem to vocalize things properly. Everything was random and illogical when it came from my mouth, and I didn't understand why no one else knew what I was trying to say.
But Spike would take me to the park sometimes. I don't know what prompted him to do it the first time, I'm just glad he did. While I was just flying up and down on that seat, my hands clasping the cold chains, things...well, I don't know if they made sense, or if none of the chaos mattered. I just know that I felt calm.
"Yes," I say softly.
Spike pushes me for a while, and it's comfortable and familiar. And it makes me feel good about myself, and about the recently souled vampire who's holding some of his strength back as he sends me soaring.
Things eventually settle, either on their own or with a little help. If I've learned anything in the time since the others died, it's that. It may not settle into something expected or wanted, but it does settle. But if there's something else I've learned, it's that settling isn't everything. There's also moving on, or moving past, or just plain moving.
That we can be in the park, on the swings, and not simply be reminded of that summer and those losses, means that maybe we did something right while we were stumbling around cluelessly.
"Higher," I call out.
"Fine, but only a little," he grunts back.
When I descend, I hold tighter to the chain, and he puts a little more muscle into the push. Oh, and I remember this, too. Swings are limited. I'll only go so high before there'll be an abrupt jerk that drags me down. It's not the descent that I dislike. It's the abrupt jerk. Smooth, flowing motions are good.
Before that abruptness can interrupt anything, I let go of the chains. Spike catches me so effortlessly that not even the being caught is abrupt. It's just all very seamless. Maybe that's why my awkward mind really liked this when I was insane. It's not half bad when I'm sane, either.
The difference in that moment after he catches me is that I'm laughing, and so is he. His face is level with my stomach, and his head is upturned, and I look down at him and giggle until he has to lower me because I'm going to fall if I keep it up.
We wander back over to the swings, and Spike takes a seat on one, then pats his lap. I sit down and lean back on him, and his toes send us into an easy little gliding motion.
"I'm glad you're staying. Really glad," I add for emphasis.
"Rather figured that out from the way you've been smiling all day," he drawls sarcastically.
"So, um, what happened? After I left yesterday?"
He makes a noise of derision. "Bit's gotten a sharp little tongue on her since I saw her last," he says idly. "Ripped me to shreds with it."
I nod approvingly. "Good for her. You *were* being really stupid about it all."
"Easy for you to say. And her," he adds. "Not an easy thing to adjust to, you know. Bound to cause some confusion."
"And stupidity."
He chuckles and we swing quietly for a bit before he breaks the silence. "You realize Faith's not too happy about my hanging around?"
"Hm. She'll get over it eventually. I hope."
"It's not that simple. Having me here is going to make a lot of things worse for Faith," he says slowly, his voice quiet. "Before I left, she and I were--well, friends would be an exaggeration, but we got on well enough. After that, it was you and her...don't even know if there are words to describe what kind of dynamics are flying there." I can feel him shrug behind me. "And now? I'm not the same vamp she got on well with. And you and I...well, that's a whole other set of dynamics, isn't it? Faith is probably never going to figure out where she fits in with it."
I drop my head back and sigh. With Spike, we've seen so much of each other that it's...easy for us to know what's going on with the other. But I'm not halfway insane, and Faith's not broken down, and I can't fix things.
Spike wraps an arm across my stomach and kind of hugs me. "You--"
"I know," I interrupt quietly. "I don't think I can stop, though. I'm not trying to fix her...just make her feel okay. To be her."
"Need to stop letting her depend on you so much," he says. "You might think it helps her, but it's just a crutch." I crane my head back and he taps me on the nose. "What? Did you forget that I know, too?" I chuckle a little, and he presses a kiss to my forehead. I scoot around, and Spike--well, he knows. Just like he said. So he does most of the work to turn me around so that I'm straddling his thighs and facing him. Which sounds a lot more, uh, intimate than it is. Because it's not. Well, it is. But it's not sexual. At all.
"Faith isn't a people person, pet," he tells me after a long silence. Such a trite little phrase to describe her utter inability to associate with people beyond the casual, beyond the fleeting. No one was there to teach her how to deal with her emotions, so she...doesn't. Instead she closes down, turns on the attitude, and tries to push us away until she can pretend that she can handle everything. "She wants to be, probably more than *you* want her to be. But she's got some pretty strong safeguards in place."
I ask a question I've been wondering for a while. "Is it hopeless?"
"No. But the chance of success? Don't know that it's more than marginal."
I tip back and he shifts his hold on me so that his hands are bracing me at the small of my back. Everything's all perpendicular at this angle, a little strange but still recognizable. His words should discourage me, but they don't. If I can be the sole success story for a ritual that's been around for thousands of years, and if a vampire who earned his name torturing people with railroad spikes can go out and get a soul, then Faith can come out from behind her safeguards.
"Sounds like our kind of odds," I murmur to the night sky.
Spike bends forward to look me in the eyes. "Guess they do."
***