Part 10:

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Hell: The Seventh Circle

Being a vampire Angel needed very little sleep. Buffy, having been changed by the steady infusion of Angel's demon blood, also needed much less rest than back in her human days. That was a good thing, too, seeing as they hadn't gotten very much sleep in several weeks now.

Ever since arriving in the Seventh Circle they had faced one major problem: This was the home of the violent, those who had lived and died by the sword (or whatever other weapon had been handy at the time). They were spending eternity in a senseless fight, killing and dying over and over again without any purpose, as their wounds always healed, just as their victims' did. Imagine their joy if they were to find two people in their midst who could still die.

Whatever ground wasn't covered with boiling blood in this part of Hell was used for battle. A massive, surging tide of bodies engaged in ceaseless combat. There was no way to sneak past them. No way to go around them. The only way for Buffy and Angel to go was right through them. Realizing this they had arrived at the only possible strategy.

They had started at the very edge of the Circle, pulling aside a warrior here, a soldier there, immobilizing him or her and convincing them, by whatever means necessary, to join them in a fun caper. Not that the dead needed much convincing. Anything was better than fighting on and on without cause. Buffy and Angel found that giving them a cause, even one as flimsy as "get through the Circle and reach the other side", was more than enough to get them motivated.

Within days they had recruited an entire army and began a campaign to cut a swath right through the Circle. Many warriors joined their battle the moment they saw them, just as many decided to oppose them, though. Stopping this impromptu army that sought to introduce organised fighting to this region of Hell seemed to be as popular a cause as joining them. Soon most of the Seventh Circle was swept up in Buffy and Angel's gambit.

Buffy and Angel were always in the thick of things, but were careful to remain one step behind the front lines. They were the leaders, shouting encouragement to their troops such as "take that pass between the two blood lakes" and "just one more push and we'll have taken the mountain range". At all times, though, they had to be careful never to get seriously hurt themselves. If their soldiers realized that their generals could die ... odds were everyone in this region of Hell would turn on them in a hurry.

Things got more interesting, though, when the Centaurs got involved. Led by Chiron, the ruler of this Circle of Hell, the half-man, half-horse beasts were the stewards of the Violent. Most of the times this meant they were to make sure that none of them left the Circle. Armed with bow and arrows they herded their charges back into battle, sometimes joined in when the frenzy of combat seemed to lessen.

The Centaurs were not amused, apparently, by the notion of someone bringing order to this massive display of chaotic violence. Soon the massive beasts were tearing away at what little organisation Buffy and Angel had brought to the fight and their army threatened to splinter.

That was, though, until they encountered one of the generals. Angel, hovering in a near-constant frenzy due to the boiling blood all around him, wasted little time putting the sword that had sent him here to good use when one of the Centaurs got too close to him and Buffy. The blade, forged to kill demons and close dimensional rifts, penetrated the Centaur's thick skin with ease and sent him tumbling down, bleeding, dying.

Which was of much fascination to the denizens of the Circle.

Within moments everything turned around and the damned attacked their keepers with abandon. The Centaurs could die. Somehow that notion had never occurred to the prisoners before, but now they had seen it. It took hundreds, sometimes thousands of the damned to bring down a single one of the massive demon horses, but numbers they had in abundance. And what if they were struck down? They were already dead.

Neither Buffy nor Angel could tell how long they fought their way through this endless melee. Months, certainly, maybe years. The plains of the Seventh Circle seemed endless and there were always more Centaurs, more warriors that refused to join them, new recruits that needed to be told what to do and whom to fight in this landscape of boiling blood and killing screams.

By the time they finally reached the edges of the plains and left the endless battle behind both Buffy and Angel were well and truly sick of fighting. They knew they'd have to do it again, probably. They had crossed but one third of Hell's Seventh Circle so far, the prison of those who had been violent against others. They would still have to cross the dark woods of those who had been violent against themselves and the burning desert of those who had been violent against God. And once they managed that they were still two circles of Hell left to go, probably the most dangerous ones yet.

Still, for now they laid down their arms and simply rested, both thinking that they'd die happy if only they'd never have to raise a weapon ever again.

#

Buffy took but a moment to size up the opposing force. About thirty vampires, most of them looking like the kind of riffraff she'd normally see on her patrols. Dressed in street clothing, some of it pretty dated, and giving off vibes that said 'minion', not 'master'. Individually none of them would pose much of a threat. Unfortunately there were quite a lot of them.

She also spotted three or four among their number who looked different. They wore some kind of uniform and carried swords on their hips. She dimly remembered Angel saying something about some kind of warrior vampires working for Sebastian Khan. Could that be them? They looked and felt tougher than the others, but were hanging back. Field commanders? Or merely observers?

And then there was still Spike to consider.

With a side glance she took in Willow, Oz, and Joyce, standing on the back veranda. The door to the kitchen was directly behind them.

"Get inside," Buffy told them without taking her eyes off the attackers. "They can't follow you uninvited."

Joyce and Willow quickly complied, but Oz hang back. Buffy knew that Willow and he had performed some kind of spell to help him control his werewolf side, but there hadn't been time for any details before Joyce's phone call and Spike arriving at the Summers home. So Buffy was rather surprised when Oz calmly shrugged his shirt off and threw it aside, then stepped down off the veranda to join the back-to-back circle of Faith, Angel, and Buffy.

"What do you think you're doing?" Buffy hissed at him.

"Helping my friends," he said. "Now that I finally can."

Without further words he tensed, his skin began to ripple and change. Fur sprouted all over his body, his face lengthened into a snout with vicious teeth. Buffy barely managed to keep her eyes on the enemies, all of whom watched Oz in rapt fascination.

The transformation took but seconds and the first thing that came to mind for Buffy was that Oz looked different from the last time she had seen him as a werewolf. Instead of the four-legged beast with barely discernable human features he now stood upright, looking like something between man and wolf. There was also the gleam of intelligence in his eyes.

"Wicked," Faith cackled. "I wouldn't mind a set of claws like that."

Buffy had a bad feeling about involving Oz in this, but it seemed the decision had been taken out of her hands. Besides, against numbers like this, they couldn't afford to send anyone back to the locker room.

"Will you look at that," Spike said, standing a few feet away from both the Scoobies and the gathered vampires. "Where are the times when an evil bloke had to face but one Slayer? Now we got multiple Slayers, goody-two-shoe vampires, and werewolves to boot. You really threw the rule book out the window, didn't you? No wonder nobody likes you lot."

"I wouldn't laugh, Spike," Angel growled at him. "From the looks of things you aren't exactly a favourite in these parts anymore, either."

Spike had not failed to notice that he was being surrounded, too, and the vampires seemed very unfriendly toward him.

"Come on, mates," he told them, spreading his arms in a gesture of comradeship. "You wouldn't harm a fellow soulless evildoer, right?"

"You're days are done, Spike," one of the vampires growled. "We don't need vampires who make deals with the Slayer around here."

Spike made a face and huffed. "That's great. Hold that against me! This town has certainly changed for the worse."

He turned to look at Buffy and Angel. "What do you say, mates? How about a team-up for old time's sake? I promise never to come back to Sunnydale afterwards."

"You promised that before."

"Well, yes, but this time I really mean it."

Angel, who hadn't bothered returning to his human face after his initial brawl with Spike, just growled, but Buffy gave him a grin.

"Well, if that's the case, of course we can team up."

"Great! I knew you wouldn't hold too much of a grudge, Slayer. And Peaches, you'll see, we'll be a terror like back in the old days and ..."

Spike couldn't finish the sentence before Buffy grabbed him and threw him bodily into the ranks of the attackers, tumbling them over like bowling pins.

"Up and at'em," Faith yelled, jumping into the fray with Spike's ripped-off coat flapping behind her like a cape.

Moments later the battle was underway.

TO BE CONTINUED