Chapter Three
+Inhumane Decisions+
No one can speak as the car pulls to a stop in front of the driveway. The large yellow house that once knew joy and happiness is now engulfed in bright ginger colored flames. No one can breathe, speak, or move as they watch with a morbid sense of curiosity.
Willow is the first to do anything at all. She jumps out of the car, running like a wild women toward the front door.
"Willow, no!" Tara calls after her, attempting to follow her beloved.
"Stop." Is all that Willow says as she throws her hand up, securing a magical barrier around her friends.
She can't have them following her. They might get hurt and she can't lose them. Because, they will all need each other for what is to come. She can feel it.
Willow throws open the door and a whoosh of hot flames greet her. Her skin tightens against the heat and her hair singes.
"Back!" She yells, with a wave of her hand.
The blaze retreats, almost warily, as if it had been scolded. Though she can hear her friends' scream for her to stop, she runs into the house. Her heart pounds with each heavy step she makes. Using magic to extinguish the fire, she easily makes it to the stairs. Everything seems slow and sluggish to Willow as she climbs each step.
All she can think of is Dawn and Buffy.
She has to save them.
Her lungs feel small and she's having a hard time breathing. There's too much smoke, still, though most of the fire is gone. Willow grips the door frame to Dawn's bedroom.
She's sleeping.
She's safe.
Willow breathes a sigh of relief and dimly wonders how the girl could sleep through a fire. Her eased smile slowly fades away when she notices that Dawn's chest doesn't not move when she breathes. That she doesn't breathe at all. Willow knows she needs to go over there. She knows she needs to check if Dawn has a pulse.
Her mind flashes back to Buffy's call.
//"The floor was cold and so is Dawn."//
Willow had no idea what Buffy meant about the floor. Her weary mind couldn't figure it out.
//"Willow, Dawn needs you to tuck her in."//
Willow turned away from the sights of Buffys' still sister. In her heart of hearts, she knew Dawn was dead. There was nothing to be done about that. Not this time.
Willow pushed herself away from the door and rushed throughout the hallways, screaming, "Buffy!"
If Buffy had been there when Dawn had died, and Willow knew she had been, there was no telling what the Slayer might do.
"Buffy, where are you?" Willow called, her voice ragged. "Buffy, answer me!"
With no answer she could hear, Willow fell to her knees once again in front of Dawns' room. She couldn't make herself go in. Couldn't make it real, that the girl she had considered a younger sister for years, was dead.
*
It had been thirty long minutes since Cordelia had emerged from her vision. Angel had tried to help his friend, but Cordelia had screamed and cowered away from him. For one hour, Cordelia had been stuck in her mind, living the horrific life of someone else. She had screamed, cried, and been heart stopping-ly silent. Fred had been the only one she had allowed to help her. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were tear streaked when she slowly met Angel's eyes.
Angel stood strong and opened his mouth to ask. But, he couldn't. His throat closed and his shoulders sagged. He sat in his own chair and buried his face in his hands.
"Cordelia? Do you feel up to explaining your vision?" Wesley asked, standing strong whereas Angel could not.
Cordelia's voice broke and she hugged the blanket Gunn had gotten her closer to her body.
"This time…" Cordelia started quietly. "I wasn't an outsider looking in. I was the person in the vision. I felt what she felt, heard what she heard, did what she did."
"Who is she?" Gunn asked.
Angel looked up, meeting Cordelia's broken eyes.
He knew.
"She was the on you saw, wasn't she?" Angel asked, his voice cracking with emotion.
Cordelia nodded and started to weep again.
A short, harsh sob of his own escaped Angels' throat before he composed himself. No one else knew what to make of this.
"She's broken, Angel." Cordelia sobbed. "He hurt her and Dawn's gone. Angel, she's gone!"
"Your vision was about Buffy?" Wesley asked, confusedly.
"Uh-huh." Cordelia whimpered, nodding. She was trying her best to compose herself, but this wasn't like any other vision she had had before. Always, she had been detached, yet sympathetic towards the people she saw in her visions. Not with this one. No, in this vision, she had been Buffy. Buffy's own emotions were now shared with Cordelia.
"Cordelia, what did you see?" Wesley asked, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.
Cordelia flinched slightly, and met Wesley's' eyes. "I saw Buffy. I was Buffy. She was hurt in a battle, her back had been injured. All she wanted to do was take a bath to soothe it, Wes, that's all she wanted to do!" Cordelia cried, her shoulders shaking.
In his own mind, Angel silently cried along with Cordelia. He wanted to know badly what had happened to Buffy. He knew she wasn't dead, physically. But, emotionally, judging by Cordelia's state of mind, might be another story. But, he knew it all had to do with Spike.
Anger raged inside Angel, making him momentarily forget about his sorrow.
Spike.
Angel clenched his fists, picturing the face of his worthless grandchild in his mind.
With quiet anger and sympathy, Angel walked over to Cordelia. He lifted her chin gently so she would meet his eyes.
"Cordelia." He whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Please, just tell me what happened."
She was quiet for a long moment and Angel thought she was lost in a daze when she whispered, "He raped her, Angel. Spike raped her."
A howl of fury and sorrow filled the hotel and the City of Angels.
Unbeknownst to the ex-watcher of AI, the computer that was still hooked to the law firms own, changed screens. It showed the demonic rating for the world. A blood red line spiked up over the top of the grid, identically matching the howls of the ensouled vampire. As the vampires' cry died down, the rating did too.
And, all was quiet again.
*
In the graveyard, the Slayer sat alone, emotionless, staring at her mothers' grave. Silent tears of absolute nothingness streamed down her cheeks. Her hair was twisted and matted with dirt, blood, and soot. Beside her sat a large duffle filled with weapons. She had snuck back into her smoke and soot filled home and stole away her weaponry. She had seen Willow laying in front of her sisters door. She had done nothing except step right over her, effectively locking out her friends' cries.
Nothing mattered anymore.
Except…one single thing.
Revenge.
But, that revenge that had kept her from breaking had led her to the dark graveyard. To her mothers' final resting place, only mere feet from where her own had been. Once, her own tombstone had been well kept and shiny, the words haunting anyone who read them. Now, the stone was grimy, covered in thick weeds and drifting dirt. It crumbled, in certain places, the stone half sunk into the ground.
Buffy kept her eyes averted from it. She didn't want to see it, didn't want to remember.
Her throat was thick with tears and sorrow as she spoke to her mother.
"I'm sorry I couldn't kill him for you. For her, when I had the chance." She whispered words she had said so long ago to Giles, hoping her mother would understand they way he did. "It was up to me to take care of her. I failed." Buffy could not say her sisters name. "Mommy, I'm sorry!" She cried, her voice ragged as she leaned her head into her hands, her forehead touching the cold tombstone.
Harsh, wailing sobs escaped the Slayers' throat. She had failed. She had not protected her sister. It was his fault. If he had not come to her tonight, she would not have been the mess she was. She would have been able to react instead of being stuck in this fog that seemed to dominate her mind.
At that moment, something snapped inside of Buffy Summers. She felt it happen. All of the restraints and bonds she had created over the years, separating herself from the Slayer, were gone. Broken and useless in her hazy mind. In her minds eyes, Buffy pictured herself curling into a protective ball while the Slayer inside of her stood in front, protecting her.
When Buffy stood up, it was then all hell started to break loose.
*
Warren was afraid.
Warren was hiding.
Warren would be dead soon.
He knew this. Knew it deep inside of his frenzied mind. Over and over, he replayed killing the Slayers' sister. His intention wasn't to kill them. Really, all he had wanted to do was scare them. Maybe wound one of them, but not fatally.
Not like he did.
And now? A grief-stricken-pissed-off-mentally-unstable Slayer was after him.
His time was numbered and dwindling down.
"What did I do?" He asked himself, quietly.
"That's exactly what we'd like to know."
Warren whipped around, his heart beating wildly in his chest. But, his death was still pending. It wasn't the Slayer. Just Jonathan and Andrew.
"Damn it, don't ever do that again!" Warren hissed, his face pale.
"Word on the proverbial street is that you did something to piss off the Slayer. She's on a rampage. The streets are quiet, man. No one's coming out while she's like this. What did you do?" Jonathan asked angrily.
"I didn't do anything!" Warren protested.
"Liar." Andrew cut in.
"Shut up!" Warren yelled. "It was her fault!"
"What was her fault?" Jonathan asked him.
"I went to their house. I had the gun, you guys knew I was going to do it." Warren accused. "Why didn't you stop me?" He hissed.
"Why didn't you stop yourself?!" Jonathan exploded. "Whatever you did, whatever you've done to her… She's out for your blood."
"The gun went off!" Warren blurted out, his panic raising.
All three of them were quiet as they contemplated the meaning of what he said.
"Warren…" Andrew whispered. "What did you do?"
"He killed my sister."
The rasping voice that had said it, made all of them stop. None of them had said it. Slowly, they turned around and saw Buffy standing in the doorway. Her clothing was wet and blood stained. In one hand, she carried a machete. It gleamed in the pale light. Her hair was wet and wild as it clung to her face.
But, it was her eyes that had caught all of them by surprise. They were empty. Filled with nothing that was of Buffy. Except hate, rage, and murder.
Hell had come herself, knocking on their door.
*
Willow was able to compose herself. She had lain there for God knows how long, unable to move. Buffy had come, and Buffy had gone. Willow had noticed a change in her friend and knew something was wrong with her. But, though Willow had screamed her name, Buffy didn't even bat an eye. She had just grabbed her weapons and stepped calmly over Willow as if she hadn't even seen her.
Willow stood on shaky legs and held up her hand.
"Extinguish." She commanded and the flames were gone.
She had to get back to her friends. They were still trapped inside of her magic force field. She could still feel Tara trying to fight it. But, Tara wasn't strong enough.
Willow slowly climbed down the stairs and walked outside.
"Willow, what happened?" Xander demanded, his brown eyes angry.
Willow lifted the magic and watched as her friends stumbled out of it.
"Xander, please take Tara and Anya to the Magic Shop." Willow said in a monotonous voice.
"Will..?" Xander was confused.
"And, come back here when you're done." Willow went on.
"Willow, I'm not leaving you." Tara said.
Willow smiled sadly and shook her head. "You have too."
"Willow, I can't. I-"
"You're going!" Willow screamed, her eyes turning black, her voice seemed to echo into the night.
That shocked everyone into doing what she said. Xander said he would hurry back.
She knew he would.
*
Angel had raged for long moments at a time. Right now, he was in the garden tearing apart anything he could get his hands on. Everyone was smart enough to know not to interfere. This was something Angel had to do. He had to release some of the rage boiling inside of him. His face was ridged in his vampire visage. His eyes were an angry orange, leaning on red. His lips were curled into a heartless snarl, furious growl escaping them as he slammed his fists into the brick walls.
Cordelia sat inside, her face buried in her hands as she wept silently for the girl she once knew well. Cordelia could still feel her pain, physical and emotional. Cordelia so wanted to help her, but she wasn't strong like Buffy. At the moment, she couldn't take any of it. Angel was losing it outside, and she had a feeling that it wasn't finished. Her vision had ended when Spike had left the bathroom.
Something else was happening.
"Cordelia, I'm so sorry that you have to go through this." Fred murmured, wanting to help her sorrowed friend.
Cordelia's head snapped up and her eyes were filled with a fury she felt deep in her soul. "Don't be sorry for me! It didn't happen to me. It has nothing to do with me!" Cordelia yelled. "I'm just the messenger. It's Buffy that's going through this. Feel sorry for her."
Fred was taken aback by the hostility in Cordelias' voice. "I was just trying to help you." She said meekly.
"I don't need help. I wasn't the one who was raped by her ex's relative. I wasn't the one who-arghh!" Cordelia never got to finish her rant because she was blasted with another vision.
Her body slumped and her eyes rolled back into her head.
"Angel, it's Cordelia!" Fred screamed to the raving vampire.
Cordelia's body shook with violent convulsions, her eyes moving under the closed lids. Her fists clenched hard until her knuckles turned white. Gurgling gasping noises escaped her throat as she lay there.
Angel ran inside, his anger slightly diminished. He was careful as he held Cordelia body, trying to still her. Wesley grabbed the seers head, forcefully, and stuffed a rag inside of her mouth.
"What are you doing?" Gunn asked him, looking at the ex-watched as if he was crazy.
"It stops her from biting her tongue off." Wesley explained as Cordelia clamed down slightly.
Cordelia was talking softly, after moments of uneasy silence, her words muffled from the rag.
"She's in her vision." Fred murmured quietly.
Cordelia opened her eyes, but was not seeing them. They were dark chocolate pools of tears and fear. Her eyes darted around and saw things the rest of them could not. She pushed Angel away from her and stood up. She threw the rag to the ground and walked a few unsteady steps forward. Her express was dazed, her eyes squinted as if trying to make out something far away. Her head shook slightly, she wiped her arms compulsively.
Angel, Gunn, Wesley, and Fred watched in morbid curiosity as Cordelia stood completely still, only to fall to her feet as if being pushed. Moment's later, Cordelia crawled over the floor, and sat on her knees, seeming to hold something in her arms when in reality, she held nothing. Tears streamed out of her eyes, her lips quivered, her hands shook.
"No!" She gasped, her voice sounding not one bit like her own. "Dawn!" She cried.
Angel flinched, seeing Buffy in Cordelia at that moment. Everyone jumped as Cordelia let out a shrieking scream, sorrow filling the ears of those who listened. Fred covered her ears.
But, Angel watched.
Cordelia fell to the floor again, her eyes closed, her body silent and motionless.
Angel closed his eyes, though in his mind he still watched. His heart broke as he pictured Buffy doing what Cordelia had acted out. Though, Cordelia was quiet now, he knew it was not over.
Not by a long shot.
TBC