Howdy folks!
Well, one crisis down, one to go. You'll see what I mean in a second.
Hope you enjoy the chapter, and, as always, feedback fuels the Muse!
Cheery Vibes
Nimue
"Though she be but little, she is fierce." William Shakespeare – A Midsummer Night's Dream
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Title: Bring Back the Light (Chapter Forty-Two - Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)
Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::
Summary: Tara and Willow discover why they've been called. Buffy and Spike take on the Master, with a little help.
Bring Back the Light
"Oh Goddess," Tara uttered as Willow pulled away from the curb in front of the Magic Box and headed the car towards the cemetery. Her face hardened, realizing what she felt she should have known ever since Wesley had ordered them away.
"What is it, baby?" Willow asked, instinctively reaching over and grabbing her lover's hand. Concern washed over her, feeling Tara's aura shift from one of mild concern to one of near desperation.
"Cor... Cordelia," Tara answered, switching into that stutter that now only reared its head when the shy woman was exceedingly nervous or afraid.
Willow raised an eyebrow and tried to focus on both the road and on Tara. "Cordelia? What about her? Where is she?"
"When we... at the mansion. We... Then the Master took me and I couldn't remember until now. She..." The jumble of words was almost as disconcerting as the shift in Tara's vibrations. It was chaos. Something Tara hardly ever felt, even in the direst of circumstances.
"Okay," Willow began again, trying to be as soothing as she could in the torrent of feeling. "Try to remember now, baby. It might help us when we get there."
Silence. Tara shifted in her seat and closed her eyes. "I know what happened. I... I know why... Why Wesley wants..."
"What?" The redhead asked, trying to remain as calm as possible.
"The Master. While Angel and the others were in the mansion, I was outside holding the protection spell. Angel told Cordelia to stay with me. Then something happened inside and I was concentrating and I felt blood."
"Are you hurt?" A reflexive question as Willow swiveled her head to look at her lover.
Tara shook her head. "It was Cordelia's. Then the Master took me and... I saw her, Willow."
A light bulb flashed above Willow's head and the pieces began to fit into place. "She was dying?"
A small nod from Tara. "Even if help came... there was a lot of blood."
"And no help," Willow whispered under her breath. "And you think...?"
"I think I know why Angel wanted Wesley to send us. And I think I know what this is for..." Tara said quietly, holding the Orb in her hands.
The Master began to glow, a livid red surrounding him as his face contorted into that of the Vampire. Buffy squinched her face at the sight.
"Bugger," Spike muttered, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as the magic in the room began to gather. "Watcher?"
"On top of it,"Wesley answered impatiently, his eyes slitted as he forced his concentration into his own power.
"He's nowhere near as hot like that," Buffy sniped, holding the sword across her chest.
Spike turned his head, giving her his patented 'have you gone completely sack of hammers?' look and all she could do was shrug. "Well, he was kinda cute in a pretty boy sort of way."
"That," Spike began, raising the helm axe, "we'll talk about later. In the meantime..."
She nodded, bracing herself as the Master opened his jaws and roared into the room. Spike leaned forward, ready. Waiting.
"Watcher?" He called back impatiently.
A pregnant pause before he heard the quiet word... "Now."
With a flash, a pulse of white ripped through the room, breaking the glow around the Zahn and Spike pounced in like a jungle cat finding the perfect moment to capture his prey. Like an extension of the blond Vampire, Buffy dove in from the flank, keeping her back to the bed to keep her balance intact and give her a less hard wood place to land.
Even without the magic, the Master was old and strong and took little effort batting Spike back with a strong backhand, sending the axe clattering to the floor. Gunn dove behind them, needing to be in the thick of it but knowing he was outclassed from the get go. Still, with a skid across a throw rug, the human grabbed the axe and tossed it skyward, over a ducking Buffy and back into the outstretched hand of Spike.
Buffy rushed in, landing a near miraculous flying kick and knocking the Master back into the wall before she flipped back and rolled away. Spike would talk to her about that, too, later. With one arm already out for the count and his tot inside her, the flying stunts should be off the repertoire.
As the Master recovered and growled, throwing himself towards the scrambling Slayer, Spike decided now was not the time.
"Heads up," Spike called as Buffy rolled effortlessly out of the way and Spike swung the axe, catching the Master's shoulder as he moved with lightning speed. At least it was a hit. "Watcher?"
"Working on it," Wesley answered as the force grew again, filling the room with prickly static.
"Need your brain," Spike snapped impatiently, kicking out and sending the Master sprawling into a chest of drawers.
"Wood doesn't kill it," Buffy called back, righting herself and spinning under a kick by Spike, landing one of her own on the back of the Master's knees. "Don't think any of the normal stuff will."
"Good beheading should do the trick," Spike grunted as he again swung the axe and saw a blur as the older Vampire dodged out of reach, swinging a clawed hand out and catching the back of Buffy's injured arm.
"Ow!"
"Now that was uncalled for," Spike growled, his game face coming to the fore and the scent of his mate's blood making his own come to a boil. No one harmed his girl and got away.
No one.
"Watcher?!"
Wesley sent forth another pulse of light. "I need you to hold him off for approximately," he looked down at his watch, "seventy-five seconds."
"I've heard of anal retentive," Buffy snarked, catching the Master's jaw with a flying kick, flipping back using Spike as balance, and landing on her knees on the bed.
"Would you stop that, Pet?" Spike huffed, rolling his eyes and battering the Master with clenched fists. "Stay on the ground."
"Only way to get him."
"Good way to break the other arm. Not to mention...."
"I know, I know," Buffy whined, feeling the presence inside her. "She can take it."
"Let's not find out she can't," Spike answered, just as the Master knocked him to the side with a wicked right hook to the cheek.
"Hey!" Buffy shouted, distracting Zahn. "I like that face."
"What's in seventy-five seconds," Gunn whispered, watching Wesley watch his watch.
A small smile broke on the Watcher's face. "The simplest of miracles."
"Huh?"
Buffy swung with her sword, catching the Master across the chest and ripping his shirt to expose an almost oily black skin. "You know there are spa treatments for that kind of thing."
Spike rolled his eyes and waggled his jaw to make sure it was still attached to his face. "Love, I doubt that..."
"Look out!" Buffy called as the red glow returned and Spike was about to be drawn in. If it was anything like glowy red things she'd seen in the past, that was a bad thing.
Spike jumped back and Wesley shot one more pulse of white light into the room, neutralizing the dark magic. The Master roared, lunging at Buffy. Spike threw himself in after. The world became a blur of movement and sound....
Wesley strolled to the window, opening the curtains and sliding the window up, eyes still focused on his watch, lips mouthing numbers into the air. Four. Three. Two. One.
"Now!"
Spike and Buffy both looked at the source of the voice and smiled the same, wicked smiles. It was too simple. Too perfect.
The Master stood still, confused by the cessation of battle and the smiles of his combatants.
"Hope you brought sunscreen," Buffy quipped, launching herself at the Master's side, Spike doing the same in perfect synchronization at the other. They pushed forward hard and sent the Master flying through the bedroom window and into the first rays of morning.
With a hiss the Master saw it. The sun. For the first time in several centuries.
As he fell to the earth in a shower of dust.
"Now that just seemed unfair," Gunn joked, reappearing from a darkened corner of the room.
"Still say we would've beaten him," Spike contributed, panting a bit as he sat down on the bed, pulling Buffy along with him. "You all right, Pet?"
"Fine," she answered, craning her head to look at the claw marks on her shoulder. "Stupid Vampire."
"Quite," Wesley answered, the quirky smile still on his face. The smile began to fade as he remembered the other... situation... that demanded their attention. "But we have work to do."
Buffy looked up, annoyance on her face. "Hey, we usually get the post battle snuggles..."
"It's Angel," Wesley stated sharply. "Or, more precisely, Cordelia."
Willow closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she pushed the heavy wooden door to the crypt open. The smell of blood assaulted her. Not fresh. Not old. Blood losing its life. Blood already spilled.
Tara held her hand, following her into the darkness, a knapsack dangling from her free arm. "It feels..."
"Wrong," Willow answered, looking around the room. There was no light at all in the crypt. No sunlight, no candles. No nothing. Darkness.
"It is," Tara agreed, following Willow deeper into the grave.
"Angel?" Willow's voice was small. Strained. She heard a quiet choking sound in reply. Barely audible, it echoed through the stone of the crypt. "Angel?"
"I killed her," the broken voice answered, barely more than a whisper.
Willow turned her palm up and chanted a few words, creating a ball of artificial light and bouncing it up to the ceiling. "Tara said the Master did."
"She was still alive," the disembodied voice answered. "I killed her."
"She was dying, Angel," Tara whispered. "And I couldn't help...I... I'm sor..."
"I killed her," the voice answered again, choked with tears both shed and unshed.
Willow spotted them in the faint glow of the light she'd made. He was sitting on the sarcophagus, cradling her lifeless body against his chest, his face buried in her hair, rocking. "I killed her."
Slowly, Willow kept moving, the blood from the original injury coating the floor in a sticky sea of death. "No, Angel. You loved her."
"I love her," he repeated, rocking, his arms wrapped tightly around her small frame. "She doesn't deserve this."
"Did you..." Tara began as the two women made it to within a few feet of the pair, "Did she...?"
Angel nodded, understanding the question innately. "She doesn't deserve this. I... I can't... I won't let her... rise... if you can't..."
Willow nodded, watching him quiver and rock her, tears streaming down his cheeks. "How much time do we have?"
"Sundown tonight. How long has it been?" He asked, trying to look at the girls. Failing.
"It's just now morning," Tara answered soothingly, setting down her bag and crouching on the floor.
"It's been longer. It's been months. We were alone," Angel muttered. "No help. I didn't want to... I can't lose..."
"It's okay," Willow whispered, crouching down next to Tara but keeping a cautious eye on the unstable Vampire and wishing that Spike and Buffy were there. "We'll help. We'll try."
"She'll miss the beach," Angel whispered, kissing the top of her head and drawing her closer to him.
Tara felt her own heart begin to break, empathy filling her. What wouldn't she do to keep Willow next to her always? "You can take her when the moon's full. It's almost like sunshine," the quiet one answered, spreading out the contents of the bag, setting the orb in the center and building a circle around it.
"Not warm like the sun. She'll never be warm...." Angel answered, lost in his grief.
"But she'll still have you," Willow responded quietly, helping Tara set up the spell. "And us. We're down with the good Vamps."
Angel chuckled despite himself, closing his eyes and inhaling Cordelia's fading, human scent. "You can save her soul."
Willow looked at Tara. Tara returned the stare. "We can try, Angel."
"You have to. Please," Angel whispered, dissolving into tears. "Please."
"Just let us work and hold on to her. Remember her. Everything you can about who she is, and hold that, okay? It'll help us find her and bring her back," Tara counseled, lighting candles in the dim room.
Angel nodded, thinking of all the things he loved about her and all the things that drove him insane, and all the smart remarks and the kind words and the strappy sandals and the pointed barbs. Holding it. Cherishing them with equal weight in his addled mind.
"Please," he requested once more before closing his eyes and losing himself in thought.
With a nod, Willow and Tara closed the circle and began the spell.
To be contd.