Finale Part II of III
"Mom!" Buffy stood panting in the empty downstairs hallway. The red Cherokee was in the driveway so her mother hadn't gone to work or the grocery.
"Mom?" She tried not to panic, but couldn't shake the fear that something had happened. That Tara had reversed the Heart's spell, returning her to that terrible future house with no mother and no hope. But that wasn't possible. The signs of her mother's presence were everywhere. A lilac sweater draped over the armchair, the subtle hints of the familiar perfume. And the pictures. There were none of Dawn. Just portraits of Buffy and her mother lining the walls.
The fridge, she thought of her mother's longstanding rule with sudden inspiration and stalked through the house to the kitchen.
Buffy,
Gone for a quick walk. Be back in a few minutes. I bought blueberry muffins (your favorite). Please eat something. You're too thin!
Love,
Mom
Buffy studied the soft looping lines of her mother's handwriting. The careful way she left exactly the same amount of space between each line. Reaching out she traced the Love, Mom' with shaking fingers and swallowed a sob. After a few moments of indecision, she removed the bright pink Post-it from the door and folded it carefully before sliding it into her pocket. She knew it was pointless, that she couldn't take anything with her from this world, but she could try.
After pouring herself a cup of coffee and trying in vain to eat a few bites of muffin, she retreated to the back steps to wait for her mother. The house and the kitchen held too many painful memories of the past and the future, so she sat on the cool concrete and waited. Studying the soft reds and peaches of the treasured roses she willed her mother to come home as quickly as possible. Because the light, that golden light of morning was tugging her into another time. The house and yard seemed to glow with it The same light as that day she had come home to find the body on the couch. And another day with Xander in the back yard when everything had gone so horribly wrong.
A brief overwhelming memory of her recent good-byes with the younger Tara brought tears to her eyes. That was the last time she would ever see the blonde who had meant so much to them all. Especially to Dawn. And Willow.
With a frown, she took a sip of the strong coffee to steady herself and scanned the lush green of the yard. It wasn't this color in the future. Not this lush emerald green.
Probably because there's no Dawn here to not water it, she thought with a wry smile. A fleeting smile played at her lips as she thought of the gentle teasing Tara would give Dawn about the lawn. The brown patches and yellowed sections. One side over-watered while the other dried out in the withering California heat.
Tara and Dawn. And her mother. So strange that they were all connected in her mind. Then again, maybe it wasn't. The blonde was family. Buffy had said it herself. Once. Strange that when Tara was alive she had only ever thought of her as Willow's. Only after the blonde's death did she notice how much she was everyone's. Dawn's and Anya's and maybe even her own. And that brought the guilt.
No. Don't go there. Mom's coming home soondon't waste this...
This would be the last time she saw her mother and she wanted it to be right. No sadness or wigginess, just the two of them again. Even if that was wrong because she loved Dawn, but she needed this. Because she was going back to that hard place where Tara and her mother weren't. All the gentle things were gone in that world and she wondered for the thousandth time why she was fighting so hard to return. Nothing soft was waiting for her there just the hard steel of weapons and pain
And Dawn. Back to Dawn.
But that wasn't something she wanted to think about either. Nope. She was feeling very territorial about this time with her mother. These moments were hers. And as much as she loved her sister, there were only so many things she could sacrifice.
Without thinking Buffy had risen to her feet and was now walking over the springy green toward those gorgeous rose bushes. Dawn and Tara had worked so hard to keep them the way her mother had, watering and fertilizing them religiously. Hours and hours of hard work, but staring at them now, she could tell they weren't the same. There were years of love and care in those soft petals and steely thorns. Years of her mother invested in them.
"Buffy? Oh good, I wasn't sure you were coming back." Surprised by the sound of her mother's voice she turned to find her surrounded in a golden halo like an angel. Or a ghost. There was so much ground between them and the light. The world seemed to shift slightly. "If you can stay, I'll make us some burritos for lunch"
"Mom?"
Because her mother was standing right where he had stood on that day. And Buffy was
She looked up to the windows above. Her mother's room. And Willow and Tara's. The glare on the glass was nearly blinding, but she could just make out the faint outline of Tara looking down at them. Then the sudden electrical storm of her Slayer senses going into overdrive, the adrenaline pumping strong and fast.
"No! Tara. Get down!" she shouted at the blonde without thinking. Because suddenly it was that day. That day she had relived a million times. Measuring the steps between herself and Warren over and over while she was mowing the yard. Calculating the angle of the gun at that moment. The trajectory of a stray bullet that shouldn't have been. If she had just done her job
"Buffy what's wrong?" Her mother followed her line of sight and then looked back to Buffy. "Who's Tara?"
"Oh god, I" A series of loud, quick gunshots shook her to the core and she leapt to protect her mother, clearing the space in a moment to shield her fragile body. She looked frantically for a wound, but there was no blood and a quick scan of the yard revealed that there was no one, just the two of them. But the upstairs window was marred by a single bullet hole and that meant "The spell."
"What spell? Buffy" Her mother looked terrified as she searched her daughter's face for an answer and Buffy felt the tears streaming down her own face. This was it. She could feel the magic around them like an electrical charge.
"Mom I have to go." It took all of her strength to hold back the sobs that threatened to overwhelm her completely. But she didn't want to ruin these last moments with grief and anger. And guilt. She wanted to be able to say a real good-bye to her mother. Finally.
"I thought so honey." A brave crooked smile. "I figured you'd have something fun to do today. But you know, if you're not too busy, maybe we can get together next week sometime"
The barely masked disappointment in her mother's voice broke her heart.
I was horrible. I was a terrible, awful daughter. I deserved to lose her.
"No Mom. I mean," she looked deep into her mother's eyes and took her hands in her own as the sounds of Willow's grief-filled wailing filled the yard. "I have to go."
Willow's cries stopped suddenly, but Buffy could still hear her best friend. The redhead's voice was soft and child-like and she was chanting something in a language the Slayer didn't recognize. Except one word. Shalom.' Willow had told her what it meant once. The chanting began again, sad and calm. A spell?
Her mother seemed oblivious to the ghostly sounds and the magic, but after a moment of confusion her expression changed. There was no more disappointment as she studied her daughter's features, just the slow steady amazement of recognition. Followed by a sad smile. She reached out and tucked a wayward strand of Buffy's blonde hair behind one ear and a sob erupted from the Slayer's slim frame.
"My beautiful brave girl," her mother said with a fierce gentleness and pulled her into a strong embrace. The smell of flowery perfume overwhelmed her and she let go of everything, crying into that strong soft shoulder. As her mother squeezed her she felt a familiar cold stretching and held on tight. There was too much left unsaid. Too many things she wanted to share with her mother that would be lost forever.
No. I'm not ready. Please
She understood in that moment why Willow wanted to die. Because she would have given anything to stay there with her mother. Forever. This was heaven. She was sure of it and she didn't want to leave it again.
"I love you. You know that right?" she cried in desperation against the perfectly pressed silk and felt her mother mumble her assent. But the world shifted in a nauseating earthquake of un-movement and it was a different shoulder. Scratchy cotton against her cheek and the perfume was gone replaced by the familiar scent of drugstore after-shave.
"Buffy —" Xander's voice was full of panic, his arms going stiff around her. And the light Her first thought was for her mother. The awful knowledge that she was gone. That this was a different day of grief and pain. But this day didn't happen for a year at least. Why was she
Second chance. Oh godI can't do this. I can't
Out of the corner of her eye she could just make out the faint outline of Tara in the upstairs window.
"No!" As her own terror peaked into absolutely fury, the Slayer within took over. Reacting from memory, from the movements remembered and rehearsed a thousand times, she pushed Xander aside and moved beyond herself as the Slayer was unleashed.
The world became a blur of golden light and the black hard lines of the gun as she cleared the distance between them in the space between heartbeats. He was saying something. Screaming at her in selfish rage, but the words were meaningless to the demon inside her. The pop of the gun rolled out in a long, rumbling tone as the stinging heat and pinch of pain tore through her abdomen. Then the hard break and satisfaction of contact as the two of them crashed to the ground. The gold dimmed and the world slowed. She could hear Xander's cries and another voice familiar and wild that shouldn't have been there.
Faith? No. That wasn't possible.
As the cold descended Buffy thought of her mother and was surprised to feel no grief. And for once, no guilt. Just peace.
That's what shalom' means. Peace, she thought with a smile and stretched into the cold dark searching for heaven. Searching for home.
Something wasn't right. The faint glow around her had grown slowly in intensity and the world hadn't ended. Willow brought a hand up to her face. It was faint and indistinct, but still there. Still her energy.
Something definitely is not right here.
The thunderclouds boiled just above her head and the sun had disappeared long ago beneath the horizon, so why was she still here? In the crepuscular light of the deserted plain all she could think was,
I can't even get this right.
She should be gone to wherever people went when they died. And this whole reality bubble should have collapsed by now releasing Occum's Heart to finish the spell. But something seemed to be holding her there, propping up the space around her. Something
The world shifted and it was a familiar room with dark walls and slowly spinning globes of tiny lights.
Willow. We had a deal.
It took only a moment of concentration to feel the connection that had never really been severed. And the energy drain. It was there a faint thin thread ascending from her abdomen to the dark clouds that hovered near the ceiling.
Tara?
Yes sweetie, I thought I lost you.
The memory of warm hands held her face and she felt the slow murmur of lips on her own. Pulling back she felt the scene shift again along with Tara's face in that fluid way of the dreamspace. The blonde's face seemed to slide easily from her younger, shyer visage to the more mature lines. And the room was now the deep reds and browns of their world in the Summers house, but the storm clouds still hovered above.
So did I. But how? I mean...
The room shifted again and it was the slow rocking weightlessness of the two of them dancing, floating above the floor of the Bronze on Tara's birthday.
The connection. It's still there.
Another shift and they were lying naked in a room Willow didn't know. A hotel room? Angel's hotel. It wasn't a memory she recognized, but it was still Tara. Familiar so it must be another kind of memory. This reality bleeding into that other one. Warm and soft and electric. And it was getting so hard to focus. To hold on.
Another shift and it was a cold night on the rooftop with the stars overhead and the warmth of Tara beside her. The stars weren't fixed though. They moved slowly, rearranging themselves into new constellations that she knew she should recognize. Tara's hand came into her vision drawing patterns in the night sky as her lips fluttered against a cold ear.
Willow I can't hold on much longer, you have to finish this.
I can'tI don't have the energy.
She lied. Because it was all slipping away and this was how she wanted to remember it. She didn't want to go back to that empty place.
Willow
It was Tara's most disapproving tone. And that, she thought, might be a fate worse than death.
You can borrow some of mine. You already are.
The world shifted back to that room with the fairy lights and the dark walls that were safe and warm. The blonde sat cross-legged before her, their knees brushing shyly as they held hands for a spell. Willow could see the connection between them vivid and shimmering.
I can't...
Another slip and they were in the Summers' house again, lying in bed as the sunlight streamed in through the windows. Their foreheads were touching and Willow could feel the heat between them, the breathless panting. They had just made love and the room was still glowing with it.
You have to let go baby. She felt a light kiss on her forehead and a cool hand on the heated skin of her chest just above her heart. I'll always be with you.
Extending her senses she could feel the cold dark pressure of the spell just beyond the room. There was no use resisting. She didn't have the energy and Tara wouldn't withdraw until her own energy was depleted as well. The blonde would sacrifice herself for Willow.
I'm so scared Tara.
I know sweetie, a warm hand smoothed her hair back behind one ear. But I'm right here. I'm not leaving.
Taking Tara's hand in her own Willow began the final steps to sever their connection and return to the present. Carefully withdrawing her own energy from the Heart's magic and finally, beginning the dangerous work of removing the spell embedded within. Their first kiss. It had to be erased to avoid creating a singularity, a feedback loop of apocalyptic proportions. With the last of her own energy and some of Tara's she stabilized the spell, but the pain of it was unending. She could see that moment in all of its bittersweet joy and awkward perfection. And suddenly they were standing there in Tara's room in that moment. Both of them with tears in their eyes as they studied each other with shy intensity.
Tara I know you're in love with me.
Since the first time I saw you.
It was a different room now, another new memory. An apartment full of light. Their apartment? Dark wood floors and sunshine and they were making love in the middle of the living room floor, unopened boxes piled around them. Hot and loud and no one to worry about. Just the two of them and all of those empty rooms, sighs and moans reverberating through that space that was all theirs.
Tara I can't
The words echoed through the dreamtime and the world shifted again. Back to that room where it had all ended. Tara was wearing a black leather jacket, her hair held back as she studied Willow with a possessive fierceness. Claiming her all over again even though she was the dark witch. The nobody girl.
I'll never leave you Willow,
Another quake in the dreamscape and it was day, the sun streaming in the windows of that ending room as Tara stood before the windows in a halo of soft. That light blue shirt, her hands in back pockets as the two of them held each other's eyes for long minutes. There was no blood. Just that moment stretching out as the distance between them diminished.
Do you trust me?
They were in each other's arms in front of that terrible window, but there was no gunshot. The connection between them lived and breathed.
With everything.
Willow searched for the last threads of herself and felt them shimmering bright and strong like electric spider silk unraveling itself from the darker energy of the Heart's spell. And Tara glowing full around her.
The room was dim now, lit only by a few candles. Tara lay over her, her hot weight pulling the universe down to the impossible, irrefutable fact of them. The only thing that ever mattered. Really.
I love you.
Both of them together because there was no line between them anymore. Running her fingers over the wet warmth of the blonde's face Willow smiled into a forever kiss and fell into that new moon blue as she finally let go.
Dawn was flying. It should have been a wonderful and exhilarating experience. And it probably would have been if she wasn't held aloft by two steely claws that were currently digging into her shoulders and back. Or more specifically, that soft fleshy part right above the collar bone.
She stopped screaming after they cleared the front yard and Faith's voice had grown faint. She still couldn't see clearly. No amount of blinking helped to clear what felt like sand from her burning eyes. The world was a blur of dark and the flickering yellow of the yard. As far as she could tell they had circled the yard twice, probably to torture and distract the Slayer and Spike who screamed her name as she dangled high above.
I'm like one of those poor slimy worms I made Dad put on the hook when he took us fishing. Yuck.
Just like those poor squirming things. Without all the slime and green worm guts. Or Dawn guts. But there was definitely blood, so maybe a little with the slime. She could feel it warm and wet against her shirt. And that was terrifying and definitely not of the good, sobest not to think about that. Somehow she found the strength to quit screaming, afraid that it was making things worse for her friends below. Even though the pain in her shoulders was terrible. And something was digging into her side. A third claw? But it felt kind of familiar.
Oh my god, the knife!
The image of the wicked double blade caked with Faith's blood flashed in her mind and she froze at the thought of it, worried that the demon could somehow read her mind. What if it suddenly decided to reach down and have a bite of Key for a snack? And there was the added problem of her arms which were currently hanging useless at her side. Moving them even slightly made her shoulders erupt in searing pain. The fingers of her left hand were tingling and a few were numb. She remembered a conversation between Willow and Xander about pinched nerves and the Vulcan death grip. Whatever that was.
After an excruciating wiggle test, she found that her right hand was definitely tingly, but not numb.
Okay, time to be tough like a Slayer.
She steeled herself and jerked her hand up, but the wall of pain that sliced through her shoulder almost made her pass out. It took her another minute for her to regain her composure. So that wasn't going to work. Maybe Faith could get to her once this thing landed. If it landed.
And is this some kind of bat-demon joyride? I mean, hello, why aren't we landing?
So no one can rescue you.
The knowledge swept through her like ice water. This thing was going to fly her around up here until everyone was dead and then bleed her to open a portal to god knows where. Not like there would be much blood left at this rate. She had to find a way to get to that knife before she passed out. Just a few inches. That was all she needed.
"It's just pain. It's just your brain telling your body that it's been hurt." It was her sister's voice. Buffy trying to calm her on the way to the hospital after that night she had broken her arm. That awful night with Willow
"Yeah, I get that, but could you tell my brain to keep its voice down." She said aloud and then tried to center herself the way Tara had taught her. The deep breathing and relaxation techniques that were supposed to help her focus. She felt something scrape the soles of her sneakers and looked down to see the top of a tree then a bright orange roof and an ancient plastic Santa just inches beneath her feet.
The Miller's house. They never took their Christmas decorations down. And that meant she was right across the street. Behind Vra'al. Behind enemy lines. But if she could get this thing to let go of her, she could land safely on the roof and make her way back to the house. Sucking in a long, steady breath, Dawn tried to center herself again, remembering the soft tones of Tara's voice as she counted down from ten.
Just let yourself sink into it. But that had never worked for her. She always got distracted. Random thoughts about school or Buffy or even what she had lunch would lead her off into
Hello! Like now! Focus!
With an audible groan she tried again, this time letting her thoughts drift to one of those lessons. The smell of jasmine and herbs as Tara chanted soft words of encouragement.
Oh. Wow. That's what Tara meant.
Okay, less centered, more floaty. Like she had stepped outside herself. The pain was still there, but farther away. Much farther away.
Still floating, Dawn concentrated on moving that hand up to her waist without breaking the fragile calm she had found. And it worked, although it took her a few moments to notice that her hand was now clutching the grip somewhere far away.
Okay, now what?
She really hadn't thought this through beyond the point of actually getting the knife from her waist. Stabbing was definitely in order, but that was going to require strength and less floatiness. A lot less. And a different kind of focus. Like a Slayer. Holding onto as much of that floating painless space as she could, Dawn called up everything she could to find her inner Slayer. Even if she wasn't chosen, maybe she could fake it. Maybe a little bit of that Slayerness had rubbed off after all these years.
A loud yell pierced her consciousness and she knew instantly that Faith had been wounded again. Badly. Nothing could make the dark Slayer scream like that.
"Motherfucker you are so going to pay!" Faith's voice was a deep growl, but Dawn could hear the panting desperation behind the words.
The thought of the Slayer's pain and suffering brought a white flash of anger that swiftly melted into rock-hard resolve. They didn't deserve this. Tara, Faith, Buffy, Xander Willow. None of them deserved this. And it was all just a stupid accident anyway. The Heart. But Faith was going to die in their front yard and she was going to die too before Buffy and Willow could even
"Motherfucker!" Dawn screamed, borrowing more than a little of the Slayer's fury as she drove the knife up into the demon's rough underside. The first blow glanced off some kind of leathery armor, but the second sank in up to the hilt and the teen was rewarded with a deafening metallic scream as her own pain ripped through her like a flaming arrow. Withdrawing the knife, she ignored the blinding pain and drove the blade up again, blacking out momentarily as the demon withdrew the knife-like claw from her left shoulder.
Another stab and the grip on her right shoulder loosened, leaving her dangling from the demon's partly retracted claw high above the ground. Still partially blinded, she kicked her legs in the air and hoped for the Miller's roof as gravity claimed her.
It was a relatively short fall. Maybe ten feet. But this was definitely not the Miller's nice flat terra cotta roof. Dawn felt the whip and bump of branches tearing at her clothes and skin as she continued to descend. Then the bone-shaking thump as she landed precariously on what proved to be an enormous branch. Scrambling furiously she somehow managed to grip smaller branches with numb fingers and held on.
Okay, ow!
No part of her body was pain-free. Her eyes, face, arms, shoulders and now her butt were all throbbing at different frequencies. At least she was off the demon hook.
So no more story of the poor little worm Dawn on the demon hook. Now it's the Key stuck up a tree
Her vision, at least, seemed to be improving. She could make out the amorphous forms of demons in the distance framed by blocks of darkness that had to be houses. A new tree standing in front of her house slowly coalesced into the unmistakable form of Vra'al, his back to the teen as he surveyed the battle. Straining, she tried to make out the Slayer and Spike, but there were only dark shadows twisting to the sounds of battle. Something warm and sticky dripped onto the bare skin of her leg and Dawn looked down to find blood covering her ripped jeans.
She didn't have to search long to find the source of the blood. Her shoulders were a sticky mess of pain and she knew that getting to the Med Kit was going to be impossible. Loud rustling beneath her caused her to freeze in place. Holding her breath, she watched a line of demons walk from some place beneath her toward the battle.
Oh God, if they see me or smell me orwhatever. I'm so dead.
Scanning the area for an escape route she tried not to groan with disappointment when it became apparent that the only way out was up. Or down. Spike's primal scream made her lose her balance momentarily, but she managed somehow to stay on her hard-won seat. The vampire was obviously in serious pain, if not completely dusted. One more person in pain. One more person gone. Even if he waswhat was he anyway? She had thought she knew him. Then he had done that. To her sister. Nothing made sense anymore. And there was definitely no talking about it with anyone. Definitely not now.
Willow please
It took her a moment to realize what that warm tickle on her elbow was. Blood. Blood dripping onto demons emerging from their portal. And they were sure to feel it or smell it and discover her hiding place.
Shit!
She quickly cupped her elbow with her right hand to stop the flow of blood, but her hand she realized in a wave of nausea was also sticky with blood. More drops fell through the branches and Dawn swallowed hard. She watched the emerging demons with dread as the blood dripped down. But it never reached them. The air beneath her flickered with blue light and she felt that overwhelming sense of something opening inside her. Like before with Faith. But different. More like another day that she hadn't been able to think about since.
The portal.
The blood continued to drip from her hands and she was helpless to stop it as the portal reached out to her with its electric fingers.
That day. That night with Glory. The memory had been too tied up with Buffy's death. Her sister's sacrifice. It was a place in her mind that Dawn hadn't been able to touch since. But now she remembered it all. The strong slow pull of the between. Her skin was hot with it. Because that's what a portal really was. An almost. A threshold between. And her blood was the yes or no.
No.
She wasn't a Key. Key was the wrong word and she knew that now. Because she wasn't a green ball of energy anymore. She was a girl and girls got to make choices, which made her more of a switch really. She hadn't understood that then with Glory and Buffy. Or Faith. She hadn't understood about the No. How big that one word could be.
But she understood it now with that part of herself that was older than all of them. Older than the rocks below. And the part that was brand new with every second that passed. Lowering her hands to let the blood drip Dawn counted down with Tara, floating above the pain as she allowed herself one word.
No.
No to the pain and the death and the distance that was growing between everyone. No to this big giant demon and his smelly minions.
NO.
She was the switch and the Key and she felt the space beneath her respond with a metallic scream. And there was no between anymore, just the subtle disappearing scar only she could feel. And a demon cross-section writhing in pain beneath her.
"Ew," her nose crinkled at the now-familiar smell of demon blood. Turpentine. It had to be. She almost felt sorry for it. Or what was left of it anyway.
At least there would be no more minions to take over for their fallen friends. If Faith could hold them off for a few minutes maybe they had a chance.
An unearthly yell split the night and Dawn's head whipped involuntarily to the battlefield where a small figure appeared on the walk in front of her house. Anya. And she was cradling someone in her arms. Someone much larger than herself. Dark hair and Xander.
"No," she whispered and felt the tears begin.
Oh godmaybe he's just
"You killed him," the vengeance demon's voice sounded small in the huge night, but Dawn could hear the dark thing growing behind it. Like Willow. But Anya already was a demon. Had been for thousand of years. "You're going to have to pay."
"I have no quarrel with you Anyanka," Vra'al roared and she thought she could hear a hint of fear in his voice. "And this human is inconsequential"
Vra'al's minions were gathering from all sides around the vengeance demon, leaving the still vague form of the Slayer alone with only a pair of hulking silhouettes.
"Wrong." Dawn blinked to clear her vision of the tears and blood and missed the moment Anya dropped Xander's limp body onto the lawn as the demons closed in. "This human was very consequentialto me," she said calmly before lifting her arms. "Incindiere!" Several demons and at least two of the trees in the side yard spontaneously burst into flames and the yard was thrown into blinding light. "It's about time I got my vengeance on!" she yelled and lunged at the circle of demons with Xander's axe.
She could see the yard clearly now. Could see Faith struggling, but eventually overcoming her demons. There was no sign of the vampire anywhere and that meant Xander and Spike were dead. She felt the overwhelming and crippling grief threatening.
No. She couldn't let herself think about that now. They had to survive. They had to give Buffy and Willow a chance. Because this was about more than just them. They were saving the world. But Faith was holding her side with her injured arm and Dawn could see the dark stain of blood on her shirt and pants. And the sword was practically dragging on the ground.
"Time for our dance Big Guy," she said with her typical bravado and somehow managed to straighten into her trademark cocky swagger.
Vra'al turned his head and stared at Dawn before returning his attention to house and the teen understood. He knew now that the portal was closed, but there was something else. Because he was staring at the house not at Faith.
The Heart opens a portaloh my god, I canI can open it or maybe I can talk to Buffy or Willow.
Hello! You are so very stuck up a tree!
She scanned the distance between herself and home. The demons seething around Anya and Faith and Xander's body in the space between. But if she could just get to the house she might be able to stop it all. She swung without thinking down to the next branch and almost passed out from the pain.
Okay, so maybe not that way. If I can get Faith's attention
But the Slayer was stalking Vra'al, circling him with the sure confidence of a predator. She dispatched two of his minions with barely a glance and continued her dance with the giant demon who was now holding a sword of his own. A very large sword. About the size of Faith.
Anya was possessed. Definitely dark Willow material there, but her fury was focused on the minions standing between herself and Vra'al. And as Faith would say, they were definitely feeling her. She fought like a Slayer. Sort of. With lots more veins and wrinkles.
Go Anya! Kicking their smelly, ugly asses!
"Slayer this is not necessary. Give me my Heart and the Key and I will leave you and yours in peace," Vra'al's voice rumbled over the asphalt and lawns and Dawn thought she saw Faith close her eyes for a moment.
"Yeah, and we can still be friends after we fuck, right?" Faith countered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Faith! Four hearts remember?" Anya yelled between a bone-rattling axe-blow to an unfortunate demon's sternum and a round house kick to another. "The main one's dead center. Kick every inch of his demon ass."
"No problem." Faith smiled and studied the giant before her. Dawn couldn't breathe as she watched them square off against each other. The enormous demon and Faith who, as powerful as she was, barely reached his waist. Her vision blurred and shifted as she watched the terrible scene in the yard. Wiping her eyes with what she hoped was a clean piece of her shirt, she heard the loud clang of metal. The scene was fuzzy, but she could see the glint of their swords as they clashed. The sparks that flew with each meeting of metal. And in moments of clarity she could see that Faith was still guarding her left side as she circled.
It was ridiculous. This tiny girl with debilitating wounds facing off against a giant demon with four hearts. It was also classic Faith. Fearless and foolish and as much as she believed in the Slayer, she found herself moving toward the ground one excruciating branch at a time. Moving in inches toward the battle to help. Maybe she could distract Vra'al or something.
A loud cry from Faith brought her attention back to the fight. Faith had lunged with all of her strength only to be blocked by Vra'al who swung at the Slayer's crippled left side. There was a terrifying moment when Dawn thought that the Slayer had fallen, but she saw the brunette roll up and under to impale the demon from beneath. She could just make out the steely glint of the sword as it emerged from Vra'al's back. A cheer rose in her throat until she heard it, the loud groan as Faith fell to her knees.
"No!" Dawn screamed and dropped to the ground. She didn't feel the pain anymore. All she knew was that she had to get to Faith. She had to get to the house. This shouldn't be happening. They were supposed to win. Buffy and Willow were supposed to make things right.
"Too low Slayer," Anya hissed and then fell silent. As Dawn ran toward Vra'al she saw what had silenced the vengeance demon. Faith sat back on her heels, a smaller sword embedded in her abdomen as she looked up at Vra'al with wide eyes, her mouth forming a perfect o'.
Dawn ran toward the demons and Faith without fear.
"Dawn no!" Anya yelled and she saw the blur of the axe as it flew past her into the chest of a demon in her path. Hurdling it's writhing form she continued toward the fallen Slayer and heard Vra'al groan in pain as he tried to remove the sword from his own abdomen. It might have missed the Heart, but it was definitely not a flesh wound. Dawn had just reached the fallen Slayer when the explosion knocked her to the ground.
Not an explosion really in the normal sense of the word. There was no fire or heat. No glass or debris. Just the warm thunder and lightning blast ofmagic.
Willow!
"The Occum," Vra'al roared in anger and frustration before turning away from the house.
"Finally!" Anya yelled in triumph as the demons scattered around her, following their master, his enormous legs shaking the earth in long retreating strides.
"What?" Dawn screamed over the roar of it. Because this couldn't be good. "What's happening?" But Anya wasn't listening to her. Too busy throwing anything she could find at the retreating demons. And chanting.
Dawn bent over Faith and smoothed the hair from her pale face. She was covered in blood and demon gore and her clothes were practically shredded from the long battle. The silver duct tape Faith had used to mend her precious leather pants after the last encounter in the cemetery were now the only thing holding them together. There were tears in the Slayer's eyes and the sight of them released Dawn's own grief in an enormous sob. All this death for nothing. But Faith was smiling. She took the Slayer's hand in her own and felt the barriers between them disappear again in a rush of blood and energy, but it was different this time. No fear. Just calm and peace.
"S'five by five, Dawn. We won." Faith winked and looked up at the sky, her eyes growing glassy and blank, her hand falling limp in Dawn's grasp. The impressions and images that were all she had of the Dark Slayer faded slowly replaced by a long, slow wave of numb.
Faith is dead. Faith can't be dead. Faith can't be dead.
This wasn't right. This wasn't supposed to happen. Yes, they had all talked about the possibility before. That this was a battle that most of them might not survive, but they always talked like that. And they always won. She looked down at Faith's pale face, covered in her own blood and Dawn's.
No.
And Xander lying in a crumpled heap ten feet away. Wonderful, warm always there with a joke or a hug Xander. And Spike. His absence told her enough. That he hadn't been able to hang onto that soul for very long.
"No! You said you wouldn't leave me alone!" she sobbed and clutched at Faith's lifeless hand. From far away, she felt Anya's hand rest lightly on the top of her head. "Anya," she tried again to reach the vengeance demon and was surprised at the calm sound of her own voice. "What's happening? Is it Willow?"
"It's the end of the world." Anya smiled and held her arms open to the silent rushing roar of it.
Dawn looked up at the house through tears and confusion to see a ring of light expand out from that room. Then the rush of color and cold and an enormous overwhelming
Yes.