An enraged storm built and blinded them with a downpour, but it wasn't water. It was all earthen hardness. In a tsunami of thunder, debris fell. Dust, pebbles, and rocks crashed through the stale, long-undisturbed air. Angry whirls of black billowed, engulfing them in a swirl of confusion as a dust storm whipped furiously through the room. The earthen waves grew until one grabbed hold and pitched them sprawling in different directions.
Then it stopped as it had started, with little warning.
Buffy lay where she had been thrown for several minutes before realizing that both the roaring and the waves had stopped. The noise she heard now was only an echo inside her head, a remnant of the storm, accompanied by the soft crackles of pebbles and dust continuing their descent to the ground. Breathe, she told herself, except each breath scratched like sandpaper and her lungs rattled with loose dirt.
She heard her name, muffled, as if coming from much further off than she knew it could be. She didn't try to speak but raised her arm, only to realize he couldn't see it because she couldn't see it, the air was so thick with dust, the visual equivalent of white noise. She closed her eyes and listened to it fall. A thought entered her mind that had nothing to do with rescue or personal safety. It was simply: if only she could stay like this, lost in nothingness.
Her cough was his lifeline. He came upon her curled up in a ball lying on her side. He moved close to her face and saw her wide-eyed expression. "More," was all she managed to say. He realized she was warning him and soon enough he heard the telltale rumble. There was no time to regroup. They sprang in opposite directions, rolling out of the way as rocks and boulders crashed down on the spot where she had just been lying.
He lay stunned as a new torrent of dust roiled, shouting its anger at having been disturbed from a peaceful endless slumber. He spit dirt. It was bitter, as if something vile had died there long ago and decayed into this dust and grit that made its way, unguarded, into his mouth. He couldn't see anything, still. He wasn't sure he could speak but he tried.
"Buffy?"
She heard him and choked out his name. "Giles."
"Buffy, are you hurt? Talk to me so I can find you."
"Here," she gasped amid raked coughs.
Blindly feeling his way along the ground, finally, his hand latched onto her arm. She was lying flat on her back. "Buffy?" he whispered as he moved to hover over her. He quickly pulled out his handkerchief, unfolded it to a double layer of cloth and placed it loosely over her mouth and nose to protect her from inhaling more dust. "Are you hurt?" Buffy didn't move as her eyes transfixed on a point in space above her. She blinked rapidly in a useless effort to guard her eyes from dust and pointed as she mumbled through the cloth. "Ahngehl."
"What?"
Her blinking gaze didn't falter as she focused above her. "Ahngehl," she repeated.
"Angel?" Giles waved his hand through the thick air in a futile attempt to clear a space to see her more clearly. "Did you hit your head?"
She moved the cloth from her mouth momentarily. "No, not Angel…angel." She pointed vehemently above.
He turned to look and froze, staring in amazement.
A kaleidoscope of sparkling hues of yellow flitted about high above them. A swirl of glowing translucent fairies sprinkled with flecks of gold danced amid the muddy browns and grays of the ceiling. "Good Lord," he uttered. It was beautiful.
"That's what I said…angel."
It only took a moment for him to understand what they were looking at.
"Buffy," he leaned near her in order to look clearly into her eyes, "that's not an angel." Her eyes shifted to scowl at him. "A hole's been knocked in the roof of the cave. The sun is shining through and illuminating the dust in the air. That's all it is. Once it settles we'll be able to see the sky…thankfully." He sat back and tried to survey the damage to the cave. "It'll help get some fresh air in here, too."
Buffy moved to sit up and Giles grabbed her arm to help her. "I kind of liked the idea of it being an angel," she replied returning her gaze to the fairy dust.
"I didn't," he coughed. "And keep your mouth covered." He pulled her to her feet.
The dust hung in the air, dense and no longer stale or waiting for movement. It descended over them ever so slowly, leaving a layer of grit everywhere. "Here, let's move to the wall and wait for things to clear a bit before we try to find our way out." His voice was raspy, ruined from inhaled dirt. They found the wall and sat back against it. Giles insisted Buffy not speak and that she keep her mouth and nose covered. He pulled the neckline of his t-shirt up to cover his own mouth and nose as they sat in silence. Each sneaked frequent glances at the new skylight and Giles tried not to imagine the condition of the small access hole to the cave, their only way out.