March 19, 2001

"Buffy."

One of the dancing kittens was calling her name.

"Buffy."

Now the dancing kitten was poking her, trying to get her to do the Electric Slide.

"Slayer!"

Buffy's eyes popped open. "What?" Spike was looming in her field of vision. She rubbed at her eyes and saw that it was still dark outside. "God, Spike, what the hell are you doing here?" Then her brain woke up a little more and she clutched the blankets closer to her chest. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Heard you the first time, Slayer. Get up. There's trouble at the Magic Box. Call all your little buddies and tell them they might want to get their groove on. That Logan, too. We'll pick the Watcher up on the way." He turned, and walked out into the hallway.

It must be serious if he's not even going to put up a little show against courtesy. Buffy swiftly rolled over, and looked at the clock. Three AM. It had better be serious.

She had no sooner than gathered everyone at the Magic Box, when she discovered exactly how serious it was. "Oh, my God," she whispered.

"It looks like a Xerox machine exploded," Anya marveled.

Logan stared at the cataclysm that was now the Magic Box. The walls were simply covered with pages and pages of paper. He paled as he realized what it was from. "Giles, she knows."

"I'd say she does," he murmured, examining a piece of paper on the main door. It was held in place by a large dagger. "Logan."

"I know, Giles. I'm responsible for this. I should have told her." He rested his head in his hands.

"Would you mind telling the rest of us what's going on?" Buffy crossed her arms, obviously irritated. "Because I was honestly naïve enough to think that Bob the bad was the least of our worries."

Giles looked at Logan first, who nodded. "Tell them."

Giles pulled the dagger out of the door and gestured with it to one of the tables. "We should all sit. The document at hand…or rather, at wall…is from my friend Maurice, in Madagascar."

Willow sat up straight. "Maurice the guy you sent my spell? Maurice the guy who was supposed to fix things?"

"I hate to tell him, but this doesn't look very fixed," Xander commented.

"You're both right. Regarding your spell, Willow, Maurice sent a counter-spell. Unfortunately, it would only be effective for Logan. He had to make a quick choice because this particular spell can only be performed at the moment of the equinox."

Logan looked at his hands at the sudden silence. "I chose not to go," he said softly. A cynical voice inside him was beginning to question his decision.

"Wait," Tara said, looking between Giles and Logan. "Why wouldn't this spell be effective for Max?"

"That's…complicated," Giles began. "And encompasses quite a bit. Maurice is not just a sorcerer I know. He's stationed in Madagascar doing archeological work. He also is one of the major scholars of the Slayer Prophecies."

It was Buffy's turn to sit up straight. "The Slayer Prophecies? Giles, is there anything for me to be concerned about?"

"Not exactly, but there is something for you to be aware of. During the course of his excavation, Maurice discovered a new series of artifacts, often containing large passages on or in them. At first, they were primarily untranslatable. They were a strange mixture of languages, with no exact linguistic rhythm. The only reason he knew these artifacts were even related was due to a common symbol that occurred on all of them. After some time and study, small portions of these passages became translatable. Maurice realized that they were in relation to a mystical being known as 'the Chimera.'"

"I'm guessing that would be Max," Xander commented.

Giles shook his head. "Maurice wasn't aware of that at the time. All he knew was that there were several unusual pieces in the collection that pertained to both the Chimera and the Slayer. 'She shall be chosen of the Chosen.' The Chimera itself was described as a fierce creature, capable of consuming even the strongest of the magicks. More importantly, that she was born in Hell and would one day return to its mouth."

"I get the magic-eater thing, Giles, and the ending up at the Hellmouth part, but…Max wasn't born here," Buffy pointed out.

"Manticore." All turned to look at Logan. "That's where she was born. For the nine years she lived there, it was hell."

Giles nodded, understanding what Logan was saying, and continued. "Maurice had no reason to even connect Max to the Chimera. I hadn't told him the extent of Max's background. But a very powerful seer from a Welsh coven came to his camp to assist with the project and surmised Max's true nature, and the connection."

"Then why the big frantic call?" Xander asked. "Remember? Don't kill the Chimera? Er…Max?"

"That was one of the prophecies. The Chimera and the Slayer would meet, and fight." Giles was able to quote this portion quite well from memory. "'The Chimera knows death. She will look death in the eye, but will not walk with him. For if death comes to the Chimera before her time, so it shall come to the world.'" He paused, watching the knowledge sink in. "In short, when Willow cast her spell, because she is the mystical Chimera, Max 'caught' the magic, which transported both her and Logan to our time. But it also was a powerful enough spell that it locked her here, preventing her return, at least magically. She will, of course, be able to age back into her time. But while she is here, she must not be killed. Or—"

"World go boom," Buffy helpfully supplied. "I got that much. I also get that since Max is definitely this mystical Chimera, it means the other we have on our platters is capable of being destroyed. No offense, Logan…"

"None taken."

"…but it sounds like Max – and you – are going to be here a while. The chimera Bob, however, is now at the top of my eviction list." She stood and looked at Spike, who had been lurking in a corner. "Where did Max go from here? Did she leave before you came to find me?"

Spike took a last pull of his cigarette and tossed it into the urn of Ishtar. Déjà vu all over again…again. Ah, well, in for a penny, in for a pound. "That she did, but I don't know how far she's like to have got. She was well and truly pissed. While she was working at her little 'project' here, she downed enough Everclear to kill a flock of sheep."

Logan frowned. "She's drunk?"

"That's what I said, didn't I?"

Logan pushed away from the table, his nerves starting to get the better of him. "I've never seen her drunk before. I've never been sure she could even get drunk, actually."

"Logan, can she handle it? Will she be…dangerous like that?" Buffy asked concernedly.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "I don't think so. But, then again, I've never seen her do anything like this, either," he motioned at the papered walls.

"Fine. Spike, go with Logan to look for Max in case she's…acting out in a bad way. Willow, Tara, you got that spell I asked for? Good. Go begin that, and call Xander's cell if you find anything. The rest of us, time to put this thing to rest." She took the dagger from Giles, and nodded to everyone.

xxxxxx

Logan and Spike didn't have to go very far. Max had apparently decided to weave her way back to the Summers' house at the same time Logan and Spike headed there. It was barely past sunrise, but Joyce Summers was waiting at the door. "Logan! Spike?"

"Joyce, is Max here?" Logan asked worriedly as he wheeled inside. Spike casually stepped in behind him and pulled his coat back down from over his head. He didn't mind going on the search, but he did mind sizzling on the way.

She nodded. "She just came in. Logan, she's upstairs and she's quite drunk. What has happened to her?"

Logan just shook his head. "It's a long story. I'll explain later." He moved to the base of the stairs, and called up. "Max! We need to talk."

"Fuck off!" she yelled back.

Spike smiled. "I like the girl's spirit."

Logan turned and snapped angrily, "Back off. You're not helping." He turned back to the stairs. "Max!"

Max appeared at the landing of the stairs, and leaned heavily on the wall. Her eyes were shadowed, but she looked at least somewhat in control. "Look, I really don't want to talk to you right now. Just…go away. Go far away. Try another time."

He huffed at her, frustrated. "Max. Listen to me. Let me explain."

She cocked a hip rather unsteadily. "Why don't you come up here and make me?"

He was getting nowhere fast. "I would if I thought it was worth it." When her dark eyes went flat, he winced, realizing how she mistook his meaning. "I meant—"

"I don't exactly care what you meant. I just really don't care anymore. So why don't you get out of my face and get out of my life." She turned and tripped her way back up the rest of the stairs. They heard a final thunk at the very top.

Logan opened his mouth to yell at her again, when Joyce laid a hand on his shoulder. "Logan, don't. She'll hear you a lot better after she's slept off the alcohol. That, and I think she's passed out."

"Well, my work here is done." Spike flipped his coat up over his head. "Gonna head back to my crypt before the day comes on full." He glanced towards the stairs and grinned. "Have fun with that."

Joyce looked at Logan and indicated the kitchen. "Would you like some coffee while you're waiting?"

He sighed. "Yeah. I guess. Considering what she's been drinking, could be a while."

xxxxxx

Willow and Tara decided to use a spell that they had attempted before with no success. They figured that since it was because the spell, at the time, hadn't been completed, it stood an actual chance of working now.

They sat facing each other on the floor of the Magic Box, with only candles providing light. String was used to form a square between them, with crystals placed around to complete the map. They clasped hands and gave each other a squeeze for luck. Closing their eyes, they began.

Tara spoke softly. "Thespia, we walk in shadow. We walk in blindness. You are the protector of the night."

Willow continued the incantation. "Thespia, goddess. Ruler of all darkness, we implore you. Open a window to the world of the underbeing. With your knowledge, may we go in safely. With your grace, may we speak of your benevolence."

With that, they each blew a handful of sand across the map that was between them. They opened their eyes. Small dots of assorted colors now graced their map.

Tara's eyes widened. "There's a lot of demons in Sunnydale."

Willow shrugged. "Well, when is there not? I think this collection of color is one of the demon bars. They open early." She scanned the map and then pointed to a solo dot that kept shifting color. "I think this is our guy. Made up of lots of demons, remember? It can't give it only one color."

"It's by the university soccer field. We should call Xander."

xxxxxx

"Buffy, soccer field," Xander said, snapping the phone shut.

"That's just a few blocks away." Buffy began to sprint ahead of the others, who slowly followed behind. As she approached the field, she pulled out the dagger she had brought.

The monster, Bob, was standing in the middle of the field, apparently enjoying some of the last tasty bits of its original kill. Buffy saw that it was indeed about as hideous as Giles' drawing. She could count at least seven different demon types that went into making it, none of which color-coordinated well. As she ran towards it, Bob scented new prey and dropped the shoulder it was chewing on. It growled loudly, which sounded more like a hyena gargling than anything scary. It was the razor sharp fingers Buffy was more concerned about.

"I can see that Bob was—" she swung at the beast's head, and quickly dodged a swipe of his hands "— the wrong choice of name for you. I shoulda called you Ed." The beast swiped again and she dived into a roll, punching out with her dagger as she came up. She caught it in the knee and it screamed wildly.

"Do you know how big a pain in the ass you've been?" She swung again, but missed as it limped/dodged out of the way. She did a quick cartwheel back flip and landed next to it. She gave it a quick elbow to the stomach area, another short jab with her bare fist and used the other hand to plunge the dagger into its heart.

It yowled mournfully and fell. A short quiver, and a small twitch, and it was dead.

Buffy blinked at it. "Well, that was…boring." She turned to the rest of the gang that was just now huffing and puffing their way onto the soccer field. "Take a breather, guys. This Bob's down for the count."

xxxxxx

Max was awake after a couple hours, but didn't say a word to Logan or Joyce. She went to the kitchen, grabbed a cup of coffee and immediately went out on the back porch.

Logan briefly considered leaving her alone, but instead realized that he was quickly becoming tired of her tantrum. He went out after her. "You can't ignore me forever. You might as well deal with me now."

Max started at the sound of his voice and turned her head towards her shoulder. Her voice was rather gravelly as she said, "I thought I told you to go away."

"I can't."

"You can," she countered.

He sighed. This is how we'll be playing this. "I won't, then. How did you find out?"

She shrugged, still not exactly looking at him. "I had a feeling something was up. Giles gave me clearance for the Magic Box."

Logan rubbed his temples. He couldn't think of a single moment that would have tipped her, but who knew with Max. "He must have forgotten to tell us, with all of the monster business they're dealing with."

"Well, that explains him."

Logan angrily flipped down the brakes on his chair. "Damn it, Max! What do you want from me!"

She stood and spun furiously to face him. "What I want is for you to tell me the truth. I want you to tell me, Logan. You, who I should have heard it from the first time."

"You want me to tell you the truth, Max? Fine, here's the truth. You can't leave, Max. You can never go back to there. Happy now?" he snapped out.

Max slowly shut her eyes. Several long seconds passed before she opened them again. They were bright with tears, but none fell.

Logan felt like a heel.

The mask quickly covered up that one glimmer of emotion, and Max was once again glaring at him stonily. "Yes, I am happy now, Logan."

Logan sighed, his own anger beginning to bleed away. "Max, I didn't mean—"

"I'm happy," she interrupted him, not really caring what he was going to say, "because you've finally managed to tell me the truth for a change. You know, it was one thing when you tried to keep your returning paralysis from me. Remember our friend Dr. Vertes?"

"I remember."

"Good. I'm glad. Because that, at least, I can understand. I didn't like it – still don't – but I understand. This, I don't."

"Max—"

"I can't understand, because this is my life. Mine! And you had no right to keep that from me. Tell me, Logan, if I hadn't found this out on my own, would you have ever told me?"

Logan opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Because he knew.

Max knew, too. The smile she gave him was as cold as a Wyoming winter as she said, "That's what I thought." The smile fell away as she spun sharply on her heel and left.

Logan didn't say a word as he watched her leave. He couldn't. The truth of her words had sliced through him like a knife. All this time, he had been telling himself that he would tell her -- when he could, when the time was right, when they were more settled, whatever. He would tell her.

He had lied to himself.

All it had taken were those dark eyes of hers to reach into his soul and rip out the truth. The truth was… he wouldn't have told her. He would have done anything to keep her from knowing. He knew that if he had told her, that last glimmer of hope in her eyes would have flickered and died. So he kept it from her.

And now watched his last hope walk away.

xxxxxx

Paradise Lost: Chapter 8 – March 20, 2001 – coming April 23