A/n: Woo! Another new chapter. This is the SECOND LAST chapter, everybody! And it's pretty long. :D This chapter is dedicated to Kelsey Estel the TolkieNarnian who first gave me the idea for last half of this chapter,and also to Smithy, as theyboth figured out what's happening next. You guys are too good. I have afew more things to say, but I'll add them at the end, as I'm betting you're all a little anxious to read what happens next. :D Enjoy (I liked this chapter alot!).

Warning: This chapter contains some blood and one minor swear (one which I debated putting in for a long time, b/c I really, reallydon't swear,and then saw that I couldn't do the one partright without).

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Westley and Saradon fought with equal angry intensity, never for a moment taking their eyes off the other, despite several flashes of different colored light from other areas of the room.

At one point, there was a bright burst of yellow-green light accompanied by a severe blast of air and magic that sent Westley flying in one direction and Saradon in the other. To Westley's advantage, he landed more on his back, causing him to lose his breath for moment or two, while Saradon hit the near wall with his hand and head at the same time. Westley jumped to his feet and chanced a glance at Will and Elisabeth.

Elisabeth was using her bedpost to wearily rebound brilliant balls of light back at Tythe. Will was running at the mage full speed, sword raised.

Although Saradon had been dazed by his crash into the wall, in the time it took Westley to regain his stance and look over at his friends, Saradon had also risen to his feet and was charging at Westley, thinking to catch his opponent off guard. No such luck, as Westley saw him coming out of the corner of his eye and returned his attention to the battle before him instantly.

There was a green-colored flare from the other side of the room, shortly followed by a pained yell and another, but lesser, blast of smoke and air. Though neither looked away, the wind that rushed past them blew them sideways enough to force them to take a few side-steps so as not to lose their balance. Westley was able to jab his sword through an opening in Saradon's strikes, though the attack was stopped before it could do anymore damage other than ripping a hole in Saradon's shirt.

Saradon chuckled dismissively and the pair fought on. They didn't seem to notice how quiet the other side of the room had become, as they were too focused on trying to cause the other to make a mistake.

Beads of sweat were rolling down Saradon's face as he smiled nastily. "I can't wait until your stamina gives out." He sneered.

Westley snorted. "I can go on like this forever. It's no trouble at all." Westley flashed Saradon a grin to confirm his words, though his arms were burning with the effort of every stroke, sweat glazed him also, and he knew the moment this battle was over, he was going to collapse with exhaustion. But he wasn't about to let Saradon know any of that.

Saradon shook his head. "It can't last much longer. You've fought quite a lot today. The moment you let yourself become slower I will have you." Saradon pulled every last bit of energy he had left and pushed harder on Westley, sure the end was near.

Westley, though he did his best not to show it, struggled to keep up. "It's good practice." He said, as lightly as possible, though the strain was unfortunately evident in his voice.

Saradon's unnerving smile widened. "Perhaps the grave diggers will be kind enough to bury you next to your wife."

Westley faltered abruptly as the image of Buttercup bleeding and dying flicked though his mind. It'd been the opportunity Saradon had been waiting and hoping for, especially after the last comment. In the instant Westley's sword wavered the wrong way, Saradon thrust through the opening his opponent had left. The desired effect was not quite as Saradon had wished, but it was close enough.

Saradon's sword punctured hard to the right of Westley's heart, nearly in the center of the upper part of his chest. Westley gave a gasp of pain and surprise and stumbled backwards to regain his composure. Saradon was right there, not giving Westley a moment, and brought his elbow in a solid hit against Westley's jaw.

Westley stumbled back again, blinking stars out of his eyes and waved his sword defensively, trying to ignore the fiery pain from the bleeding sword wound.

Saradon gave a little laugh of triumph and kicked Westley hard in the stomach. Westley managed not to fall onto his back, but was only saved by the wall. He twisted away, trying to catch his breath as Saradon swung his sword harder and harder. Every time he met Westley's weak defense, he forced Westley to keep stepping back. A mere half-moment later, Westley had his back to a different wall, his sword holding Saradon's back from his neck by barely a few inches.

"Surrender, Westley." Saradon said, his furious eyes trained on Westley's.

Arms shaking, Westley said with all the contempt and hatred he could muster, "Never."

Saradon tensed angrily. "You are beaten! Give up!"

"Why? You wish to spare me?" Westley with effort.

"Of course not." Saradon said viciously and pressed harder on his sword. "But I want to hear you say it."

"I would sooner rot, you cowardly, pathetic excuse for a human being." Westley spat.

Saradon was turning an unpleasant red color and was now putting most of his body weight behind his sword, which Westley was barely keeping from touching and cutting his throat with his own sword.

"I fear nothing." Saradon's lip curled and the look in his eye would have scared anyone else literally to death. In a moment faster than one could blink or think a thought, Saradon's mind recalled a scene he'd been trying so long to forget…

"Then again," Westley said. "Maybe I have the strength after all."

And very slowly, the Man In Black raised himself off the bed and lifted his sword, his eyes burning and electric like a live wire. A very icy trickle of fear slipped down Saradon's spine as he stared into the face of the man he'd watched die. The man he, himself, had killed.

"Drop… your… sword."

"You lie." Westley said calmly and scornfully. In that tiniest if moments, Westley had seen the stab of fear flit through Saradon's eyes and knew exactly what he had just thought of. "You fear the Man In Black."

And just as sudden and small as Westley's earlier falter had been, the force behind Saradon's sword wavered ever so slightly. Without thinking or hesitating, Westley used every possible bit of strength left in his weary body and shoved hard. Caught off guard, Saradon lurched backwards. Westley dodged the sword that came at him, ducked under Saradon's swinging arm, stood and stabbed Saradon hard in the back.

Saradon let out a howl of pain and his sword clattered to the ground.

Westley removed his sword and walked around the face Saradon. "I let you live once." He said, panting hard and looking down with extreme dislike at Saradon. "I vowed it wouldn't happen a second time if you ever crossed my path again."

Saradon made a gasping noise and stared murderously at Westley.

Westley stabbed Saradon in the stomach this time and didn't take his eyes off Saradon's. "How dare you speak about Buttercup the way you did." He dug his sword in further. "Good riddance." He removed his sword and took a few steps back.

Saradon coughed and choked, before turning a very unnatural color and falling over onto the floor. Westley watched, but with little satisfaction. He'd wanted to see this man die for so long, and it should have felt good to kill him. But Westley was no killer: he'd just taken another man's life, and somehow this was completely different than the guards or Vizzini.

Shaking and bleeding, Saradon said raspily, "I hate… y-you… damn you…"

Westley stared one more moment, his jaw clenched tight, before turning away to make sure Will and Elisabeth were alright.

Will held Elisabeth tight and the front of her outfit was fast becoming wet with his tears. How could he have let this happen? He'd always come for her and protected her… and now he failed. After all he'd been through just to save her from marrying someone else, and he hadn't the strength and agility to save her life this time…

Westley walked over to Will, trembling like a leaf in the wind, looking extremely drained, and bleeding all down his front. Will should have been more concerned for his friend, but at that moment, all that mattered was that his beloved was dead.

"What's happened?" Westley sounded absolutely exhausted and as though breathing and standing were major chores.

It took more than a minute for Will to answer. When he did manage to speak, his words were quiet and thick with emotion. "The… mage. He… he k-killed her."

"What did he say before she…?" Westley asked quickly.

Will shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"It might. What did the mage say?"

Will exhaled and shut his eyes. "I don't really remember right now. I'm sure you can understand."

Westley nodded absently. A second or two later, he said, "Let's go."

Will looked up at him disbelievingly. "What?"

"We have to go. Grab Elisabeth and let's go."

"In case you haven't noticed, the love of my life has just been murdered before my eyes. Don't you think I deserve a little time to – "

"I'm sorry if I'm coming off as dispassionate, here, Will." Westley interrupted in an urgent tone. "But we really need to go. We've just killed fifty-some men and the mage and the King. That labels us as 'bad guys who need to be arrested and likely hanged', which means we have to leave. Now."

Will opened his mouth to object, but saw his friend's point. He turned his eyes back down to the pale, still form of Elisabeth. "Please," he said pleadingly in a whisper. "Give me a moment."

"Look, you can have all the time in the world once we get out of the castle!" Westley said irritatedly. "So please pick her up and let's get out of here!"

Will was about to ask why he should be bringing his dead fiancé along, but Westley obviously sensed the question coming and answered it before Will had a chance to form a word.

"Because there's a good chance she's only mostly dead. Now come on." He gestured towards the door insistently.

"But – wait just a moment. Mostly dead?"

"I'll explain on the way." Westley sounded quite frustrated. "Please. What part of 'now let's get out of here' don't you understand, Mr. Turner?"

Very confused, oddly hopeful, and mostly (understandably) very upset, Will gently scooped up Elisabeth's limp form in his arms, and followed Westley out of the throne room.

The pair were able to move surprisingly quickly and quietly through the castle to the exit, seeing as how they'd already disposed of pretty well all the guards. The fact that no one followed the blood trail Westley was dripping with every step he took, was also a lucky stroke.

"Shouldn't you… do something about that?" Will asked at one point, nodding his chin at Westley's wound.

Westley waved his hand to dismiss Will's question. "I've had worse."

Will raised an eyebrow and shifted Elisabeth a little in his arms. She was quite heavy. "Worse?"

"Oh yes. I've had my shoulder pierced quite nastily by an R.O.U.S., and I, too, have been mostly dead before." Westley said matter-of-factly as if most people have been mostly dead at one point or another in their lifetime. With a backwards glance, he added, "It's really not that bad."

"Speaking of this… 'mostly dead'. What do you mean by 'mostly dead'? How can you tell? And how in the world is that better than being… well… dead dead?"

The pair exited the castle, where a skittish Yellin was very cautiously returning to his post by the door. He gave a startled yelp upon seeing Westley walk past with another man carrying the King's very unhealthy looking bride-to-be in his arms.

"This job has far too many oddities." Yellin muttered and decided he would hand his resignation in at once.

In reference to Will's set of questions, Westley answered, "Miracle Max will be able to explain it better than I."

"Miracle Max?"

"Yes." Westley said no more, even if Will asked a question, which he shortly stopped doing since he was given no reply. "Now hurry up."

Inigo rapped his knuckles smartly on the door. There was no answer. He gave an aggravated sigh and banged on the door very loudly with his fist.

"What, what now?" A voice from inside shouted. "No peace, I tell ya. If you're that guy running around selling pocket watches, I already said I didn't want any of your garbage!"

The peephole in the door swung open at that moment, revealing a very wrinkled old man with a shock of white hair above his ears but not covering his head. Inigo smiled wryly.

"You again? Geez, who's dead this time?" Miracle Max said with major annoyance but opened the door anyways.

"No one is dead." Inigo said. "But Buttercup will be if I cannot find her some help." As he said the last part, he helped a ghostly white Buttercup into the room.

"Oh my – set her on a chair!" Valerie, Max's wife, was in the room and immediately jumped up in a panic to get a chair for Buttercup who smiled weakly. "What's happened? Why is she bleeding?" And to Inigo, she added fiercely, "Inigo, you promised you'd write! What's the matter with you?"

"Calm down, woman!" Max shouted. "Inigo, what the heck happened this time?"

"Alright. Let me explain." Inigo paused. "No, there is too much. Let me sum up." He grinned widely the moment the words were out of his mouth as he recalled saying the exact words to Westley once. As he proceeded to "sum up" the story for Max – who kept interrupting – and Valerie, Valerie took care of Buttercup's injury with a variety of delicious smelling balms and salves, and finally wrapping it in clean white bandages. When Inigo had finished speaking, he realized the "summed up" story turned out to be pretty well the whole story.

Almost right at that time, before Max could interrupt with several pointless questions or odd comments, there was a slow, weak-sounding knock at the door.

Max threw his arms up exasperatedly. "NOW what!" He hobbled over to the door and opened the peep hole. "Oh great. Come to join the rest, I presume." He opened the door to reveal Westley, looking positively on the verge of death, Will, looking beyond miserable, and Elisabeth in his arms, looking extremely unhealthy indeed.

"Westley!" Buttercup tried to jump out of her seat to help Westley stand, but Valerie was still wrapping her arm in bandage and yanked her back down in her seat. "What happened?"

Westley swayed dangerously.

"Catch him." Max said off-handedly as he stoked the fire in the large brick fireplace.

Inigo being the closest with a free hand, caught his friend before Westley fell to the floor.

Will shifted Elisabeth uncomfortably in his arms. "Er, may I set her somewhere? She's a bit…"

"Table, son." Max said over his shoulder as he rifled through his cupboards. He hadn't seemed to take a good look at the newcomers to find out what their problems were, but he also seemed to already know.

Will very gently laid Elisabeth down on the table near the center of the room while Inigo slowly eased Westley down into the armchair by Buttercup and Valerie. Will gazed at Elisabeth fondly, wishing with all his heart something could be done for her. That he could do something for her. He sat dejectedly on the stool beside the table.

Max walked over to Elisabeth and studied her a moment. "Pretty." He mumbled and then began poking and prodding Elisabeth.

"Hey!" Will shot off the stool. "Leave her be!"

Max ignored him, but Inigo said, "It's alright. He knows what he's doing."

Will reluctantly sat down on the stool, quite unconvinced.

"Uh-huh. Eh-heh." Max murmured repeatedly. He looked up at Will and suddenly asked, "Do you the reason for living?"

"What?"

Inigo answered for him. "Same as last time."

Max rolled his eyes. "I shouldn't believe a word you say. Neither of them look crippled to me."

Will looked very confusedly back and forth between all in the room, who all seemed to be in on some private joke. "Am I missing something…?"

Inigo laughed and ignored Will's question. "No, he is not. And I've already avenged my father, so it's not that one either."

"She going to stop Humpe – er, that is, Saradon's wedding to this new princess he's got himself?"

"This is the woman he thinks he's marrying!" Will said hotly.

"Alright! No need to get so touchy!" Max put his hands up defensively before heading over to rifle in his cupboards again.

"He" - Inigo indicated Will - "is her" - he gestured to Elisabeth – "true love."

Max shook his head. "You people and your 'true love'."

Valerie shot her husband a dirty look, but said nothing.

Will looked to Inigo for a clearer explanation on what conversation had just taken place.

"We'll explain later." Inigo said reassuringly.

Will nodded slowly and turned his eyes back to Elisabeth.

"Don't look so glum, pal." Max said cheerily, grinding several ingredients together in a bowl. "They don't call it a Miracle Pill for nothing!"

Valerie was finished with Buttercup and was now working quickly on Westley. "You've lost a lot of blood. Any particular reason why you decided to go hiking after you'd been stabbed?"

Westley half-smiled. "It's not my fault your hut is so bloody far from the castle."

Valerie chuckled and rubbed some red and purple cream on Westley's wound that smelled strongly of freshly picked raspberries.

Buttercup squeezed Westley's hand. "What happened after we left?"

Westley's face immediately darkened. "I can tell you details some other day, love. For now, let's just say it's over."

"He's gone?"

Westley nodded. "He's gone."

Buttercup exhaled with relief. Although she and Westley had always been far away and hidden from Humperdinck and his forces, she'd had a constant nagging worry about the threat he posed. That he could find them and ruin their lives like he almost did before. It was a deep, calming feeling to know he was dead, never to darken anyone's doorway ever again.

"What happened after you left?" Westley asked. "I thought Inigo was going to take you to the medical facility."

Buttercup sighed with a small smile. "He didn't think I'd be able to make it that far, and frankly, neither did I. He remembered Max and Valerie helped him last time, so we made a detour into the Forest to come here."

"Good idea." Valerie said as she taped the bandage ends on Westley's chest.

Westley and Buttercup smiled and he squeezed her hand tightly. He was beyond happy to see her and know she was safe and fine after the day's ordeal.

About ten or so minutes later, Max had completed the Miracle Pill, chocolate coating and all ("To make it go down easier." Valerie reminded them). No had yet explained to Will what exactly this Miracle Pill was supposed to do, so finally he asked.

"What exactly is this Miracle Pill supposed to do?" He questioned.

"What do you think?" Max snorted. "They don't call it a Miracle Pill because it's pretty."

And with that, he opened Elisabeth's mouth and shoved the miracle pill in. Will opened his mouth to protest, when Elisabeth's eyes opened. Will was too shocked to move, speak or even blink. His mouth stayed open and his eyes were wide. His dead fiancé had just opened her eyes.

"Will!" Elisabeth yelled. "I can't mo- " She stopped and Will could see her eyes searching around the room, though her head didn't move. She could see Max and Inigo, but Will, Valerie, Westley and Buttercup were too far out of her line of vision. "Who are you?" She asked in trembling voice.

Max answered, "The guy who just brought you back to life."

"Where's Will? What's happened? Why can't I move?" Elisabeth demanded and was suddnely able to move her head a little.

Will managed to overcome his shock, which was replaced by pure relief and sheer joy. He was completely elated to see Elisabeth alive again. He rushed to her side. "Elisabeth!"

"Will! What happened to me?"

Will tried to explain, but his throat closed up. The image of her dead body was extremely fresh in his mind, as was the moment he struck down Tythe only to discover his love struck down by the mage. He took a breath to try again and Inigo, once again, was able to supply an explanation.

"From what Westley's just been telling us, you died. Westley killed Saradon, and then he and Will made it out of the castle to arrive here."

"I what?" Elisabeth balked and found she was able to lift her head.

"Yes, died. You heard right." Max supplied as he cleaned up the things he'd used to manufacture the Miracle Pill.
"Will – "

Will nodded and grasped Elisabeth's hand tightly. "I was there."

Elisabeth seemed quite at a loss for what to say to this piece of news.

"Actually," Westley piped up. "To be more correct, Max, you should be saying that she was only mostly dead."

"Of course." Max agreed. "Lady, you were only mostly dead."

Will dipped his head and said loudly, "Would someone please explain what that means?"

"Yes, dear." Valerie smiled kindly. "'Mostly' dead is when one is almost but not quite dead, and can be revived, or, brought back to life by a miracle man or woman. It takes skill and the symptoms of being mostly dead are pretty well exactly the same as if you're all dead. If you're all dead, then you're completely dead, and the only thing to do is bury you."

"Say the word 'dead' a few more times." Max mumbled in annoyance and exited the room for a moment.

Valerie pointedly ignored her husband's comment.

"But how can you tell the difference then?" Elisabeth shifted her shoulders slightly and was quite relieved to find feeling slowly returning to her body.

"Well, a trained miracle man or woman can, of course." Valerie explained. "But for an untrained eye, there are things to watch for, like incomplete spells, improperly mixed poisons, and things like that."

"That reminds me." Westley piped up. "Will, can you try and remember what the mage said just before Elisabeth died? That will help explain how Elisabeth made it through."

Will nodded and thought hard. "He shouted some sort of spell. I didn't understand the words. Abra? No… Avra? Avra… Kedab… Avra…"

"Avada Kedavra?" Max put in as he reentered the room, drying his freshly washed hands on a tea towel.

"Yes, that sounds like it." Will confirmed.

"It would be. That's the killing curse." Max said darkly. "Almost nothing can stop it or reverse it. For it not to work, he was either a very, very poor mage or he was interrupted mid-spell."

"Come to think of it, yes. He didn't get the last bit out because I spilt his staff." said Will.

"That would do it." Valerie went about to clean up her things.

"There you go." Max tossed the tea towel over a chair and helped his wife clean up the room.

A/n: There you are! Let me know what you think, and fill out a review. :D

Quick other notes: I did say the swear was minor. Yes, the Avada thing is Harry Potter. Yes, Smithy, I am Canadian. And I have now seen Dead Man's Chest twice. :D