Chapter 13

Avalon

Buffy stepped out of the portal, and into Armageddon. All around her she could see the women, dressed in similar attire as Michelle and Tara had been, doing their best to defend themselves against an onslaught of magic and weaponry. Dark robed figures and men in black armour formed a solid wall, using spells and swords to cut through the women, and also the well-armoured men that were defending the women.

Bodies were strewn in callous abandon. Buffy could see that the bodies were mostly those in white, and their allies. Once in a while a black garnered figure could be seen lying prone, life having expired, but the numbers were so few. The Slayer looked at the devastation, taking in the situation in one long steady gaze. The guardians of Avalon were losing, and losing heavily.

Tara could barely hold back her tears. She had prepared her mind to consider the idea that they may arrive to find Avalon shattered, but nothing had prepared her for the carnage that greeted them now. Deep in her heart, she had hoped that her beloved home, where she had spent such a peaceful time, would be unblemished, untouched by the evil she had witnessed since returning to the mortal world. For the briefest of moments, she felt cursed, as if her existence had been the cause of such suffering amongst those she had called her friends and kin. She shook that feeling away, this was not the time for recriminations, she told herself, this was the time for action.

The corpses of friends lay around the grounds and the entrances of the main building, mutilated almost beyond recognition. The white silk dresses, the attire of the servants of Avalon, were almost pink as their blood soaked into the material. Tara saw one young woman, Anne was her name, being skewered by the dark-clad soldiers that hung over her lustily.

The scene was one of anarchy, where the violent passion for the kill had over-ridden all pretence of honour and replaced it with cold and hateful malice. Every sword stroke, every enchantment, designed to rip and tear the house of Avalon, and its inhabitants, apart.

Buffy raised her sword, and charged. The others, armed with assorted weapons and spells, readied themselves to join the fray. Buffy attacked the nearest Morgana henchman, cutting off his head in one fluid stroke. Two others charged at her, but Buffy had not been the Slayer for as long as she had without instinctively anticipating such attacks. She counted slowly, waiting for the optimum moment. When it came, it was without mercy, without thought, without hesitation. She crouched and pirouetted low all in one continual movement. The sword swung with her, catching the first attacker fully in the belly. She did not stop her momentum, but used it to continue cutting into him, slicing him almost in two as the sword exited the man's back, severing the spine as it continued unabated. The sword of the second man had swung, but Buffy had anticipated everything and her movement brought her sword up to block the approaching blade with ease, as her momentum carried her through, pushing the assailant backwards, so much so that he fell onto the ground. Now Buffy was standing fully upright again and twisted the sword in her hand so that the blade point hung above the fallen attacker. Without skipping a beat she thrust the sword downwards, piercing the man's heart as if his body were made of butter. He screamed, agony punctuating every syllable as his dying breaths of anguish reverberated and echoed around the grounds.

Giles had always favoured battleaxes. He had always found them uniquely effective. Swords were all well and good and useful, he had often mused, but when push comes to shove, a battleaxe that connects with it's opponent pretty much ends all arguments after that. So it was, battleaxe in hand, that Giles had entered the fray. His two opponents were armed with what looked like rapiers. Good weapons if you fancied a spot of duelling or swordplay, thought Giles, not much good against a heavy weapon. He was acutely aware that his adversaries were well trained in their weapon of choice, as the nicks and cuts they had scored against him testified to, but now he could feel the tide turning.

The screams of their fallen comrade had been such that for the briefest second, they had both turned their heads to see what had happened. Giles had often pressed upon Buffy the need to take full advantage of any weakness, any slip in concentration or guard, which the enemy gave. Now that same opportunity had been presented to him, and he took advantage. The glimpse away from him had been a mere flinching of an eye, but it was long enough for Giles to swing his axe with all his might and cleave the man's head in two down the centre. He pulled the axe out of the corpse's head as the second man, now stunned into terrified silence, considered his options. Another flinch, thought Giles, Morgana has not sent her crack troops on this mission.

But the man quickly found his courage again, if only on the basis of knowing that retreat was hardly an option and this man in front of him, wielding the axe that had sliced his comrade's head open like a watermelon, did not look like a man who would entertain talk of surrendering. So this man, who had been told by Morgana that this would be such a simple job that the novices of her troops could accomplish it, concluded that the only option left open to him was attack. He lunged at the man with the axe, this enemy that had dared to stop the noble crusade of Lady Morgana, praying for his sword to connect with flesh. It did not. Time seemed to stand still and he felt as if he were moving in slow motion. But the man with the axe was not, his speed was blinding, as was the pain that seared his own body and what remained of his soul for the brief seconds it took for his neck to be severed.

Willow stood by Tara's side. Since first passing through the portal and seeing the destruction around them, she had felt the dark rising within her. But here, with Tara by her side, she felt in control. She hadn't wanted to, as she was acutely aware of the emotional crutch that Tara had been to her, but right now, she needed control, and standing by Tara made her feel safe.

They were chanting in unison, Latin uttered from their collective voices as though spoken by natives. The area around them glowed, as three attackers bore down on them. The attackers swung, hitting a barrier inches away from the witches' bodies. But the force of the blow rocked Tara backwards.

Willow caught her, instinct taking over. The shield weakened, and Willow could see that the attackers could sense it. They swung once more, all three raising their swords like the Ring Wraiths at the Prancing Pony. Their blades came down, every muscle in the bodies of their masters flexed and poised for maximum damage against their victims.

Willow and Tara looked at each other, and for the first time since their reunion, relied on their natural instinct for each other. Their hands clasped together as if nature had acted before thought had been clarified. Their fingers entwined, and they could feel the power between them. Both of them smiled briefly, revelling in the connection to each other once more, before turning their gaze toward their attackers. The shield that had been static around them, now grew outward at blinding speed. It did not so much push the attackers away as hurl them across the grounds and over the wall.

They stood, hands refusing to let go. They once more looked at one another, their hand hold and gaze saying far more than words possibly could at that moment. Their hearts, their passion, their love, were now guiding their actions. They looked out over the battle ground, seeing that the tide had turned in favour of their friends. Screams could be heard from within the main building, and they as one, turned and ran in, their hands still clasped tight together.

Gabriel revelled in this sort of domain. He rarely smiled, he rarely had the chance, except when the heat of battle was upon him. Now he smiled, maniacally so, as he cut and thrusted, stabbed and sliced his way through the hordes. His eyes were tinted black, his hair and nails also. He was in ecstasy, and he was enjoying every minute of it.

Althanea had tried hard not to be affected by the devastation but she had been unable to control her sobbing. Now, however, she shut down her emotions and considered only the business at hand. She saw Gabriel and knew that she had little time if she was to stop him from going overboard. Althanea quickly viewed the situation, and saw that her Coven had succeeded in setting up a shield that was repelling the enemies from above and was slowly pushing them back. Within the grounds she saw that Buffy and her friends were making short work of the enemies that were within the courtyard, and she saw the Entwined, with worried expressions on their faces, enter the main building.

"Gabriel!" She shouted, hoping that the stern tone in her voice would be enough to halt him. She saw him stop and gaze at her, his usual placid nature masked under a gleeful sneer. "The Entwined have entered the building. Do your job!" Althanea let a silent prayer go by, that he wasn't so far gone as to be a risk to Willow and Tara. She had to trust the Goddess would protect them.

Gabriel entered the main building. He had been enjoying himself out there, and was not really in the mood for stopping. But enough of him remained to know the job he had sworn to do, so he sheathed his sword, replaced it in his hand with his 9mm pistol, and strode into the building.

His senses alerted him to danger, and he spun round, firing with marksman-like precision on the two assailants who had attempted to sneak up on him from behind, placing one cap into each of the assailant's heads. He walked over to the bodies casually, looking passively at them before firing three more rounds each into their bodies. A cruel smile flickered over his lips as he did so, his eyes lighting up as if the sensation had been sensual.

Willow could feel the presence of something or someone as she and Tara headed downstairs. She could feel the spirits of age whispering to her in ancient tongues, some she did not understand. Some of the voices seemed to be tinged with alarm, some with hope, but all with reverence.

"Tara, you get the feeling that the spirits of this place know more than we do about this prophecy?"

"I hope so. They say that all the great and good are buried here. The Fey, humans, we find the lost and bury them in our graveyard but this crypt, the mausoleum we are entering, is reserved for the kings and queens and leaders of old."

"I can feel them. They are afraid, but not of us. It's strange, but they seem to be, I don't know, praising our arrival?"

"I know. Not sure I like that. But I can feel Lady Nimue. She is in the main crypt, and she is in pain."

"Feels good to be beside you again, holding your hand. I haven't felt this safe for a long time."

"It won't be the last time, Willow. I think we both know we won't be able to stay away from each other, but we have to take it slow, as if we had just met. I still love you, and I always will."

A scream reverberated around the hallway where they stood, coming from behind the door that was ahead of them. Behind them, they could hear footsteps, speeding up as if cued by the scream.

The lovers turned, to be greeted by Gabriel, who slowed as he saw the two ladies ahead.

"Miss Rosenberg. Miss Maclay. It is unwise of you to go wandering into possibly dangerous territory without a guide. So let's not do it again, eh?" Though his words ended with a question, their seemed to be no hint in his voice that the question was actually up for discussion.

The scream returned, this time it was clearly female, and Tara recognised the voice immediately. "Nimue!"

Dawn had felt like a fifth wheel in this mix. Whilst Giles and Buffy had been part of the fighting unit, she had been asked to aid the Coven with the barrier spell. She had often hoped that one day she would get her hands down and dirty, to finally get fully involved in the slaying of demons and other nasties that so often used her world as their own private recreation room. But she now realised that the Watcher's job was exactly that: to watch, to train, to prepare those who have to do the slaying to perform their job and to ensure that they came back alive. Now sitting in this circle, chanting words and feeling the energy of the world around her and through her, she understood with crystal clarity the importance of her role. Not to fight, but to ensure the fight could be won. It seemed so ironic to her that after living with a Slayer and seeing the fight first-hand, and after all her Watcher training, that it took something outside of that world to make her see the importance of her task.

The thought made her smile but more importantly, made her feel part of the fight.

Buffy also understood the enormity of her task, and revelled in the fight once more. She missed this, more than she had realised. She had grown accustomed to the tedium of training, the preparing of others to do this job, and had forgotten just how in love with the job she actually was. Now she found herself in the thick of the fight, the world and her friends in peril, and she rose to her task. The muscles that had atrophied from lack of use had in the last few days been given a full workout and here and now, it was a fully fit and combat ready Slayer that faced the hordes. Her blows were fast, furious and, most importantly of all, deadly accurate. There was no grandstanding, no time for grand gestures or moves. It was workman-like, small steps and large swings. Parries and ripostes and swings and slices were disembowelling and decapitating all that stood before her. She was almost single-handedly beating back the enemies, and was a little upset that the barrier that had been erected allowed passage out but not back through.

Tara opened the door of the crypt, and almost gasped in horror. Nimue was chained to one wall, dress torn to the point where her modesty was almost, but not quite, compromised and blood ran from shallow cuts and bruises that covered her body. Standing in front of her, was a large man in fine clothes and large sword.

The man, now facing the three arrivals as they entered, raised his sword and charge, glee etched on his face. A sound, like a small explosion, echoed around the chamber as blood spurted from the man's chest, slowing him down. A second explosion rang out, this time blood ran from the man's groin, buckling him under his own weight as he screeched in agony.

Gabriel moved forward, and placed the muzzle of the gun against the man's temple. Without hesitation, he fired. The body dropped almost straight down, fragments of the man's skull and brain fled away from the explosive sound towards the nearby wall, blood escaping in any direction it could manage in one exodus.

Tara crossed to where Nimue was chained. She looked vainly for keys and considered a spell to unlock them, before realising that if a spell would have worked, then Nimue herself would be free. From behind her came a jangling sound, wet from blood. She saw Gabriel remove keys from the jailer, wipe them on a clean piece of cloth from amongst the cadaver's garments, and hand them to her.

"Should be one of these. I'll stand by the door, just in case our friend here is missed. The fight above was going our way so hopefully we won't meet much more resistance."

Willow moved beside Tara, empathising with her lover's concern, and aided her in unlocking the bonds that held Nimue to the wall and gently lowering her down and seating her on the floor.

Nimue looked at Willow, and smiled. "You found each other, that is good. Then it has not been in vain."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Asked Tara, her voice a mix of anger and concern. "I was owed that much at least."

"We could not risk it, Tara. I suspected spies within our camp and was proven right. But your relationship with Heather bought my silence. I knew that you could look after yourself, if the worst came, but they would have used Heather against you. I had to wait, and keep you safe, until such time as the Prophecy came into line, and I could use the situation to get both you and Heather out of here. The power of Avalon is the power of hope, Tara, the power to turn the tide of darkness by guiding others to the light. That is the Power of the Entwined. In the New world, you shall be a beacon for lost souls to find peace once more. Your fight is here." Nimue raised her finger, pointing at her heart.

Tears ran down Tara's cheek as she looked upon her guardian and then down towards the weapon used by her torturer. "Oh my Goddess! They used silver!"

"It's all right now! My time has passed on. I have carried the safety of Avalon until its rightful owners came to claim it for themselves. You are now tied to this place. Once you are Entwined, you shall be Avalon."

"Hate to cut into a sad moment, My Lady, but was Arthur's crypt disturbed by the attackers? Did they take the sword?" Gabriel seemed calmer now, but the black tinge on his hair, nails and eyes remained.

"It is safe. I moved it to the main altar. It is safe there. Only the residents of Avalon can open it. Is the Slayer here?"

"Yes. And if we are going to defeat Philippe, we are going to need her to use that sword."

"Then give her it with my blessing, Gabriel. And remember your promise to me and Avalon."

"I have not forgotten. I will hold to my word." Gabriel lent over, gently kissing Nimue upon the forehead. "Be at peace, my Lady. The Entwined are safe, your work is done."

Willow saw the sadness in his eyes, and understood. "She's dying, isn't she?"

"No! She can't. She mustn't." Tara was grief-stricken. Tears cascaded down her cheeks as the full horror of Willow's words and the injuries to Nimue finally hit home to her.

"It is my time, Tara. I have looked forward to rest. Now I will die and you will carry the torch, you and Willow. I have known about the Entwined for centuries, and often worried about the character of those who would be the answer to the Prophecy. I see you two now, here, and I cast all my doubts and questions aside. I know the world is in good hands now."

Tara could hear Nimue's breathing started to shallow and falter, and looked on helplessly, knowing that there was no amount of healing that she could do to save her now. As she heard the last gasps leave Nimue's body, Tara slumped forward, grief bearing her to the ground.

Willow gently placed her arms around her lover, manoeuvring her head onto her shoulder and stroking her cheek. "I am so sorry. I know how much she meant to you now."

Gabriel spun as he heard footsteps racing down the corridor. "Stay here. It might be our friends but I take nothing for granted!" He couldn't hide his melancholy, but business came first now, and his business was protecting these two ladies.

He watched the corridor as familiar faces approached. He walked out of the room towards them, his hands held up to placate Buffy, Giles, Althanea, Michelle and Dawn.

"Are they all right?" Asked Buffy. She was still unsure about this man, and she could hear the sobbing from within the room.

"Lady Nimue is dead. Miss Maclay is grieving and Miss Rosenberg is comforting her, Miss Summers."

"Did she suffer?" Michelle could barely hide her grief, and as she asked the question.

"The man who killed her took his time about it. But I think, come the end, she was glad to have met the Entwined. I think she found peace in that."

"What happened to the man?" Asked Giles.

"I wasn't as slow about it. Believe me, I would have loved to have given him the same treatment, but other priorities took centre stage. No fun for me, no fun for him."

Michelle touched Gabriel's cheek, nodding slightly as her eyes met his. He closed his eyes and braced himself. White light pulsed from her hand and snaked about his body, enveloping him as he twitched slightly in the light before it dissipated. Gabriel opened his eyes, they had returned to their normal blue, his hair and nails likewise had returned to their natural hue. He took a deep breath, serenity etched on his features, and nodded to Michelle, mouthing the words "thank you" in silent gratitude. Michelle looked over at Giles, whose eyes were burning into her, and saw a worried look of contempt on his features.

The group re-entered the crypt, and saw Willow and Tara in a gentle embrace. Both of them were standing, their tears still stained on their faces.

Michelle and Althanea knelt before the body of Nimue, small tears forming in the corners of their eyes. They were trying their best to be reverential, to show they acknowledged her legacy, but emotion would not allow them to do this without showing their sorrow.

"I think we should leave the four of them here, to allow them to grieve a little." Giles knew their presence, however respectful, was encroaching.

"Are any of the Coven free upstairs?" Asked Gabriel. "Because if there are, then there is something we can do whilst our ladies here deal with their sorrow."

"Yes." Answered Buffy.

Althanea turned to look at Gabriel. "What is it?"

"Morgana's men went straight for Arthur's crypt. Nimue saw it coming, and hid the sword in the main altar. I need a member of the Coven to open the seal. I know I'm welcome here, but I am not a part of Avalon."

"Agreed! Ask for one of them to aid you. You know the history of the weapon, Gabriel, I entrust that you will impart it to Buffy and the others."

"You do as you must here. I'll try and organise things upstairs. We don't have time to do the full rituals just now. Morgana is moving at pace. Our only chance is to hit her at her stronghold before she has time to recover her strength." Gabriel was his calmer self now. The hate and callousness that had tinged his voice was now replaced with sorrow, but it was a sorrow trying to hide itself under duty.

Gabriel motioned to Giles, Buffy and Dawn to follow him as he went back upstairs to the main chamber in the building.

"So, who is Arthur? What's this weapon?" Asked Buffy, keen to look at any new armament, especially one that was guarded by mystical forces.

"Miss Summers, although you are an American I at least give you the benefit of the doubt and consider you learned. Arthur, as in King Arthur. As in buried here after his death. Weapon, as in Excalibur, the sword of kings."

"THE Excalibur? What am I, royalty all of a sudden?"

"Hardly. But what you are is the leader when it comes to fighting and battle tactics and Excalibur is the one sword that, historically speaking, could cut through the armour potion, lotion, whatever the hell Morgana uses to make her champions invulnerable."

"Sounds like the perfect weapon."

"Yes it is, which is why the sword was one of the targets for this raid. Morgana is going to be fairly upset when she realises that not only have the Entwined met, but that the sword hasn't been retrieved."

"Which is why you want to hit her first?"

"Once she learns that the Entwined are together and we have the sword, she will attack the only place she knows we are vulnerable to an all out assault: the Coven's temple in Devon. I really would like to hit her first but we don't have the numbers or any idea where Morgana's castle is. We know it's somewhere on the Welsh-English border, but that is about it."

"Well, we do have the odd live trespasser, seems we might have to gain some information."

"I will take care of that."

"Actually, I think I will do that, Mr Caine. Something tells me your talents would be best served helping Buffy with details of her possible opponents once we attack Morgana's stronghold." Giles didn't trust Gabriel, and was more than aware of his penchant for violence, and every inflection in his voice made that clear.

Gabriel looked at Giles with cold disregard. "Very well. I suppose my superior knowledge of Arthurian legend and the Fey is best spent with the Slayer. Thankfully I don't allow my personal feelings to get in the way of what needs to be done at any given time. Not these days anyway." The inflection in his voice was almost growling.

Giles wanted to attack the younger Watcher, his temper post-battle was still high and he was in no mood to be baited by this man for whom he had so little regard. But as he looked from Gabriel to Buffy he could see that she would not welcome such a move and as much as he was loathed to admit it, Gabriel was right. The former Watcher knew this place and the area and the history far better than he did. Giles decided to cool his temper for now, and see what transpired. If action needed taking against Gabriel, he would do so at that time.

Buffy glanced from her Watcher to the former Watcher and was glad that she had a sword as she was acutely aware that it would take something that sharp and heavy to cut the tension between them. "All right! Testosterone on hold! Giles, see what you can find out about the location of Morgana's stronghold from the survivors! Gabriel, get me this sword! I don't know what the deal is with you two but one more flexing of manliness between the two of you and this sword is gonna make you feel all womanly, and I am not joking!"

"Yes, you are quite right, Buffy. I will question our trespassers." Giles voice was calm and gentle again. He was extremely proud of Buffy, and enjoyed her taking command, showing her worth under stressful conditions.

"Meanwhile, I have an idea of how to deal with the problem of numbers. We need to make a call to London. I don't know if we can do that with a phone from here so either I need to go back through the portal or we need to contact the Watcher's Council Psychically. Either way, we have plenty of Slayers at the HQ. They are green, some are recovering from wounds, but they are the best we can do at short notice."

"Sounds like a plan. Althanea and Michelle will know a way of contacting the Watcher's HQ from here, or they may volunteer to go back through the portal. I would suggest, Miss Summers, that you worry more about Excalibur and wielding it, than contacting the Slayers. If you cannot wield the sword, then no amount of Slayers will help you. More importantly, your best hope is getting Willow and Tara in there. Once they make their move against Morgana and Amy, all Hell will break loose. I'm looking forward to it, personally."

Buffy nodded at Gabriel. "Then let's stop with the exposition and get with the sword."