Chapter 15
Wyngarde CastleMorgana looked at her army, shaking her head in dismay. She was less than impressed with what she saw in front of her in the courtyard. Her numbers had been severely depleted by the attack on Avalon and, had time allowed, she would have preferred more time to re-enforce her troops. But time was not on her side. The Entwined were together and the Slayer had Excalibur. Every moment of delay gave them time to prepare defences. If she was to succeed, she decided, then she must seize the initiative and use the element of surprise.
She was weak, and needed to feed. She couldn't afford to lose any of her army, and she loathed making use of her servants, as good ones were so hard to find. But this was not the time for worrying about servants, she told herself. Unless she was at full strength, Morgana knew she would lose everything. It was time to sacrifice to protect her standing. She scanned her people again, and saw her young maid, Kerry O'Reilly, and smiled.
Kerry panicked, knowing all too well what the smile represented. All too often, Kerry had seen that smile directed at her Mistresses latest conquests, before she used her magic and wiles to drain them of their life energy. She saw two members of the Coven approaching, and ran. She didn't know where she would run to, nor did she have any plan in mind as she fled. In her mind, she saw freedom as merely gaining the distance until she could cross the threshold into the Mortal world she once came from, a world that once offered her prison for her crimes, but now in a strange twist of irony, offered her only available chance of freedom. In reality, she gained only a few feet before turning the corner of the building she was nearest to and coming face to face with Amy.
"Going somewhere?" Amy asked, her face and voice full of calm, almost playful, innocence.
"Please! You have to help me! I don't want to die! I didn't sign up to be one of the Mistress's concubines!" Tears streamed down Kerry's cheeks as she dropped to her knees, arms outstretched as if she were drowning and reaching out for hopeful rescue.
Amy reached down to her, face full of compassion and concern. "I will help you", she said with authority, nodding emphatically as she spoke. Without a moment's pause, her face twisted into a cruel and mocking visage, "I will help you be the Mistress's strength. You serve her, now you will service her."
Kerry tried to break free from Amy's grip, but she was too weak. She looked at Amy, who was now smiling with a callous pleasure that was unnerving but in some strange way seemed to make her more beautiful. Kerry searched for the slightest sign of humanity, of pity, in Amy's eyes, and saw nothing but cold disdain.
Amy touched the top of Kerry's forehead, barely brushing her skin with the tips of her fingers as she whispered some ancient Latin. Her prey's body went limp as she fell unconscious to the ground. Amy signalled to two of the soldiers nearby.
"Take Kerry here to Morgana's chamber, then continue with your preparations."
"At once, Miss Amy."
Amy liked that. She liked the fact hat these men feared, respected and obeyed her. It was an aphrodisiac that she found intoxicating. Sooner or later she would ask Morgana about the sensual arts of magic, and use them to explore her heightened sensuality. But now a thought even more sensual than control gripped her whole: The thought of murdering Willow.
She had to admit that the idea some years ago would have been abhorrent to her. But now, with all that had happened between them, she did not see Willow as the old friend she had once been in Sunnydale High School, but as a rival to power. For Amy, it was a matter of justice.
Amy had been allowed to languish in rat-form for years, and when she returned to human form, she had been abandoned by Willow simply for showing her the gateway to more power. Willow had spurned her friendship, accepting herself as lesser and yet she became stronger still, so strong in fact that she had nearly destroyed the world in grief. Did the authorities know about this? No, they did not. She had attempted to commit near-genocide of the human race and yet somehow Willow had remained untouched by the authorities. Instead, her friends "helped" her rather than punishing her by teaching her about her power and how to properly control it. And when she had tried a little payback, to remind Willow what true power was, she had been denied because of "love". Willow had abandoned her and been rewarded for it. Amy did not see that as a reason to respect Willow, but a reason to kill her. Willow had a lot of power but it was power that Amy was convinced she could take from the red head. Amy thirsted for vengeance, and only Willow's death would satisfy that thirst.
She returned to her place beside the podium where Morgana had finished appraising her troops. Amy gazed upon her benefactor, and for the slightest moment, she understood what Willow saw in another woman, but she let it go. Amy liked her men far too much.
"Kerry will be waiting for you when you retire, My Lady. I had to invoke a little sleep spell on her but she will be wide awake for you when you take her."
"Good. The energy in her will allow me to replenish what I have lost and allow me to be a match for the Entwined. You will be my eyes and ears whilst I am "entertaining" Miss Kerry. Make sure the men are ready for the morning. I will not allow the Entwined time to re-group."
"It shall be done, My Lady." Amy gave Morgana a small curtsey. She was determined to bide her time. Above all things, Amy was acutely aware of Morgana's reputation for not letting her acolyte's attain too much power, but she would not be a victim to another powerful witch. This time she would have control.
Morgana noted the look in Amy's eye. After the attack, she decided, there would be no more Amy Madison. She could not risk this power-hungry and vengeful woman gaining too much power. She would be a risk to all that Morgana had built, as well as to Morgana's life.
She shook the thought of future plans from her mind as she turned to the here and now. Firstly, she would feed on the sensual energy of Kerry, to replenish her own waning energy. And then, she would deal with the Entwined. She smiled at the thought of possibly using the magic she would now use on Kerry upon Willow and Tara. Morgana breathed heavily at the thought of both the pleasure and the energy that she would consume, the energy that kept her youthful and powerful.
Kerry saw her mistress enter the bedchamber. She had awoken only moments before to discover that she was handcuffed to the bed. Now that she had seen Morgana, and knew for certain the fate that awaited her, she began to sob uncontrollably.
"Don't be afraid, Kerry." Said Morgana, almost soothingly. "You are about to help me in defeating our enemies once and for all. Your death will be seen as a noble sacrifice."
"I-I could carry a sword or something. Protect you that way." Kerry tried to hide her fear under the guise of humorous bravado. She knew in herself, without looking at Morgana's icy stare, that she had not succeeded.
"Sweet child, but no. You would die needlessly and without possibility of saving this castle or me. But this way, not only will your death have meaning, it will also be a lot less painful and far more pleasurable for you. Death at my hands can be an experience no sword or act of violence could match for sensual pleasure. That at least should offer you some comfort." Morgana crossed the room towards the bed, allowing her hand to carress Kerry's face and move down her prisoner's body. "It's as comforting as it's going to get, Kerry, so you may as well relax and enjoy it. I know I will". Morgana smiled, it was almost sweet, almost comforting and she saw in Kerry's eyes a tiny glimmer of compliance, the kind that torture victims give when offered the choice between a quick death and continued torture. She liked that glimmer, it was all the consent she needed, not that she needed consent, but it was so much more satisfying if the victim put up no struggle.
Giles was keeping one bleary, tired eye on the compass necklace directing himself and his passengers to Wyngarde Castle, the other on the road. He had been driving for three hours through horrendous traffic and, with all the excitement that had preceded this journey; he was beginning to feel fatigued.
He glanced in the rear view mirror at the assorted remnants that made up their "army". Most were sleeping, albeit lightly, whilst others were planning strategy or playing the well-worn game of "I am going to kill more than you". He hated that game. Warfare was no time for cheap bravado, he reminded himself. But he was also painfully aware that in the hours before a battle, the Slayers and their allies had often said or done the strangest things to occupy their time and to make the thought of their demise as far a possibility in their minds as could be reasonably achieved. He admired their courage, these young men and women who were about to mount a siege that none of them may survive. But if he was marked to die, he told himself, he would do it proudly at their side.
Willow glanced down at Tara, who was resting on her shoulder. Even after five years, the memories of countless moments like this one seemed so fresh and yet none felt as good as this one. Not because it was the latest, the newest memory, but because Tara was here to be lying next to her at all. She glanced briefly upwards, thanking all the Gods and Goddesses she could think of for the miracle she had been given, the second chance fate had presented her with.
Tara raised her head, and stared deeply into Willow's eyes as she lowered them down towards her. She smiled, and leaned in, kissing Willow tenderly. The kiss said everything that could not be said in a crowded bus. It said all that was needed. It said "I love you".
Giles caught the kiss as he glanced once more in the rear view mirror, and smiled. After all the pain and heartache and sorrow that he had seen Willow suffer, it seemed right and just that both Willow and Tara had been given a second chance. He had often thought that Willow's second chance had been Kennedy, but he knew now that Tara was, and always had been, her best hope for finding peace in herself, and vice versa.
He glanced once more at the compass, and saw it glow with an eerie ambience. "Get ready! If I'm right, we are about to pass through the wards and into Morgana's domain. She may well be alerted to our arrival the second we cross over so be alert, everybody!!"
Willow and Tara moved towards the rest of the Coven as they formed a circle, preparing for any eventuality. Similarly, Buffy, Dawn, Gabriel and the other Slayers grabbed their weapons. Swords and axes and crossbows and handguns were strapped and slung and sheathed in a single swift motion. It was as if this troop had been together for years, guessing each other's rhythms and needs down to the tiniest glance and gesture. Even Gabriel seemed attuned to the Slayer's music.
As the bus buffeted through invisible walls that marked the entrance through the veil, the coven, with Willow and Tara's assistance, closed their eyes and began to chant in unison. The bus slowly settled into a calmer rock as opposed to the violent jarring it had been taking. It had felt like an enormous tunnel that, without knowing where the sides were, had reached out with talons and was now scraping and striking the armoured sides.
The compass now began to glow more intensely than ever, so much so that it turned to dust before Giles' eyes. "All right! We must be here!" He saw a light flash in front of him. The light almost blinded him, such was the intensity of it and the speed that it had appeared, which had caught him off guard. As the light faded, and Giles eyesight returned to him, he saw a high stone wall dead ahead, and instinctively pressed down hard on the brakes. The tyres seemed to roar in fury, trying to keep going in defiance of the brakes. Giles saw the wall approaching as if in slow motion, the brakes fighting the momentum of the bus like two great gladiators waging a violent war of attrition, neither side willing to give in. The brakes began to assert their dominance and the bus slowed, sliding towards the wall. Giles closed his eyes briefly, praying to any Gods that were bothering to listen to give them some sort of help. His prayer was answered by the world returning to it's normal speed by way of a sudden, jarring jolt as the bus came to a halt, mere inches from the walls of the castle they now saw in front of them.
Giles could hear the distant sounds of alarm coming from beyond the walls. He fought back any panic that the sudden appearance of the wall had set in him and steadied his nerves for the task ahead. He turned to face his passengers and saw them already heading for the exit, determined looks on all their faces.
Buffy turned to look down the line, "All right, everyone!!! We all know what we have to do so let's do this quickly."
"My Lady! My Lady Morgana!" The soldier ran down the corridor, hoping that his Mistress would kill the message and not the messenger. He opened the door to her bedchamber and saw Morgana in a mid-coital embrace with her victim. Light was emanating out of Kerry's mouth and body and seemed to be being absorbed by his mistress. He could see Kerry trying to struggle, trying to fight as small wrinkles appeared on her forehead and cheek, with larger versions appearing on what bare skin she had exposed.
Morgana turned, breaking the process. She was in no mood for interruptions, and ensured the soldier knew this in one gaze. "How dare you disturb me while I am feeding!"
The soldier began to shake, fear almost clutching his voice until self-preservation over-rode him and let him speak again. "My Lady, the Slayer and her army are here! They have broken through the gate and are attacking our forces in the courtyard."
"Here? How? There is no way that they could have found us. The wards should have stopped anyone from getting here." Morgana's eyes shifted quickly, as if she was flicking through some inner filing system for answers. She nodded, realising that the amulet had been tapped into, the amulet she had given her soldiers to find their way back home from Avalon. She smiled cruelly, aware of the irony of her being partially responsible for the attackers coming here, and calmed herself. She leapt out of bed and with one click of her fingers, was clothed. She had her back turned to the soldier as she did this, but now faced him once more.
"Let's go!" She said. Calmness exuded from her voice and she saw that the soldier was relaxed. She was happy enough with that for now. She needed men loyal to her, not frightened of her wrath.
After they had left, Kerry's body, now aged almost beyond recognition, began to breathe. Her gasps were shallow, almost inaudible, but she opened her eyes. I am still alive, she thought, maybe there is hope yet.
Willow saw the carnage happening in front of her, and for the briefest of moments, turned her head away from it. She had been painfully aware that the men of Morgana's army would be lambs to their slaughter but she had not expected them to go down so easily. Worse still, they seemed determined, perhaps through fear or maybe loyalty to their cause, to not fall so quickly. This had resulted in the soldiers meeting violent ends as they fought hard and fast against the invaders. Against normal men they were the stronger by far, but for the most part they were fighting Slayers, warriors who were more than a match for these simple troops. As she watched the battle in front of her, she could feel Tara's right hand pressing against her left. Their fingers interlocked as if by reflex, and she felt calm again.
Tara used her free hand to gently stroke her girlfriend's cheek. She could feel Willow's pain, knowing all too well that Willow had once tasted the heady mixture of grief and murder, and knew that deep within her lover's calm exterior, there was a soul that was screaming still for the pain to end. She unhooked her fingers from Willow's hand and placed her arm around Willow's shoulder, as much to steady her nerves for what was to come as much as to comfort her. They held each other for the briefest of moments, and then looked deep into one another's eyes. Within their gaze was each other's strength, and they drew from each other what was needed.
Buffy launched herself into the thick of the fight, instinct dictating her tactics, her every movement. She felt almost sorry for the men in her path as she slashed and hacked her way through the wave of Morgana's troops that stood between her and the main door of the castle.
Around her she saw the other Slayers fighting. Some were fairing equally well, dispatching their opponents with ease whilst others, possibly through their wounds, lack of combat training or just plain bad luck, were being beaten back. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Giles and Gabriel do what they could against the guards. Being only human, they were at a distinct disadvantage when it came to strength and speed. But they seemed to be countering with their greater ability with the sword.
Buffy returned her focus onto her own combat again. She was focusing on the opponent at hand but also allowing her peripheral vision to search for Philippe. Buffy was convinced he would be inside the main building of the castle, but was also prepared for him to make a pre-emptive strike.
Battle raged all around her, the clash of arms and the screams of the dying and the terrified rose to a deafening volume. Not since her battle at the Hellmouth of Sunnydale had she encountered this noise, and yet something in the atmosphere, something in the very air, seemed to make this place sound far louder than even that subterranean cavern in Sunnydale. Buffy's senses peaked, something was wrong. She dispatched the poor, mismatched swordsman in front of her and gazed upwards towards the top of the castle. As she did so the ground troops pulled back, re formed but remained distant. She saw the glint of metal in the hands of the 60 or so men in the castle battlements and those who now surrounded them on the walls. All of them holding rifles, all of them primed, and ready to fire. And all aimed upon the Slayer and her troops.
"Get into cover now!" Screamed Buffy, knowing her words would probably start the shooting gallery. But she had to give her troops a chance, had to give Willow and Tara a chance.
The rifles fired at the displacing targets. Some rang true, cutting down Slayers and Coven members with deadly accuracy. Others fired wildly, partly through the speed of movement by the men and women below, partly by the troops own inexperience. These shots ripped through arms, legs and torsos. Blood splattered in all directions and the sounds of screaming deafened the sound of the firearms.
Giles felt a pain in his side as a bullet sliced through his shirt and gashed his side. He spun in agony, falling to the deck and scrambling for cover. He felt his side, and felt the warm wet blood oozing from his wound. He smiled, it could have been much worse. He saw Buffy crawling towards him, and wondered if she would be able to make it. He held up his hands, pleading for her to stop, intimating with gestures that he was fine and she should not put herself at risk. He saw Buffy shake her head, part in confusion and part in defiance, and continue her crawl. When this is over we will have to look at our communication system, he mused.
Dawn crouched with the remainder of the Coven and the House of Avalon. She had never heard so much noise and seen so much death, except on television. She hadn't been in the Hellmouth on that last fateful day and she hadn't been involved in helping Buffy take out either the Mayor at Graduation or the Initiative. She knew that she hadn't been there, not really, but even her memories didn't place her at those events. She had been used to seeing demons of various kinds die and vampires turn to dust when staked and she had managed to convince herself that it was all okay because they were demons, monsters. But these men, whilst not exactly human, died like humans and screamed in agony like humans. All of a sudden death and war became real for Dawn, and she didn't like it.
But she didn't like guns. Guns had killed Tara, and nearly killed Buffy. She didn't like guns being used in such numbers, even if they did seem to be rifles that needed to be loaded one at a time, rather than the automatic weapons favoured by the modern army and police and drug dealers. She saw it as a cold comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.
"Can't we do anything? Can't you place some sort of barrier around them, stop them from getting shot?"
"We can, Dawn" answered Althanea, "but in order to do it we must be able to perform the ritual in relative safety, so as not to break our concentration. And we must keep it up, the barrier requires us to remain focused on it, it would drain us."
Althanea turned her head to the rear, seeing Willow and Tara sitting across from each other, hands outstretched in front of themselves, mouths chanting in unison. Their eyes were closed, their faces fixed in concentration. Bullets seemed to simply vanish as they came near. And then she felt it, the warmth covering her, embracing her. She looked upon the rest of her Coven around her, and saw that they too could feel it. As her gaze focused upon the Slayer and her people in the front line, she saw that they too could feel the change, the warmth. Althanea smiled, the Entwined had seen to the danger.
Buffy felt the warmth surround her and saw the confused looks on the riflemen, and knew that their window of opportunity had come. "Let's go!" She shouted at the Slayers around them. Many of them had felt the change, it had felt in many ways as the change that had made them Slayers had. They could feel the magic surround them, and contain them. Buffy saw it in their eyes, and motioned for three of them to attack the men on the walls, knowing that the spell would have to be as short as possible to be of any use. Magic was still the real weapon here and if they weakened on that, then all of this fighting would be for nothing and Buffy knew it.
Buffy watched as the Slayers she signalled to leapt from their respective positions near the steps to the wall battlements and begin to attack the men on the wall. The riflemen seemed unarmed other than with the rifles themselves which, realising they were useless as ballistic weapons, were using them in an attempt to inflict blunt force trauma on the Slayers instead. They swung their rifles as they would swords, as if they had been trained in no other martial discipline. It was clumsy, and from Buffy's vantage point looked farcical, and the Slayers who attacked them blocked and dispatched them with almost criminal ease.
The first three attackers were quickly overpowered and the weapons came into the possession of the Slayers. From behind them, they saw Giles, still oozing blood from his wound but moving purposely, and Gabriel approach them. Their hands were outstretched, indicating their want for the rifles. The Slayers threw one each to them, and threw away the remainder after breaking it.
Gabriel and Giles rifled the bodies for ammunition, and found plenty of rounds each. Whilst neither of the former Watchers were proficient with rifles, they wanted ranged weaponry. Gabriel had a gleam in his eyes, along with a dark tint that matched the darker shade of brown that his hair now took on.
Giles was worried, he knew all too well what the change in pigment meant, but he was powerless to stop it. He could only hope that the Coven would reverse the problem as soon as possible. For now he focused his attention upon the riflemen on the wall, and aimed.
Both of them felt the slight drop in temperature that signalled the spell's end. They raised their rifles at the men standing above the main building, and fired. The bullets hit their targets with violent efficiency. Blood and muscle and tissue and brain matter exited from the wounds the bullets created. Giles was passive, his face showing no flicker of emotion. Gabriel was smiling, his eyes and hair becoming blacker with each passing moment. His breathing was becoming patchy, as if he was exerting himself.
Buffy saw the men on the main building retreat away, as the soldiers in the courtyard once more charged into the fray. But they were met with resistance from the Slayers, and occasional gunfire from Giles and Gabriel up above. Buffy smiled, she could feel the tide turning, she could feel the entrance within her grasp.
Morgana entered the main hall, her pace now a quickened march as she strode for the main entranceway to meet her enemies head on. She saw her troops retreating back from the entrance, into the main hall, and away from the Slayers as they entered. She smiled, this was better than expected, and then she saw Buffy, and the sword. Her features froze, blood turning almost to ice with fear. She felt herself physically falling back. If her plan was to work, it would have to be now.
"Philippe, get the sword! Kill the Slayer and get the sword!"
Buffy heard Morgana's words and looked around for the danger. From the balcony above them, she saw the imposing figure of Philippe drop down. He was armoured in a very modern looking Kevlar battle suit, the likes of which she had seen Riley and Sam wear last time she had seen them in Sunnydale. But in his hands he was carrying a very mean broadsword. It looked vaguely medieval, which somewhat clashed with his modern, Action Man attire but Buffy was wearing a Jeans/T-Shirt combo that could hardly be described as fitting in with the period that Excalibur came from, so she decided to muse more about the culture clash when she was alive after the battle, and re-focused on the problem at hand.
Philippe charged, his sword held high, murderous intent in his eyes. As he approached he brushed aside all within his path, allied and Slayer alike. His target was fixed, and for all the time from the moment he landed to the moment he came within range, he did not turn his gaze away from the Slayer.
Morgana could feel the change, and with a nod of her head she let loose her surprise. From the balcony now appeared her Coven, her own magical arsenal. They began to chant, and the air began to grow thick around the Slayers, the ground began to buckle and split as the very foundations of the castle were violently shaken by the chanting. The emblems of ravens fluttered on the pendants and were visible on the arms of all, and the ravens saw before them the rich pickings of a warrior's graveyard to be.
Althanea and Michelle led the Coven and the House of Avalon into the main hall. Here, as best they could, they crouched down, forming a circle. The movement of the ground and the change in the air was making concentration difficult, and Althanea summoned up all her inner strength to remain calm. Her calmness radiated around her followers, and the Priestesses from Avalon, and they focused on the task at hand. From the corner of her eye, Althanea could see Morgana and her acolyte, Amy, both with their eyes closed, both standing facing the Coven, their faces frozen in violent concentration, as if the very nature of the action they were attempting to perform was etched on the cruelty of their faces. Althanea knew time was critical, and that it was running out.
From beneath them Althanea felt the ground weaken as vines reached out, grasping and pulling at the circle of her Coven, dragging the entrapped downwards. The floor was softening, as it had before at the temple. She saw her sisters and the Fey from Avalon slipping under the quicksand floor that the spell had created. She tried in vain to prevent it, but her spell, whilst able to slow the process, could not stop it.
Tara, with Willow close behind her, entered the building. She saw the devastation before her, and acted. All her life, she had been afraid to act, partly because of her Mother, who had taught her that every use of magic had to be thought through, that every use of magic was not an act in itself, but a balancing act of cause and effect, and that without thought, consequences were inevitable. She had seen all too well the effect of not listening to such sound advice, and had seen Willow slip down the path of negative consequences. Partly it had been her own feelings of self-doubt, of a lack of self-worth, that she would not be able to make a difference even if she did act. Her father and brother had made her belief that her magic was intrinsically evil and that no good could come of it.
But now, having died and been allowed a second chance to live, she had seen that sometimes action, or reaction, must supersede thought. Lives now depended on her reacting, and reacting now.
Willow was ahead of her, and was already conjuring a spell to counter the effects. Her voice was a mere whisper, almost a silent prayer, and she easily heard the same phrases being spoken in unison by Tara beside her. She smiled, it was good to feel her touch, to hear her voice in tune with her once more. No, she corrected herself, in tune with each other. No longer me in charge, nor Tara, but together.
Giles entered in behind the two witches and saw Morgana and Amy knocked back off their feet as if they had been swatted aside by a Giant. They crashed against the wall at the far end, stunned but conscious. Now he saw the Willow and Tara turn their attention towards the Coven, sinking in the mud floor ahead of them. He knew enough of the language they spoke to see that whilst Tara was raising them up, Willow was concentrating on returning the floor to it's natural state. Within moments, the Coven were free, and the floor was solid once more. Giles shook his head, almost in disbelief. He knew they were powerful, but this was unprecedented. He smiled, thankful that he was not on the opposing side.
Morgana, still stunned, staggered towards the side exit, and into the back halls. Behind her, she could hear Amy following. For now she was glad of the company. She had underestimated the Entwined, but it was only for a moment.
"Amy, I need time to set something up that should swing things back in our favour again. I need you to distract them for me. Stay in the dining area, I will be in my throne room. I will only need a few moments. Think you can handle that?"
"Be my pleasure." Replied Amy, a sadistic grin appearing on her face.
Buffy had forgotten how strong Philippe was, and the added knowledge that he might be in real mortal danger, had made his attacks all the more determined. There was no more grandstanding from him, he was closing for a quick kill. She swung her sword, parrying his blow and buckled backwards under the weight of the charge. Still she could feel herself being pressed, as Philippe, with determination and deadly precision, probed for openings. Buffy once more went for the block, realising too late that Philippe's attack had been a feint, and she was now woefully exposed on her right side. She saw the blade come down, and prepared to ride the blow as best she could.
But then a small sound like an explosion went off behind her, it was the unmistakable sound of a handgun and she saw Philippe stagger back, the bruise where a bullet hole might have entered had it not been for the man's toughened skin clearly evident on his forehead. Buffy dared a small glance back, and saw Gabriel aim and fire once again. Twice more the sound erupted, and Buffy knew that for this to be effective, the time for pressing her own attack would have to be now.
END OF CHAPTER