A/N: So, I noticed that I've been recommended on the xangel LiveJournal community, which is pretty cool, by the way, and someone commented that there were such large gaps between chapter updates that they'd not really checked in a while. And they are definitely right; it's one of the things that I feel bad about. So, in that spirit, I am going to try and notify you guys before there's going to be another large gap in between chapter updates.
In that spirit again: My grandfather, who lives in California and who I haven't seen in a little while, is flying out to visit us and I'm going on an at least week-long trip to take him places. So I've decided to give you guys at least another chapter before I leave. That way, I can feel less guilty about ending this on another cliffhanger, which I'm likely to do. Don't you guys just love those?
So, as you might have guessed by Jenny's behavior at the end of the last chapter, some of the prologues are going to come back in this, pretty quick now. And while I'm writing out of cannon at this point, I'm trying to make the characters as non-OOC as possible, particularly Buffy (with this chapter, I'm trying to capture how cold she tried to make herself in the seventh season episode where she had to go try and kill Anya).
As always, thanks to my reviewers, and to all those who have gone out of the way to read this story (to my reviewers: you might get a laugh if you notice someone left me a review that said I should put a slash warning in the summary - the review was left on the third chapter, and in the first part of the warning on the very first prologue, I warned there would be slash. Stupid people are funny!). You guys are the ones who keep me going - and thanks in particular to Davinci, who pimped me out on LiveJournal.
the Passion of Angels and Demons
Chapter XVII, Part I
Snow White Queen
You belong to me
My snow white queen
There's nowhere to run
So let's just get it over
Soon, my love, you'll see
You're just like me
Don't scream anymore, my love
Cause all I want is you…
"Snow White Queen" by Evanescence
Buffy was pacing, back and forth, back and forth, like a caged tiger fresh from the wild who was longing to hunt and sink its fangs into fresh prey. Walking kept her centered, kept her from thinking. She counted her steps, so that all that was in her thoughts was numbers. Funny how much counting could calm her down when she hated math with a fiery passion. And it's not even really my fault, she thought, that Mr. LoRocco is the most boring teacher ever - who else but Willow can pay attention to that suckfest?
She heard Giles and some random guy talking in low voices up in the bedroom of Giles' apartment, and resumed counting. When they'd calmed down in the library long enough to think analytically about Xander, Willow and Cordelia had been in complete accord when they stated that Xander wouldn't want to wake up at home without his friends, so they'd brought him to Giles, as the rest of them had parents at home.
"But what about getting him a doctor?" Buffy had asked worriedly, looking at Xander's wounds. Cordelia shot her a withering look.
"What, and get busy flashing your tits so as to not have to explain the expansive wing span?" she'd asked acidly. Okay, so Cordelia might have changed a lot since hanging out with the Scooby Gang, but her tongue was still perfectly capable of slashing gaping wounds in both body and ego.
"Well then what do you suggest, princess?" Buffy'd snapped back. Cordelia thought for a moment, and then whipped out her cell phone. "Who are you gonna call? Neiman Marcus for a pair of designer smocks?" Buffy had asked in disgust.
"No, Tae Kwon Do Barbie," Cordelia said witheringly. "I'm calling my father. He knows people who keep all kinds of medical crap off the radar."
There wasn't a lot to say to that one, so Buffy had subsided, trying to not snap and laugh hysterically at the rather mortified glances Giles was tossing in their direction. They'd carefully transported Xander in the back of the Gilesmobile while everyone else crammed into Cordelia's sporty red thing. Willow had taken the back seat and Cordelia's cell phone as she tried to call Oz, who was on his way, and Jenny, who was apparently unreachable. Based on the new truce they'd forged with her, Buffy had refrained from commenting on the computer teacher's absence. She had a feeling that Willow had tossed her a thankful look when she'd hung up the phone, which she'd tried to ignore, feeling a little guilty.
Well, for the love of god, she was only seventeen years old! Somehow she thought that being that young and the Slayer and losing her virginity to the love of her life on her birthday only to have him revert back to the most evil and vicious vampire, well, ever, entitled her to a little bit of teenage pettiness. And she couldn't help but feel that if Jenny had confided to Giles they could have found a way to prevent what had happened.
When they'd gotten back to Giles' apartment, they'd all laid Xander out on his stomach on the bed so that they could look at his back. Worryingly, it was the wings that were apparently causing the most damage - his back had been ripped open when they'd emerged, and it wasn't healing the way it should because the new growth was keeping the blood from clotting and forming scabs to stop the bleeding. When Cordelia's guy, some young cute-in-a-preppy-way blond had showed up, he'd stared at the wings for a moment before shrugging and starting work. Willow said he looked like Doogie Houser, which Cordelia had thankfully refrained from commenting on.
And so here she was, back and forth, back and forth. Willow was in the kitchen bringing Oz up to speed while she made everyone tea (when Willow got nervous she made food and drinks, even when no one was hungry. It was thing. They didn't talk about it much anymore because it made her blush redder than her hair). Cordelia was sitting quietly on Giles' uncomfortable desk chair, watching Buffy pace.
"I'm scared."
Buffy stopped, turning to look at her. Cordelia looked rather haggard, which was weird because she had a knack for walking into a hurricane and still emerging without a misplaced hair. It was one of those admissions that Cordelia would sometimes give out, something that she admitted to that might be interpreted as weakness from the invulnerable Queen of Sunnydale and Surrounding Environs that she usually acted the part of.
"I thought that somehow everything would be better and back to normal when we got Xander back, but, somehow, it's worse. Isn't that horrible?" she whispered, sounding very young and very small. It was times like these when the weight of being the Slayer fell down hard on Buffy's shoulders, and she had to remind herself that she'd been forced to grow old long before her time.
"No, it isn't horrible. We wanted him back because we needed the old Xander back, the one that made us all feel better before the bad stuff happened. We didn't want to see that he could get hurt, too, because that just makes the whole thing worse," Buffy said, dragging a barstool next to Cordelia and plopping down. "Now it just makes us all remember that we're humans, too."
"You sound like Giles," Cordelia said gloomily.
"I guess that means premature wrinkles," Buffy said, just to bait her a little. They shared a shudder, two beauties bonding over one of skin's worst attacks - wrinkles had to be the worse. You could always die your gray hair, but wrinkles entered Botox land. Buffy didn't miss the grateful smile that Cordelia gave her. Buffy grinned back. It made her feel like Xander, somehow, managing to cheer one of her friends up with a joke. Tears started to well up in Buffy's eyes as she fought suppress them.
Cordelia started to say something, but the footsteps coming down the stairs stopped them both as they looked up to see Giles and the nameless doctor coming down the stairs. Her heart stopped at the grave look in Giles' eyes.
"Giles…" she started quietly. Willow and Oz hurried out of the kitchen, Oz's hand placed comfortingly on Willows arm as his girlfriend's lips started to quiver.
"We taped up his ribs and set his arm," the doctor said. "Everything else should be healing fine…but the wings…even for Sunnydale that's a little freaky. They aren't healing around the wounds on his back like they should. One of you's a witch," he continued, taking his hat off to reveal two little red horns. Buffy jerked up, but Giles shook his head at her. "I can feel the magic. You might be able to slow down the bleeding, but you guys need to find out what happened to him exactly to stop this."
The demon looked at Willow and seemed to be saying something with his eyes. Buffy turned to Willow, saw a suspicion confirmed and a darkening of her friend's eyes. "Wait," Buffy started to say, but the demon doctor had already donned his hat, picked up his bag, and left before she could say anything.
"Willow? What's going on?" Cordelia demanded.
"Nothing," Willow said softly. "Or at least not anything I can figure out. I need to go take care of Xander," she finished firmly and headed upstairs before anyone could say anything else. Giles sighed as he watched her go, and nodded to Oz to follow her. The taciturn werewolf walked upstairs after her without a backward glance.
"We need to head back to the school. There should be magic books there that can help Willow with the spells she needs," he said, grabbing his keys. There was a hunch to his shoulders that told Buffy that there was more on his mind than he was saying, but she didn't say anything. They all needed time to work through this, but right now they needed to be more focused on Xander than anything.
"And then research," she said, walking towards the door. "If whatever did this to Xander tells us how to stop the bleeding then it's up to us to find it." Cordelia nodded and headed after them. Buffy didn't protest. Neither she nor Cordelia was exactly hot stuff when it came to researching the latest Sunnydale creature feature, but she knew that now Xander's life might depend on it, those books were about to get their metaphorical asses handed to them.
888
Jenny Calendar was trying to meditate. It wasn't working; you had to put yourself in a frame of mind to relax in order to ease your mind. Nothing was working - she'd had a little wine, lit some scented candles, popped in a waterfall/lagoon recording, tensed each of her muscles and relaxed them individually. It was the tension in her mind that was keeping her…well, tense. She sighed heavily. "Shit," she murmured.
The whole fact of the matter was that this was the second time in less than a year that she'd wanted to turn her back on her training, her heritage, and follow her heart. She knew that Buffy carried the weight of the world on her young shoulders, but sometimes at the end of the day it felt like she was helping to shoulder the Slayer's burden. And she knew that she was going to have to go through with this, no matter how much she wanted to deny it. To make what she had seen untrue.
But it was true, and as her uncle Tomas had taught her, no amount of wishing the truth were untrue would make the pain of the truth go away. And she'd seen what she'd seen, felt what she'd felt. And no matter how she felt, it had terrified her. She knew the implications of Angelus' actions, better than the vampire ever could. The sleeper had awoken, as they had always feared that he would. And what could stand it Its way?
It wasn't fair. That was true; it wasn't Xander's fault any more than Angelus' becoming unleashed was Buffy's fault. But what's done is done, and now innocent people would have to pay for the consequences…again. Magic. That's what this all boiled down to, really; Jenny found herself wishing that she could cast it out of herself, that she'd never begun to train Willow into the sacred mysteries. Blasphemy, of course, she thought with a humorless smile. If my teachers could read my mind now, what would they think?
But that wasn't any use to wonder about, because most of the time Jenny thought that they had no emotions. And yet it wasn't their fault either. They'd been given a sacred trust, handed down through the ages of time, both human and daemonic. She couldn't very well turn her back on an encroaching apocalypse, could she?
For if the Fhôghlaim é a Stoírm was indeed awake inside of Xander, and controlling him…then there would only be one place that Xander would want to go, one task that he would want to do. And then the Stoírm Daemon would cast Xander aside like a rag doll, probably kill him. No, the Coven would do this as painlessly and efficiently as possible; likely ending the threat forever.
Then, of course, she'd have to run. Far away. For even if the Slayer and her friends (and Rupert, Jenny thought with a flash of grief like a knife to her heart) never found out her involvement, she would never be able to lie to them about this. Not after everything they'd been through; it would be too much. She'd accept their condemnation, and she would leave. Perhaps she would return to the Isle. There, she could learn to forget. And she would never leave. Ever.
This world hurt far too much.
888
"Son of a bitch!" Buffy snarled, throwing down what felt like the 300th book she'd tried that night. It was already two in the morning; her mother was going to be breathing down her neck like the Hounds of Hell itself if she didn't call Willow at Giles' and tell her to round robin their parents. Again.
"Buffy," Giles began disapprovingly.
"This is useless, Giles!" Buffy cut him off. "Look at this stack! We must've been through more than fifty books each already, and the only thing we've found is how to slow down the bleeding! We need to help him now, Giles!" She fell back in her chair with a thump and buried her head in her hands.
"I am aware that it's slow going, but we need to focus on the fact that we do have him back," Giles said gently. "No matter how frustrating, let's use that to energize us to search for a cure, Buffy," he finished, putting his hand on her head. With anyone else it would have felt patronizing, but a Giles Head Pat was usually just as good as a hug. Buffy gave him a small smile, but she still felt deep in her heart that this wasn't enough. Willow had used the small healing magicks they'd been able to find to slow down the bleeding and to fix some of the bruises (she'd said that on a rather hopeful note that Xander's ribs and arm seemed well on their way to knitting), but his back was looking worse as the hours ticked past.
And again Cordelia came through when she came out of the stacks with her usual bluntness.
"Sorry, Giles, but Buffy's right on this one. This is useless," Cordelia said with her usual grace. She sat down across from them and fixed Giles with a hard stare.
"What do you mean?" Buffy asked curiously. Cordelia sometimes had a way of cutting through the bullshit that made her valuable in planning sessions. And if she could think of way to help Xander that was quicker and cut through all of these useless tomes, or at least gave them a clue where to look…she'd take anything at this point.
"Well, we don't know what happened to him, so that gives us zero idea where to look, right?" Cordelia started. Buffy and Giles nodded. "So, who do we know that knows what happened to Xander because they did it in the first place?" Realization dawned on Buffy and Giles, but while Buffy began to consider this, Giles leapt on Cordelia with a fury that reminded Buffy of the time that Giles had seen Ethan in the library.
"Attack Angelus? After giving him more than twenty-four hours to recuperate from our attack, with Willow and Oz unable to aid us? Have you completely lost your mind?" he snapped icily. "First, we have no idea where to look, and second off we never confirmed that he survived the blast. We also have no idea if he or Spike or Drusilla are alive, or if they have more vampires that we were unable to take out. So what is your suggestion? Knock on factory doors?"
"Well, at least I'm suggesting getting proactive about it," Cordelia snarled, leaping to her feet with a passion on her face that not a lot of subjects could put there. "We have to do something, Giles, because I seem to be the only one to accept that fact that the bleeding is that bad! He could die, Giles! So don't stand there in your tweedy little book-dusting ass and tell me that I'm stupid!" she yelled, with a fury that would have quelled Hitler. Giles looked rather startled, and Buffy was staring at Cordelia with her mouth open.
The silence was shattered by the ringing phone. Buffy leapt across the table to grab it, using her Slayer speed to beat Cordelia and Giles to it (who were both elbowing each other out of the way like three-year-olds, anyway). "Willow?" she asked eagerly.
"Buffy…" Willow whimpered into the phone.
"Will? What's happened? What's wrong?" Buffy demanded, whipping a stake out of her belt. If Willow was in trouble, Buffy was going to be there faster than the fucking wind, because she'd slit her wrists if she lost Angel and Xander and Willow all in one fucking year.
"It's Xander…" Willow whispered. "There are…Buffy…he's got…horns," Willow sniffed frantically.
"What?" Buffy said incredulously.
"They just snapped out of his forehead, and now he's bleeding there, too. His nails are going all wonky too…I think that a demon is possessing him, or he's becoming one, Buffy! Xander's becoming a demon!" Willow screeched into the phone.
"Calm down, Will," Buffy said quietly, with a calm that she didn't feel. "I know what I have to do. I'll call you." Before Willow could say anything, Buffy hung up the phone. She turned to Giles and Cordelia, both of whom were standing about two feet from her, trying to hear what Willow said through the phone.
"Well, we always said that Xander was too horny for his own good," Buffy told them, and started giggling hysterically. She started laughing, hard, wheezing for breath, tears streaming down her face as she buried her head in her hands on the main desk/counter.
"Great. The Slayer's lost it. We're all gonna die," Cordelia said philosophically.
"Buffy…" Giles said gently, as if to a child. "What's happened?"
"Xander has horns," Buffy whispered, looking up at him with glassy eyes. "He has horns, and they haven't stopped bleeding either. He's turning into a demon, Giles. Our Xander…he's turning into a demon…and it's killing him."
Dead silence, the kind of which you only hear at a funeral when the officiator asks everyone to take their seats so the ceremony can begin. Giles had jerked away from her when she said it, as if to shake away the truth of her words. Cordelia sank slowly into a chair, staring at nothing.
"He is not going to die," Buffy said flatly, her voice echoing in the empty library. She turned and headed for her bag and the library cage. "He's going to live if I have to kill every single demon in Sunnydale to keep him that way," she vowed, stripping on her way in. She dug in her bag and took out a pair of leather pants, reaching into a locker in the library cage for some heavy-duty boots. She put on a black tank top that she covered with a form-fitting leather jacket on top. The leather would protect her where she was going.
She put two of her specially carved, wicked-sharp stakes in the sleeves of the jacket, where they had sewn holsters. She put on the silver cross that Angel had given her once, long ago, in happier times when she'd still been trying so hard to run from being the Slayer. She didn't flinch at the memory; she let it fill her with even more anger, anger at God, at the Angel of Destiny, whoever had decided to fuck her life over long ago. The anger made her hard. Cold. Strong. She put a boot knife in her left boot, a bottle of holy water in her coat pocket, and finished it off with a crossbow loaded with five bolts. Her fist would do the rest.
When she turned back to the library, she ignored Giles' instinctive flinch back from the ice in her eyes, in her heart. There was no more Buffy left tonight. Tonight, she was the Slayer.
And the Slayer was pissed.
888
Willow frantically finished the healing spell, again, that she'd been repeating over Xander's prone body for the last three hours. As before, though slightly weaker, a light blue light glazed over Xander's body for a few moments, then faded, as evanescent as the morning mist. She knew that it was working; his ribs were completely healed, there were no bruises, and she knew his arm was better as well. But the dark, dark blood dripping slowly from the horrendous wounds on his back was as constant as before, and the new wounds on his forehead slowly dripped a red paint that spread over Giles' pillow like a demented Picasso.
When Xander had last moaned in pain in his…sleep, for lack of a better term, she'd opened his mouth slightly and watched some blood flow out of his mouth as a set of fangs (four replacing his canines and an additional two replacing his upper eyeteeth) burst through his gums with the same viciousness as his other new…additions. His skin was growing paler, though with loss of blood or some other daemonic transformation she could not tell.
The power that she had glimpsed in the library was growing stronger, more powerful and compelling than the light and the chocolate that usually dominated the tones of her best friend, her brother's aura. It was taking him over and it was killing him, and the more she tried to stop it, the weaker her own magic was becoming. Oz was worried, she could tell. She hadn't drawn on her inner reserves this much, well, ever. He sat in the lotus position next to her, quiet as a monk at prayer, holding her hand, lending her his strength.
She was in love with him, she knew now without a doubt. Oz was something different, special; like he was a sage adult trapped in a teenager's body. Maybe it was fate, maybe the whim of the Goddess that they had met, but right now Willow was thanking every deity that she had ever heard of or read about that he was there. She would have collapsed long ago if she were alone right now, next to her best friend's broken, near-lifeless body. She gave a small sob as a fresh trickle of blood broke from the left wing. Xander's body had begun to shudder.
"Willow, you'll be alright," Oz said firmly. He squeezed her hand, letting her draw on his strength. He didn't say anything else, but then, he didn't have to. At the moment it was enough that he believed in her.
They both fought to ignore the blood that began to trickle out of Willow's nose as she began the spell again.
888
"Buffy, you realize I must very strongly advise against this course of action." Giles was in full worried Watcher-mode. "It is simply too dangerous, and far too vast a task to take on by yourself. At the least you should let me try and get Kendra to come up and help you," He tried desperately.
"If we wait for the next plane from Jamaica Xander could die. He needs help now. And besides, I have a plan," Buffy said, her voice a tightly controlled, angry monotone. She was walking out of the library, and on second thought she grabbed a vial of Hell-Fire on Giles' desk. They'd experimented with the formula when they'd launched their assault on Angelus' lair and received spectacular results. Without Willow's sun spell, this would come in handy.
"But--"
"No more buts, Giles," Buffy snapped. She turned to face him, silencing him with her eyes. "This is the way it has to be. I'm the Slayer, and I've let this go on long enough. It's time to end it, and if Angel has to die for Xander to live then I'm going to be the one on the end of the stake," she said flatly. Her tone brooked no room for argument. Giles sighed in defeat; she was glad that she wasn't going to have to knock him out again as she'd done the night she'd gone to face the Master. Giles could be amazingly stubborn when he wanted to be. It was what made her love him so much. It was also probably why he got conked on the head so much. She shrugged at that thought and turned on her heel to leave, pulling her hair up into a no-nonsense ponytail. At the end of it, she attached a special hair braid with a stone in it, that sparkled in the light.
At least she looked good.
Cordelia laid her hand on Giles' shoulder when he made to protest again. The library doors swished shut at the Slayer's departure and he slumped in defeat.
"This is the only way, Giles," Cordelia said firmly. "And I think that she'll be alright. You trained a good Slayer…even if she is an überbitch from hell at times," she added as an afterthought. It was a mark of how defeated Giles had allowed himself to become that he didn't even bother to correct her.
888
Buffy walked into the night, letting the heat of the late-spring night wash over her. She factored in how much she would sweat in this outfit to her goals for the night and stopped to get water from a fountain.
She hadn't been blowing air at Giles; she did have a plan. She added the Hell-Fire to her thoughts and knew that this one was a winner. All she needed was to make the weasel squeal to get her where she needed to be, and the rest she could take care of. She was one of the most prolific Slayers in the books. She'd killed the Master, stopping him from causing an apocalypse - twice. She'd found a way to kill the Judge and prevent him from causing a human Armageddon. And now she was going to save her best friend. That was just the way things were going to be, and if anything was in the way of that goal, human or not, she would kill it and worry about the consequences later. She was the Slayer, the one girl in all the world born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires and demons, to find them where the shadows dwelt and burn their ashes to the winds.
And those demons had fought back against her, hard. She had only been sixteen when her first Watcher, Merrick, had died in her arms. She'd been powerless against Lothos, the Vampire King who she had later learned had used a power of hypnosis against her, and she had held the stuffy old man who had trained her to fight and to think, who had become like an uncle to her. She'd driven the final wedge in her parents' divorce, lost Pike (who had become obsessed with hunting and had left her), gotten kicked out of school, lost all of her friends, and then had to move to a new town.
Now, this supernatural bullshit had taken her youth and her future. It had taken Billy Fordum, who she had loved, and corrupted and then killed him. It had attacked her mother and her best friends, had made her an outcast and a freak at school. The only things that she had left in this world were her mother and her family of friends: Xander, Willow, Giles, Oz, and now Cordelia. She'd once had Angel, but she'd lost him too. She had once heard a prophesy that she was going to die. She'd tried to quit.
She knew now that this wasn't like that. If Xander died, and she had to kill Angelus, then that was it. That was the end. She would leave, leave Sunnydale and the Hellmouth and her life. She'd become someone else, something else, and leave the Hellmouth in Kendra's hands. It was too much. This was too much.
The anger at her life, her situation, her destiny, drove her forward, making her boots slam into the ground with each step. She passed by the Espresso Pump on her way downtown, towards the Bronze. An old biker with enough tats to ink up Sunnydale moved out of the way of the cold fire of her fury that was burning in her eyes. Those eyes were barely human. They promised death to anything that got in their way. And that was the way it should be. She was the Slayer. She'd let her emotions get the best of her with Angel, and this was where it had gotten her. She should have listened to Kendra.
888
Jenny took another drink of wine. She wasn't trying to get drunk, but false liquid courage was better than no courage, at any rate, and she didn't really see the harm in in. Her situation was forcing her to stay sober, and so she knocked back a few. Who cared? She picked up her glass and was suddenly filled with a violence, a hatred so strong that she choked back bile. Why couldn't they have sent two people? One to watch the Hellmouth and all on it was too much! Hadn't she suffered? Hadn't she earned solace?!
She felt like a desiccated seed, too dried up and dead to be planted anywhere. She'd dared to hope that she would be able to stay here. She loved teaching, loved working with her students. She loved teaching Willow the Craft, loved Rupert more than anything she'd ever thought possible. She had dared to hope that Angel would stay good, stay working for the light like he seemed so determined to do. She'd dared to hope that Xander would not learn of what he was long enough that they could bind the boy forever.
Look what hope had gotten her, she thought with a hollow laugh. She felt like her soul was dying. A line poem came to her head, seeming so appropriate:
She made a little shadow-hidden grave,
The day Faith died…
Faith. That's what had died within her. The faith in a better life, a higher power. The belief in what she fought for. The hope that it would all turn out for the best. But surely it was the curse of the Hellmouth, she tried to think. What, karmically, could I have possibly done to deserve this?! But thoughts like that were worthless. She knew what she was doing; she was stalling. She was stalling putting in the call because she didn't want to know that she had finally done it, had committed that betrayal to all of her hopes and dreams. But it was what she had to do. For the greater good.
She turned to her mirror, feeling everything good inside her burst into flames and curl into ashes. There was only a warrior now. A weary warrior who would complete her task and then crawl into a hole somewhere and die. Maybe with alcohol.
She spoke the traditional magic words, laughing a little at how easily it had been adapted to a children's story.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Ere afore into thy depths I fall
Let this spell take hold on thee
Show me who I wish to see.
The mirror blurred her reflection, and for a frightening moment it showed her as a distorted, evil thing, the magic of the mirror making her eyes glow like they had when she had been briefly possessed by Eyghon. She shuddered at the memory and averted her eyes. There was a crackle, and a smell in the air like ozone as the mirror encountered strong magicks.
The protection spell divined her in moments, tearing through her defenses like paper. Jenny submitted to this, hating every minute of it. It hurt, and it made her feel small and dirty as it bared every part of her soul. After a moment, there was a crack like lightning and then the mirror showed the face of a pale blonde woman, so classically, agelessly beautiful that there was no telling her age. Her pale blue eyes surveyed Jenny with a sorrow that told Jenny that the woman knew her pain.
Just as they both knew there was nothing to be done for that pain.
"What we have long feared has come to pass," Jenny said quietly, without preamble. She could pretend to herself that saying these words to this woman did not hurt her. She could pretend that a thorn bush had not grown around her heart, pricking her whenever she moved.
"We felt it here, but prayed to the Goddess that it was not so," the woman said, her voice rich with sorrow. But there was determination there, too, as Jenny had known that there would be. They both knew what would be done. "We will be on our way shortly, Janna. You…have done well," she finished lamely, after a moment. Jenny gave her a bitter smile, which the other woman did not respond to.
Instead, there was another crack like lightning and the mirror flashed a bright blue as the image vanished, the spell ended, and the mirror showed her there, small and sobbing. She broke, sobbing hysterically, and grabbed her wineglass. "This is what I pray to you for, Goddess?! WHY?!" she screamed, and threw the glass at the mirror, breaking them both to pieces. But the shattered mirror only showed her herself, more times in multiple reflections.
Jenny fell to her knees in the broken glass, feeling it slice into her skin. She welcomed the pain as she gave in to the heaving in her insides and vomited on the floor, again and again. She collapsed, feeling the glass cut her cheek as she dry heaved, until there was nothing left in her stomach. She didn't move, didn't stop crying for a long, long time.
She thought of Xander with a sorrow so rich there were no words for it, and whispered "May the Goddess watch over you."
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Willow and Oz both jumped when the door to the apartment opened. Oz had been so focused on lending his strength to Willow that his superior werewolf senses hadn't picked up on Giles and Cordelia's return. They were quiet, closing the door and locking it behind them. Buffy wasn't with them, Oz noted absently as he turned to Willow. She'd been about to try the spell again, but he silenced her with a finger. She tried to protest, but he kissed her silent. It was still one of their first kisses, and she collapsed against his chest with a whispered sob.
"Let them take over for a while, honey," he whispered into her hair. "You're about to collapse." She nodded against his chest and he took her hand. She couldn't resist looking back at Xander. He was pale as snow, and a fine webbing of black veins had started to become visible on the side of his face that was turned up. The blood out of his mouth had stopped, at the very least, and his fingers hadn't bled as his nails turned into talons, but his back was still a mess, and his head wasn't much better. The most they'd been able to do in between healing spell attempts was to reuse gauze again and again and clean the blood up.
Xander's hair had spiked itself, somehow, as the physical aspects of the demon began to take him over. The only comfort, Oz thought, was that he wasn't awake. A possessed Xander would not be of the good, according to Buffy and Willow, who had once told him a story of a hyena-possessed Xander and all that had followed. Apparently evil Xander was kind of sexy, at least according to Willow, and also incredibly dangerous. Xander had become the alpha leader of the Pack easily, and was the only one strong enough to maintain his brain throughout the event. Giles hadn't touched on this aspect, but Oz strongly suspected that there was a capacity for darkness within Xander that no one wanted to admit.
Along with his werewolf senses, Oz had always had a sort of sixth sense with people (not, obviously, in an 'I see dead people' manner of speaking - even living on the Hellmouth with Xander that joke was just too obvious for anyone to go for), a way to gauge what someone might be. Taciturn as he was, he didn't like to speak suspicions unless he had fact to back them up. Now, though, as he looked at Xander and how creepily beautiful (in a totally evil way) that he was (and Oz had always noticed guys like that; it just wasn't something that he spoke about - it just was what it was. He had a feeling that he'd be in love with Willow just as much if she were a guy) like this, he had to wonder exactly how much of this was the possession or whatever it was, and how much of this was originally Xander.
He thought of this quickly, and mainly returned his focus back to Willow. She couldn't even walk her legs were shaking so bad, so he threw her arm over his shoulder and helped her hobble down the stairs. He tried to keep up his strength for her; she didn't need him to be weak and show her how worried he was about her. She needed him to be the rock that she could rest on, and that was what he was going to be.
"Good lord, Willow!" Giles explained, leaping to his feet and crashing his tea service to the ground as he stared at her. "You didn't keep up that spell the entire time we were gone!" Willow could only nod weakly as she collapsed onto his sofa. "That was entirely unhealthy, Willow--"
"Giles!" Cordelia barked. She shot him a warning glare, and Oz gratefully slumped on the chair next to Willow. Giles subsided, and she motioned him toward the stairs with an imperious nod of the head. Oz sometimes had to wonder if Cordelia would win a Queen competition against the Queen of England…but that thought was useless. Cordy would win, of course. She'd poison the competition to get at the crown if she thought she was going to lose.
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Buffy stared at the outside of the building, gauging exits and wondering how best to get in. She'd have to find a way to block the back door and the sewer exit, or this would all be for nothing. She'd start with the sewer; there wouldn't be any vamps in there at night. They could all walk around outside right now, and it was just about time for there to be a big crowd at this establishment before they all crawled back to their little holes to hide from the day.
Willy's Bar was the Sunnydale haven for demons, run by Willy. Everyone called him Willy the Snitch because Willy was in touch with all activity in Sunnydale, human or daemonic, and could usually either be paid for or beaten into giving you whatever information you might need. Buffy might go up against Willy alone, but there was always the chance that she needed one of the vampires to give her the information that she was after.
She dropped down into the sewer from a manhole on the street. It was a mark of how bad this place was that the streets didn't even have covers for the manholes around Willy's; when the sun rose any exposed vamp could just dive in to save their hide and stay at Willy's for the day, or under it, as the case may be. She kicked a rat that tried to freak her out and sent it flying; that seemed to be enough to discourage its creepy little rodent friends from trying the same trick. She sloughed through the disgusting green water, creeping as quietly as Slayerly possible, until she'd reached the cover leading up to Willy's.
She leapt up, easily dislodging it and peeking over the rim. There was one bogie at about two o'clock, rummaging through the beer to see if there was any blood. She cast out her Slayer senses to see if one was waiting behind her to ambush her, but there was only one leech here. She threw herself out of the sewer, and as the blood bag turned to see what the small noise was, she threw her hand over its mouth and rammed a stake into its heart, and watched in silently crumble to ash beneath her hand. She nodded in satisfaction and tucked the stake back into its sleeved sheathe, before she turned to the door.
There were three locks on it (thank God Willy was paranoid about his life, the greasy little worm), and there were enough kegs of alcohol back here to effectively blockade the thing. She set to work, moving as quietly as she could, thanking the jukebox that was blasting the latest god-awful whining boy band contribution to the pop world (she was more an alternative fan, herself) as it masked her movements. The bar sounded busy, which meant two things: a) Willy was here, so he could pick up on all the good info, and b) that all kinds of vampires across Sunnydale were here for a last dinner/nightcap before turning in for the day. She'd timed it right after all.
When the last keg was in place, she turned back and leapt back into the sewer, hanging on by her fingertips until she'd jimmied the cover back into place, just in case. She hurried back out of the sewer, jumping a straight ten feet up into the air with her Slayer strength and landed back out on the streets. She ran to the back door and quickly hauled a dumpster to block it. Sweat streaming down her face, she slammed the dumpster into the door, effectively blocking it. It would take at least ten demons slamming on it to get that out of the way, especially after as an afterthought she ran back and kicked the front two wheels out of whack.
With that, she ran back to the front of the club and stared at it. She pulled out the Hell-Fire carefully, and uncorked the smoking bottle.
"Showtime," she whispered to herself with a dark smile.
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Giles held Cordelia as she buried her face in his shoulder, desperate to not look at the mockery of what her friend had once been. It was hard, he thought, to convince oneself that Xander was still there underneath it all. Perhaps it was because of his days with Eyghon that he could objectively force himself to see Xander there, to feel the boy beneath the demon. This was different than a possession, though; there was some other force at work here. A powerful one, one beyond anything he'd felt before.
"What's happened to him, Giles?" Cordelia whispered.
"I wish I could tell you," he said quietly as he went to sit by the bed. He had even less magical energy than Willow, and he would only be able to say the spell at the most three times. He'd have to wait until it was desperately needed. And he would have to pray that Buffy knew what she was doing.
As if reading his thoughts, Cordelia said "Buffy will pull it off. If anyone can do this, she can." It was a vote of confidence that Giles was grateful for. He had found himself appreciating the girl's at times intolerably blunt honesty lately, and he found himself taking some hope that she was right and that Buffy would be alright. He feared for her, feared her going against Angelus. Feared that she would not be able to do what needed to done.
He stared down at Xander and felt tears welling in his eyes. It had been with a heavy heart and great mixed feelings that he'd allowed Xander and Willow to become, as they'd dubbed themselves, Buffy's "Slayerettes" and help with the fighting. He had shocked himself by being almost proud of the boy when he'd gone after Buffy in the sewers that first day, simply because he had a friend down there and knew that it was the right thing to do. Xander, as immature as he could sometimes be, was a symbol, even though he didn't know it.
Xander stood for the youthful naïveté, the innocence and light that they all fought to preserve. It was from that light that shone so strongly that Buffy had gathered so much strength. It was that light that had forced a two hundred year old vampire to go down to the Master's lair, and it was that light that had done the impossible and saved Buffy's life and also split the Slayer line in two. It was that boy that had faced down prophesies and apocalypses to save his friends. He was everything they fought for, and he was the son that Giles had never had.
He was the true friend that Cordelia had been searching for all her life, he was the brother that Willow needed, and the paragon of strength that Buffy needed to draw support from as she fought the forces of darkness that were her curse and calling. Giles sank to his knees and drew Xander's hand into his, clenching it tightly. Xander might as well have been his son, and he would do whatever it took, come what may and hell to pay, to keep him.
He felt a pang in his heart, though of what he couldn't tell, when Xander moaned slightly in his sleep and clenched Giles' hand all the tighter.
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The patrons of Willy's Bar that survived the holocaust would never ever forget that night as long as they lived. They would talk about if for years, mainly because it scared them so bad and taught them why they should never take on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, ever, because she was the scariest bitch that they had ever ever seen in their entire undead daemonic lives.
One minute, they were all laughing, drinking, having a good time. A few of them were more serious, talking about Angelus and whatever had happened. Bets were being placed on whether he'd kill the Slayer or the Slayer would kill him. In that moment all bets shifted to the Slayer living because at that moment the door burst open in a fiery explosion that shattered half the glass in the place and shook everyone to their toes. Willy pissed himself. Five vampires that had been near the door burst into flames and scattered ashes within seconds. And that was when she walked in.
Just like a one woman army, she stepped in, completely cold, brutal, and completely aware that she was going to kill each and every single demon and human in this establishment. She took out a bottle of holy water and shook it with a jaunty wave. "Don't try to run. You'll just make this even more painful than it needs to be." Her voice dripped ice.
So, of course, ten vamps headed for the different doors while the rest were still too stunned to move. She threw the holy water as hard as she could at a corner, where the glass exploded. The stupidly stunned vamps that hadn't been able to figure out that she'd already blocked the doors screamed in pain as the blessed water burned and tormented their skin. She smirked at the sound as she grabbed a table and blocked the ruins of the front door. She stepped down and met her first attacker.
He was a large brute that went straight for a haymaker. She unleashed her secret weapon when she ducked under it and spun herself as fast as she could. The stone that was attached to her hair whipped out like a slingshot and slammed into the creature's eye with a disgusting crack. He screamed in pain as she completed the twirl by sweeping his legs out from under him and slammed a stake into his heart. She straightened with two fearsome looking stakes, one in each hand, and she screamed loud enough to shake glass: "Any of you other fucks want to dance, you'll go down! I'm gonna get what I came for, and I'll collect the head of any stupid little bitch who's too stupid to not leave the fighting to those of us who can!"
This was enough of a taunt to send the five angriest vamps after her. She held herself in a ready stance, and when three of them rushed her, she leapt straight up to the ceiling, watching in her hind view when they slammed into each other hard enough to shake the floor. She landed in between the two that had stayed behind and had both stakes in both hearts before either of them could so much as blink.
She turned to the other three, who were shaking themselves and staring at her in fear as she turned to them next. "Next," she said calmly.
"BITCH!" one screamed, and threw herself at the Slayer with a whirl of vampiric claws and gnashing fangs. Buffy caught her and used her momentum to slam her to the ground hard enough to snap the arm the vampiress landed on. Buffy threw herself to her feet, easily recognizing the feint, and leapt into the air, letting her right foot lash out in a roundhouse swing. Buffy felt her foot connect with the two who had tried to attack her rear when she'd slammed the first bitch on the floor. They both went down, and she landed battle ready.
"Lick my boots while you're down there," she sneered, taunting them to get back up again. The rest of the bar stared at her in shock. Did she have a fucking death wish?! The girl was the first to get up, and Buffy whirled, grabbing her by her broken arm, twisting till the leech screamed, and then sent her sliding all the way down the bar, shattering every glass and bottle on the way. The girl screamed in pain and landed in a crumpled heap on the floor, shuddering and sobbing, pulling glass out of her face. Buffy smirked and hurled a stake through the air, slamming it point-first in the girl's heart. Dust.
She leapt into the air, back-flipping over the two vamps who were just getting up, and slammed her stake into one. The other, she grabbed a handy pool cue and slammed it into his groin. He screamed and landed in the ashes of his compatriot. She slammed it onto his head and then stabbed him through the heart, pulling the cue all the way through his chest and holding the gore-covered makeshift staff at the ready as she faced the rest of the bar. Willy pissed himself again.
She looked like the Morrigan, the terrible Raven warrior goddess of Irish mythology, standing calmly, not even breathing hard, holding a gore encrusted staff ready, waiting for the next attack. One vamp stupidly tried to hide under the table, and she lashed out with her foot, sending a beer bottle flying through the air and hitting him in the forehead with perfect aim. He crumpled with a yelp of pain, and everyone else (about twenty) just stared at her in shock and not the least bit of fear.
"You're all pathetic," she snarled, "a mockery of what it means to be alive. You demons just invade our bodies and haul carcasses around and call it living…none of you are worth my time. But there is one running around out there that is," she said, every inch of her an Ice Queen, the beauty in her made terrible. She tossed down the pool cue and pulled out the wickedly sharp, foot long knife from her boot. "He hurt my friend. This is completely unacceptable to me. I'm going to hunt him down. I'm going to kill him. And I'm gonna start collecting dicks and tits with this thing to gild and nail on my wall until one of you tells me where he is."
There was a stunned silence, save some whimpering. Willy had nothing left in his bladder, else he would have pissed himself again. He wondered if you could shit yourself in terror. He also wondered for the umpteenth time why he didn't take his snitch money and run as far away from Sunnydale as he possibly could.
"Any takers?" Buffy asked, waving the knife around with a terrible smile on her face. As one, the entire vampiric population fell over itself to appease her.
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A/N: Okay, so I meant to finish this, but this chapter is going to be a two-parter. I'm going to finish it as a gift to my readers before I go on the above-mentioned trip. Sorry to leave you hanging, but there's only so much typing you can do at midnight before your fingers just collapse and your brain decides that it hates you and makes you hemorrhage in uncomfortable places.
Okay, that and I like cliffhangers, and this is obviously a big one.
Also, a note on the fight scene: I made a mini little play list for that one, so if anyone would like a little thing to listen to while reading the Buffy fight (I must say, I almost scared myself with her on this one) here it is:
1) "Awakening" by The Damning Well
2) "Bombs Over Baghdad (Rock Version)" by OutKast
3) "99 Problems/One Step Closer" by Linkin Park and Jay-Z
4) "Blow Me Away" by Breaking Benjamin
Number three can be substituted with just "One Step Closer" by Linkin Park - the only way I can listen to Jay-Z is when he did Collision Course with Linkin Park. Otherwise he just annoys me. I'm not a big rap fan, in case you guys didn't catch that (not to piss off rap fans; it's just not my scene).
Number four comes off of one of the Halo soundtracks, not sure which, I don't play the game, I just like Breaking Benjamin. And also the Rock Version of BOB by OutKast that I have says it features Red Hot Chili Peppers; I don't know if this is true. Whatever.
Oh, and BTW, the whole Hell-Fire idea is a shout-out to the Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Chaos Bleeds video game that I now own. It's an amazing game and it really gives us fans a chance to play all our favorite characters. The only drawbacks: no Angel, no Oz, and they have actors for Buffy, Anya and Willow (the one for Buffy is way believable, but the other two SUCK). Other than that, I recommend it to any Buffyverse fan.
Anyway, I'm tired, and I'm gonna have to write another part of this chapter tomorrow to post before I leave. You guys had better appreciate me. Just kidding. Thanks for reading, and have a great night…/morning. I'm tired. Love to all. Whatever. Just get me a pillow.