Chapter 51

Piatra Neamt

It was vastly apparent that no one stayed dead in Sunnydale.

Whether as ghost, zombie or vampire, one way or another you were bound to come back.

John knew how lucky he was, to have this second chance.

The sun was setting, and he was hiking up the deeply rutted logging track that led through the pine forest. The smog eased as they gained the mountain, and the last futile rays of the sun filtered through the smog, painting the landscape a dismal red. It was an easy hike for him and his nearly perfected body, and he tried to hide his nimble step as the others complained, loudly, in Romanian. He let his mind wander, and thought about Willow and Tara.

Willow. The red-haired super nuke of the gods had been surprised to see him as part of Faith's army, as he knew she would. Even before his reanimation he had been adept at reading people; he saw in her the rainbow of coloured auras that meant she was blessed of many gods. He also saw bone deep weariness and pain, sorrow fathoms deep anchoring her sea green eyes. She wanted to stay, to demand answers; he wondered if she would resort to cajoling him or threatening him to get the information she sought. But she knew there was no time, even though he would have answered any question she would ask.

Why was he here? He had a debt to repay, and not only to Willow.

It was getting darker, but the sun was still above the horizon. They were drawing closer. He could feel the earth, restless beneath his feet. The gura cerului

(heavenmouth)

hummed, just up there, by the monastery. The First was foolish to try its shenanigans here.

The departed merely waited for their own opportunity. But it might still come down to Willow, the scythe, and Tara.

Tara. John had returned, reanimated in body but broken in spirit. Listless, grieving, he made his way to the one beacon of light he could sense in a world mired in ugliness. How astonished he was to find her, a descendant of Aranaea, and the healer of the world.

Tara was so hurt, by life. John wondered how she could ever do what she'd been prophesied to do. Until it was Willow Rosenberg who was wheeled through the hospice doors. All became clear. Willow saved his life, without even knowing it. Tara restored his faith in humanity. And now he would have the chance to repay them both.

The others had been remarkably clear. Do not interfere with Willow and Tara in any way. Aranaea in particular had been fierce about his interaction with the two women, or lack thereof. She seemed to think that a single mistake from John, the wrong word at the wrong time, could throw the whole "Willow has to fall in love with Tara so Tara can save the world" thing.

She was young, for a goddess. John could take her shriekings in stride.

After leaving the hospice, early in the morning in California time, John had appeared in Bacau, speaking to Irina and meeting firebrand Faith. Some time later Willow had arrived in person, puzzled by his appearance but without the time to ask questions. It was just as well. John's story was a little complicated. After updating Faith and installing Oz as another fighter Willow left, returning to the farmhouse to hold the Priest of Danzalthar hostage. After she was gone, that young, fiery Slayer didn't know what to do with him. He had no magic they could see, no fighting skills. Under her breath, Faith said he was just like Xander.

John could handle that. Xander played a far bigger role than even the Scoobies themselves realized.

For his part, John was intent on getting to the monastery before the armies of The First. With a nudge here and a suggestion there, Faith's motley little vamp-trashing crew got organized and began their trek up the mountain.

He was always a shepherd. These younglings were pretty annoying sheep. It was almost difficult to imagine them saving the world. But really, could he have done as much, young and immature and mortal?

There was a cemetery off the side of the monastery. With his heightened senses, even in the dim light he could read the ancient, moss-filled carvings. Generations of the Order of the Crescent lay here, protecting the Seal even within their tombs. When the time was right they would draw on their holy armour as well, John would see to that.

...

Thin mist crept among the pine trees, and the smell of resin was strong in the air. Faith surreptitiously breathed deeply, vastly aware that California smelled nothing like this. Well, neither did the cities of Romania, for that matter. Bacau may have been civilised to some degree, with internet cafes, bank machines and a Starbucks, but to step two miles from the city was to lose two hundred years. Small houses. Little electricity, little plumbing.

The march up to the monastery went by in a flash. For the first time the Slayer was in charge of her own army; there was no Giles, no Buffy to give orders. The thought simultaneously thrilled and scared her. The secret Order of the Crescent had operated in silence for hundreds of years, their young members highly skilled in fighting vampires and demons. There were still so few of them, not even fifty. Six new Slayers followed behind her, greener than the Potentials back in Sunnydale. Faith wondered how many of them would survive the night.

She had strange allies. The Order of the Crescent, their general Jude walking just behind her. Occasionally her warm hand would touch Faith's back. The Slayerettes, all six barely capable of holding a stake, let alone killing a vamp with it. Oz, a familiar face in an unfamiliar place, walking in an easy, wolfish lope. His face was grim. Faith wondered what inner demons he was facing this night, and whether he would be able to contain the beast as he promised.

And John.

Faith turned her head to look at the nurse. He had sauntered amiably into Irina's house, began a rapid-fire conversation with her in Romanian, then introduced himself to Faith as a friend of Tara's. Faith, barely knowing who Tara was, was disinclined to let him join them. His hands were soft. What value could he possibly bring? More likely he would be another dead body to bury at the dawn.

"You need me," he finally said. "And if I don't come with you, I'll just follow you."

Fine. Let him die. Faith washed her hands of him.

At least, that's what she told herself.

The path they trod suddenly opened up into the clearing. The monastery was ruined; great armies of moss had overcome its toppled walls, and only two archways remained to testify of its former glory. The grass in the clearing was long and whispered against her leather pants, leaving streaks of moisture. Faith had a belt on, festooned with stakes and daggers, a crossbow hanging over her shoulder. Her army was similarly armed, and the youngest members of the Order were marching near the back with their reserves of weapons.

Faith fingered the dagger at her belt and dreamed of holding the scythe again. It had taken all her self-control not to beg Willow to let her have it back – it had always felt right in her hands. With the scythe, she was invincible. After Willow left, Oz had filled in the rest of the details. Faith really had only one purpose here tonight. To keep Caleb off the Seal, and to kill him. Until she had the scythe again, her broadsword, crossbow, and wicked set of daggers would have to do.

Too bad Buffy killed him first. If there was one thing Faith hated, it was following in The Chosen One's footsteps.

No matter how hard Faith tried to convince herself that she didn't care, there was a pang in her heart when she thought of Buffy and the others. There would be no more battles for them. No more heated blood-lust, no more adrenaline coursing through veins, no more midnight lovemaking.

As ordered, her army began to stream into position as they entered the clearing. The monastery itself was deserted, so Faith's army took possession, Willow's warning resounding in her mind.

(Whatever you do, don't let Caleb on the Seal.)

The Seal was covered with a great stone slab. Even with her Slayer powers, Faith knew she would not be able to lift it.

The sun set himself among the folds of the mountains, and a curtain of night was veiled over the sky. It was almost time.

At the edge of the monastery, looking out across the clearing, her army arrayed themselves behind fallen blocks, her crossbowmen in a line hidden among the ruins. Two brave young men rolled out the fire line across the far edge of the clearing before spooling the ends back to their general. Jude stood just behind Faith, her dark brown hair caught up in a ponytail, a stake in her hand. Unlike the others, she stood poised and ready, a small smile upon her lips. In the last few days Faith had discovered in Jude a lust for battle the equal of her own. And an equal lust for pleasure as well.

Untouched by no hand more threatening than a shepherd for hundreds of years, the Stone Mountain and everyone upon it waited for nightfall.

They did not have long to wait. Already the moon was rising, full and massive, a bright orb to better light their way. Oz had a charm in his hand, was fingering the beads and whispering. Behind her, Jude's breath quickened.

And from the dark trees ahead crept the hordes of the underworld.

It was a mixed army that faced them; demons and vampires that would never consider themselves allies were it not for the pale faced man walking in front of them, the white spot at his throat gleaming with eldritch light. The Priest of Danzalthar, Tara's dad, the one the bad guys were going to sacrifice, was nowhere to be seen.

And neither were Willow or Tara.

Faith took a deep breath as Caleb slowly advanced, his army upon his heels. In the moonlit clearing, it seemed as if his eyes were black. For a long moment they stared at each other, their armies restless at their heels.

"Playtime," Faith whispered.

The undead let out a roar as they surged past Caleb – Faith could see he was willing to let them die first. Jude needed no order from Faith; as the line of vampires and demons drew near the fire cable, Jude lit her ends with a lighter. Immediately sparks surged through the cable and as they hit the pockets of gunpowder secreted along the fire line, they exploded.

A curtain of fire erupted near the first rank of vampires and demons; they shrieked in agony as they dropped to their knees. Clothing alight, some tried to run away or roll in the dewed grass. Any who ran were spitted by the demons behind them.

The fire, though intense, didn't last long. Cremated, charred hunks of undead flesh littered the ground and the charnel-house smell drifted to Faith and her army in the slight breeze. In the moment of confusion that reigned, Faith yelled, "First rank, fire!"

An almost musical twang as wooden crossbow bolts were launched through the air, thudding with deadly accuracy in the milling ranks of the enemy. "Second rank!" Faith called. Through the dust cloud of their departed flesh, Faith's second rank of crossbowmen fired, penetrating even deeper into the army.

This was the easy part. From now on, things could get tricky.

Her army reloaded their weapons and Faith could hear Caleb shouting commands. The preacher didn't seem concerned, which bothered Faith a hell of a lot more than she let on. They had just obliterated nearly a hundred of his men. How many more were hidden among the trees?

Faith had no more time to wonder.

Regrouped, the enemy once again advanced, wary of more traps. "Fire at will!" Faith cried out, and again crossbows hummed. As the bolts fell among them, the undead began to run.

And in moments were at the edge of the monastery, grappling hand to hand with Faith's army. As Faith parried strokes and sunk her stake again and again into vampire flesh, she looked around. Some of her own were falling, their throats ripped open by vampires or their bodies crushed by demons.

Parting the crowds like Moses did the Red Sea, Caleb advanced towards her. Faith still didn't have the scythe.

His eyes were black, and lightning crackled around his fists.

Where are you, Red?

She was fighting back to back with Jude, and suddenly felt as much as heard her lover's exclamation of air. Turning to defend, not knowing what to expect, Faith followed Jude's pointing finger.

Among the tombs of the cemetery John stood, his hands held wide over his head, calling in a language Faith could not recognize.

A rumbling, whether from earth or sky Faith could not tell.

Both armies seemed to pause as the first misty shapes arose from the ground. They were not the skeletal, earth eaten shapes Faith would have expected from ghosts. Rather they looked as they did in life, hale in heart and body, composed of energy, not flesh. An unearthly light seemed to be cast upon them, or radiating from within them. They stood, clothed and ready for battle.

So that's why we need John.

They made little sound, her new allies, but the undead army they faced was roaring in ferocity. The din was incredible – with the screams of her fallen soldiers, the death chants of the demons, and the whistling of energy weapons through the air, Faith was distracted.

And a demon hulked through the fallen stones and fell upon Jude. Faith turned to engage, even as her lover cried out in pain. Stumbling backwards over a low stone, Jude fell, her hand to her side, the demon on top of her. Inarticulate with rage, Faith screamed something incoherent and heart wrenching as she attacked the demon. Knife strokes seemed to glance away from the hardened shell of his body as he continued to crush Jude beneath him.

Somewhere behind her there was an explosion. Chunks of flying stone gouged the backs of her legs, scored lines of green ichor from the body of the demon that was still crushing her girlfriend. Screams filled the empty spaces of the night. Ghosts fought among them, but there was no one to save Jude.

"Faith, move!" yelled a familiar voice.

Faith jumped away from the demon just as a lightning bolt crashed into it, followed immediately by a force globe of air. The demon's body went flying off somewhere, Faith didn't care where, all she cared about was that there was a broken body lying among the rocks, blood dribbling from her beloved mouth.

"Faith?" Jude whispered, a thicker stream of blood making its way down her cheek and neck. There were huge gashes on her chest and arms. Her legs were twisted, and from her shin Faith could see broken bone erupting.

Faith and Willow knelt by the body simultaneously. Willow took one of Jude's hands even as she passed the scythe to Faith. "I'll help her. You kill Caleb."

Already Faith could see Jude's skin mending, her broken bones aligning once more. Faith stood and saw a girl standing behind Willow, a girl with clear blue eyes, thin scars down her cheeks, who seemed to almost radiate with light. Faith had never been a religious person, so she couldn't quite name the sensation of near-awe that passed through her as she saw Tara for the first time.

It was as if she was face to face with a goddess.

Tara's face turned from kindly to stricken. "Behind you!" she shouted.

Faith whirled, expecting to see an enemy, taking advantage of her distraction. What she saw was worse.

With his bare two hands crackling with energy, surrounded by groaning bodies of the Order, Caleb stood astride the stone slab of the Seal.

Faith began to run, even as demons surrounded Willow, Tara, and Jude. She leaped over them, hating that she needed faith, of all things, faith in Willow and the others, to protect what she could not protect. The scythe was warm in her hands, tingling with energy and vitality.

She could hear the fight renewed behind her; as she navigated through the concourse of fallen stone and fallen body, she could see Tara grappling with an enemy. It seemed as if Willow and Tara worked in a perfect team; Tara ducked just as Willow lifted her bloodied hand to cast lightning upon the hapless demon – he fell in a blaze of crackling light.

Caleb loomed before her, his hands lifted to the heavens. She could almost see the massive, maniacal shape of the First behind his eyes.

Faith could have kicked her own ass. This was her one task. Keep Caleb off the Seal. She almost had to respect Caleb's thinking – with Jude injured, Faith was busy, and he was free to do as he wished.

Caleb leaped into the air, and landed on the stone slab with the force of a bomb. The slab exploded, flying chunks of stone striking human and undead flesh alike. Faith's cheeks were gouged, as were her arms and legs. Grappling with a demon that suddenly leered in front of her, Faith saw Caleb stand upon the Seal, then he slashed his wrists with the knife.

Decapitating the demon with one mighty swoop, Faith leaped on the Seal and tackled Caleb to the ground, not before noticing that the Seal had begun to glow and pulse with energy.

Blood was leaking from the preacher's wrists, thin foam around his mouth. He barely moved as Faith got to her feet. "Even the powerful die," he began to say.

"Whatever," Faith interrupted, and lopped off his head.

With Caleb's death, the enemy seemed to lose part of its heart. Distracted vampires were staked by Slayerettes and the few remaining members of the Order. Ghosts swarmed over demons, using weapons of pure energy to slice and dice. The werewolf lifted his head to the sky and howled; Faith could see his charms still in his hand. He melted back into Oz, his face triumphant over his control of the beast. Faith didn't really care. With a deliberation that nearly made her squeamish, Faith systematically chopped Caleb up – there would be no more sewing and reanimation for the dark preacher. If only Buffy had done the same.

Faith looked back towards Jude and Willow. Jude was on her feet, though still a bit shaky. Tara held her arm. Willow whispered something to Tara; the girl nodded and Willow hurried away, kneeling among the fallen bodies.

Walking to her lover, Faith drew Jude into a tight embrace and whispered, "Don't scare me like that again, okay?"

"I thought you didn't get scared," Jude whispered back, pulling Faith's lips toward hers. A hard, bruising kiss that stole Faith's breath away, and then they pulled away. "More later," Jude promised.

Faith nodded, looking at Tara. The girl had a sad expression on her face, and was watching Willow move among the fallen. Near them the Seal continued to pulse with energy; to Faith's surprise, it slowly grew stronger. Tara was watching its progression, and soon she called out to Willow.

Willow immediately left the body she was tending and walked back to them, taking Tara's hand. "I've saved who needed it most. The rest will have to wait."

Willow held out her hand. Faith understood. She passed back the scythe. "Thanks, Red. You came just in time."

"I'm sorry we couldn't get here any sooner. We had… problems."

Tara looked wistful. Those who could walk were beginning to congregate around them, including Oz and John. They looked at Willow and Tara as if only faintly beginning to understand what was happening, and Faith felt another wrench in her heart. She had failed in her only task, and the pale-faced woman in front of her was going to die as a result. She wanted to open her mouth and apologize to Willow and Tara both, to explain what had happened, but the words froze in her throat. It was because of Willow's eyes.

The red-haired witch stood there, holding Tara close with one hand, the scythe in the other. Tara's head was tucked near Willow's neck. As Faith watch, Willow softly kissed the top of Tara's head. Faith couldn't quite understand how Willow was taking it so calmly, until she noticed the tremor in Willow's hand, the tightness of Willow's jaw, the despair writ clearly on her face.

Jude had her life back, thanks to Willow. Tara would lose hers, thanks to Faith. If she allowed it, the injustice of it all would shred apart her heart. Couldn't have that happen. So Faith boxed the feelings up, to handle another day. In time, Willow might forgive her. Faith wasn't sure she could forgive herself.

So Tara went in the same little box as the mayor's man she slew in the alley, the same box she hid away all her mistakes.

"Give them some space, wouldja?" Faith called out, walking among them and shooing them away. If Willow had to kill her girlfriend, she could at least do it in some semblance of privacy. At Willow's expression, Faith allowed Oz and John to stay.

Arms about each other's waists, Willow and Tara were climbing upon the Seal. Then they stood there, and the glowing energy from the activated Seal bathed them in soft light. As they shared a lingering kiss, Faith discovered that her eyes were full of tears, and she could look no more.