Bring Me to Life – A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event

Part 34 – Exit Light, Enter Night, Part 4


ZZRACK!

Floating several feet above the ground, Pearl's plasma blast just narrowly missed Spike as he ducked away towards the trees.

"You won't escape me again, scum!" Pearl shouted as she hurled another deadly bolt of green energy towards Spike. "I've waited decades to pay you back, Spike. Hell, it's the only thing that's kept me going all this—aaack!"

Pearl's ramblings were cut off as a handful of mud splashed across her eyes, blinding her.

From the ground, Spike, admiring his well-timed aim, couldn't resist a dig. "Geez, and I thought Anya had a hard time letting go of one-night stands. You really need to get out more, Pearl. Hell, try one of those dating sites, something!"


Angeles National Forest—50 Miles from Los Angeles

Now


Infuriated, Pearl's eyes shot out twin deadly bolts of green energy that quickly incinerated the mud, the pale half-demoness shrieking in fury as she began wildly hurling balls of lethal jade power towards Spike. The vampire's speed and agility was his saving grace, allowing him to stay one step ahead of the bolts as they singed and splintered the trees around him.

As Faith and Kennedy dodged a few fiery green bolts from Nash nearby and found cover near a tree just a few feet from Spike, the brunette Slayer darted a mildly annoyed glance towards Spike as she held the stake close to her. "Lemme guess…another crazy ex—?"

"Technically, not an ex-…well, not exactly," Spike grimaced, wincing as another explosion sent a wave of dirt and shredded tree bark his way, covering his prized leather duster with forest grime.

"Gotta say, Spike…between your Elvira-wannabe Sire and Miss New Wave up there, a girl might start taking the psycho ex-girlfriends as red flags," Faith quipped before she had to cover her ears from another ringing bolt blast from the twin half-demons stalking them.

"It's a bit more complicated than that, luv," Spike said as he commando rolled across the ground until he got closer to both women.

"So, get me up to speed, CassanoVamp," Faith replied as Spike closed the gap until he was right next to them, all three crouched low behind the thick bark of a redwood tree shielding them from view. "What's the deal with Lady Gaga-lite?"

Keeping his gaze on Faith as he crouched low, he leaned against the tree. "Her name's Pearl. The metrosexual tit floatin' near her is her annoying brother Nash. A pair of morons who think they're s'pposed to be the next stage of evolution or some rut like that."

"Pretty ambitious for a couple of demons," Kennedy noted as she reloaded her crossbow. Her last shot at Nash was almost dead-on for his forehead, but the arrow was incinerated but a few feet from him with one blast from his eyes.

"That's the thing—they're not demons. Well, not completely," Spike continued, though he addressed Faith the whole time. "They're half-demon. The way Pearl tells it, their mum shagged some pure blood demon after she summoned it during the Dust Bowl days in the 1930s. Lady was off her rocker, obsessed with mixing human genes with demon seed to create some sort of new uber-race to walk the earth."

"Wait—you mean to tell me their mom wanted to get knocked up by a demon on purpose?" Faith said, frowning at the disturbing imagery.

"Guess sanity doesn't run in the family," Spike shrugged. "Both of those tossers think they're supposed to be the first in a new world order. They think that humans are weak, frail and that today's demons are archaic old bastards that need replacing. Or at least that's what Pearl was rambling on about in between shags."

Off Faith's unamused frown, Spike's small chuckle died out, returning his gaze above them as Pearl and Nash hovered like helicopters above the forest. "But they're stronger than most blokes I've faced. And I've faced my fair share of 'em. They draw their power from primal emotions. The dark, angry, hurt-y crap. With enough of that, they become living reactors. Toasting and roasting everything in sight."

"Yeah, thanks for the back story, London Calling," Kennedy snidely tossed at him as she kept alert eyes to the skies. "But none of that is telling us anything useful like, say, oh…how to kill those sons of bitches?"

"Hold your horses, Greenhorn, the grown-ups are talking," Spike shot back.

"Hate to say it, but the rookie's got a point," Faith sighed. "Unless they have a weakness you can clue us in on, we're gonna need a plan. Otherwise, we're sitting ducks like this."

"Fair enough," Spike nodded. "You and Punky Brat-ster over there should draw out Nash. He's got a weakness for the ladies. He won't be able to resist you two as targets."

Thinking back to that creepy smile the pale male half-demon flashed her earlier, Faith shuddered. "Ugh. Can't hardly wait," she muttered.

"Not exactly my type, either, even without the demon pedigree," Kennedy groaned, turning to Spike. "What about you?"

"Oh, I'll take a bloody moonlight stroll, it's lovely this time of night. What d'ya think I'm gonna do, ya daft bint?" Spike sarcastically bit out. "I'll take Pearl, of course."

Before an irritated Kennedy could shoot back a reply or Faith could still the half-smile at Spike's snappy retort, a sudden rush of wind and snapping tree branches caught them off guard…

…just as Pearl, flying in from out of nowhere, grabbed Spike by the front of his shirt.

"Better idea—how about Pearl takes you?" she sneered, before hauling him straight up into the air with her.

As he became airborne, a dismayed Spike could only blurt out, "Oh, bollOOOOOOOCKS!!"

"Spike!" Faith cried out, just before a sudden blast of energy exploded the ground beneath her, knocking the Slayer and Kennedy into the air and sliding across the ground.

Dazed, Faith and Kennedy slowly pushed themselves off the ground to see a madly grinning Nash hovering above them.

"Evening, ladies. Lovely night for a walk, isn't it?" Nash smiled, his eyes glowing an ominous green. "Or an incineration."

Finding cover behind a nearby redwood tree, Faith huffed deep pants of air as she narrowly missed another deadly plasma bolt from Nash's hands. This David Bowie-looking demon's aim wasn't great, but the power behind each blast helped even things out.

At this rate, Nash would probably level this entire section of the forest before he tired out. Faith realized she wasn't going to be able to dodge him for very long, and the more inexperienced Kennedy would have even less time. Sooner or later, she'd have to take him on, give him something to concentrate on, if only to buy the Potential time. Faith was no fan of Kennedy's, but she knew her responsibility was to keep her alive.

"Come on, now, ladies, surely you realize the futility of hiding by now?" Nash taunted as he hovered overhead, eyes aflame with green light. "But then again, I always did find hide-and-seek to be rather fun when I stalk my prey."

"You want fun, Bowie?"

A female voice caused a distracted Nash to look up…

…just as Faith came flying down from a nearby tree branch, connecting with a solid kick to his face.

"You found the right girl," Faith smiled tauntingly as the two fell to the ground, Faith landing neatly on her feet while Nash rolled along the ground for a moment before quickly setting himself upright.

"Aahh. A Slayer," the pale white half-demon grinned, sharpened teeth glowing dimly as the moonlight bounced off them. "It's been a while since the last one I killed." Nash regarded her with great interest, his emerald glowing eyes quickly appraising Faith's sultry figure. "Though I have to say…you're much prettier than she was."

"Eyes up here, Thin White Douche," Faith said as she glowered at him. "Keep throwing those blasts at me and the girl and the only thing you're gonna pick up is your teeth."

"We'll see, darling," a still-grinning Nash replied, the energy down his right arm suddenly forming into a deadly sword of light. "Shall we dance?"

Baring a feral smile of her own, Faith drew out her dagger. "Just try and keep up."

Faith leapt over one of Nash's sword swipes, spinning in midair and catching him with a kick to the face. Growling, the demon recovered and brought the sword up high and down hard towards Faith, who just barely dodged it. The acrid smell of scorched earth and burning air was all around her, but she pressed her attack. She had to keep him off balance and buy Kennedy time to find some higher ground.

"You're feisty. I like that," Nash smiled darkly between sword swipes. "You know, I am in the market for a new bride to carry my offspring."

Kicking Faith in the stomach, Nash charged the pained Slayer as she clutched her tummy, knocking her to the ground. Pivoting his hips, he strattled over Faith's waist, pinning her wrists to the ground. Faith squirmed and grunted as she tried to push the half-demon off her, but to no avail.

As he leaned in towards her, inches from her face, Faith could smell his hot, stinking breath and she had to force her stomach not to wretch at the smell. "And you look like you have strong legs. What do you say, Slayer? Care to test out what superior genes can really do for you on those long, cold graveyard nights?"

Scowling, Faith grunted back, "Sorry, Half-and-Half. I don't like bleeders."

And then she viciously brought her forehead up, smashing his flattened nose hard. Green blood spurted out of Nash's nose as he yelped in pain, forcing him to relinquish her grip on her wrists. Her hands free, Faith balled up her right fist and smashed it hard across Nash's left cheek, effectively knocking him backwards off of her. Quickly, she back-rolled onto her feet, ready to go again.

To his credit, Nash recovered quickly, smirking as he wiped his bloody nose. "Oh, you have spirit. How delightful. I will enjoy breaking you, Slayer," he vowed.

"Break this, Pale Boy!" came Kennedy's war cry as she leapt out of nowhere, both hands gripping a sword while she tried to bring the blade down on Nash's head.

"Kennedy, NO!" Faith shouted in warning.

But it was too late. The much faster Nash already had his hand up and unleashed a huge surge of green energy towards the hotheaded young Potential. Caught in midair, Kennedy had no chance to block it, the blast catching her right in the chest. The heat was almost unbearable for Kennedy, who let out a cry of pain before the concussive force knocked her back several feet into the air…and crashing several trees deep in the forest, the young Potential slumping to the ground, motionless and still.

Nash smirked as he started to turn back to Faith. "Hh. After about the fifteenth, killing Slayers just becomes a chore, you kn—OOH!"

A vicious, blur-like uppercut was Faith's answer, the enraged Slayer following up with a series of face punches, a spinning side kick to the head, and her trademark right cross, belting Nash across the face as she sent him sprawling toward the ground. Pausing to pick up Kennedy's discarded sword, Faith walked over to Nash and planted her foot across his chest. Pushing him down as she held the deadly blade up in the air, she scowled menacingly at her murderous foe.

"Chores are done, Super Creep," Faith said bitingly, raising her sword up for the coup de grace blow. "This is where I have my fun."

A whistling sound coming closer drew her attention, and Faith moved her head and rolled to the side just in time to avoid a dagger being thrown at her head…wielded by a madly grinning Drusilla.

The pale vampiress stood not 10 feet behind her, giggling wildly as her sharp eyes honed in on Faith.

Recalling their last encounter, Faith's eyes narrowed into furious slits as she stared at her enemy. "You."

Drusilla only smiled back. "Me." Her eerie grin grew wider. "And baby makes three."

Faith barely had a moment to understand the mad vampiress's ramblings before a sudden surge of heat struck the dark-haired Slayer hard in the back. "AAAGH!"

The pain was overwhelming, her back scorching with searing pain as the blast knocked her off her feet and sent her tumbling to the ground. Coughing as she fought to breathe, Faith could smell the scorched fabric of her jean jacket even as her vision blurred and the world kept spinning.

Nash floated above her now, his hand glowing a deadly green as Drusilla roughly grabbed Faith by her long black tresses and hauled her to her knees. Staring helplessly up at Nash, Faith weakly tried to free herself from Drusilla's grip, but Nash's attack had sapped a lot of her strength. It was taking a lot for her just to keep conscious at this point.

Nash floated down to the ground, grabbing Faith roughly from Drusilla as he pinned the Slayer's arms behind her back. "So, you like to play, do you?" he hissed into a struggling Faith's ear. "Okay, then, darling…let's play a little game."

As he nodded to Drusilla, Faith's eyes widened as the insane vampiress lifted her fingers up, catching Faith's panicked gaze.

"Eyes aflutter," Drusilla murmured as she beheld Faith's saucer-like brown eyes. "Little girl lost…world's all upside down…she doesn't know where she fits. Don't worry, little girl…there's a place at my table, and tea and biscuits for all."

Realizing what was happening, Faith summoned what little strength she had to shake the invading, inviting pull of Dru's thrall. No…Oh, God, not again….I can't let her!…I can't….I….I….

But Faith's thoughts and struggles began to fade as the world drowned away beneath the sounds of Drusilla's breathy voice. "Don't fight it…be…in me….be…in my eyes…"


"Hurts, doesn't it?" Pearl smiled as her glowing green fingers dug into Spike's chest, the pair still floating about a mile above the ground.

Spike hissed and groaned, but bit his tongue to keep the scream bubbling inside his chest from ripping out of his mouth. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"Grrgh…tickles," Spike ground out bitterly.

Her laugh was harsh, mocking. "How brave of you, Spike. That's right, try to be the big hero. Guess it comes with that pesky new soul I heard they shoved up your ass. Either that or you've become as much of a glutton for punishment as your friend Angel."

"He's…not…my…frien-daack!" Spike's protest at his relationship with Angel twisted in his mouth as Pearl's fingers dug deeper into his chest, the smell of his own blood and burnt flesh filling his nostrils.

As if she didn't hear him, Pearl continued. "Funny how things seem so larger than life when you're young. I was eighteen when you crashed through my window in Rome. My brave gallant vampire. The one that saved me from a big old mean Black Widower last time we met. I couldn't wait to get your clothes off and get you into bed. I thought you were my hero. God, such a naïve little girl I was. Now I know better. It doesn't matter whether you're ruled by your demon or your disgusting new soul. You're no hero. Never have been."

"Have to…give back…the decoder ring, I s'pose," Spike retorted, his free hand still trying to pry Pearl's hand loose from his chest even with her other hand on his throat.

"That was a long time ago, wasn't it?" She scowled as her eyes glowed greener. "Funny how a few extra decades of time and experience can help one focus, make you see yourself and others more…clearly."

Yeah. Lot of that going around, Spike grimly thought even as he tried to figure a way out of this deadly situation.

So much had changed since that night 50 years ago. It might as well have been a whole other life. Back then, he had thought nothing of taking advantage of a starry-eyed Pearl's advances when all he was trying to do was send a message to any underworld chumps who even thought of cheating him out of his money at cards. It was par for the course. He was taking and having whatever he wanted, the life of a vampire. No fears, no cares, nothing to worry about except running afoul of the next Slayer, and he was starting to get pretty good at killing those. He was the ruler of the damned roost, pushing around worthless minions, drinking deep from the jugulars of those lowly humans, his black goddess of a Sire by his side…He was more than just a vampire, he was William The freakin' Bloody. The Big Bad, baddest of the bad, master of all he saw.

Now? He could barely fit in among the people he was fighting alongside. That burning spark of his soul was searing in his chest more painfully than even Pearl's damned fingers were. Instead of having fearful minions eager to please him, he was the minion being bossed around by a motley crew of ex-geeks and weirdos. Instead of a dark queen by his side, he had been reduced to groveling, desperately seeking the approval of a blonde Slayer—one he was once all to eager to kill—who had finally rejected him. Instead of hunting humans, he was relegated to guarding a clumsy 16-year-old teenager who he had come to see as a little sister. And instead of taking whatever he wanted, whoever he wanted, he found himself carefully courting, protecting another Slayer, a dark-haired one whose heart was as damaged and broken as his own had become.

The mighty Big Bad had fallen, forced to play a second-fiddle hero…and worse, to his damned Grandsire Angel. Just like it had been before. Oh, what a difference a few decades made.

Neither of us are the same, Spike thought to himself for a moment. So much bloody water under the bridge. Pearl's become crazier. Harder. And me? What have I become? Not the same villain. Nobody's idea of a hero. Drifting somewhere in No Man's Land.

"Did you go somewhere, Mister? I hope I'm not boring you," an irritated Pearl's voice snapped him out of his reverie, the pretty half-demoness impatiently snapping her fingers at him.

Growling, Spike's patience was at an end. "Not at all. Lovely to see you again." Reaching into his pocket, he found a weapon that just might do the trick. "Thanks for the trip down Memory Lane, Pearl Ol' Girl, but now that I've gone down that route, I think it's time to send you on your way."

With that, he grabbed a half-empty flask of whiskey he'd been saving, twisted off the cap, and sent the contents spilling right up into Pearl's face. The alcohol and the flames from her green eyes combined with explosive results, a small fireball exploding in a screaming Pearl's face. Blinded, she relinquished her grip on Spike as she began to fall to earth in a spiraling descent. Desperately, Spike fought through the icy currents of wind and pivoted his body towards Pearl. He needed to break his fall somehow, lest he end up breaking a few limbs. Or hitting a random tree branch chest-first.

Grabbing hold of Pearl's body, Spike steered them towards a small clearing he could spot amid the screaming winds and miles of forest.

"I'll char your head like a marshmallow for this, Spike!" Pearl vowed. "I'll melt your eyes in their—"

"Oh, bloody hell, woman, can you shut your gob?" Spike snapped…

…just moments before the two plummeted to an empty patch of ground, snapping a few tree limbs in their trajectory back to earth.

Spike coughed as he pushed himself up off the ground, his head still ringing from the impact. But even through the pain, he could see that Pearl was worse for wear, the female half-demon still down on the ground, wincing in pain.

Pressing his advantage instinctively, Spike pinned her down to the floor, his hand on her throat. He could feel the soul in him hesitate, telling him that Pearl was angry, bitter, but deserved a chance to change…while the demon in him, the ruthless dark warrior he had been for more than a century, told him to finish the job, to end the troublesome bint before she could end him.

As she started to stir, Spike relented to the demon. He might have felt a little for Pearl, but not enough to risk her attacking him and the others. Better to end it quick and clean while he still had the upper hand.

"That's the luck of the draw, Pearl," Spike said simply. His face then shifted into its ridged vampire form. "And yours just ran out."

His mouth was only inches from her jugular when…

"Hands off my sister, bastard!" Spike could recognize Nash's voice, probably a few feet behind him. "Unless you want your Slayer friend to become worm food."

Alarmed, Spike turned around and froze at what he saw…Pearl and Drusilla, standing over a kneeling, frozen Faith.

If Spike's heart had a pulse, it would have stopped at the sight of Faith's expressive, normally mischievous eyes staring off into the distance, locked in a fugue-like, dull trance—Dru's handiwork, he automatically guessed. Her dark, full lips were slightly open, breath slowly, steadily coming in and out, the beautiful dark-haired Slayer staring seemingly unaware as Drusilla held a fistful of her hair in one hand, a slender knife to Faith's throat in the other. Nash's left hand glowed from an energy blade in his grip, humming angrily as he pointed its tip toward Faith's heart.

No…damn it all, no…not this…the frustrated, worried thought echoed in the vampire's mind.

Feeling his face shift back into human form, Spike let Pearl drop to the ground as he slowly stood up.

"Let the girl go," Spike said tersely, taking small, cautious steps towards the vicious duo, trying to get into better position for some sort of offense, if and when necessary.

"Nuh-uh, dear heart," Drusilla sang warningly, holding the knife closer to an unaware, paralyzed Faith's jugular. "Shhh. The puppet show's just started. Mustn't make a move, or the marionette's strings might get cut."

"That's…actually the most lucid thing I've heard you say thus far," a somewhat surprised Nash agreed with Drusilla, before returning his gaze to Spike. "Don't take another step, bloodsucker. It'd be a shame to put another Slayer down." Grinning hungrily, the half-demon hybrid reached down and slowly traced his finger along the curve of Faith's pretty face. "And such a lovely one at that."

Growling angrily at the sight of Nash taking advantage of a vulnerable Faith, Spike felt his ridges grow back, his face shifting back into its vampire form. "Take your fingers off her, Nash, unless you want me to rip them off one by one and make them canapes."

"Hmm, struck a nerve, did we?"

Spike barely had time to turn around at the familiar female voice before a powerful, hot surge of jade light and energy blasted away at his back. "RAAAARGH!"

As he fell to the ground face first, his mouth filling with blood and his vision blurring, Spike could hear Pearl's voice taunting him. "Hmm. Might have struck several nerves there. And possibly some vital organs."

Spike really wanted to say something sarcastic back to her, but the searing pain in his back, taste of his own blood and teetering on the edge of consciousness were making it hard for him to be his clever, snarky self. All he could do was grunt angrily as Pearl yanked him up by the hair to his knees, Faith's helpless stare haunting his sight, Nash's toothy grin marring his doubled vision and Drusilla's mad giggling ringing in his ears.

"F…f-Faith…" he choked out, almost desperately, trying, but failing, to snap the entranced brunette Slayer out of her trance. "Faith!"

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself," Pearl smiled as she spoke quietly, but harshly into his ears. "William the Bloody going soft for a human? Letting his guard down for a Slayer, of all people? Time was you would never have taken your eyes off your opponent, and now you couldn't even focus long enough to finish me off. It's almost sweet…in a really sad, pathetic sort of way."

"More sad than anything, really," Nash sneered, twirling of lock of Faith's hair around his fingers as the entranced Slayer stared into a blank oblivion. "You used to be a little frightening, Spike. How far you've fallen."

Despite the pain, Spike managed a wavering, crooked smirk. "Not as…sad…as playing toadies…for another big evil," he coughed out. "What now, kiddies? Couldn't get the…job done by yourselves? Had to…grovel to The First?"

"'Grovel' is an exaggeration," Nash replied, almost bored. "We were recruited. Once it explained its grand vision, unmaking all of reality, rebuilding it anew in a glorious rebirth, how could we resist? We're creating a stronger world…"

"A better world," Pearl smiled coldly. "One free of its weakness, evolving into something beautiful and strong. We're not monsters, you see…we're the saviors."

"Enough with the Darwin crap, Pearl," Spike hissed out. "You two wankers are just as crazy as you ever were. Think you're special? Newsflash, kiddies—you're not. You're just a couple of murdering, half-breed nutbags whose daft mum thought it'd fun to shag some loser from the eighth circle of hell and call you special—GAAAAH!"

Pearl's searing, glowing fingers burned his chest as she dug them deep into his wounds.

"Speak of our mother again, filth, and I'll scatter your ashes all over this forest," she hissed angrily.

"Oh, I don't think that'd be half as fun as the alternative," Nash said, turning his green eyes back to the captive Faith. "I bet she's a screamer. What do you think, Spike?"

"Grrglghk….Just…take…me," Spike ground out. "It's…me you want. She's got…no…use to you…"

At that, Pearl laughed. "How precious. She must be prettier than the last Slayers you've murdered."

Pearl smiled predatorily as she studied the strained emotions on Spike's face. All he could do was stare helplessly at Faith, who was frozen in a prison of her own mind, glassy brown eyes vacant, empty.

"I can feel your anger, Spike," Pearl whispered. "The hate, the pain…fear, ooh, it's intoxicating. You care for this one, don't you? How cute…are you in love with her, Spike? Oh, please tell me you love her…it'd give me so much more pleasure torturing someone close to your heart."

"My poor Spoike," crooned Drusilla, shaking her head in pity. Spike's strained, wide eyes couldn't leave Drusilla as she lowered her head closer to Faith's. He couldn't look away as his Sire's long, pale fingers gently brushed away the long raven locks from in front of Faith's lovely face, the normally spirited, fiery Slayer lifelessly staring a thousand miles away, her mouth open and her face slack. He could hear the beating of her strong, steady heart, normally singing, vibrating in her chest like a rock song, slowing to an abnormally steady crawl.

Spike wanted to fight. Wanted to scream, roar, break free, do something, anything to shake Faith out of the thrall she had slipped under, but everything hurt, everything screamed in his body. Pearl had done the damage on him and now, all he could do was watch his mad ex-lover torment his…whatever it was that was starting to happen between him and Faith…and pray for a miracle.

"He's all covered in her. The Slayer," Drusilla said in a hushed, almost secretive tone, pressing her cheek up against Faith's as she held the dagger closer to her frozen prey's throat. "It's in your eyes. All hero's righteous anger in the heart, burning, boiling, flashing. She's all you can see…all I can see in you."

Despite his growling, Spike couldn't help but gasp as a flitter of a memory darted across Spike's mind. The sight of Drusilla next to that schmuck of a Chaos Demon in Argentina. The angry, accusing words of his Sire: You can't blame a girl, Spike. You're all covered with her. I look at you... all I see is the Slayer. It couldn't have been…all this time, he thought Drusilla had been talking about Buffy. It only made sense. He was so obsessed with the little blonde for so long that it was only natural to assume that Dru was referring to her. But Spike had forgotten one thing that he had now suddenly realized in a cold, hard slap of an epiphany—nothing ever made sense with Drusilla. Her gift of foresight made her twisted mind live in both the present and the future. What if all this time, when he had thought Drusilla thought he was talking about his obsession with Buffy then…what if she had really seen this moment here and now?

Between Pearl's cruel taunting and Drusilla's ramblings, one horrifying thought started to crystalize in Spike's mind: What if the Slayer inside his heart that his mad Sire had seen in her vision…was really Faith?

"My poor, sweet boy's gone, isn't he?" Drusilla mused sadly. "Gave his heart away again. Playing the dashing knight, chasing the fair, rogue maiden. Hope springs in her heart, like a weed bursting through the cracks of stone. Heart like a lost puppy. Bruised, but wanting. She thinks you can be more…" Drusilla's eyes suddenly harden. "But you can never be more, can you, my Spike? Mummy knows you, from the outsides to the insides, the parts you can't see…and not a single knight's bone is in you, is there? The spark in your chest beats back the dark, but the shadows linger still, like spider's webs. She sees what the maiden can't. The dark, the nasty…she remembers what a bad man her boy can be."

"Do you really think a piece of trash like you could ever hope to be a hero?" Pearl disdainfully asked. "All the lives you took, the blood you shed…no amount of good you try to do will ever change that. Saving this girl's life, as if you could, won't make up for the dozens, maybe hundreds just like her that you've murdered. You're no hero…you're garbage. Always have been. Always will be."

A sarcastic chuckle choked out of Spike's throat. Yeah, he knew he was a piece of shit. The soul might be there now, but the memories of every atrocity he'd committed over the last century were still there. His soul was caked in blood, and it would never wash off. But he wasn't going to mope around about it like Angel or pretend to be some sort of great Champion like Buffy and Faith seemed to think he could be. All he could do was the one thing he knew how to do best—ball up his fists and come out swinging.

"Maybe I am. So bloody what?" he smiled, gritting his teeth defiantly. "Ain't gonna stop me from giving you three tossers the Grade-A ass-kickin' you deser—AAAARRRGH!"

His sentence dissolved into pained screaming as soon as Pearl's hands flew to both sides of his head, suddenly discharging a deadly electrical, green energy that made every cell in his body wail in agony.

As his senses were set aflame and vision started to blacken, Spike could not get Pearl's taunting out of his ears even when his eyes never left Faith.

"The First told us he wanted you lot alive for now…but you know what? He never said anything about how much alive," Pearl darkly smiled. "First, you get to suffer. And before you pass out, know that whatever happens to your precious Slayer friend afterwards…it will be all your fault."


Throwing the snarling wolf off of her, Dark Willow could barely believe her eyes as she made it to her feet. Oz, in full werewolf form, growled at her like she was a bunny rabbit main course.

The wild look in the wolf's eyes was starkly different from the sweet, protective eyes that she had seen the last time he took his other form in front of her. This look was the same as the one she saw those crazy nights in high school, when the wild animal her then-boyfriend became three nights out of the month could not recognize friend from foe, partner from prey. All it took was one look into those angry, glowing yellow eyes for Willow to tell that whatever was staring back at her now…it wasn't Oz.

"Oz! Oz, please! What happened to you?" Dark Willow pleaded. "What's wrong?"

The wolf only snarled back at her in response, slowly trying to circle her as it crouched its body in predatory stance.

"He can't hear you, Rosenberg," Warren crowed tauntingly as he joined Amy's side. "I planted a neural scrambler on your furry little boy toy. Neat, huh? Built it myself. See, it disorients the pathways in the brain, raises things like adrenaline levels, spikes cortisol, amplifies the senses and heartrate to insanely high levels, causing things like rage to build to an extraordinary high. He's not seeing you anymore, Red…all he's seeing is lunch."

"God, I love it when you talk all evil tech-y," Amy cooed as she wrapped her arms around Warren's neck, delighting at the sight of Willow's conflicted face as she held Oz at bay.

Doing her best to block them out, Dark Willow kept her eyes on Werewolf Oz, who was snarling and growling as it paced slowly around her, looking for an opening to attack. She knew that she had the power to stave him off, to do much worse—Goddess help her, a deep, dark part of her ruled only by the primal magick she wielded actually wanted to—but she couldn't. After all…it was Oz. Her first true love. Her first real relationship. Her first…her first for a lot of things.

The first boy…the first person…to ever see behind her obsessive love of books, her off-beat babbling, the ugly sweaters and the worn-out tennis shoes and see her. The real her. And to love her unconditionally for it. She refused to believe that the animal standing before her held no trace of the boy…the man…she fell in love with years ago.

"Oz?" she asked pleadingly. "Oz…I know you can hear me…ok, actually, I don't really know, but I'm willing to bet you can."

Her voice became more impassioned. "You. Are Not. The Wolf. You're Oz. Your name is Daniel Osbourne. You-you like Pink Floyd, The Clash and Nirvana. You love playing with your cousin Jordy. You once dyed your hair a different color every other week to match your moods. Red when you were feeling creative, green when you were feeling earth-y, Yellow when you were feeling mellow—God, I used to think you were such a dork for that last one, but you made it kinda sexy—black when you were in a gothic mood…you have a secret obsession with peanut butter cookies, you can't help but carry a couple in your left pocket. Your life's goal was hitting e-flat, diminished ninth on the guitar. You once said that hitting that note was like the ultimate state of musical enlightenment. And your toes sometimes get a little cold when we shared a bed, but…it was kind of cute."

She looked deeply into the wolf's eyes, desperately searching for any semblance of the man she once knew. The man that had never really left her heart. "And you've always known what to say, even when you didn't say much. And even when you don't say anything, you…you feel so much, because I know what's in your heart. And it's good, Oz. It's so good—"

And then the wolf suddenly lunged at her, jaws open as it descended on her. Willow braced herself as it tackled her again, its claws swiping down hard and cutting her at the shoulders, ripping open the fabric and tearing her skin, the top of the shirt starting to stain with bits of her blood. Crying out in pain, it took both of Willow's hands to keep the wolf's jaws from clamping around her jugular, the lupine creature snarling wildly and hungrily as it dove in for the kill…

"ENOUGH!" she boomed out.

Suddenly, the werewolf hung in midair, suspended as it still snapped its jaws and howled in rage. Willow's magick had suspended it in the air. Her eyes dark again, she fought the dark whispering in her head that told her to finish off the creature. I control the magick, it doesn't control me, I control the magick, it doesn't control me, I control the magick, it doesn't control me…

Focusing all her willpower, Dark Willow floated upwards, and as she hovered around it, the witch managed to spy the blinking metal device on the raging werewolf's neck.

"Sorry, Ozzie…but this is going to hurt," she said apologetically…right before a bright bolt of light lit up around her hands and she blasted the device.

The wolf howled in agony, but to Willow's surprise, the disk didn't budge. She could sense the presence of magick around the device. She was willing to bet that this was probably Amy's doing. Realizing that she was going to need more power, the witch gritted her teeth, prayed that Oz could survive this, and let loose as much power as she could muster…

PWHOOOSH!

The forest lit up brilliantly with light as Willow and the wolf ended up flying towards opposite ends of the forest as they hit the ground.

Dazed, Willow slowly propped up her upper body using her arms as she made her way to her knees. She panted heavily, a thin sheet of sweat forming on her forehead. Between the fight with Amy and the force of magick she used to break the hold around the disk, the witch had zapped a great deal of her energy. It had been too long since she had used this much magick in so short a time, and her body felt like she had just started exercising about a full year after stopping. Everything hurt. And she was so tired. If the wolf had enough strength left in it, she knew she was probably a goner.

As she looked up, she could see the wolf shaking off the effects, standing on its hindlegs and looking her way…but the murderous look in its eyes was gone. Instead of anger, fury and primal instinct, she saw something warmer, something familiar…almost human.

Regret.

The wolf's eyes trained to the bloody holes in her shoulders, and instead of attacking, it stood there, eyes wide in sadness. As if it was ashamed of what it had done. And at that moment, she knew the wolf was no longer the wolf, but it was…

"Oz?" she croaked out, her voice wobbling, but hopeful.

Whimpering in regret, its ears lowered before it turned tail and ran through the forest for higher ground. As if it knew it was a danger to her as long as it stayed.

Desperately, Willow called it back. "OZ!"

Suddenly, her back exploded with a fiery heat as she fell to the ground again.

Wincing as she looked up while a wave of hot air and electricity shot through her body, Willow could see Warren and Amy standing a few feet from her. The blast of Warren's ray gun was steady, punishing and unrelenting.

"Trick Numero Two," Warren laughed maniacally. "I set this baby for a lot of settings. This one's my favorite. That blast setting your nerve endings on fire? It's from a Chaos Stone lens I crafted. Neat stuff. It sucks the magickal power out of things. That's how we bagged that Power That What-Cha-Ma-Call-It the boss wanted. Granted, there's a lot less in here than what we used for that one, but between your fatigue and the stone's power, it's just enough to really friggin' hurt."

Groaning, Willow tried to lift her hand and summon a magick hex, but found she couldn't. Whatever that ray was, it seemed to be draining her of her powers. And it hurt like hell.

"Painful, Rosenberg? Does it hurt? I bet it must feel like someone's, I dunno…ripping your skin off, huh?" Warren angrily shouted, savoring Willow's pained moans and shaking limbs. He had dreamt of this moment for so long, and now that his revenge was at hand, he wanted to savor it.

"Oh, come on, Wills. Woman up," Amy taunted her, smirking evilly. "What's a little death ray to the Big Bad Wicca Badass?"

This was bad, Willow knew that. She couldn't use her powers, she was too weak to fight back, Oz had fled, and she couldn't find the others. She wasn't sure about whether or not those PTB guys Angel and Fred talked about listened or cared, but if they were listening right now, she only prayed that they would hear this one prayer.

Okay, Power Guys…I know we don't talk much—OWW!—ok, at all, but I really need you to do me a solid right now…I really need you to not let me die in front of Warren Mears. Okay? Don't…let the last thing I see on this planet…be THAT guy and THAT ugly face with his stupid girlfriend standing over the top of me. That'd be really great…uh…please? Seriously…help!

Switching the settings to lethal mode, Warren salivated in anticipation as he aimed the weapon point blank at Willow's head. Dazed, losing consciousness and out of power, all Willow could do was stare defiantly into the psychotically grinning face of her girlfriend's killer.

"Tough luck, Rosenberg. Don't worry…we'll take our time hunting down the wolf next," Warren smiled as he took his deadly aim, his finger slowly inching back on the trigger. "Say hello to Tara for me."

"Hold up."

A firm hand on his shoulder caught Warren's attention.

A hand belonging to Whistler.

"Why don't you leave the lovely lady alone, Creep-o?" he said casually. "You made your point. Take your gal-pal and beat it."

Warren sneered. "Sure, we'll get right on that," his voice dripped sarcasm as he turned the weapon on Whistler. "Now take your hand off me before I burn it to a stump."

Whistler's small smile dropped from his lips, and for a moment, he went eerily quiet.

Right before he started to glow an eerie, angry blue aura around his body. "What did you say to me?"

Caught off guard by his scowl and the sudden presence of old, ancient energy, neither Amy or Warren were prepared for the sudden, violent and powerful backhand that sent them flying backwards.

Whistler's normally jovial voice was an angry, almost demonic boom. "I'M GONNA POP YOUR HEADS LIKE ZITS, YOU LITTLE MAGGOTS."

Dazed from the blow, Amy got to her knees as she tried to use a hex bolt, but found her wrist caught in a suddenly powerful Whistler's hand, the crushing force around her wrist causing her to cry out in pain. Warren tried to scramble for his ray gun, only to find himself suddenly hauled up in the air by the throat by a furious balance demon, his eyes black and the blue and black aura around him humming angrily.

"YOU WERE GIVEN A SECOND CHANCE AT LIFE, MEARS. A SECOND CHANCE NOT TO BE A PIECE OF CRAP LIKE YOU WERE THE LAST TIME. AND INSTEAD OF DOING SOMETHING USEFUL WITH YOUR LIFE, YOU PUT THE WORLD IN DANGER WITH THIS SCHOOLYARD CRAP?"

The angry, accusing tone of the powerful, yet diminutive man (if Warren could even call him that) caused Warren to nervously change his tone. "Hey…Hey, be cool, man…I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

"NO, YOU'RE NOT," Whistler shook his head. "YOU'RE JUST SORRY YOU'RE IN THIS SITUATION RIGHT NOW. LUCKY FOR YOU, I DON'T HAVE TIME TO WASTE ON AN UNDERWEAR STAIN LIKE YOU. NOW TAKE YOUR GIRL AND GET OUTTA HERE. I'M NOT ASKING YOU TWICE."

Disgusted, he let Warren drop to the ground and released his grip on Amy. Gripping her wrist painfully, Amy stared up in awe at the strangely dressed little man that exuded a power so old and strong she could practically taste it. She had no idea if she could beat this man, even at full strength, and she immediately decided she really didn't want to find out.

"N-N-Not a problem," she stammered quickly, grabbing a still-fallen Warren and materializing a portal behind her. "Come on, baby. Gotta split."

Grabbing his tender throat, Warren glared at Whistler, then at Willow's grounded form. "This isn't over, Rosenberg! I'll be back!" As the portal faded shut, Whistler rolled his eyes at Warren's voice saying, "God, I love saying that."

Sure that the villainous couple had vanished, Whistler, his aura now vanished, turned his attention to a fallen Willow as he made his way over to her. Kneeling down, he reached for her face to get a look at her. "Hey, Red. Sorry I'm late. You good or do you need a little first aid?"

Staring at him in surprise for a moment, Willow shook her head, sitting up on the ground with a groan. "I'll be fine," she ground out. "Where are the others?"

"I was kinda hopin' you'd tell me," Whistler shrugged. "We gotta get back to the hotel. Fast. Something's happened."

At that, Willow's eyes widened. "Buffy?"

"And Angel," Whistler nodded, grimly. "I think the First managed to get one over on all of us. Which is why we have to go. Now."


As she finished up her work, tracing the small scar on the back of an unconscious Spike's head, Drusilla looked up, sniffing the air twice. The sudden action caught Nash's notice.

"What?" the male half-demon asked, bored.

Drusilla looked intently into the distance. "I smell power. Old. Angry. A bad man's come to spoil our fun," she said, her tone suddenly worried.

"We can take him," Pearl replied, her eyes glowing green again in preparation for combat.

"No. You can't," Drusilla sharply retorted in a rare moment of lucidity. "He'll kill us all where we stand. We did what we came here to do. Let's go."

Reaching down, she brushed away the hair from the back of Faith's neck…which bore a similar small scar that Spike now had. The Slayer still stared blankly into nothingness. Drusilla smiled as she leaned down to Faith's ear and whispered, "Sleep."

And like a broken doll, Faith collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Bending down, she traced the lines of Spike's sleeping face. Now she could have some real fun at this troublesome Slayer's expense…and show Spike that no matter where he went or how hard he tried, Drusilla would always be there. Under his skin.

"Sweet dreams, Dearheart," she whispered with an ominous smile, her pale skin glowing in the moonlight. "Mummy will see you soon."

Nodding to Pearl and Nash, the two siblings grabbed each one of Drusilla's arms before the trio became airborne, flying up and away…

…leaving a battered, beaten and unconscious Spike and a sleeping, bruised Faith on the ground behind them.


Hyperion Hotel

Moments ago


Cradling Buffy's head gently in his lap while his Slayer lay unconscious and broken on the floor, Giles stared angrily at Jasmine/The First. Next to him, Fred held a wounded, half-conscious Angel's head gently, her eyes staring up in fear and anger at the monstrosity before them while a glaring Gunn protectively held his sword close to him, ready to strike and go down swinging if necessary.

Around them, about a dozen Bringers surrounded them, encircling them while a serenely smiling Jasmine/The First slowly took each step down the entrance. Its eyes glowed a blood-red crimson.

"Gee, I guess they don't build champions like they used to, huh, guys?" Jasmine/The First smirked in satisfaction.

"We're not done yet," Gunn angrily snapped.

Off his bravado, Jasmine/The First chuckled derisively. "Please. What're you going to do? Beat me with their corpses? Hey, I give you kids credit, you tried. Gold star for effort, I'm sure there's a participation award somewhere with your names on it, really. But I think we all know when the fat lady's come on stage."

"Why are you doing this?" Fred asked in bewilderment. "You'd really destroy everything? What good would that do?"

"Aside from not having to hear your annoying little voice anymore?" Jasmine/The First replied. "I don't expect you to see the big picture. I mean, bugs rarely can from their point of view."

Giles stared coldly at the all-powerful creature before them. "You're truly mad. But whatever you're planning to do, you have to know that we'll find a way to stop you."

"Really? Well, gee, guess you better call Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the mighty Angel!" Jasmine/The First replied glibly. "Oh…wait. There they are." Laughing as she looked at the fallen Champion and the beaten body of her hated enemy, The Slayer. "Bleeding like stuck pigs and bruised like bad peaches. Sooo scary."

The sound of heavy footsteps made the heroes freeze in fear as The Beast lumbered out of the kitchen towards them…the briefcase containing the Keystone in hand.

Giles stared in helpless horror as he realized what that meant. My God, no…we've failed…

"Master," the rock creature said in reverence as it knelt down on one knee before Jasmine/The First, presenting the briefcase to it. Slowly popping open the latches, Jasmine/The First opened the briefcase, reached in and smiled as it held and beheld the ancient crystal in its hands.

The key to its final victory.

Nodding, she placed the crystal back in the box. "We're done here," it said to its minions. "Have the rest of the Bringers finish off whatever you can find of those Potentials they can find around this dump. And tell Rayne to open a portal. Time to kick this party off in style."

The name "Rayne" registered in a shocked Giles's ears. No, it can't be…

As Jasmine/The First and its minions turned to go, through the pain, Angel reached out his hand towards the fallen Power, some part of the warrior in him still trying to fight.

"No…can't…won't…let you…" he bit out, straining as he extended his hand in an impotent, but spirited gesture.

Amused, Jasmine/The First turned and smirked at him. "So cute. 'Let me,' he says."

Facing the heroes from the entrance of the hotel, it made it a point to meet Angel's eyes. "Let yourself out of this one, Champ."

With a sudden, powerful stomp of its foot, the pillars began to give way and crumble…

…bringing the entire first floor of the hotel quickly crashing down around them, burying them under the rubble.

Jasmine/The First smiled. "Ciao, baby."

And then it disappeared with its minions through the open portal.

Through the ruins of the destroyed hotel, all went deathly quiet.


To Be Continued


Next: Buffy is broken. Angel is down. The Hyperion Hotel is in ruins. The First has the Keystone. How will our heroes regroup and rebuild as they try and stop the First Evil's mad plans for destruction?

The aftermath of the Battle in Los Angeles as the Return to Sunnydale starts next.


P.S. For those of you who want to know, no, Kennedy's not dead. And yes, our heroes have hit a low point. But like Harvey Dent says, "Sometimes, it's always darkest before the dawn."

Oh, and the title is inspired by the chorus of Metallica's classic hit "Enter Sandman." I'd suggest listening to it while reading the chapter. Great mood music.

Read, please review, and follow me on Twitter for updates. Next update coming soon. #TeamBuffy #TeamAngel

Bye!


Jean-theGuardian