Faith snarled at him, teeth bared, hands bloody, ready to strike.
Doyle forced himself to calm, to take a deep breath and relax. Show her no aggression, no fear – that was the hard part – no belligerence. “Faith, love,” he said softly as the fog from the London docks swirled around them. London wasn’t one of the places that remained untouched in Angelus’ new Hell, but this close to the water, deadly now, fog still remained.
Or maybe it was a product of his overactive imagination, and Doyle made it up from his scared mind, terrified now that they’d landed and Faith was so out of control.
They’d landed yesterday, after entirely too long on a ship that was captained by the ugliest human Doyle had ever seen, but the price was right. Nearly free – oh, they’d had to give over their few supplies, but Tara was extremely apt at…bartering. She was their new supply officer. Still, the trip was long, cramped, and dirty. That, coupled with Faith’s frequent nightmares, and the outbursts that came from them, had stressed them all.
It was nothing compared to the moment they landed in London. Faith had leapt off the boat, covering ship, water, and dock in one giant jump, and had run off. Leaving Julia behind to deal with the captain and any remaining debt they had, Doyle, Tara, and Dawn had given chase.
Finding Faith wasn’t hard; all Doyle did was follow the swath of demonic destruction. Keeping up with her had been damn near impossible. Still, he’d finally managed to corner her in a rundown warehouse in the middle of a deserted dock.
Now to calm her.
“Faith,” he said again, walking a tentative step forward. She didn’t move, but she didn’t stop growling, either. “Calm down, love. It’ll be okay. We’ll see you through this, okay?”
Nothing. But her eyes resumed their normal color again, the brown was deep and true, not colored by some odd power he didn’t understand. She continued to growl, but she wasn’t attacking. Another point in his favor.
“We’ll get through this, Faith,” he promised, not having any real idea how he’d do just that. But he wasn’t losing her, not now. Not now that they’d managed to flee America, get away from the certain suicide that confronting Angelus was. Not now that she showed him that he was more than just a drunken messenger for the so-called Powers That Be.
“I promise you that, love. We’ll get through this, we’ll figure out a way to stop the dreams, I promise. We’ll figure it out together, we’ll stop the dreams, Faith,” he said, repeating himself but not caring. He was desperate.
“Promise,” she repeated, this time in English.
“Yes,” Doyle sighed in relief, “Promise. I promise you. We’ll find a way to stop them, we’ll figure out what they mean, why you’re having them.”
“Buffy,” Faith snarled, but Doyle wasn’t sure it was at him. Or at Buffy, either, for that matter; no the other slayer, whatever she was doing with Angelus – or whatever Angelus was torturing her with – she had enough problems to deal with, Doyle was sure. “She’s there.”
“Where?” Doyle asked, taking another step closer to her. “Where’s Buffy, Faith? Where do you see Buffy?”
“She’s there,” Faith said, falling to her knees. Exhausted. Depleted. Her bloody hands dropped to her sides, head lolling as she looked up at her rescuer. Her comforter. Her savior. “With me. But she can’t help me, can’t get to me. And I can’t help her – she’s too far away. There’s someone else, too.”
“Who?” Doyle knelt by her side, gathering her gently into his arms. He wasn’t a strong man, nor was he brave, but Faith brought something out in him. Some protective and loving side that he’d thought died when Harri divorced him – hell, long before that. If it was ever there in the first place.
“Angelus,” she admitted in a quiet voice, low enough for only Doyle to hear. “He’s trying to rescue her.”
“I don’t understand,” Doyle admitted, knowing that the rest of their group was nearly there. This wasn’t a conversation for them, and Doyle knew that. So they had to hurry. “Angelus, the new god, the leader of hell, is trying to save the slayer?”
Not torture, not rape and kill, not bruise, bleed, and break for all his demonic minions to laugh and mock and taunt? Oh, man.
“No,” Faith admitted, eyes closing as she leaned her head against Doyle’s chest. Sleep. All she wanted to do was sleep. Not dream. If she never dreamt again, she’d die happy. Even if it was a young death.
“He’s trying to save his mate.”
~~~~~~~~~~
The room/cave/place was brightly lit. Several fires burned coldly in the
corners, oranges and reds highlighting the room; the scent of death and life.
And something else…love? It took him a minute (forever, an eon, seconds)
to orient himself, but there she was.
Chained to the Earth.
“Buffy!” He shouted but she didn’t appear to hear him. She was struggling against her chains, snarling at the shamans whose constant chanting and staff pounding relentlessly circled the cave. The sweet scent of herbs, of heavy magicks, of ritual, hung in the air, circling her, and…it. The black shadow that hovered over her, around her, engulfing her with its darkness, but also…with its power, its strength, its senses, and its need.
The second half of the shadow hovered nearby, snarling in some kind of magickal enclosure, fighting its confines, contorting in an effort to escape. To rejoin. And to join.
“Buffy!” He shouted again, and this time it caught her attention. She looked at him, eyes silver and red and blue and frightened – relieved to see him, reassured at his presence. He tried to move closer, get to her, but found himself frozen in place. Struggling to move, he almost didn’t notice the change…but it was hard to miss.
Something big shifted.
It seemed almost as if the air moved, condensed, expanded, something and everything and it was heavy and loud and it moved, oh yes it moved. Everything and nothing, all and not. Drawing power from and giving power to, and making it all into something else. Something more.
Straightening, Buffy stared, not at Angelus, but at the shadow. He moved towards her, needing to get to her, to free her, but was blinded. He couldn’t see, not everything, only her. He couldn’t hear, nothing but the sound of Buffy begging him to help her. He couldn’t sense anything but her. Only her.
Buffy turned from her lover, confident in herself, in her purpose. What changed, she couldn’t have said, but she knew, now, that it had. Everything had.
The screaming stopped, no longer was she the victim; she held off whatever and whoever, and it was liberating. “You don’t want this, either,” she told it. “We’re forced into this. But it’s a partnership, isn’t it?”
The shadow rumbled, moving in a way that Angelus couldn’t understand, but that Buffy seemed to take as a yes, for she nodded. “Yes, it is, isn’t.” This time it wasn’t a question. “We’re stuck together, now. How are we going to handle this? Fight for all eternity? Until I die and you find someone else to bother?”
Angelus growled over her words, though he didn’t realize he understood the language she spoke, didn’t realize she spoke the ancient language of The First Slayer. He wasn’t going to let her die. Not now, in this long gone cave, not ever.
Focusing on his task, Angelus set about breaking the chains. This was why she freaked on him, this was why she broke free of the scarves and the chains, and went Primal on him. This was why…he wasn’t going to let these ancient chains bind her any longer. He never heard the shadow speak, never knew that Buffy and it conversed. He wasn’t a part of that, he had his own agenda.
And then he was going to kill those shamans, long dead or not.
“Doesn’t work like that,” the shadow said, speaking for the first time in eons. Its deep voice rumbled over her, and the cave shook from the volume, though it wasn’t loud so much as all consuming.
The shamans stopped chanting, frozen in time and place. Angelus continued to move next to Buffy, trying to free her from the chains.
“We are one now,” the shadow said, “Accepted. Complete. Whole.”
“No,” Buffy denied. “I’m still me.”
“Yes. And me. The slayer isn’t one being, it is two. You, the human girl with the predestined genetics to accept me. Me, the one bound to the Earth. The Mother of Them.”
“Mother of who?”
“Everything.”
Scoffing, Buffy demanded, “God?” She laughed, the derisive sound warring with its voice. “You’re not God.”
“No,” it agreed. “I’m not. I am both more and less. Your God created me, and yet I created others.”
“I’m confused,” Buffy admitted.
“God created every living being,” it said, moving to join now with its other half. The two shapeless forms merging in a grotesque dance to form one large blob of black mist. “He is The Creator. He created me. I created Demons.”
“So this is all your fault?” Buffy demanded, unaware that Angelus couldn’t hear their conversation, or that he was trying to free her.
“No. And yes. Free will,” the now whole demon shape said, “Extends to all living creatures, human, demon, vampire, witch. Free Will is that which makes us. A vampire is soulless, and yet can choose not to do harm. A human has a soul, and yet can choose to do evil. Free Will.”
It drew closer to her now, though Buffy was unafraid. Concerned, confused, but not afraid of the shadow before her. They were, after all, always one. Only now she realized it. She’d stopped fighting it.
“And you created demons as what? A counter to humans?”
“No, I created them from the Earth. We are the Earth, bound together from primordial origins, just as you are.”
“I still don’t understand,” Buffy admitted, hands hanging at her side, no longer struggling with the chains. She turned to Angelus, smiled at him before looking once more at the shadow before her. “God created you, and then He allowed you to create Demons on His world? I don’t think so…He created Adam and Eve and they populated the earth. With humans.”
“Yes. And no,” it admitted, much to Buffy’s aggravation. “You sense demons because you are the ground they walk on, the air they breathe, the sun they accept, the moon they need. You are made not from one or the other, but from both. From His Creation, and from mine. You are His, and yet you are mine, as well.”
“I’m demon?” Her voice was small, scared. Of what was, of what she was, of what she learned today…what some part of her might have always known.
“You are of the Earth. We are of the Earth. Chose now, slayer. Be strong with us and live. We are one. We are joined.”
“No,” Buffy shook her head, adamant.
“You must be prepared. Changes are already happening. Your Mate has brought Hell to Earth, and the only way for the Slayer – for you – to survive is to change with the very planet from which you are made. My children roam this world, we cannot hunt them all. A balance must be struck. Only you can do this. Only you can balance this world. Without you, darkness will reign a millennia’s millennia.”
“But I don’t want to be a demon,” she admitted, the scared seventeen year old girl, now. The strong slayer, the tough human, wasn’t strong enough to overcome her basic human fears. It understood that she was young. Scared. The answers she sought weren’t what she expected, what she’d hoped for.
But they were what she needed.
“You must take care of yourself first, Child. This new world of ours needs a balancer. Only you can do this. Together, we must live.”
“What of the other slayer?” Buffy asked, suddenly remembering Kendra’s death. Another had to have been called by now. That girl, the dark haired one she dreamed of. Buffy didn’t know her name, wished she did if only to wish her the very best of luck. She was certainly going to need it in this hell-world.
“She has all she needs. She is only part of the balance, required to do no more or less than she is.”
“She’ll live? She’ll fight until she dies, then another will be called?”
“Yes. And no.”
Buffy growled. “Give me a straight answer!”
“I am.” And Buffy swore there was a hint of laughter in its voice. “She is where she needs to be, doing what she was meant to do. There can be no change from her, for her, of her. She must accept, but she cannot change. The change must come from you. You are the balance. You are Angelus’ mate.”
For a long moment, Buffy stared at it, the ever-shifting shadow that was and was not there, morphing with a nonexistent wind. Angelus worked next to her, pulling at the chains, and Buffy wondered if he heard the exchange between her and it. He growled, but it didn’t seem directed at her, more like at his lack of progress.
“If I don’t?”
“Then the world is destroyed.”
“He’ll burn the world, destroy it in his anger.” Buffy glanced to her side, watching as Angelus tried to snap the chains holding her. To the Earth. Away from him. No, he didn’t hear her, and if he did, he wasn’t letting on. “If I refuse to adapt, to change as you say, then he’ll…he’ll never accept it. I don’t know if I can.”
“You can. For the soul. Yours, his, you can change. For them. You can change. The balance depends on you. They both do.”
“Both? What both?” Where’d both come in? “Look, Miss Cryptic. Answers. Is that so hard? If this is life and death – mine – then I want straight answers!”
“You have them. They are within you. You only need to listen.”
“So not helping here.”
“Choose. You must choose this path. You must choose to change with this world.”
“I don’t have a choice,” she admitted, closing her eyes and falling in exhausted defeat against the hard rock wall. Angelus growled again, and this time Buffy knew he didn’t hear her, but felt her move counter to the progress he wasn’t making with the chains. “Either way, I lose something. If I choose no, everyone loses. If yes, I lose another part of my soul to the blackness sucking it in.”
“No, my Child. You lose nothing but that which you no longer want.” At her confused look, the shadow shifted again, reaching out a phantom tendril and stroking her cheek. Soft, comforting, loving, and maternal. “This cannot be changed. What has happened was meant to happen. What we all do now determines the future. We cannot change the past, only reshape the future.”
“How can I do that if I’m as trapped here, as my friends are below?”
“By seeing that evil does not over run our planet. By seeing that, though hell has come to earth, good balances the scales.” It paused. “He changed the world so that he might have you, so that he may live with you as only a place of this making will allow. It still needs balance. He knows that, will accept that. But only if you show him the way. Only if you are there to guide him. Only if you chose to do so.”
(Leave them alone, baby…this is the way it’s supposed to be. Trust me. She needs to live.)
She wanted to ask what it meant. Balance, scales, who or what was it talking about? She wanted to know more, this future it spoke of, what it meant. Balance. It all came down to balance, always came down to balance. Balance the scales, good over evil, good verses evil, humanity and demonity, free will.
Free will.
“There is no more time. You must choose.”
Free will.
“Yes.”
With that one word, easily and freely given, no hesitation, no uncertainty, Buffy broke free of the chains, shattering both them and the rock wall. The shamans looked on in surprised disbelief, muttering amongst themselves, shaking their staffs at her, no doubt cursing her as well.
Buffy heard none of them. She turned to Angelus, smiled as he scooped her into his arms, and looked into his dark eyes. Fear, need, love.
“What happened?” He demanded, holding her closer.
She looked around; no longer was it the cave, ancient fires lighting her betrayal by the very beings who demanded she cater to them. It was their room, with the scent of a different fire smoldering outside their windows, and Drusilla still sitting on the floor by their bed, looking on with hopeful eyes.
Buffy sighed, nestled into Angelus’ arms, and tried to relax. Was it right? Could she balance everything? How? Stupid shadow, never said. How could she balance something when she didn’t even understand it?
“By joining.”
The voice echoed along her nerves, sending tingles of electricity through her. Shivering, she only smiled when Angelus pulled her closer, reaching down to cover her with the quilt. But she wasn’t cold, no far from it. She was…alive? Free? Slayer.
She was the slayer. No longer chained to the Earth, but a part of it.
“How’d you get in my head?” Buffy asked instead.
“Don’t know,” he admitted, stroking her cheek, her arm, anything he could reach.
“Why?”
“Why don’t I know?” he laughed. “Or why did I do it?”
“Both.”
“Because you were dying. I was losing you, and that is simply unacceptable.” His voice was serious, eyes deadly as he looked at her. If he could have, Buffy saw in those eyes, he’d have destroyed that cave and everyone and everything in it just to rescue her. “Now what happened?”
“I broke free. Chose and broke free.” Buffy sighed, rested her head on the pillow, closed her eyes and smiled. She could almost feel the not-quite-demon inside her. Had they joined again?
No, it wasn’t that. Or maybe it was. Maybe it was more. She’d think on it later, when she was awake enough to do so. And panic. Yes, definitely panic. Because the simple fact of the matter was, she didn’t want a demon within her. No matter how good it was, what it gave her, who it was, whatever…she didn’t want it. Even if her slayer powers came from it.
She didn’t want it.
But for now, she’d sleep. God, she was exhausted.
~~~~~~~~~~
“I heard,” Wilkins waited while the demon looked around, as if fearful for his
life. Which he should be, Angelus was none too pleased with the rumors
circulating about his little slayer.
“That she went mad, crazier than Drusilla, and killed a path to prove it.”
“Yes, yes,” his companion nodded. “But I don’t think she’s crazy. Have you seen her? There’s none of the look,” he whispered, as if everyone knew what ‘the look’ was. Well, yes, one only had to look at Drusilla, Wilkins figured, to see a truly mad vampiress. Angelus did a number on that one.
“Angelus is on the warpath,” the first said. “He’s killing anyone she didn’t, but who saw her.”
“What,” the second wondered in an apparent moment of insight – it was short lived. “Do you suppose caused her to do that? I mean, it had to be something. Slayer’s aren’t normally crazy like that. Or that strong or fast, either.”
“Something she ate?” His friend shrugged. “Magick? Does it matter? Just be glad you didn’t see her, or you’d be as dead as those she killed.”
“Slaughtered, you mean,” and with that, they wandered off, no doubt in search of more gossip.
Turning the corner fully, Wilkins stared after the two demons, wondering what they so easily shrugged off.
What had happened to the slayer? Had she gone mad from being here, confined in a place, in a world, with so many demons? Or was it something else, something Angelus did to her? It’d be interesting to find out, he thought, and continued on his original path.
Because if rumor was true, then the best way to get to
Angelus, was to get to his pet slayer.
~~~~~~~~~~
Lindsey listened behind the listening man. He wasn’t sure who he was, other than
a very human looking demon, but there was something about him that made the
lawyer wonder. What was he doing here? And why? Other than the obvious fact that
everyone was here anymore.
It was the place to be.
Still, these rumors about Buffy were interesting. And something he – okay, they – needed to report to the Senior Partners. Because it didn’t look as if Angelus was going to let this slayer out of his sight any time soon. In fact, it looked as if he took her safety all too seriously.
And that was something worth reporting. Better, it was something worth remembering, worth seeing to the end. Maybe the mysterious eavesdropping man had potential. A potential ally in securing Angelus’ cooperation – or a potential disposable ally – it was something they’d have to look into.
Lindsey turned and left the hallway, unwilling to stay in one place too long lest a hungry demon decided to have a snack. Besides, Lilah was researching the ‘friends’ they kept hearing so much about. Apparently, Angelus was holding hostage all of the Slayer’s friends and family in the dungeons below. Now wasn’t that interesting.
Spotting Lilah ahead, his thoughts wandered back to Buffy. What she was here – besides the obvious – who she was…yes, who. Who she was to Angelus, who she was to the rest of the world – Watcher’s Council, potentials, and all.
Buffy was the best way to Angelus, and since their goal was
Angelus, Buffy was the best bait they had.
~~~~~~~~~~
It slammed through him, ripping his insides out and twisting them until they
popped, only to put them all back together again in agonizing pain.
Cave. Fires. Shamans…shamans? Yes, that’s what they were. They were shamans, three of them, chanting around a black shadow that moved and twisted in protest, in anger, in pain. Pain? Yes, pain. It didn’t want this, didn’t want to be used this way, wanted to continue on, wanted to…but they wouldn’t let it.
It screamed.
She screamed.
And then they were one, mixing, molding, twisting together, becoming not two but inexorably one. One. They were one now, demon and human, but not. They were the Slayer.
Doyle slowly came to, the afterimages still running through his mind’s eye. His very scared mind’s eye.
This was what Faith dreamed of? This was what she went through every night? Every single time she closed her eyes? This is what happened to her? God, Faith, he thought, I’m sorry, lass.
Slowly sitting up, Doyle looked next to him where Faith rested peacefully. For now. But he knew she’d only just dozed off, only now found rest. But for how long? “How do I stop them?” he asked.
“Dear, God, please,” he prayed as he hadn’t for a very long time. “How do I stop these dreams? How do I save her?”
God didn’t answer, but Dawn did. Jumping when she sat down next to him, Doyle glared at her as his heart slowed to its normal rate. “Lass, you gave me a fright…what’s up?”
“You have to help her chose,” Dawn whispered, looking intently up at him with such large eyes, with such trust in there, Doyle wanted to run away, screaming that he couldn’t do this. He wasn’t the man for this job, whatever that job was. He was only supposed to find the slayer, keep her away from LA – and all things Angelus – and…and what?
Go on his merry way, half-human, half-demon, trying to survive in this hell? He’d still get the visions, he supposed, so what was the point in that? Doyle sighed. This was probably where Fate wanted him, and wasn’t that just bloody perfect.
“Chose what?”
“What she wants to become.”
With that, she lay down on the other side of him, and immediately went back to sleep. Confused, Doyle looked at her. What was she talking about? Better – how did she know what she was talking about? This made no sense, and yet, what Dawn said did make sense in a weird way, at least.
As slayer, Faith was bound to kill the demons who walked the earth. As a world that was overrun by demons, that made her the last, only, and best defense against them.
But what did she have to chose? To fight? She already had. To surrender herself to fate? Already had.
Looking down at her, still peacefully asleep, Doyle vowed to have a serious talk with her about her dreams. Maybe together, with what little she remembered, and what he now knew from this vision, they could make sense of it.
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