_____________________________________________________________________
1
#
Hell: Beyond the City of Dys:
It took weeks, maybe months, until they remembered each other's names. For most of that time they hid in caves, huddled together like frightened animals. Neither of them could remember what they were hiding from, but they both knew that they had just managed to escape from something terrible. Something that might yet try to hunt them down.
The process was slow. Even as they hid themselves in caves their sanity had hidden away as well, retreating before the terror they had been subjected to during their imprisonment. The Furies had done unspeakable things to both of them and the only way to survive was to go mad. In a way they had gone insane in order to save their sanity.
The memories of Dys were fleeting, terrible images glimpsed only in nightmares. Shut away somewhere deep inside their subconsciousness. They were still in Hell. Three circles lay yet ahead of them. If there were any shrinks here than they were certainly too busy undergoing eternal torture to help either of them. This was not the time to deal. This was the time to suppress and liberally apply selective memory.
Their bodies had long ago healed from the tortures they had suffered when their minds slowly started putting themselves together as well. Being in the presence of the other brought back memories, good memories. They knew they had been forced apart for long stretches of time in Dys, something neither of them wanted to go through ever again.
Neither of them could say how much time had passed since their escape, an escape neither of them even remembered, when he called her by her name.
"Buffy."
Just hearing him say it sparked more memories, helped her regain parts of herself she had almost lost. There were images of another world, one that was not filled exclusively with suffering and cruelty. A world of sunshine and blue skies, friends, family. Was this just a hallucination? Something she had made up to distract herself from the reality of this place?
Hell. This place was called Hell, that much she remembered. And, almost as if by contrast, she also remembered the name of her companion, someone who did not deserve to be here any more than she did.
"Angel."
Things progressed from there, slowly but surely. They remembered how they had gotten here. The loss of his soul. Akathler. Their battle. The return of his soul, only minutes too late. Buffy's decision to sacrifice him to save the world, to sacrifice both of them, for she would not let him go alone. Their arrival in Hell. The realization that it was almost exactly like the poet Dante had described it in his book. Which meant that there was a way out. A way for them to step outside and see once more the light of the stars.
They had crossed six circles already. How much time had passed? None of them could tell. Years, certainly, maybe even decades. They also remembered how they had entered Dys and been captured by the Furies. Everything after that was hazy, confused. There were glimpses of the torture, the separation, and the Furies' maddening laughter.
It was just as well that they did not remember much of it.
Finally they were coherent enough again to continue their journey. Dys lay behind them, whatever might have happened to them within its burning walls was now of the past. Six circles of Hell had not managed to stop them and they resolved that the last three would not manage, either. They would get out. They would see the light of the stars again.
The previous circles of Hell had always been separated by grey wasteland, huge stretches of nothingness that, safe for the occasionally glimpsed giant demon in the distance, was completely uninhabited. The area they were passing through this time was still grey, still empty, but one thing had changed.
The land in front of them now steeped noticeably downwards.
"Hell's circles are concentric," Angel muttered, remembering bits and pieces of Dante's book by now. "A funnel. With every circle we pass through we go deeper."
Buffy nodded. They had probably gone steadily downwards ever since the gates of Hell, but had not noticed so far. She also remembered part of the overall structure of Dante's Inferno now, remembered Angel teaching it to her over and over again until she could recite almost all the passages in her sleep.
The crimes of those imprisoned in Hell got worse and worse the deeper they went. So far they had faced the hells of those who, while certainly morally ambiguous, had not committed anything she would consider a capital crime. They had been greedy, angry, manipulative, gluttonous, or refused to believe that they were well and truly dead.
Now things would change, though.
The land fell steeper and steeper as they progressed and soon they could no longer walk but had to climb. Finally, after what seemed like ages, they approached the edges of a cliff, beyond which they could see a crimson glare and hear the screams of the suffering.
"The seventh circle of Hell," Buffy whispered.
Slowly they approached the edge of the cliff. By now both of them remembered who was imprisoned in this circle. Of all the regions of Hell they had passed through so far this might actually be the most fitting for them, considering how they had spent large parts of their life. They stopped at the very edge and looked down.
The cliff was tall, maybe a kilometre or more in height, giving them a spectacular view of the area beyond. A vast plain stretched beneath them as far as the eye could see, most of which was covered with giant pools of what Buffy first assumed was lava. A moment later she knew better, though, would have known better even without the extra enhancement to her senses Angel's blood had given her.
The air stank of blood. Boiling blood. They were looking down on a landscape of boiling blood.
All pieces of dry land they could see were filled with bodies. Millions and more people moved down there, surging back and forth like the surface of the ocean. Even from up here their enhanced hearing could pick up the screams, the clamour of forged steel, and the thunder of weapons' fire.
Buffy and Angel were looking down upon one giant ongoing battle, millions of soldiers and warriors fighting each other without pause, structure, or strategy. A vast medley of weapons, ranging from the first wooden clubs to the latest in military hardware, used to kill people that were already dead and rose over and over again, no matter how often they were torn to pieces.
"The Violent," Angel whispered, beholding the seemingly endless battlefield that lay before them.
The one they would have to cross if they wanted out of here.
#
The Present:
"I don't want to do this," Buffy said, staring at the object in her hand. The whole thing had not been her idea in the first place. She was fifty years old (give or take a few years, seeing as Hell had not had much in the way of calendars) and was personally responsible for the defence of the human race against vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness. She was living with a vampire, whose blood had preserved and lengthened her life, giving her that youthful appearance that belied her true age.
Were those not enough reasons not to go through with this? She did not even want it, that alone should be more than enough. Who had time for something like this? Certainly not her, not with a new vampire master in town, not to mention Giles' suspicions that someone in or close to Sunnydale's city hall was trying to get her and Angel killed. She had a lot more important stuff to do than this.
Of course the woman standing beside her knew none of these things, which made it kind of hard to convince her of the inherit wrongness of it all.
"Just open it, Buffy," Danielle Burg said with a smile.
Buffy frowned. Her tutor, hand-picked by her mother when she had announced that the American public school system would not enjoy her participation any longer, was a hard woman to stay mad at. She had a disarming charm that a lot of people in politics would have killed for and, though Buffy hated to admit it, was pretty good at her job.
Despite thirty years of education at Angel's hands during their sojourn in Hell Buffy's knowledge was still showing quite a few gaps. She knew pretty much everything there was to know about demons, spoke a dozen languages or more, had learned a lot about history and art, as well as the intricacies of vampire society and 18th century Ireland.
Unfortunately Angel, being who he was, had been rather lacking as a teacher when it came to things like math, the sciences, not to mention the more recent decades of history and modern literature. Before coming to Sunnydale he had been a recluse for nearly a century and it showed. Meaning that Buffy had needed help from a different source if she wanted to finish her interrupted high school education.
If one could call a thirty-year roundtrip through Hell an interruption.
"Just open it," Burg urged her again, still smiling.
Buffy sighed and surrendered, tearing open the envelope that contained her SAT scores.
_____________________________________________________________________
2
"Buffy, this is amazing," Joyce said with a proud smile on her face as she studied Buffy's SAT scores. Standing behind her Danielle Burg sported an equally proud look.
"Yeah, I guess." Buffy managed not to sound completely unenthusiastic. Barely.
"Buffy, with a score like that you can apply to any college you want," Joyce went on, though not unaware of her daughter's less than ecstatic mood.
"Aren't you happy that you did so good?" Burg asked, catching on as well.
"I'm happy," Buffy quickly assured them. "But ... what's the point, you know? I'm not going to go to college anyway."
Now her tutor looked really confused and Joyce's smile faded as well.
"Ms. Burg, could you give us a minute?"
"Uh ... yes, certainly."
Both Summers' women stayed silent until the tutor had left the room, then looked at each other with almost identical looks of frustration.
"You remember me telling you about not going to college, right?" Buffy asked pointedly.
"Yes," Joyce sighed. "I was just hoping that ... well, with you doing so well and ..."
"Mom, we've been over this. A hundred times. I agreed to finish my high school education, but that's it. What would I study in college anyway?"
"There are so many things ..."
Buffy took a step forward and grasped her mother by the shoulders.
"Mom, please! Do we really need to have this discussion again?"
Joyce shook her head after a moment's hesitation. No, they really had had this discussion often enough these last few months. She knew that Buffy would not be swayed and, if she was honest with herself, she fully understood her reasons.
Buffy would never have anything even remotely resembling a normal life. Odds had been bad even before her journey through hell, now they were practically nonexistent. Buffy was as old as Joyce was, maybe even older, and Buffy's mother had to admit that, at her age, she would certainly not want to go back to college again.
Buffy's life would not go Joyce had always wanted it to. It would not include a nice, normal husband and 2.5 kids. Instead it would include constant battles against demons and monsters, saving the world every other month. Buffy aged at a vastly decelerated rate, thanks to the demon blood in her veins, but she might be cut down this very night, or the next, or the one after that.
Joyce would not be a mother if she were not reluctant to accept these facts, but facts they were. Even if Buffy could somehow be convinced to go to college it would not change them. At best it would be a pretence, yet another mask she would wear like those contact lenses that disguised her amber demon eyes.
"Very well," Joyce finally said. "But allow your old mother to be proud of your academic accomplishments once in a while, okay? It's not something I can really turn off."
Now Buffy smiled at her. "Okay! But you don't get to call yourself old, mom. I might well be older than you."
"Considering that you still look like a teenager that will only make me feel more self-conscious."
"I am still trying to convince Angel to sell 'Blood, Bottled' as the new anti-aging miracle, but I don't really see him going for it."
They shared a laugh and the tension was broken, at least for the moment. Buffy doubted that this was the last time they would have a discussion about this or a similar topic. Her mother was doing her best to accept Buffy's circumstances and choices in life, but every so often her old master plan of 'Let's give Buffy the perfect life' tried to reassert itself in her head.
"Are you going to tell Ms. Burg," Buffy asked, "or should I?"
Buffy felt almost sorry for her tutor. Burg had looked so proud upon seeing Buffy's SAT scores.
"Let's do it together," Joyce offered. "I hope she's not too disappointed that her star pupil will not go on to conquer a college in her name."
The two Summers women smiled at each other and went in search of Ms. Burg.
#
"Oh, that is nice to hear," Mayor Richard Wilkins said. "Is there anything better than to watch our children as they excel?"
Well, he had to admit there were several better things he could think of at a moment's notice, but none of them were fit for a polite conversation with one of his employees. Especially one that did not need to know the full extent of his plans. There was no need to trouble too many people with the knowledge that most of them were liable to die within the next eight months.
"Keep up the good work, Ms. Burg," he told her over the phone. "I would love to see our good Ms. Summers earn enrolment in a really excellent college."
Not that she would ever have the opportunity to go there, he added silently. Again, not a topic for polite conversation.
When he had first heard about the return of the Slayer he had tried to get her out of his way in a rather crude manner: by sending assassins after. Looking back, he was a bit shocked that he had resorted to violence so very quickly. Something like that was not really befitting an elected official who held the trust of the people of Sunnydale.
He could always kill the Slayer and her friends later if it really had to be done.
No, at this moment in time all parties were better served by leaving her alive and keeping an eye on her. He kind of regretted that his initial reaction had been to tell Snyder to keep her out of school. It would have been easy to keep her under observation there.
Well, it no longer mattered. The past was the past and Danielle Burg was doing a fine job, would keep right on doing it until the young Ms. Summers finished her exams. Young ladies like her should really be concentrating on their education instead of getting in the way of things.
Besides, he reminded himself with a frown, having a Slayer or two around might not be the worst thing that could happen, considering who else was residing in his wonderful town at the moment. No, not the worst thing at all.
For what had to be the hundredth time in the last month or so he looked at the framed black-and-white photograph standing on his desk. For the longest time he had thought that the man standing beside him in that image was dead and gone. Unfortunately he knew better now and that worried him much, much more than all the Slayers and probably-soulful vampires in the world combined.
"Maybe I'll get lucky and the lovely Ms. Summers will take care of you, Sebastian," he addressed the photograph. "Or maybe even luckier and you will take care of each other. It would be nice for things to work out fine once in a while, don't you think?"
He frowned for a moment.
"God, Sebastian. Now you've got me talking out loud to myself, too."
#
The cat did not know that the very large, moving object that had almost barrelled it over was a car. A black Dodge Desoto FireFlite, to be exact, vintage 1958. Neither did it know that the object the car had hit was the 'Welcome to Sunnydale' sign, now so much wooden splinters. The fact that the sign had been replaced less than a year before after another unfortunate car-related incident - involving this very car actually - escaped it completely . Even if the cat had known all this, really, it would not have cared overmuch.
There were two things the cat did care about, though. One was the extremely offensive stink of alcohol coming its way as the car's door opened, causing about half a dozen empty bottles to fall out and smash on the sidewalk. The cat did not like the stink of alcohol and, in its experience, the two-foots who kept large amounts of alcohol close at hand were not among the most amiable of their kind. Case in point being the black-clad two-foot who stumbled out of the car a moment later and fell flat onto the sidewalk.
Moments later the second fact the cat cared about caused it to revise its earlier observation. This was not a two-foot, at least not one of the usual, sometimes amiable kind. This was one of the bloodsucking demon things that frequented these parts. Cats were really good at recognizing them, even when they hid inside the body of two-foots. The stink was rather unmistakable, even when masked by so much alcohol.
Usually the bloodsucking demon things did not bother cats, but this particular cat decided not to take the risk and made fast tracks away from the prone pretend-two-foot, taking its business for the night elsewhere. This decision, as well as its lacking knowledge when it came to two-foot languages, caused it to miss the first and only words the demon thing with the strangely-coloured hair uttered before passing out.
"Home, _____________________________________________________________________
3
#
Sebastian Khan surveyed the assembled crowd of vampires with the air of a
king inspecting his loyal subjects. Which was not too far off base, he
mused. Vampires were a pretty hierarchical lot and most of them did not have
the brains to do anything but follow the alpha male wherever he led.
Which suited him just fine, so he did not really have any cause to bitch
about it.
These last few weeks his followers had made his presence known around town,
rather pointedly telling the rank and file of vampires that it was a good
time to pledge their loyalty to the new master in town. It had been a little
less easy than he had originally thought. Many of them still waited for
Angelus to reclaim his position as master of Sunnydale. Not out of respect,
really, but rather a healthy sense of self-preservation.
Angelus was still in town, that much was common knowledge, but no one was
quite sure whose side he was on these days. Most of the evidence seemed to
indicate he was once again the Slayer's lapdog, but there was contradictory
information as well. Such as the rumours that he had made the Slayer his
slave, or blood junkie as the common term went. That did not really go
together with the image of soul-having do-gooder, did it?
Well, it did not really matter all that much. Those that still held some
loyalty to Angelus were a definite minority by now. There was another
faction, of course, those that had thrown in their lot with the man
Sebastian Khan had come here to destroy. Richard Wilkins was a powerful
figure, that much was certain, but he was not a vampire. Therefore those
that had thrown in with him were regarded as traitors to their own kind.
Something Khan had been happy to point out in his PR campaign to make
himself the new master of this town.
The warehouse he had chosen to make his first speech as the new boss was
quite a distance away from the building he used as his daytime retreat. Most
of the rabble gathered here really did not need to know where he spent the
daylight hours. Vampires could be made to talk, especially by persistent
Slayers and other vampire masters. No sense giving them anything to talk
about.
About thirty or so vampires altogether, not counting those that flanked Khan
on the makeshift podium he had his men built for this speech. Unlike the
rabble he had picked up here in this town his followers were of a different
breed. Warrior vampires, called El Eliminati. Originally a duellist cult
more interested in fighting amongst themselves than killing humans, they had
become his acolytes even before Khan had been made into a vampire. Now they
followed him loyally wherever he led and one of them was worth ten times his weight in average Sunnydale vampires.
Not that he would tell the rank and file that. Employees, especially those who worked without payment, needed to believe that their employer valued their work.
"I am glad so many of you have made the wise decision to come here tonight," Khan began his speech. "It is nice to see that there are some among our kind that still know how to set priorities for themselves. It warms my heart, figuratively speaking."
There were some chuckles among the audience and Khan smiled broadly.
"I know that some of you have had some reservations, mostly regarding the former master of this town, Angelus. I respect that. Loyalty is a virtue, and not of the kind evil needs to eradicate." More chuckles. "But let me ask you, where is Angelus' loyalty to you? I hear he is still in town, but when was the last time he took care of you?"
He allowed that to sink in for a moment before he continued.
"Then there are those of you who have chosen to follow the leadership of a human. Has it really come to this? Have you fallen so far that you would allow yourself to be commanded by those who we usually prey upon?"
His followers were, of course, aware of the hypocrisy of these words. When Khan had become their leader he, too, had been human. It was not a state of being that had lasted all that long. Khan had not chosen to become a vampire, but rather become one out of necessity. It was yet another issue he planned to address with a certain former friend of his.
"We are the destined rulers of this world," Khan went on, the vampires now
hanging on his every word. "Yet in this town, the Hellmouth, the one place
on Earth where we should be ruling supreme, vampires are hiding in fear of
the Slayer and allow themselves to be ruled by humans."
He leaned forward on his podium. "Is it just me or is there something wrong
with this picture?"
Sounds of assent could be heard from the listening vampires and Khan's smile
grew broader.
"I intend to introduce some changes to this wonderful town. Changes that will make it a better place to live, figuratively speaking, for all vampires. Unfortunately it is not something that can happen overnight. Good things, no pun intended, always take time. With your help, though, we can make a start within the next two nights. We can take the first step towards reclaiming our supremacy. What do you say, people?"
#
The sound of applause followed Khan backstage as he left the gathering, quite content with himself. Most of what he had told his new followers was the truth. It was time to change things and they would be making the first step within the next two nights. So what if he had omitted a few facts? If he had told them that he fully expected all thirty of them to die within 48 hours that would only have depressed them. Depressed employees did not deliver quality work.
Elron, his faithful second, was walking by his side.
"An inspired speech, my Lord. I do believe you have them fully on your side."
"Thank you, Elron. It was quite catching, wasn't it?"
"Quite so, my Lord."
Khan shook his head with a smile. "People do not have enough appreciation for patience, have I ever told you that? It's always rush, rush, rush, even among our kind. One would think that, with eternity on our side, we would know better."
Elron refrained from commenting. He had served Khan long enough to recognize the start of a speech and knew that his lord and master hated to be interrupted. He was not averse to constructive criticism, but only if it was brought up afterwards. Interrupting Khan had cost more than one vampire his eternal life.
"Patience," Khan continued, talking to no one in particular, "is another of those virtues our kind would be wise to adopt, to hell with the whole evil issues. Good things are worth the wait, they certainly are." He looked at Elron. "Did I ever tell you how Dick and I came up with that whole Ascension plan all these years ago?"
"You mentioned it once or twice, my Lord."
"We knew it would take a while, yes we did. A century, give or take a few years. Now, most people would have abandoned a plan like that because they lack the patience necessary to pull it off. We knew better, though. A hundred years of waiting is more than worth it considering the payoff at the end, oh yes."
His smile grew wistful as they approached the exit, the limousine standing ready outside. Elron had already considered a route back to their daytime retreat that would allow them to pick up some hapless people on the way. Vampires had to drink, after all.
"Too bad you were so lacking in the patience department when it came to other things, Dick," Khan said with a nostalgic note to his voice. "I mean, yes, we both knew that only one person could reap the benefit of our plan, but still ... stabbing me in the back that early in the game? I would have waited at least another ten years before doing it to you."
He chuckled under his breath. "Only serves you right that your entire plan almost came crashing down around your ears thanks to that old fool Balthazar."
They reached the car and Elron opened the door for Khan.
"But I am patient," he sighed, settling back into the leather cushions. "Revenge is a dish best served cold, isn't it, Dick? I could have destroyed you at any time during the last 100 years, but that wouldn't have been fun, would it?"
His eyes focused on Elron again. "You know why I waited so long, right, Elron?"
Elron nodded. Of course he knew. He had listened to Khan recite his reasons often enough.
"You decided, my Lord, that revenge would be served best by letting your rival come within reach of his ultimate goal and then snatch it away from him."
"Exactly," Kahn said excitedly, snapping his fingers. "I imagine right now Dick is in a state of near-panic. Not only has he got his hands more than full with all the last-minute preparations, not to mention those pesky do-gooders calling his town home, but I'm sure he has also learned about my presence by now."
An evil smile crept onto Khan's face as his human mask slipped away and made room for his demon visage.
"Can you feel my cold breath on your neck, Dick? Can you feel my fangs at your throat?"
Throwing his head back, Khan laughed. Quite loudly so. One wouldn't be saying too much calling it a bellow. Elron endured his lord's laughter with the patience of a saint (he knew the value of patience, of course) and waited until Khan was finished.
"You did it again, my Lord," he then said.
"Did what?"
"Laughing out loud, my Lord."
Khan slipped back into his human face, which looked a bit puzzled. "Maybe it's something about this place. I have to tell you, though, it does feel quite good. You should try it sometimes, Elron."
"I will give it consideration, my Lord."
"You do that. I trust everything has been prepared for our little event two nights from now?"
"Indeed, sir. All the cameras have been set up and concealed. We will be able to watch the battle live and in colour."
"Excellent. It's a great plan, isn't it? Simple, but great. I like simple plans. Less chance of things going wrong."
With a smile he was thinking of a particular plan, one century in length, that contained so many things that could go so wonderfully wrong. Especially now, this close to the finish line. Well, one thing after another.
"What do you think, Elron?" Khan asked, folding his hands behind his head as he leaned back. "Will our thirty unwitting pawns be able to cause any lasting damage?"
"A possibility, my Lord. Considering that they will be going up against two Slayers and a master vampire, though, I sort of doubt it."
Khan nodded. "Yes, I assume we can't exactly pray for one of them to make some sort of stupid mistake and get themselves killed. Well, that's not the point of this exercise anyway. Have you acquired the rest of the supplies we will need?"
"Certainly, my Lord. The large-screen TV will be delivered to the lair tomorrow, more than enough time to link it up. The new couch is already there and we have some snack runs scheduled for just before the event."
"Good. Very good."
Two nights from now Sebastian Khan would be getting his first long and thorough look at the opposition he was facing in this town. Thirty vampires should be enough to put the Slayers and Angelus through quite a workout. And if they should just happen to be killed, well...
Sometimes even vampires got lucky. Not often, but sometimes.
#
Part 4
Spike stumbled into the burnt-out factory, the world swimming before his
eyes. It took a lot to get a vampire intoxicated, but after several
weeks of near-nonstop drinking he had managed. He had also managed to
acquire a certain kind of bodily odour, something that vampires, who
didn’t sweat, usually didn’t really have to worry about. It was a
combination of booze, smokes, and pure misery that clung to him and made
even the rats scurry away.
“Drusilla,” he yelled, slurring the name. “I’m home. Where are you?”
He swallowed a sip from his nearly empty bottle and phantom images
danced before his eyes. Drusilla spinning through the room with a smile
on her face, giggling as she spun Miss Edith around and around.
“Have you brought me something pretty?” the phantom image asked him,
smiling radiantly. Spike grinned in return, stumbling forward to take
her into his arms.
He fell right through the hallucination and ended up prone on the floor.
Screaming in protest he drove his fist deep into the blackened wooden
planks, not caring that his knuckles split and his hands started
bleeding.
“Drusilla,” he roared again.
Spike had no clear memory of how he had managed to get back to his feet.
He only knew that some undetermined amount of time later he found
himself standing in front of a dusty old mansion. He stumbled forward
and smashed open the patio doors, his boots scrunching the splintered
glass beneath them.
The place was empty. Nothing there at all except some old bloodstains
and a huge scorch mark on the ground. The faintest traces of scents, but
he was much too far gone to make heads or tails of them.
“Where are you?” he challenged some unseen foe. “Come here so I can
pound you into bloody paste!”
“Maybe I’ll take you with me next time,” a phantom of Angelus whispered
to him with a cruel grin on its face. “Would be great when I need a
really good parking space.”
“You stupid wanker,” Spike bellowed. “You just had to try and destroy
the world, right? You just had to come back from being a bloody
do-gooder and take Dru from me, right?”
He collapsed into a heap on the floor, digging his black fingernails
into the stone.
“You think I’m afraid of you?” he growled under his breath, shortly
before passing out right then and there.
#
Faith was doing a solo patrol to wrap up the night. Earlier she had gone
with Buffy and Angel, the three of them kicking demon ass together, but
every now and then she still liked to go out on her own. The reason for
that was actually terribly simple.
Fighting alongside the couple was a rush, but one with a bittersweet
tinge. The saying ‘three’s a crowd’ had never been more accurate. Buffy
and Angel had fought their way through all nine circles of Hell and a
few run-of-the-mill vampires didn’t even slow them down anymore. Not
only that, but the way they communicated without words, how their shared
looks spoke entire libraries, it made Faith feel superfluous.
Looking back over the months she had spent in Sunnydale so far, the
bottom line was that it had been a good thing for her to come here.
Sure, she had almost been killed on a number of occasions, but the good
far outweighed the bad. She had friends now, true friends. She had
something very close to a family, what with Giles now being her legal
guardian and Mrs. S treating her almost as if she was her own daughter.
She had people to fight beside, even if they sometime made her feel
redundant.
What she didn’t have, and what she couldn’t help but long for, was
someone who looked at her like Angel looked at Buffy. She knew that she
had absolutely no right to complain. In her few short months in this
town she had gained more than she ever thought she would have, but still
... people always wanted what they didn’t have, right? Why should she be
different?
Back in Boston she had averaged about one guy per week, sometimes more.
Get some, get gone, that had been her motto. Always be the one to leave
first, because then you wouldn’t be the one who got left behind. It was
the one lesson her bitch of a mother had taught her that she had fully
taken to heart. Guys always left. Usually when things got tough and you
really needed them.
She still believed that to be true, at least when it came to about 99
percent of the male population. It was the belief that there might be
one percent where it was not true that was new for her. She wasn’t
exactly sure where that came from. Hearing of Angel and Buffy sticking
together for their entire trip? Seeing that idiot Xander try and work
past a truly giant mountain of mistakes and stupidity to get his friends
back? Maybe it was this entire group of people she suddenly found
herself a part of.
She chuckled at the absurdity of it all. A Slayer and a souled vampire.
A witch and a werewolf. A prom queen and an A-class loser. A stuffy Brit
and a mom that could have hailed right from a 50s sitcom. All thrown
together and protecting the world, though some of them made larger
contributions then others.
Where did that leave her? The second Slayer? She laughed. Maybe there
was another non-evil vampire somewhere out there. Well, if he really did
exist, odds were he would come here. This place was so weird that
anything was possible.
#
The light of the rising sun slowly crept across the floor of the
mansion, edging towards the slumbering vampire lying in the middle of
it. At one time in the past Spike had complained about the many windows
this place had, a state of affairs not favourable to creatures as averse
to sunlight as vampires were. Unfortunately for him he had not thought
about the windows before passing out, nor had the thought of the
eventual rise of the sun ever entered his shrouded mind.
As a result he was quite unprepared for his hand suddenly bursting into
flame when the sunlight touched it.
“BLOODY HELL,” he yelled, jumping to his feet and looking for the
nearest body of water. Finding none, he ran into the nearby bedroom and
proceeded to smother the flames with one of the sheets. This stratagem,
while successful in itself, caused the curtains, entangled with the
sheets as they were, to slide open.
“AAAAH,” he yelled again, quickly jumping back from the glaring light of
the morning sun. Even a vampire, normally one of the most graceful
creatures on the face of the Earth, did have certain coordination
troubles when suffering from extended alcohol abuse. Therefore Spike
lost his balance, cracked his head on the doorframe, and quite
effectively knocked himself unconscious.
Fortunately his body came to rest in a spot where the sunlight wouldn’t
reach until much later in the afternoon.
#
Faith woke with a yawn, the light of the rising sun shining through the
half-parted curtains. She was not a morning person, not even close, but
today was one of the three days a week she had to get up early for those
blasted study sessions Giles had forced upon her. That harpy of a tutor
would give her that glare again if she was late and it was an exercise
in self-control to keep from telling her how very much not intimidating
that glare was. Getting up early was easier.
Despite Giles now being her legal guardian she still lived with Buffy’s
mom, a state of affairs that was not going to change anytime soon.
Giles’ apartment, while roomy, was not really intended for housing a
teenager. Too many easily broken pieces of stuffy furniture, the
complete absence of a TV, and the most modern piece of entertainment
equipment Giles possessed being his old record player.
Seeing as Buffy didn’t live here anymore Mrs. S had room to spare and
didn’t mind Faith using it. Faith actually believed that she was
enjoying having a teenager to fuss over again. And Faith herself? Well,
she would never admit it to a living soul, but being fussed over by
someone who actually deserved the name ‘mom’? She enjoyed it immensely.
A shower later she skipped down into the kitchen, said skipping being
more a result of pent-up energy from last night’s lack of vampires than
anything even remotely resembling peppiness. Mrs. S was already there
and the smell of pancakes filled the room.
“Good morning, Faith. Did you sleep well?”
“Like a rock, Mrs. S. I didn’t wake you coming in again, did I?”
Faith knew very well that Joyce had developed the habit of sleeping with
one eye open until she came home. She secretly loved it, but it made no
sense for the woman to tire herself out that way, so she tried to cure
her of that habit. Without success so far.
They ate breakfast and chatted amiably for a while, talking about
nothing in particular. The weather, vampires, the art gallery, the
demonic tutor, just your average stuff. Faith couldn’t suppress a small
smirk. By now Mrs. S was no doubt hoping that, this morning at least,
she would not be subjected to Faith’s daily ritual.
She started to rise, preparing to put the dishes in the machine, when
Faith went in for the kill.
“Any new adventures with the G-man of late?”
Mrs. S furious blush told her, not for the first time, that her
suspicions about what had happened between Mrs. S and the G-man during
the infamous cursed candy night were absolutely correct.
Life was good.
#
Spike regained consciousness again and groaned, his head pounding from a
combination of hangover and the big bruise he had gotten from colliding
with the doorframe.
“Life stinks,” he mumbled, slowly rising to his feet.
He really needed to kill something and soon.
#
Part 5
"Are you really sure you want to risk that?" Willow asked, looking at her
boyfriend.
"It's worth the risk, Willow," he simply said, giving her an encouraging
smile.
For weeks now Willow and Oz had worked on this spell they were about to
perform. The idea had come to Oz after Amy's spell that had caused every
single supernatural being in Sunnydale to lose its ability to appear human.
It had transformed Oz into his wolf form, but he had somehow retained his
human intelligence instead of becoming the wild and mindless beast he
usually turned into.
Ever since then Willow and Oz had tried to duplicate the effect of that
spell without plunging all of Sunnydale into chaos all over again. Their
research had been hindered time and again by the various crises they had to
deal with, but now they finally seemed to have made some headway.
Or maybe not. The only way to find out was to test it.
"It'll be perfectly safe," Oz told Willow from behind the metal grid of the
book cage. School was over and no one except the two of them was in the
building. "If something goes wrong I'll be in here, unable to hurt anyone."
Willow wasn't half as certain as her boyfriend appeared to be, but they had
triple-checked everything. It should work. Oz, while unable to perform magic
himself, was great when it came to research and putting spells together.
With all the materials given to Willow by Amy before her death they had
figured it out and it should work. It should.
She bit her lip, finally nodding. He was right, of course. It was worth the
risk.
"Okay, here goes!" Willow took a moment to make sure that the book cage was
really closed and the tranquillizer rifle close at hand. They had considered
asking Buffy or someone else with superpowers to do this with them, but
Willow didn't want to get into endless discussions on the risks this
entailed. She had had them with Oz and now they were done. The last thing
she needed was for one of her friends to disrupt her concentration at a
crucial moment.
Sighing, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the spell they had worked
out.
"King of the wild, goddess of the moon, we call upon thee! Grant this, thy
creature, the boon he desires. Let the moonlight change his flesh, but not
his thoughts. Let the call of the wild fill his blood, but spare his mind.
This we beg of you. Hear our plea! So mote it be!"
Willow kept her eyes closed for another moment, feeling the energy pulsing
along her fingers. She was still not one hundred percent comfortable with
wielding such powerful magics. Levitating a pencil was one thing, but
calling upon the king of the wild and the goddess of the moon? That was a
different league.
Nothing seemed to happen, though. The feeling of power faded and she could
hear nothing. Carefully she opened first one eye, peeking out at the book
cage. Oz stood in there, flexing his hands as if he expected something to
happen. He seemed unchanged.
"It didn't work," Willow pouted, sighing.
"I ... I'm not sure," Oz finally said, blinking. "I feel strange somehow.
Almost as if ..."
The rest of the sentence was cut off as he doubled over, grunting in pain.
Willow was on her feet in an instant, taking a step toward the book cage.
Then she stopped, back-pedalling quickly. The skin on Oz' back split, fur
welling forth from inside and spreading across his body like water. His
scream became an animal growl and he fell to all fours, his hands and feet
morphing into paws.
A moment later Willow was staring at a pony-sized werewolf inside the cage,
the creature growling at her.
"Oz?" she asked hesitantly.
#
The Seventh Circle of the Inferno:
Buffy and Angel reached the bottom of the mile-high cliff after nearly two
days of climbing. That was their estimate, at least. This region of Hell,
just like all the others, didn't have a passage of night and day. They both
feared that their internal clocks had long forgotten how to measure time.
From Dante's writings they knew that the Seventh Circle was threefold, the
Violent categorized into three different groups. This first group, the one
that populated the outer regions of the circle, was guilty of violence
against their fellow men. Murderers, war makers, all those who relished in
violence for its own sake.
"I don't get it," Buffy said, the two of them hiding behind several large
outcroppings of rock at the edge of the massive ongoing battle that filled
every square meter of available surface before them. "If these folks liked
violence so much, how is it punishment for them to keep fighting for all
eternity?"
Angel had spent some thought on that as well and, after observing the battle
in front of them for several minutes, believed he had the answer.
"Look at them, Buffy," he just said. So she looked, watched as people were
cut down over and over again, be it by steel, bullet, or bare hands. None of
them stayed down. They rose and kept fighting. Over and over again.
"They don't stay dead, none of them."
"They're already dead. These people all inflicted violence to see their
fellow men suffer. To see them bleed. To see them die."
Buffy nodded, understanding. "But here no one bleeds. No one dies. It's all
just one giant exercise in futility."
"Exactly."
Buffy looked at the faces of the fighting men and women before her. There
was no joy in any of them, none of the joy she had sometimes seen on those
who gave themselves over to the pleasure of violence. She knew she was
guilty of that particular crime, too. Her memories of Earth were dim and
distant, but she remembered times when she had given herself completely to
the joy of hunting down and killing the monsters, just so she could forget
about all her personal problems for a time.
She imagined it wouldn't have been quite so thrilling if the monsters had
gotten up over and over again to fight anew.
"Some of the newcomers here probably enjoy it," Angel mused. "For a while.
Then the bitter reality of their situation sets in and it's just another
form of torture."
"You realize we might be facing a really big problem here, right?"
He nodded. "I imagine there is nothing these people would like better than
finally getting their hands on someone who can actually bleed and die."
"Someone like us, right?"
"Someone like us."
#
Buffy moved right into the small group of vampires, her sword nothing more
than a shimmer of steel that moved too quickly for the naked eye to follow.
She cut in vicious arcs, separating undead flesh from undead flesh in the
span of a heartbeat. The vampires didn't need long to realize that they had
made a grave mistake in not running for the hills the moment they saw her,
but it was already too late for them.
Angel watched from some feet away, the one vampire he had gotten his hands
on before Buffy could decapitate him now so much dust at his feet. Something
was bothering his mate, that much was certain. Trying to distract herself
from personal problems by immersing herself into the hunt and the kill was
one of the few habits of hers that had survived their journey through hell
intact.
Finally the last demon crumbled into dust and Buffy stood alone, sword still
in hand, looking around for more prey. When she didn't find any she looked
almost disappointed.
"Is it just me or are there fewer vampires around these last few days?" she
asked Angel.
"Activity seems to have lessened a bit. I assume we have Sebastian Khan to
thank for that."
It hadn't been too long since they had learned of the presence of a new
master vampire in town. If the rumours were true it was a young one, barely
more than a century old, but with the added bonus of knowing his witchcraft.
Giles and Angel had gone through scenarios of what this might mean for their
town. Usually, when a master tried to take over a territory, step one was
always to eliminate the former master.
Which, in this case, meant Angelus.
"You think he's planning something big?" Buffy tried not to let her worry
for Angel show too much. It was a moot point; they knew each other too well
for that.
"He's probably still in the process of consolidating his hold on the town. I
suspect many of the vampires will be lying low, looking to see who comes out
on top before they commit to anyone."
Even though he hated doing it, Angel had played the role of Angelus several
times in recent weeks. Visiting vampire hangouts, approaching groups of
fledglings, letting them know in no uncertain terms that Sunnydale was still
his town and that anyone who sided with Khan had nothing but a premature
death to look forward to. He wasn't sure how much it really achieved.
Vampires were still scared of him, but sooner or later they would wonder why
their master never seemed to be killing humans anymore. Sooner or later one
of them would get away from an encounter with him and Buffy, spilling the
beans to the rest. At best it was a delaying tactic, nothing more.
Unfortunately they had had little luck in locating Khan's daylight retreat
so far. Whatever Khan was up to, he was careful and kept himself well
hidden.
"Khan is not the reason you are so upset, is he?" Angel asked.
Buffy looked down, wishing for more vampires to attack. Slicing and dicing
the undead was always easier than dealing with her own feelings.
"Remember how I told you I got my SAT scores yesterday?" she asked, causing
Angel to nod. There was a glint of pride in his eyes that his mate had done
so well.
"Well," Buffy continued, "mom was all excited and kept talking about great
colleges and such. I reminded her that I didn't plan to go to college. Then
we told Ms. Burg and she seemed pretty disappointed, too. I just ..."
"Are you having second thoughts about not going to college, Buffy?"
She thought on that for a minute and then shook her head. "No, not really. I
mean, I know I'll be missing out on a few fun parts, like frat parties and
such, but I have no desire to spend the next few years in class rooms
listening to lectures. No thanks! It's just ... I don't know."
Angel gave her a smile. "You just feel bad about disappointing people who
believe in you, Buffy."
She looked up at him. "Do you think I'm letting my mom down by not going to
college?"
"Nothing of the sort. It's your life, not your mother's. Wanting to make
your parents proud of you is a good thing, Buffy, but it can't be your sole
motivation for doing something."
Buffy knew that Angel was talking from experience. When Angel had been human
he had done everything he could to make his father proud of him, to become
the sort of person his father would have wanted. When it became obvious that
it would never be he had turned around and gone full-steam in the other
direction, doing everything he could think of to cause embarrassment for his
father. Either way he had allowed his father to control his life and it had
led him to a premature death in a filthy alley.
She moved up to him, wrapping her arms around his body as they slowly made
their way home again. No, she didn't want to go to college. It would be just
another mask, another effort to fool others and herself into thinking she
might have such a thing as a normal life. She never would have and trying to
pretend would only serve to ruin the life she had.
"We should go by the school," Buffy said as they walked off. "Willow said
something about conducting an experiment there."
"An experiment?" Angel asked, sounding a tad worried. He was immensely
thankful to Willow for restoring his soul all these many years ago (or
months, as their friends here reckoned it), but he also recognized the
danger she was exposing herself to. Magic was not something to toy around
with and he wasn't sure whether Willow, for all her innate intelligence and
talent, was really aware of the risks.
"Don't worry," Buffy told him, guessing his thoughts. "She got Oz with her.
I'm sure everything is fine."
#
Part 6
Faith was hanging out at the Bronze, just moving to the music and
intimidating bartenders until they were willing to swear every oath
imaginable that she was 21 or any other age she might want to be. It
wasn’t like there was anything else to do for her right now.
The vampire situation was lousy, definitely not enough of the
bloodsuckers around to keep three super-powered thrill-seekers busy.
Okay, she amended; Angel probably didn’t qualify for the title
‘thrill-seeker’. He always fought all business, no wasted move, ending
things as quickly as possible. Faith liked to draw out her fights, at
least those where she wasn’t outnumbered ten to one, and she knew Buffy
liked a little extra fighting as well.
Point of the matter was that there simply wasn’t enough action for her
satisfaction, so she had decided to hit the Bronze and burn off some
energy. The rest of the gang wasn’t here. Willow and Oz were busy with
some kind of experiment or other, Cordelia and Xander were on some kind
of fence-mending not-date, and Buffy and Angel were probably getting
busy right now.
She refused to be depressed about being without a significant other of
her own tonight. Well, she would probably be looking for some guy to get
busy with before the night was through, but right now she just enjoyed
moving to the music and drawing stares from all around.
Her guy-rate had gone down considerably since coming here, partially
because of her ongoing preoccupation with the kind of relationship she
had never had herself but was able to observe between Buffy and Angel.
And partially because she didn’t want to abuse Mrs. S’ hospitality by
bringing strangers into her home, but that was another matter entirely.
Point was, she still had the urges, especially after patrol, but the
‘get some, get gone’ approach didn’t really work for her anymore. Or at
least not as good as it used to.
When the novelty of being ogled by high-school guys began to wear off
Faith made her way off the dance floor and to the bar, yelling for
another beer. This caused the guy sitting next to her to flinch away
slightly.
“Cut out the yelling, will you?” He looked up. “And get me another beer,
too, while you’re at it!”
Faith stared at the Billy-Idol-wannabe and narrowed her eyes, catching
some strange vibes from him. Then he hiccupped quite violently and
almost fell off his stool. That, combined with the stench of alcohol
that surrounded him like a cloud, managed to dispel all worries she
might have had. She doubted any vampire or other demon would be stupid
enough to get tanked in the Slayers’ favorite hangout. Besides, she
doubted vampires could get depressed. Except maybe Angel, but he was one
of a kind.
“You know that the whole ‘drown your hangover in alcohol’ thing doesn’t
really work, right?” she asked him, sitting down on a stool of her own.
The guy looked much too tanked to be of any use in the sack, but that
didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun.
“Sod off,” he mumbled. “What does a little thing like you know, anyway?”
Faith smiled broadly. This guy showed all the classic signs of someone
in a deep bout of depression.
“So what happened, Billy Idol? Not selling your albums like you used
to?”
He gave her a withering glare, muttering something under his breath she
didn’t quite catch. Something about stupid kids ripping off his style.
“Ah, I got it,” Faith said triumphantly. “Girl trouble, right? Did your
better half ditch you?”
“She didn’t ditch me,” he roared at her, almost losing his balance
again. “I left her, okay? I told her I wouldn’t put up with this shit
anymore and ... why the hell am I talking to you anyway? Sod off, okay?
I’m not in the mood!”
“Oh, you’re in a mood all right,” she grinned, giving him a little shove
that sufficed to send him tumbling off his stool. A string of
obscenities followed all the way down to the floor as Faith chucked back
the last of her beer.
“That’s it,” he growled, trying to get to his feet again. “Only so much
I’m gonna take from a bit like you!”
“You gonna kick my ass?” She gave him an encouraging smile.
“I’m going to spank you black and blue you little ...”
“Let’s start with a round of pool and we’ll see where the night takes
us, okay?”
#
Half an hour later Faith was in a pretty good mood, one that was
apparently not shared by the Billy Idol wannabe. If anything he was even
more depressed than before. It might have something to do with the fact
that his pool skills had left a lot to be desired and, apart from losing
pretty much all the money he had left, he had also been stupid enough to
put his nifty leather coat on the line. Faith was trying out her newly
won piece of apparel and it fit quite nicely.
“Write this up as a productive evening.”
“This is getting better and better,” the bleached guy mumbled, looking
really pissed at her but too tanked to do much about it.
“Shouldn’t brag when you can’t back it up!”
He stumbled to his feet. “Okay, that’s it! Give me back my coat!”
“No go, Billy! You lost it fair and square!”
“That wasn’t fair! I’d have kicked your little ass if I were sober.”
“Then you shouldn’t have played until then, Billy!”
“You’re playin’ with fire here, girl!”
She looked at the swaying guy and shook her head.
“You know, Billy? Whoever that bitch is you’re mooning over, she’s
either laughing her ass off right now because you’re drowning in the
blues over her, or she has forgotten about you entirely. Shit happens!
Get over it!”
With that Faith decided to call it a night. The guy had turned out to be
a lot less fun than anticipated, but at least she had gotten a new coat
out of it. Turning around, she didn’t even notice that the Billy Idol
wannabe tried to lung at her, only to lose his balance and crash into
the pool table.
#
Spike grumbled quite explicitly about the parentage of certain women as
he fought back to his feet, but by the time he managed the vertical the
brunette bitch that had ripped off his coat was already gone.
“I don’t believe this,” he muttered to himself. Killed a Slayer to get
the coat, lost it to a little girl because he was too tanked to shoot
pool properly. Someone was having a lot of fun at his expense, that much
was for sure.
Her parting words left him thinking, though, or the next-best thing his
drunken state allowed him to achieve. He was behaving like a loser.
Worse, he was behaving like a poof with a soul and too much time to
brood. This was not going to go on.
Something had to be done. Drusilla was shagging it up with Chaos demons?
Let her! He didn’t need her. Only thing she had ever done was hold him
back. He was Spike, damn it! William the friggin’ Bloody! He had killed
two Slayers with his bare hands (and lost his favourite trophy in a game
of pool with a little girl, but that was beside the point).
No one would be laughing at him! Not him! Taking a deep and unnecessary
breath he went through his mental list of things to do when he was in a
bad mood. It was a really short list and most of the entries fell under
one of two categories: Maiming and killing. Maiming wouldn’t be enough
right now, no sir! He really needed to kill someone right now.
Preferably someone who really had it coming.
Okay! He didn’t have a clue what had happened to the bloody Slayer and
her idiot poof, but since the world was still here, odds were that the
Slayer at least was still around. He’d find her! He’d kill her! He’d
feel a lot better afterward. Then he’d find Dru, the Slayer’s blood
still on his fingers, and he’d spit on her while licking it off.
Sometime before that he’d really have to get his coat back. Preferably
without getting Slayer blood on it.
Stumbling out of the Bronze, he tried to figure out a likely place for
the Slayer to hang out right now. Probably patrolling, but there were so
many cemeteries in this bloody burg that finding her there would be
rather difficult. Much better idea to go to a place she would eventually
turn up at and wait for her.
He smiled. Her mom’s. The invitation she had given him when they had
teamed up against the poof should still be in force. He doubted the bint
had thought to revoke it. He’d go visit her mom, have a nice chat with
her, and kill the Slayer once she got home. Yessir! He had a plan! A
good plan! No little girl would call him a loser ever again.
Well, she hadn’t technically called him a loser, but the message had
been loud and clear. And no one called him a loser! And no one took his
coat away from him! No one!
Swaying for a moment, he remembered where he wanted to go next and
headed out.
TBC…
Back to Excedo Inferi Series
Back to Prof. Philip S' Courses
