Summary: A vampire's soul is the path to redemption or perhaps the bringer of apocalypses…something new and very old force Angel and Spike into a battle to save the world (again) and the women they both love. Canon through BtVS The Chosen and AtS Season Five, Damage. And then most definitely, AU.
Categories: General NC-17 Fics Characters: None
Genres: Romance, Action, Angst
Warnings: Violence, Adult Language, Sexual Situations
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 18
Completed: Yes
Word count: 35642
Read: 23616
Published: 12/05/2004
Updated: 01/20/2005
1. april in paris by denny_dc
2. no more sunshine by denny_dc
3. chocolate and berries by denny_dc
4. physics by denny_dc
5. shared dreams by denny_dc
6. quarks by denny_dc
7. the prism by denny_dc
8. words by denny_dc
9. seconds by denny_dc
10. up, down and strange by denny_dc
11. buffy by denny_dc
12. the big bang theory by denny_dc
13. dark matter by denny_dc
14. truth in hell by denny_dc
15. a tear in reality by denny_dc
16. fred in paradise by denny_dc
17. particles and light by denny_dc
18. message in a bottle by denny_dc
april in paris by denny_dc
chapter one - april in paris, 2005
The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. Albert Einstein (1879-1955)
“That's really cute.” Buffy Summers' gaze followed the pointing finger of the tall young woman to the handbag on Buffy's arm. “I swear to god, it's really, really cute. It looks fantastic, and you've simply got to own it.”
“Okay, Lillie, okay,” said Buffy, ready to scream. It was just a handbag. A purse. A thing to put things in. It wouldn't change her life. She would still be Buffy. Okay, Buffy with a really great purse. She preened in front of the mirror for a moment before her bad moodiness inched its way back to the surface. She hadn't forgotten why she was out shopping in the first place. It had been Willow's idea – not Buffy's.
"Go with Lillie," Willow had said. "It's April, and it's Paris. Get out of the apartment, and get some fresh air. You'll feel better," Willow had promised. Reluctantly, Buffy had agreed. So she wasn't exactly thrilled when she learned this oh-so-great idea didn't apply to Willow – who had stayed home.
Buffy had to admit that Lillie could be fun. It was just that, well, a shopping spree wasn't what Buffy had in mind. Lately, her typical day began with several hours of sulking, interrupted by fifteen-minute blocks of self-loathing, followed by a brief burst of mandatory tears. She knew she was being a little too tough on herself, okay, maybe more than a little. It had been two years, after all, since Sunnydale.
Buffy adjusted her posture, straightening her spine. She'd been slouching as she stared at herself in the shop's full-length mirror. Since Sunnydale, she had gained some weight. That was a good thing. Had been way too skinny. She was still a dyed blonde. Not a bad thing exactly, she supposed. Her skin was not as tan, but she looked healthy, especially with the right amount of makeup. She sighed, a tired sound, as she looked at Lillie's reflection standing beside hers in the mirror. Buffy knew it was good for her to have found a new friend. In particular, one that hadn't been in her hometown at the end. There were no memories of Lillie standing next to Spike or Anya in the kitchen on Revello Drive. Lillie hadn't chased big bads through Sunnydale cemeteries at the side of the Scoobies and the then-only Chosen One. Lillie hadn't been there the day the sunlight ripped through Spike's heart and soul.
“How can you get over being the official last of the original Chosen Ones if every three minutes you go wonky and disappear into your own private Idaho?” Lillie stood up stretching her six-foot frame as she strolled over to the next counter stuffed with purses. Buffy watched Lillie as she grabbed another designer bag and threw it casually over her shoulder, turning and lifting her chin as she watched herself in the mirror.
Giles had introduced Willow and Buffy to Lillie. She had a large apartment in Paris and since Willow and Buffy needed a place to live – because Buffy didn't want to stay in London – Lillie was most definitely the gal they needed to know. Giles had given them what information he had about her: she was a young woman who was a distant relative to one of the deceased members of the Watcher's Council. After one two-hour telephone call, the three girls were discussing décor, and the merits of the bedroom next to the kitchen at the end of the hall.
Buffy had to give it up to Lillie because besides the great apartment, there was just something about her. She was damned wealthy - always a good thing - and wicked smart. Willow and Lillie could spend hours discussing the role of physics as it related to the magics or something like that. Of course, Buffy would disappear when these brain-fests got out of control. Lillie also knew about slayers. When Giles first shared this little nugget of a detail, Buffy was bothered. She had cornered Giles a few days before they were leaving for Paris, and drilled him with questions. Buffy demanded that Giles pledge on his personal volumes of the Watcher's Council's sacred Encyclopedia on Vampires in the 19th Century that Lillie was not some kind of protection demon, or worse, a Watcher in training. Buffy didn't need a spy - just a roommate.
“You must learn the value of overpriced handbags. See. Take. Have,” said Lillie giggling as she swung the purse idly.
“Yeah. See. Take. Have. I've heard those words before,” said Buffy, recalling how Spike seemed to live by a former rogue slayer's motto. Well, no, maybe not live. He had existed quite nicely for nearly 120 years, considering the whole vampire lifestyle thing. In fact, he'd done quite well, until he fell in love with her.
"Damn right,” Lillie's voice startled Buffy from her musings. “Those words don't describe you at all. You don't allow yourself that kind of flexibility. You're a slave to routine, Buffy. In my op, the first step to a cure for you is shopping, and shopping in Paris cures all.”
"Yes, Lillie, you may be right, shopping is of the good, but I am of the broke," said Buffy. “We have different priorities. I need to stop shopping and avoid spending. You need to keep shopping and – to keep shopping.”
Buffy forced a small smile as she placed the purse back on the shelf and walked out of the shop. Over her shoulder, she called to Lillie. “No more shopping for me, it's time to go.”
Lillie turned and dropped the bag on the table and followed Buffy out of the shop. They walked quickly, covering several blocks before Lillie stopped and turned to Buffy. ” What did you say?” She asked.
“Huh? I didn't say anything. What ya doin', hearing voices?” queried Buffy, somewhat amused by Lillie's perpetual habit of asking questions about topics never mentioned, or answering questions never asked. She was wicked smart, okay. That's why Buffy excused the talking to herself compulsion as part of what brainy people did – just because they could, with their big busy brains and all.
“Hearing voices – yeah, that's it, or something like that,” responded Lillie as she continued walking.
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Lillie Elisabeth Parker was worried. Usually, she didn't make such glaring mistakes. The voices were always with her, of course, but she knew how to play them off. When she needed to respond aloud to her inner voices, or offer her own opinion, rarely, but offer nonetheless, she'd tag on a clever witticism. This ensured that Buffy and Willow would ignore her other odd mutterings. Lillie had learned within days of meeting her new roommates that they loved to hear themselves talk. Other folks, like her, really didn't keep their attention. They really didn't care about Lillie's odd habit of talking to herself, or at least not that much, she figured. If they did, Lillie was certain her roommates considered it a small quirk, a tiny price to pay for a great apartment in Paris.
Today, the voice said that big changes were coming for Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg and Lillie, a young woman who heard voices and made friends with witches and slayers. Thinking about its words, Lillie looked forward to changes in her tomorrows as she tried to recall what she couldn't remember about her past. She had no idea who she was or where she'd been until the day she spoke to the slayer and the witch on the telephone. But today, the voice said that she and her roommates would soon meet their destiny.
About time, thought Lillie, as she continued her brisk walk with the Slayer at her side.
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Buffy sat up in the bed, clutching the heavy quilted blanket to her chest. Something was in the room. She looked around, searching for anyone or anything that might be hiding in the darkness. Gulping dry air rapidly into her lungs, working to soothe the cramped muscles in her chest, she pulled the covers up around her neck.
Deep breaths, Buffy thought, if she just kept pulling the oxygen through her mouth into her lungs, she might calm down and be able to think. Unfortunately, the other side of her brain was telling her to get up, get out, and run away, as far and as fast as any vampire slayer had ever run. It might be better, Buffy supposed, if she could be someplace else. Except she knew there was no other place for her to be.
Oh God.
There it was that oh-so-right-in-her-face screaming panic, creeping its way back over her body. “I've got to breathe.” She forced herself to take an even more careful look around the room. Moonlight was streaming through the window, illuminating the corners of the room. Something here was familiar. There were scents in the air she recognized, too. Yes, she knew where she was. Even in the dark, (and it was very dark), she knew the room, the house, the bed and the life she was meant to live. It was her “destiny”. Relaxing a little, she let the blanket go and reached through the darkness to touch the cool body that lay next to her. Snatching her hand back quickly, she pulled the quilt back tightly to her chest, almost in an embrace.
Oh my God, Spike is here.
If she could just stop trembling, everything would be okay. Calm down, she pleaded with herself. Maybe thinking about oceans and waves and the blueness of water as it lapped effortlessly onto the shore. That was relaxing, she thought. She loved the water. Watching wave after wave, cresting over and over again, perfect white foam peaks in sterling blue water. It was like watching Spike, all grace and beauty, and each wave was unique, she thought and shivered.
Then it was there again, the cursed panic. Buffy shuddered as her throat began to hurt and her eyes burned. I've got to stop this, she breathed. She swallowed twice, and one more time just to make certain, as she sought control. She couldn't look at Spike. He was too close. She could feel him without touching him. His cool, pale skin seemed to glow with life and...
Love, come lay down next to me.
Spike was speaking to her. Then she remembered. No! It couldn't be him. It wasn't his voice. It was a line from a song Buffy had heard on the radio. Spike, where are you? Oh yes, he lay next to her. His body was strong, beautiful and so close. Cherishing its chill, Buffy reached out to touch the coolness and beauty that was Spike.
Oh god, oh god, oh god. He's not here. This is not my bed, my room, not my windowsill.
Buffy tried to stifle her fear as the truth raced into her mind. Sunnydale fell into a crater. Spike was gone. Dead. He died saving the world. His soul blazed before he crumbled to dust.
He's a champion, a dead glorious champion.
Buffy stopped screaming when she felt a gentle hand caress her forehead. “Buffy, wake up, baby, it's just another dream.”
She opened her eyes and saw the look of concern and pain in her best friend's eyes. "Angel promised to bring Spike back," Buffy whispered in between sobs.
Willow held her close, stroking her hair. “Buffy, Spike's been gone two years, and we haven't heard from Angel in a very long time. I'm sorry, Buffy. I'm so sorry.”
Buffy settled down under her covers, allowing Willow to comfort her as she always did, each and every night when she awoke from the same dream.
go to next chapter...
no more sunshine by denny_dc
chapter two - no more sunshine
It was a dark room except for the few spots of blue color on the black floor coming from the drum-shaped ceiling fixtures. Spike inhaled deeply enjoying the sharp burn in his throat as he lit another cigarette and watched the crowd from the doorway. The swarm of disjointed bodies moving mindlessly under the spell of so-called music almost distracted him from the smell of sweat and Jack Daniels. He hated the sweat. But the Jack – now, that was okay.
Thank goodness, he was a vampire. Spike's keen vision scanned the room, able to etch out details unavailable to the human eye unless technology intervened. He saw quite a bit of 'dancing' on the dance floor, he smirked knowingly. His skin began to prickle agreeably from the vibrations of all the human blood rushing through plump veins in time to the music. The sexual arousal of the dancers flooded into his nostrils as well. He smiled as his jeans tightened over his crotch. Taking another drag from the cigarette dangling from his lips, he thought about the two packs he'd consumed in the past four hours. Might not bode well for a human body, but the fags didn't bother him. He loved to smoke. It singed his lungs and reminded him of breathing. It also helped to distract him from the stench of the stinkin' Zeklar demon he'd been trailing since bloody sunset. His compulsion to tear the demon's soddin' head off had also diminished (ever so slightly). Beast had traveled into every shit hole in LA before this one, emitting a stench that always kept it separate from the crowd. Was easy for Spike to follow. Not kill, though. He was on a no kill mission. Watch, learn and listen. Angel always gave Spike the shit assignments to test his patience.
Bloody hell, these humans are fucking savages if they liked this kind of music, Spike thought, as he swaggered through the entranceway past the pool table and the bar. Every sweaty body in the room seemed to be swaying as one. The Zeklar was hard to spot at first. But Spike could smell it. Glancing around the room, he saw it on the other side of the dance floor. Bouncing like an oversized crazed rabbit, the Zeklar seemed to be enjoying the music. Spike figured for that alone, it deserved to die.
Well, ain't this a walk in the park.
As Spike stepped onto the dance floor, a small blonde woman moved close to him and pushed her breasts rhythmically against his chest. She grabbed his hips, a hand on either side, and stroked her pelvis against his. Spike responded instinctively, moving his groin against her. He was keenly aware that she was oblivious to the danger. Just a mindless body moving to senseless noise. Soul or no soul, Spike's demon began to take the lead, driving him closer to forgetting – and toward remembering what he was. He grabbed the girl's ass with both hands and moved her against his hardening cock. For several uncountable seconds, Spike was aware of only two things – the smell of her warm blood, and his stiff cock twitching against her stomach. Then she looked up at him, and he saw Buffy in her hazel eyes.
God help me. He knew it was a futile plea.
“Spike!”
He turned to see Winifred Burkle standing behind him. She was as close to him as the blonde he held by the ass was in front of him. This wasn't exactly Fred's kind of place. But she was there. She always seemed to show up when he needed her.
Untangling himself from the blonde, Spike turned and walked to the bar. He sensed that Fred was close behind and ordered two Jacks straight up as she sat in the empty stool next to him.
“Did you find it?” Fred was trying to look into his eyes. Spike knew she was checking on him, trying to see if he was in one of his moods.
He lifted his head and took a deep breath.
“Yeah, pet, it's still here.”
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Are you ever going to have any fun, ever again?
Angel stared at Cordelia Chase standing at the foot of the staircase outside his office.
Mr. Retired Dark Avenger, turned CEO of Wolfram and Hart LA, is not a very funny man.
“I know what I am,” Angel said aloud as he reached for Cordy's hand. Then smiling slightly, he remembered Cordy was dead, at rest. Silent forever. Cordy's ghost disappeared and the familiar pain echoed through his empty chest. God, he missed her. Angel turned away from the staircase, and walked back toward his office. He didn't want to think about Cordy. He would focus on something else.
Damn! Where was Spike? Damn little idiot, he cursed silently. Fred and Spike were supposed to call in and give him regular updates on the progress of their search for the Zeklar demon. Fred had called him several times during the past twenty-four hours. Of course, Spike hadn't called once.
“Angel, you ponce, I heard that,” Spike was in the office standing right behind him. Angel hadn't sensed him.
“I didn't say anything Spike.”
“Oh, yeah you did - I know what I am,” said Spike using what he liked to call Angel's drama queen voice. Angel hated that, and besides Angel knew that Spike knew that he never sounded like any kind of a queen.
“Well, there, I know what you are, too...you thick-headed, lift wearing, Nancy boy.” Spike flopped into the nearest chair.
“I wasn't talking to you, Spike.” Angel sat in the chair behind his super-sized desk and raised his face toward the sunlight pouring through the specially treated glass in the floor to ceiling windows of his office. Closing his eyes, he rested for a moment. Spike was quiet, too, thank God. Angel knew Spike enjoyed the sensation of the sun on his face. Just like he did. The two vampires sat in silence for a few moments, feeling the daylight on their dead skin.
They nearly jumped out of their chairs when Fred's high-pitched voice startled them both as she burst into the office. "Angel, did Spike tell you? We got the Zeklar and I think well, I mean, well, we may have figured out why it's here!"
Angel watched somewhat amazed as Fred practically slid across the floor of the room before screeching to a halt. She ground her heels into the carpet sending her long, lean frame swaying from side to side before she steadied herself. She was wearing one of those too short dresses that she seemed to throw on carelessly; she wasn't a snappy dresser. Long brown hair mussed from fingers pulling at it unconsciously, glasses askew – but her large bright brown eyes always blazed with answers. Angel realized he was holding a needless breath. He wished she would stop fidgeting and begin talking about the Zeklar.
"This demon is a metaphysical messenger able to travel through time and dimensions. Its purpose is to deliver a message to any one that seeks it out. And you know, since you sent Spike and me after the Zeklar, we were seeking it out, so to speak. That means it decided to deliver its message to us. Or to me rather.” Fred paused to catch her breath, placing one hand on the headrest of Spike's chair, and the other on his shoulder, prompting him to speak.
“Right, pet,” Spike began, stirring in his seat in response to Fred's nudging. “The Zeklar is from a hell dimension called, well, the Zek dimension, because, you know, Zeklars would live in Zek."
"They are gods, literally, gods," Fred continued. She had elicited Spike's input, but wasn't going to let him take over the telling of the story, observed Angel. At least not completely, which worked for him. Too much Spike talk would make listening way too aggravating.
"There are millions upon millions of Zeklars in Zek, and they rule everything. Except they had one true enemy. Like most gods, there's always something that pisses them off. And for the Zeks, it was a Wiccan tribe called the L' Quaratong. Not really witches like we know them in our dimension, but they controlled all the magics and were very powerful."
"You're using a lot of past tense here for these Wiccans," offered Angel. "What did the Zeklar say happened to them?"
"They destroyed them. Two million Wiccans, according to the Zek were obliterated,” said Fred, her voice taking on its calmest tone since she had walked into Angel's office.
"Tough group of witches, though,” said Spike. “Took a thousand years for them to be wiped out. But wouldn't you know it, a few got away.”
Spike, still sitting in the chair in front of Angel's desk, leaned forward as he continued. "Seems seven of these bloody witches escaped the Zeklars' thousand year war, and of course, they're headed here, to our dimension. Waiting to start some truly big badness."
Angel took a deep breath. "So we are going to help the Zeklar find these witches."
"Not exactly." Fred smiled slightly as she kept her eyes on Angel while she moved from behind Spike's chair to sit on the armrest next to him.
"Didn't think so." Angel rested his head in his hands, rubbing his brow.
"Well peaches, seems like this Zek tale is giving you a wee bit of a headache," Spike was smirking. "Don't like seein' boss man in pain. Guess we'll tell you what else the Zeklar had to say."
Spike stood up, raising his arms above his head, clearly imitating the gyrations of the Zeklar during its confession. “All dramatic like, the Zeklar raised his arms and head to the sky and shouted, I'm ready to deliver my message."
"You mean this long tale about hell dimensions, demon gods and witches, is NOT the Zeklar's message?" There was no response from either Fred or Spike as Angel looked from one to the other. "Then tell me WHAT the HELL is the message?"
"Well, it's based on science, physics actually,” started Fred, who looked as if she was about to go into full lecture-mode. Angel decided to let her roll with it as he worked to calm down.
“You know about physics and matter. Well, just in case you don't - matter is composed of a set of particles called quarks, and the basic quarks are called ‘up,' ‘down' and ‘strange.' Theorists have claimed that a fourth quark, a ‘charmed' quark, is ready to emerge, and the fifth, sixth and seventh Wiccas – I mean quarks – are already here. They don't know who they are yet. They're just learning to become the – the Seven Wiccas.”
Angel gave Fred his best blank stare and rumpled brow, but with a slight nod of his head, gestured for her to continue.
“This is about science and magic, and something very different from the evil prophecies we usually deal with. This is really, I mean really, supernatural and science at the same time."
Angel was growing impatient and he knew he couldn't keep himself in check much longer. He realized that Fred would say it soon enough, but he needed to hear it, now. “Fred, please. One last time. What was the Zeklar's message?”
“Charm begins the end,” she said. “That's the message. Think physics and it will click. It's new magic. Well, new to us. But very old in the Zek dimension. The truth, I mean, the beauty of it is that the L' Quaratong or the Seven Wiccas when united have more power than we can ever imagine."
Angel watched Fred's excited expression as she looked from vampire to vampire.
“Charm begins the end," she repeated. "That's the message. Don't you see? When the Zeklar said it, I immediately thought of the quarks. It's as if the basic principles of physics have taken an evil form, something very powerful, and these powers don't even know they exist, but they will, and they do already, but separately, not as one.”
Fred raced through her words as she looked from Angel to Spike.
“Don't you understand, they are here,” Fred was practically shouting. “If Charm is the fourth quark, we can assume it represents the fourth Wicca. Not the first, but the fourth. So the others are already here. In. Our. Dimension.” Fred paused, and took several deep breaths.
Angel glanced at Spike who had eased back in his chair, while Fred, still sitting next to him on the chair's armrest sat erect and still, no fidgeting in sight, now. Angel stared at the two of them with the same blank expression he had adopted earlier during the conversation. Then he stood slowly and walked to the windows, glancing at Spike and Fred. Angel saw that Spike looked relaxed, ready to do battle - ready to be the warrior he was. Fred, his scientist, was ready too. Most important, Angel sensed that neither one of them knew what was about to happen. Surprisingly, he was especially pleased Spike didn't remember. Although, that was a little tough to admit - even in his own mind.
Angel faced the windows, and stood in the sunshine pouring through them. It was too soon for Fred or Spike to see the truth. Indeed, he wished they might never find out that he knew more about the Seven Wiccas than anyone could ever imagine - anyone, except for Buffy.
go to next chapter...
chocolate and berries by denny_dc
chapter three - chocolate and berries
Willow was extremely comfy alone in the sun-filled apartment on the second floor of the ancient four-story building on the Champs Elysees. She'd spent the entire day curled up on the big cushy sofa, cross-legged, thumbing through her favorite issues of Zurban Paris. An over-sized mug filled to the rim with a foamy, thick mocha latte, fresh from Lillie's expresso machine, rested on the coffee table in front of her. She closed her eyes and breathed in the nutty bittersweet aroma of the Sumatran coffee beans and steamed milk before lifting the cup to her lips for one delightfully luscious sip after another. Sighing as she finished the sweet liquid far too quickly, she inhaled the smell of the double-chocolate cake she'd baked, which, fresh out of the oven, was cooling in the kitchen. Her nostrils flared as the scent of chocolate replaced the latte as her latest guiltless pleasure.
This was Willow's happy day – her reward. After months, perhaps even years, of doling out a limitless supply of nightly hugs, reassuring words and ever-ready temple massages, Willow needed a break. She was exhausted. Night after night, she'd been the one to help Buffy recover from her latest ‘big bad' dream. Grimacing at her double entendre, Willow chastised herself silently for having been even remotely surprised when the former big bad of Sunnydale became the featured player in Buffy's nightmares. Buffy's feelings for Spike were obvious that last year in Sunnydale if anyone had cared to notice. It was just that no one had the stamina, especially not Willow, to deal with the Buffy and Spike train wreck as the Scoobies had called it.
“Why does everyone in this house think I'm still in love with Spike,” Buffy had said, defensively, during a conversation about Buffy's planned first date (and last date, as it turned out) with Principal Wood. Willow never thought she'd hear the words ‘still in love' and Spike in a sentence uttered by Buffy Summers. Even more importantly, it was an offhand remark, out of left field, and completely unexpected. Willow had been questioning Buffy about her self-imposed isolation, not her need to ‘move on' from Spike. But that's not what Buffy heard – it was all about Spike. In fact, saving him and beating the First were the only two topics Buffy seemed to 'hear' that entire year. It was a shame she didn't know until it was too late that she couldn't accomplish both.
Nonetheless, Willow had a hard time accepting the idea that Buffy loved Spike so much his memory still haunted her two years later. Spike had been different that last year, she had to admit that. And well, damn it! He did die to save the world. However, Willow preferred to think of Buffy's love for Spike as more of a metaphor for her guilt about surviving the Apocalypse. No way, Buffy missed Spike the way she missed Tara. That wasn't Willow being mean-spirited either. She just hoped her best friend wasn't going through that kind of pain, even if she appeared to be in agony on the outside. Inside, it was much better to love less than to be destroyed by loss; Willow had learned that lesson with Kennedy. She chuckled. It was a coarse sound filled with sarcasm, as Willow recalled those last days with her former lover.
She could have stayed with Kennedy and traveled the world, recruiting potential slayers from remote, exotic locations for years. She was officially the supreme princess of witches. Following her mega-spell that changed the lineage of slayers forever, she could do whatever she wanted. No sweat, she could stay with Kennedy. No big deal. All the same, she left her on a sunny afternoon standing outside a small café someplace in Brazil, stunned into silence by Willow's few, but precise words, “I'm leaving you. I don't love you enough, and I can't do this anymore.”
Yeah, today was Willow's day to concentrate on Willow, she repeated silently, settling her body deeper into the cushions of the sofa. She had to enjoy this time alone because this was also the day she planned to have the conversation with Buffy. It was to be another intervention. This business with the nightmares and Spike, well, it…
Shit, she cursed as she heard the keys jingle in the front door lock. Looks like time was up. She rose from the sofa and grabbed her empty cup as she strolled into the kitchen to dabble some fresh berry icing over her chocolate cake.
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Buffy wasn't dumb. She knew dinner wasn't going very well. Sure, the apartment looked great, all homey and all. Lillie and Willow had done a great job as always, preparing, decorating and cooking. The food looked especially good, too, and Buffy planned to gorge herself on a big piece of chocolate cake no matter what. However, the conversation between Buffy and her best friend was escalating with each word that dropped like venom from Willow's mouth. Buffy didn't want to hear it. She didn't need to be lectured. Not today, not ever. She wasn't in the mood to analyze or dissect her dreams. No, not these dreams. Not her dreams about Spike. At least let her keep her dreams, she wanted to wail. But no. Willow was being helpful – again. That always worked out well, lamented Buffy. Oh, right? And now, she was implying that Buffy felt guilty about being alive. When had that ever happened?
Oh yeah, there was that time Buffy was ripped out of heaven by her friends and brought back to life. Wasn't that Willow's doing? Likewise, didn't Giles say that he and Anya were told by the eye thing that the First manifested stronger than ever because Buffy lived? So, the First was Willow's fault, too. And the First was the reason Spike died. That meant Spike's death was Willow's…
No! Not going to go there, thought Buffy, applying the brakes big time to the pedals of that bulldozer. This was a path she didn't need to pursue. With a quick glance to her right, Buffy noted that Lillie was smart enough to stay silent during this battle. This was between her and Willow. No one else but this witch would dare...
Buffy shuddered, unable to finish the thought. She needed to keep this argument on track, and not let it cross that line. Willow didn't know how much, how often, or how completely Buffy missed Spike. She hadn't even guessed at how much she'd miss Spike until he was gone, she had to confess.
“He died to save all of us. Not just me,” she shouted, avoiding eye contact with Willow and Lillie, who both sat opposite her at their small round dining room table.
“Buffy, I know this is hard. It just might help if you'd admit how you feel, though,” Willow paused, and leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table. “Maybe if you could do that, you could move on and these dreams would stop.”
“You've got to be kidding me,” Buffy cried. “How can you say that? Have you moved on?”
Willow visibly flinched. Buffy was ready to go ‘there' if forced and the inflection of her voice was meant to let Willow know she was ready to pull out the big guns. If Willow was conducting Spike Intervention Round II then Buffy was going for Willow 's soft gooey center, and that meant Tara was fair game. Buffy almost choked as she thought it, surprised at her own viciousness. But she couldn't help it. This conversation was too dangerous for her. To survive it, she had to play rough.
“So, it should have been you sacrificing your life instead of Spike,” Willow rebounded. “You've died twice to save the world. Now, you want to stop living because Spike decided his breathless body was worth sacrificing to save the world?”
“Spike was more than a body. He was more than that – he was, more,” Buffy's voice cracked.
“He was a vampire. Not a man. Still he showed us the man he wanted to be by choosing to stay in the Hellmouth.” Willow was standing now, leaning over the table, so close to Buffy she could feel her breath on her face. "Maybe you should forgive him for leaving you.”
“What?” Buffy whispered, stunned by Willow 's suggestion. “You think I'm angry at Spike because he died to save us? Would make me kind of selfish, wouldn't it?”
“Buffy, I'm not saying that,” Willow 's tone was softer. “It's just that maybe, Spike could have made a different decision. Faith said you tried to get him to leave, and it looked like he could have, if he wanted to…”
“No. Faith didn't see it, right,” Buffy's voice wavered. It wasn't possible that she was mad at Spike. He chose to stay because he knew it was the only way. She had to believe that. She had to. She really was about to scream. One more word from Willow, and she didn't trust what she might have to do. Then it started. That cursed panic from her dreams, coming for her, again.
“Let the memory of Spike rest,” Willow began, pausing for an instant as if she had to make a decision before she continued. “I realized I could let go of Tara and still live. You can forgive Spike, and then you'll be able to let go, too.”
That was it, decided Buffy. She couldn't listen to Willow any more. She stood up and marched out of kitchen, grabbed a weapon from the chest in the hallway before continuing out the front door. Picking up her pace, she stumbled down the stairs and then, regaining her balance, she ran as fast as she could out of the apartment building toward the nearest cemetery.
She had to find something to kill.
go to next chapter...
chapter four - physics
Fred was exhausted. After the Zeklar chase, capture and debrief, she headed straight to her apartment the moment Angel gestured for them to get out of his office. Besides, she knew that in a few hours he would call them back to Wolfram and Hart for another round of research and answers. So her game plan was simple: Get some rest and get some food before getting back to the task of locating Charm, and the rest of the Seven Wiccas.
Rest wasn't going to be that easy with Spike hanging around, though. She wondered if Winifred Burkle and vampires were a match made in friendship heaven, or would that image work better if she thought hell instead? Nonetheless, Spike was in her living room as she banged around in the kitchen, looking for something to cook and checking for bags of blood that might be in the refrigerator. Absently, she listened as Spike flipped through the channels on the television, searching for one of those strange shows he seemed to love.
Alone in her kitchen, Fred suppressed a grin as she recalled the first time she'd seen Spike. He had been in Angel's office rising out of an amulet in a swirl of wind, noise and fury. At Wolfram and Hart, Spike's rebirth was not that big of a deal. Yet, he really got to her. There was just something about him. Even with Angel's warnings about this vampire who had killed two slayers and manipulated the trust of another, Fred had never been afraid of Spike. She saw what Angel refused to admit. Spike was important. He was special.
That's when it started between the two of them. To Fred, their connection had been instantaneous, and strong. Overnight, she became so familiar with Spike's quirks; she could recite his daily platitudes about Angel in her sleep. Testing her skills, she whispered in her pseudo-Spike voice, “Working at Wolfram and Hart was the biggest mistake of my un-life” he'd complain. "Peaches is a bloody ponce and a miser," he'd shout. Spike had at least seventy maxims for Angel alone, Fred calculated, maybe more.
“All I do is sniff out Angel's bloody list of demon fugitives. The mates at the pub call me Angel's vampire basset hound.” That was one of Fred's favorites.
Spike was right. He was known as Angel's tracking machine – or hound. With that kind of rep, not too many patrons at the neighborhood strip joints Spike frequented sat down to chat with him at the end of a long night. Course, Fred did. She was his partner, though, so it was expected. And she loved it.
“Fred and Spike, Gilbert and Sullivan, Liz Taylor and Michael Jackson, Mork and Mindy, Batman and…um…Catwoman,” he'd say.
“Spike I get the picture,” she'd respond.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, pet.” It would go on like that for hours, Fred recalled, giggling.
Many things Spike said made her laugh aloud, actually. She really loved his company. Right after he became corporeal and Angel paired them, she began to invite him to her apartment after a successful demon chase. As soon as they arrived at her place, Fred would go directly into the kitchen to grab lots of food for herself and pints of blood for Spike. She started keeping fresh pig's blood regularly in her fridge right after their first mission together. When she was too tired to cook, they'd order take out. He loved spicy, fried foods like hot-sauce drenched chicken wings and deep-fried floured onions. She loved Chinese.
After they'd eaten, the two exhausted demon chasers would plop down on the sofa and laugh about Angel (Spike's first choice of conversation), the latest demon fugitive (Fred's pretend focus), and then finally, about what was really on their minds.
By this time, Fred would be sitting close to Spike and sometimes he'd put his arm around her, and she would rest her head against his chest. They'd watch TV, she would giggle, and he would smirk as he joked about her skinny legs, her Texas drawl and her "big brain inside that pretty little head."
Eventually, Spike would begin talking about Angel, Drusilla, Buffy, torment, or the brutality of immortal life.
Fred would talk about physics.
As she reached for another pot and placed it on the hot stovetop, she came to a realization. If she allowed it, Spike would engulf her completely with his beauty, his kindness and his unwavering loyalty and love. She shivered with the thought. Then she shrugged and concluded, speaking softly, "it's inevitable."
He was so much like Angel. And just like when she first met Angel, Spike was never afraid to show her his passions and fears. Yet, it was fear that controlled them both, she believed. They were immortals, but more afraid of life than any beings she'd ever known.
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Spike sat in the big arm chair in the living room of Fred's apartment thinking about the things that had gone wrong in his un-life while trying to hang on to the memory of the one thing that had gone right.
Fred was in the kitchen, fixing something to eat. He heard pots and pans clanking, and water running. He also thought he heard her singing some song by the Dixie Chicks, or some other girl group she liked. He'd spent a lot of time with Fred since coming back from dust and the Hellmouth. Whether Spike was corporeal or not, Fred was simply easy to be with. She didn't ask for anything, said what she meant and acted on her words. Spike was “special” and a “champion,” according to Fred, and she accepted him for what she thought he was – something worth saving. That should have made him feel, well, good about himself. Most of the time, however, he felt lonely. The rest of time just plain angry.
It had been hard work for Fred and Spike tracking the Zeklar, getting it to talk, and delivering the message to Angel. Spike hadn't done that much on the message delivery end, but just being in the same room with Angel was hard work. In the months since his rebirth, Spike's irritation with his grandsire had no boundaries. Angel just pissed Spike off. They'd been a part of each other's worlds in one form or another since Spike became a vampire – nearly 120 years give or take a decade. Angel knew Spike better than Spike knew himself. Perhaps this truth made Spike the angriest. No, there was something—no, someone—else at the core of what was eating at Spike's soul.
Yeah, it was still all about Buffy.
Spike sighed, and let himself sink deeply into the soft chair. He spread his legs wide, getting even more comfortable as he let his head fall back against the headrest. He stretched his arms lazily and allowed them to fall easily over the chair's arms, which were soft and round and firm all at once. It felt good languishing in this chair. Spike was almost asleep when she knelt before him. He hadn't heard her walk in, but even though his eyes were closed, he knew she was there. She leaned forward, between his legs and reached to unbutton his shirt, the blue one, which he wore rarely these days. This day, he'd worn it with no T-shirt underneath. She moved her hands quickly and skillfully unbuttoning each button one after another. She opened the shirt and placed her hands on his bare chest. Her touch was warm, very warm. Her fingers lingered over the muscles of his chest, and she began to rub her thumbs over his nipples. First tentatively, then firmly; then fast, and then slowly, she moved her hands from his nipples down to his stomach.
Finally, her hands reached the top of his jeans, and she unzipped his pants. He was very hard, and when she freed his cock, Spike's breathing became harsh, needless and necessary all at once.
Caressing him with her hands, she held his cock gently before covering it with her mouth. Instantly, she was licking, kissing, and sucking him feverishly. Spike felt hot and wet all over as she teased him with her tongue, soaking his pulsing erection with moisture. He groaned, and fought the urge to pull her closer. He didn't want to orgasm. Not yet. He needed this to last as long as possible. Then she sucked deeply. His balls tightened as she moved her mouth from the base of his cock to its tip, lapping his pre-cum into her throat. Lifting her head, she gazed into his eyes and swallowed. Spike nearly lost all control as she released him. Suddenly she was standing and leaning forward, placing her mouth on his. The kiss began slowly. She tasted like chocolate and berries. His tongue responded to hers, eagerly entering her mouth, devouring it. He could kiss her for an eternity. All too soon, though, she stopped kissing him, tearing away from his lips as she reached to pull his pants down to his ankles. He helped her by lifting himself, hungry to feel her drenched body around his. She must have felt the same, he thought, as she quickly climbed into the chair and positioned her knees on either side of his hips.
He needed to be inside her. When she slid onto him, he pushed into her as deeply as he could, holding her hips firmly against him while he tightened his ass muscles to increase the force of his thrust. He shuddered as she returned his intensity with her own downward push. Closing his eyes even more tightly, he grabbed her around the waist and spoke from the core of his still heart in a whisper, “Oh god, Buffy, I've missed you so much."
When he said Buffy's name, Spike opened his eyes and saw, nothing.
He could hear Fred, still in the kitchen, and smell Buffy in the big empty room.
Spike heard Fred's voice calling his name and he closed his shirt, and pulled up his pants too quickly for human eyes to comprehend.
“Spike, did you say something.” As Fred walked into the room, he leaned forward in the chair, and placed his hands over his eyes.
“Spike,” she said again.
He looked up, and he knew she understood the look in his eyes.
“Fred, I was with Buffy. Just now. I was with her. Wasn't dreaming. Know I wasn't dreaming." He looked down, shaking his head. "She was here or I was there. Doesn't matter. I just know, we were together.”
to be continued...
shared dreams by denny_dc
chapter five – shared dreams
Lillie heard a soft moan, then a strangled whimper just before a chorus of breathless ohmygods filled the dark hallway. Pausing, she stood motionless, searching for the source of the sounds. She could tell the voices weren't the usual suspects – those weird miracles that only lived inside her head. These groans and shuddering sighs came from the room at the end of the hall. Lillie inched down the hallway, stepping carefully, no, tiptoeing slowly, toward the sounds of ecstasy pouring from Buffy's bedroom.
She didn't sleep so prowling the apartment at two or three o'clock in the morning wasn't unusual. Besides, Lillie's nights thrived on sound. Creaking floorboards where no one stood, tapping fingers on unplugged keyboards searching for answers no one wanted, and the aching wind and rain slamming against her frightened soul – yeah, sleep was overrated. That's why she never slept. Anyway, the voices never liked it when she wasn't there.
Now Lillie was standing inches away from Buffy's door, barely breathing as she concentrated on the voices.
For a moment, Lillie speculated that, after the big fight with Willow, Buffy had decided to soothe her pain with a mysterious stranger. Of course, that didn't sound much like the Buffy Lillie knew. Still, the slayer was definitely not alone in her bedroom. Lillie even contemplated the possibility that Willow and Buffy were in there making up in an entirely new and different fashion. Their argument at dinner had been way too intense. But nothing Lillie had ever seen between her two roommates explained the idea of them together behind the doors – not making noises like that. Then Lillie heard a baritone's sob. Ah! Buffy was with a man. The lower register said it all. This voice was distinctly male.
So she had found someone to ease her pain, smirked Lillie silently. Buffy had been out of control, running out of the apartment after dinner, frantic and tormented by Willow's words about her dead demon lover. Yet it didn't make sense from what Lillie knew of Buffy for her to be in bed with just anyone. The Slayer didn't seek release with strangers. Maybe a good brawl, but the sounds of passion coming from her bedroom didn't read brawl.
“Oh, god, no!” At the sound of Buffy's anguished words, Lillie went rigid for an instant, and then grabbed the knob and pushed the door open before stepping unabashedly into the room. “Buffy, are you alright?” she asked.
“Oh, god.” Buffy said, sitting up in her bed, nude, facing the door as she quickly pulled the white sheets around her neck, attempting to cover herself.
“Are you alright?” Lillie repeated, her eyes roaming the room, looking for the man she'd heard cry out.
“No, I mean. Yes, I'm okay,” Buffy responded, adjusting her body to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Then turning her head to look directly at Lillie, she said, “Wake Willow up now. I need to talk to her.”
“Okay.” Lillie closed Buffy's bedroom door, and headed toward Willow's room but not before Lillie's private, special voice began its nightly ritual. It was finally time to leave Paris the voice said. As had been prophesied in the other place, Buffy's desire was going to make it all possible. Lillie stopped once she reached Willow's door. "Here we go," she murmured as she opened the door to give Willow Buffy's message.
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Where's my big, nerdy vampire? My shy, clumsy dork of a vampire?
Angel decided to listen to his inner Cordy. Let her talk and maybe she'd go away, he hoped.
You know, I love you. Know why? Because of the how you care for your family, your friends. Always trying not to show them how much you care.
Yeah, she'd said something like that to him once before, he recalled.
You know big guy, I really miss you. You're my big brooding wonderful, okay, sometimes sexy, vampire. And we need you to save the day.
This was Angel's curse; Cordy's voice whispering scriptures into his soul reminding him of his latest sins, shortcomings and missed opportunities. That was his Cordelia. The last time Angel had seen her in the flesh or what he thought was flesh, she said she was moving on, following a different path. She surprised him, as usual. That path cut through his very soul. How prophetic; the Powers That Be allowed him to keep his Cordy as a little voice in his head, dropping by regularly to remind him of what he'd lost.
Angel sat alone in his office in the big chair behind his desk. Hours had passed since Fred and Spike had delivered the message from the Zeklar. And it was many hours since he'd called Gunn and Wesley into his office to let them know just enough to keep Wesley busy researching, and Gunn busy doing whatever it was Gunn did these days at Wolfram and Hart.
Angel was almost satisfied. He'd successfully maneuvered a little time alone to sort a few things out.
Buffy would be in LA soon. After the dream, she and Spike would need to see each other. Angel needed them to see each other. He had wanted to tell Buffy Spike was back months before. He even tried once, but nothing could penetrate Paris. There was no way to talk to her once she and Willow arrived in Paris. The barrier was in place and would not be removed until Buffy made her choice. So, Angel let it go. After Spike had become corporeal, he'd put him to work, That was a good decision. Fred and Spike clicked. They worked well together, and Fred kept Spike away from Angel, for the most part. That was even better.
Angel wasn't worried about Spike and Fred, anyway. Once Buffy, Willow and this Lillie arrived, that's when things would get dicey. He had no control over what might happen then. For the time being, he might as well deal with the things he could control. The Zeklar was imprisoned in one of the many cells underneath Wolfram and Hart. It had not said a word since delivering its message. So Angel decided to help the Zeklar find its tongue. He already knew most of what it would say. However, that wasn't the point.
Angel wanted to torture the Zeklar, personally. He would relish every minute he spent inflicting unimaginable pain upon this monster from the Zek dimension.
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“Fred, come on pet, I know you can suss out this bloody mess. Was it a damn portal or a parallel universe or, ah, damn portal?"
Fred sat on the stool opposite Spike at the tall-legged laboratory table. She'd heard him, sort of, but she was daydreaming, thinking about home. Then she remembered. They were in the lab at Wolfram and Hart. They'd been there a while. Fred looked at Spike. He was watching her, and waiting.
“Okay, so you and Buffy were in my living room and you were able to touch each other, right? But she's in Paris, right?”
“Yeah, well, no. Angel said she's on her way to LA.” Spike spoke softly. “Was in Paris when I touched her, while sittin' in your living room, though.”
“Did Angel tell Buffy that you were back?”
“Didn't have to, she knew.”
Fred walked around the table and sat next to him. He turned on the stool so that they were facing each other.
"Spike, I think I know why you were able to be with Buffy," began Fred. "Remember the Zeklar's message, Charm begins the end.”
“Yeah, but we still don't know shit about Charm. Don't even know if it's a who, or a what.”
“I believe I know, in a way,” Fred spoke very quietly as Spike watched her intently. “I told you and Angel that the Zeklar's message foretold the coming of the fourth of the seven Wiccas.”
“Yeah, Fred, but what does this have to do with me and Buffy?" Spike's voice dropped to a whisper. "Why could I touch her, smell her?”
“When you fell in love with Buffy, you said she told you she couldn't care for you because you were an evil soulless thing. You were chipped and soulless and, of course, a vampire, so you were incapable of love, according to Buffy.”
“Yeah, that's what she bloody believed. She just saw life in black and white.”
“I know,” Fred felt something coming, and it was very close.
“Bloody hell, Fred. I know what I said," Spike paused, exhaling his frustration. "I know what happened and didn't happen between me and Buffy.”
“I know you love her. You always have and you always will.” Fred's voice didn't waver but she glanced down at her hands for a second before looking back into Spike's eyes. "Do you believe Buffy can change?”
“What do you mean?”
“It was the Zeklar that allowed you and Buffy to be together the other night. He brought you together by warping time, and altering space, surprisingly. I didn't know the Zeklar could do that until today,” Fred paused before continuing, but she had to get it all out, as quickly as possible.
“Until today, I didn't know the Zeklar was a traitor to its own kind.” Fred turned her back and spoke almost too quietly for even Spike to hear.
“Why did the Zeklar want me and Buffy together?” demanded Spike.
Fred could tell he was trying to control his anger. As she glanced away, she caught sight of a few yellow sparks flashing in his blue eyes. She had to finish.
“Did I mention that the fifth quark is Color? And black and white are pure color.”
Spike stood and began pacing. Then he shoved his hands deeply into his pockets causing his duster to swirl, creating a big black swoosh.
“What you tryin' to say, Fred? Just because I said Buffy sees things in black and white she's,” he hesitated. “She's some sort of witch?”
Fred saw that Spike was more than angry; he was almost dangerous as he shouted, “She's a slayer, pet. Not a witch. That be Red, not Buffy."
“This has little to do with who Buffy is. It's all about how much she is willing to sacrifice," Fred felt strange and suddenly very tired. "Buffy is Color, the fifth of the seven Wiccas."
“How the bloody hell do you know this?" shouted Spike. "You figure it out in this laboratory lookin' at a few soddin' books on physics, quarks and damned witches, or whatever the bloody hell else you're doin' here?”
Fred stood and looked up at the ceiling. She thought she could see through it, into the night sky and the heart of time. There was beauty and truth, and she understood why the Zeklar was a traitor to its own kind.
“I know because I am Charm, the fourth Wicca, and I am the beginning of the end.”
Fred closed her eyes, as her body slid slowly to the floor.
go on to the next chapter...
chapter six - quarks
“You look older, Angel,” said the Zeklar demon. “Living in this dimension must be arduous, even for the likes of you.” It chuckled; a snorting sound that spilled from what Angel assumed was the creature's mouth. “Oh, excuse me, I meant existing, not living. I keep forgetting that here, vampires are technically dead.”
Angel stood in the doorway of the Zeklar's cell, staring into the dart-shaped eyes of the hideous form spread out on the floor in front of him. Besides being, as Fred had pointed out earlier, capable of traveling through time and dimensions, the Zeklar was also a shape shifter. Except in the Earth's dimension, that wasn't as easily accomplished as on Zek. It seemed to have given up on changing in mid-shift from what Angel could tell. Now it was just a blob of flesh, bones and entrails, with a big mouth and two very small eyes.
“You shouldn't have left Zek, Angel,” it continued. “My trip here would not have been necessary if you'd stayed. But we know you had to return to Earth.” It paused to roll its tiny eyes. “Now, why did you leave again? What was it? A girl?”
Ignoring the Zeklar's questions, Angel tore his gaze away from its misshapen face and quickly searched the windowless cubicle for signs…of what, he wasn't certain. But his experience with Zeklars told him it was best to be prepared. Never take for granted their ingenuity – or single-minded attention to destruction.
When Angel had been thrust into the Zek dimension so many years before, he'd learned fast – never underestimate their abilities. Even a single foot solider like the animal before him now, and that's all it was, a rank and file soldier, was dangerous. Any one of them could mount the most surprising assault. Angel warned the Wolfram and Hart guards that even though the Zeklar might appear clumsy, flailing arms and legs uncontrollably at one moment, to not be surprised when an instant later, steady as steel, it attacked. Duplicity. Never what they appeared to be, but always what they were – murdering, vicious beasts. And as Angel had reminded the guards, his familiarity with that kind of demon was first hand.
“Young beauties have always been attracted to you, haven't they?” A rustling sound caused Angel to return his focus to the Zeklar. “I'm getting more accustomed to this dimension,” it rasped. “The longer I remain, the more I learn.”
Another shudder rippled through the creature's body, alerting Angel to its efforts. It was changing, slowly, but definitely transforming into something or someone else.
“You have had so many beauties in this dimension. Like your Fred. A wonderful girl. And wondrously, she was easier to assimilate than I imagined she would be.”
Angel's demon jumped to the surface as he rushed into the cell.
“Angelus!” It shouted. “Good to see you are still with us.”
Angel stopped abruptly a few feet in front of it. If the beast had had lips, they would have curled up into a smirk, glowering at Angel's reaction to the mention of Fred's name. Angel watched the Zeklar's body shake and gurgle in glee. For a moment, he wondered if the beast was trying to laugh. More likely, it was getting ready to show Angel its newest face.
“What did you do to Fred?” Angel spoke to the demon for the first time, barely able to control his rage.
“She believes in science and magic, and as such, she was the perfect vessel for us to use.”
“To use for what?”
“To bring forth the seven Wiccas of the L'Quaratong,” it said matter-of-factly.
Its features were becoming clearer, almost human-like, observed Angel, and he thought he saw the Zeklar attempt to smile.
“Fred is Charm, the youngest Wiccan, and she's wicked smart.” It announced. “You always take out the smart ones first, you know.”
Angel saw hands emerging from the skin at the creature's sides.
“Next is Color, she holds everything together. Strength. Single-minded attention to purpose. Those are her virtues.”
Angel watched as a pointed chin made its way to the creature's forming face.
“And the beautiful number six, where to find Beauty?” It sighed, pulling its now fully formed arms around its chest in a self-embrace.
“I cannot say anymore now. If I say too much, the fun will never begin. But I do have another question for you.” It stood now, legs had taken the place of the rolling flesh that had been stretched out on the floor. “Do you still have the ring?”
Angel paused, considering the beast's question. Yes, he still had the ring. He'd found it on the floor of the mansion in Sunnydale a few days before he'd left. He'd kept it with him ever since. Yes, because of Buffy, but also because of something else…
“I do not answer your questions,” Angel said to the Zeklar. “But you will answer mine. And you will stop whatever it is you are doing to Fred. And you will stop, now.”
“Oh, Angelus,” it sighed. “Why would I do that?”
Angel reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a black case. It was filled with an assembly of small instruments he hadn't needed since he'd ripped information from a Wolfram and Hart lawyer at the Hyperion Hotel a few years before. Well, not so much ‘ripped.” All he had to do then was show the frightened little man his tools of torture. Angel hoped that the Zeklar wasn't as faint of heart as that lawyer was.
“What do you have in that box?” the beast asked, with the slightest quiver in its voice.
“You will answer my questions,” Angel said flatly.
“Oh, I see,” the Zeklar demon mumbled. “It's time to play truth or dare.”
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“How do ya feel, pet?”
“Better. Or at least, a little better.” Fred's voice sounded small and tired.
Spike's first thought, seeing her thin body lying so still on the floor, had been to call the Wolfram and Hart clinic immediately. But he couldn't leave her there. So he picked Fred up, and carried her into her office and placed her gently on the sofa. As he reached for the phone, he was stopped by her voice, weak, but steady. “No, don't call. I'll be fine. Just stay and don't leave me. Please, don't leave me.”
“Wouldn't think of it, pet.”
Pulling a chair up to the sofa, Spike sat down and took her small hands into his. She looked so pale. Her eyes closed as she took several deep breaths. Her heart was beating steady, though. Spike would have ignored her request about not calling the clinic if his hearing had told him anything other than she was doing okay. Then he remembered what she'd said before sliding down to the floor. She was “Charm,” the thing the Zeklar demon had said would bring badness to Earth or more precisely mark the beginning of the end. Cryptic, yes, but the end of what? Spike wondered. This was just another baddie. Some kind of magic taking over the bodies of good fighters, like Fred, wasn't new. At least not to demon hunters, slayers, or even vampires with souls for that matter. Okay, maybe these seven were extremely powerful baddies – and soddin' witches at that. He paused, considering. Fred was one of these bloody witches. That's what she'd said.
And so was Buffy if Fred was to be believed. Spike never doubted Fred. She didn't lie. So chances were…she was right about…he sighed, not wanting to finish his thought. He looked down at Fred, who was looking up at him.
“Are you sure you're okay?”
“Yes,” she closed her eyes. “Spike, I'm afraid.”
“You said this is about magic and science,” he smiled, massaging her hands as he spoke. “Angel said Willow 's coming with Buffy, you know. You remember Willow ?”
“Yeah, I met her. She's a pretty powerful witch.”
“Well, yeah, she's very powerful. And then there's…Buffy,” he swallowed.
“And she's very…”
“Well, she's…Buffy,” he managed. “So, we've got a witch, a slayer, two vamps, with souls, and the mighty clout of Wolfram and Hart.”
Fred giggled.
“But we also have you,” he said softly. “The smartest, demon hunting scientist in this dimension or the next.”
“So I shouldn't be afraid?”
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Buffy sat very still. She wanted to enjoy flying, but she wasn't in control here. Someone else had the power, and she never enjoyed relinquishing power. Leaning forward in her aisle seat, she looked toward the front of the plane to where Willow and Lillie were seated a few rows ahead. They didn't seem to be talking, just sitting. Neither one of the women had said much to Buffy before boarding the direct flight from Paris to LA. Buffy hadn't felt like talking either. She just wanted to get to Los Angeles .
God, her recently acquired fear of flying was really pissing Buffy off. The guy next to her said flying was like driving to him. Yeah, Buffy thought, flying was just like driving to her too, considering she couldn't drive worth a damn.
The plane lurched slightly, hitting a couple of air pockets. Buffy braced herself for another rush of nausea. Her ears were blocked solid, too. She couldn't even hear the couple talking across the aisle from her. Actually, that lack of hearing thingy was a blessing. It dulled one of the senses, at least. Okay, the two vodka and tomato juices Buffy had imbibed earlier helped to dull the senses, too. They had been very necessary.
She was on her way to Los Angeles and there she would see a vampire she once believed was the love of her life, and another vampire whom – until a few days before, she thought was dead – that she may actually love. This was definitely a big trip.
The day after her “night” with Spike, Buffy had made two telephone calls - one to Giles in London , and the other to Angel in LA. Why she hadn't made these calls before to ask the question earlier, she couldn't explain. Still, she wasn't surprised that they all knew. Angel, Giles, and even Andrew, had known Spike was back. After nearly two years, it took only a few hours to find out where he was and with whom. Immediately, Buffy purchased the plane tickets, and packed in record time.
For nearly two years, Buffy's life had been filled with daydreams and nightmares. No memories to latch onto, nothing to reminisce, nothing to help her grieve or to heal. She really believed that Paris had acted as some kind of shield, preventing her from wanting to remember, and as Willow had said, from being willing to forgive and move on.
As the plane flew over water and earth, Buffy sat back in her seat, and recalled the first time she'd seen Spike, the last night they'd spent together, Dawn wearing her favorite sweater, Angel's brooding brow, her mother, Xander's laughter, Anya's chattering, and Giles' concerned eyes. The memories were flooding into her consciousness, and for the first time in a long time, she wasn't angry about having them there.
to be continued…
chapter seven – the prism
As soon has as they piled out of the limo, she, Willow and Buffy were pushed through the first floor lobby by a green demon in a red suit then shoved into the first open elevator. Moments later, in the main reception area on the seventh floor, a perky blond woman in a very short pink dress greeted them. She introduced herself as Angel's executive assistant. She was cordial enough until she saw Buffy. Lillie could tell they had some history as the secretary flashed her fangs – tipping Lillie off to the fact she was a vampire. Buffy reared back, a stake magically appearing in her hand, ready to strike. But Willow gave Buffy a stern glance and Lillie watched the Slayer return the pointy weapon to its place in her jacket pocket.
Lillie exhaled. What a start to her first visit to LA.
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Buffy walked slowly. Here she was in the universe's most evil law firm, the legal playground of soulless demons everywhere – except for the two vampires with souls, she knew – and she wasn't wigging out. Wasn't so bad once you got inside, admitted Buffy. Maybe that's what Angel realized when he accepted the job. Still her Slayer senses did perk up quite a bit once they arrived in the reception area. Wasn't exactly good office etiquette to have a vampire tramp like Harmony greet visitors. Instinctively, Buffy had reached into her pocket and pulled out a stake when the blonde stood up from behind the receptionist desk and said “hey, Buffy” like it was all normal. But Willow had stopped what could have been a nasty melee. So Buffy allowed Harmony to usher them, ever so matter-of-factly, into Angel's office. Then thankfully, she disappeared. Angel might have a problem if Buffy staked his secretary, she figured. Still, before Harmony left, she said something to Angel about a mug of otter blood. It wasn't your regular office, Buffy sighed. Then again, how would she know? Buffy's ‘offices' had consisted of the Magic Box, Watcher headquarters, crypts, cemeteries, the kitchen on Revello Drive and fast-food restaurants.
Damn it! She'd been doing the avoidy thing ever since she'd walked into Angel's office. God, she was being such a dork. There was Spike, on the other side of the room, and she'd froze. He was across the room, standing, not breathing, but actually there, in front of her. Close enough that if she took a few more steps, she could reach out and touch him, feel his cool skin against hers.
“Buffy,” he'd whispered when she'd walked into the office.
“Spike,” she'd said after two years of believing he was dust, and dreaming about him every night. But that's all she could do, mumble his name, and stand motionless on the other side of the room.
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Spike was close enough to Buffy to touch her for the first time (or maybe the second time) in more than two years – or a little more than two days if he believed his own dreams.
She looked good. She smelled even better. Like rapture, the delights of her scent were almost more enticing to him than staring at her face. Her aroma drifted across the room, through his entire being, saturating his soul. It took all of his willpower not to take the three steps needed to close the gap between them, and pull her into his arms.
But he couldn't.
He shuddered, ever so slightly, as he became keenly aware of the tension around him, which he wasn't only sensing from Buffy. Fred's eyes were probing him, examining his every movement and reaction. He tilted his head to look at her. He'd thought about Fred a lot the past few months. He'd even tried to convince himself that she might be able to help him forget…no, never forget, he shook his head. Then Spike inhaled, singeing his lungs with Buffy's scent.
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This was an apocalyptic meeting, realized Lillie. But it was not her Apocalypse. She really didn't have to deal with it. Nonetheless, she was in Los Angeles for a reason, as the voices had told her – destiny and all that – so she did as she was told. And since she was at Wolfram and Hart, the bastion of evil in this universe according to Buffy, she might as well enjoy the drama. It did offer some funny moments even if Lillie was the only one to see the humor. The averted glances, mumbled greetings, downcast eyes, damp handshakes and audible sighs (even from the vampires) made everything more special. She smiled, and would have laughed aloud if the room wasn't so righteously silent.
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Willow had a good idea what everyone was thinking, and she didn't even have to read their minds. Lillie was stunned. Too much going on for her to keep up, even if she was Ms. Percepto Girl in Paris. LA wasn't her kind of town. Buffy? Well, Buffy was freaked. Too much history and too many dead former lovers in one room. As usual, however, Willow was stymied by the two vampires. Never much between their ears for her to latch onto. They'd always been difficult – if not impossible – to read.
So she decided to examine Fred, who was sitting on the large sofa in Angel's office staring at her hands. Someone had mentioned she'd been sick and had only recently started to feel better. That might explain the ashen shade of gray of her face, thought Willow. Fred was a very different girl from the one she'd met a few years before. She was still very tall, thin and coltish with those unbelievably large brown eyes, but today the previously talkative, bright and cheerful Texan, looked almost as dead as the two vampires.
And woe! What about Angel? He looked…well, he looked nearly haggard. Very un-demony, observed Willow. Not the vampire she'd re-ensouled a few years back at that hotel he called home before Wolfram and Hart.
“Buffy, please sit down.” Angel said.
Willow had expected him to be the one to break the silence. Angel gestured to Buffy to sit in the big chair in front of his desk. No one else had taken that seat. Willow stood next to Spike near the windowsill.
“As I started to explain on the phone, we found a demon that claims to have information about seven powerful Wiccas from a hell dimension.”
Fred's head jerked up, and she shot a glance at Spike, with a very real look of panic in her eyes, noted Willow. Spike nodded to her, which seemed to calm her instantly.
“Buffy, have you ever heard of a Zeklar demon?”
“No, but not a big deal, millions of demons, my job is to figure out a way to kill them.”
“This demon is not the danger, at least not in this dimension. It came here to tell us about Seven Wiccas from its home dimension that are on their way here. Unlike the Zeklar, they can build power in our dimension by co-existing within human bodies.” Angel was fidgeting. Not a good sign from the usually calm and collected vampire, reasoned Willow.
“Yesterday, Fred fainted after being visited by one of these Wiccas,” Angel continued as all eyes turned to look at Fred. All except Angel and Spike, who both kept their gaze on Buffy.
“Buffy, the Zeklar told Fred that she or whatever took her over was the harbinger of the Seven Wiccas.”
Willow shifted on her feet uncomfortably. She really didn't like the way Angel kept using the word Wicca. Didn't sound like these alternate universe or dimension-jumping creatures were true Wiccans. At least not to Willow.
“But we can stop them,” said Angel.
As Angel spoke, the stunned expression on Fred's face told Willow that Angel was sharing new information.
“Exactly when did the Zeklar tell you this, Peaches?” Spike asked his voice hard.
“Yesterday," replied Angel. “When he told me that Buffy would be taken over by the fifth of the Seven Wiccas, the one called ‘Color.'”
“Wait a damn minute.” Buffy stood suddenly. Willow could see she was pissed, and her stance screamed full Slayer mode.
“When did we start trusting...what's it called? Zeklar demons?" she demanded. "This thing comes up with a story and just like that, it's all good?”
“Buffy–"
“No, Angel. Don't 'Buffy' me. I traveled here to see…” she paused, glancing quickly at Spike. “And you tell me that there's another Apocalypse on the way, and I'm going to turn into a witch?”
The glare she gave Angel was almost deadly, thought Willow, as she watched Buffy become the personification of the expression "stomping mad."
“I don't get it. This is Wolfram and Hart - the power brokers of evil,” Buffy shouted. “A Zeklar demon tells Mr. CEO of Evil, Inc. and his team a fantastic tale. And you guys buy it, just like that?”
“Buffy,” Angel began again.
“No, let me get this straight. I'm part of a group of seven Wiccas slated to destroy the world as soon as they get a full team of players together?” Buffy paused to catch a breath. “But, hold on. We can save the world; we just have to stop these witches from what? Having a party?”
Buffy raised her arms in mock helplessness. “Somebody, please, help me out here.”
“Charm,” said Fred, her voice barely above a whisper.
Willow, along with everyone else, turned to Fred, and waited.
“I am the fourth Wicca, the younger,” she said, standing awkwardly, her body swaying as she appeared to struggle to remain on her feet. Willow watched Fred's face as a white veil drifted over her eyes. She looked afraid but when Spike moved quickly toward her, she gestured for him to stop with one hand while clutching at her throat with the other.
“Buffy is Color. Beauty will follow,” she continued, removing her hand from around her neck. Then as if she'd been punched in the stomach, she wretched forward violently, bending at the waist.
A sudden rush of air swept by Willow as Angel moved rapidly from behind his desk, catching Fred before she hit the floor.
With her body nestled in his arms, Angel headed toward the door, and shouted over his shoulder as he walked out of the office, “I'm taking her to the clinic. I'll let you know something as soon as I can.”
And he was gone.
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chapter eight – words
“Thing about dyin' Slayer,” Spike began slowly. “After a while you accept it, and deal with being dead.”
He had walked out of Angel's office immediately after. For the second time in two days, Fred had fainted. He was worried about her. But Angel was taking care of her and that was good. What was bad was that he'd been left in the office with two nervous women, and a pissed off slayer. Spike had no desire to wait for Angel to return. Not with Buffy, Willow and the bint, Lillie, glaring at him and expecting answers. He didn't have any answers. Not about the Seven Wiccas or about why Fred had blacked out. He didn't have any bloody idea why the Powers That Be were playing games with their lives, or his un-life, in particular. So he'd walked out. Still, he should have been prepared for her to follow him. That was his Buffy. You couldn't just walk away from her. At least he didn't think he could. There was always a first time, though. Turned out, this wasn't it.
“I've died many times in ways, shit, ways I never thought existed,” he continued, with as little sarcasm as possible. “Fact is Buffy, you killed me, thousands of times. When you smiled, when you cried, when you whispered my name while we made love. No. When I made love to you.” He recognized that his voice sounded bitter; he hadn't planned that – the bitterness.
Spike was leaning against the wall just inside Wes' office, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his duster. It was difficult, standing there so still. He had to control his craving to pace back and forth in the narrow space. But there wasn't enough room for a major league hike in Wes' small office. So instead, he stood immobile inside the entranceway, looking at Buffy with the calmest, most detached look on his face he could muster. He figured that if he kept stock-still, his features impassive, he'd be able to avoid ruining his well thought out plan. Whatever that was, he wondered for an instant. Then again, he'd always known what he wanted from Buffy. He just had to be willing to say it.
“No stake required just you, and the words, the smiles and the tears. That's how it happened. That's how you killed me, over, and over again, luv.”
“What are you talking about?” Buffy was agitated. “The last year before you – died, I thought things had changed between us.”
He could feel her frustration, pouring from her gaze as she spoke. “You've been back two years and not one call, not one message, nothing but a damn dream.”
“T'was real you know,” he said, trying hard to hide the hurt he felt with her words.
“Was it?” she asked.
“Yeah, it was. For me, very real. But if you didn't feel it.” Spike's voice wavered. “Oh shit, luv, why are you here? Why did you leave Paris ?”
“I had to see you.”
Taking two big strides, Spike moved closer to Buffy, arms stretched wide. He spoke in a menacing tone, “Okay, here I am. Take a good look.”
“I wanted to talk to you.” Buffy said, evenly.
Spike's arms dropped to his sides.
“In Sunnydale I realized things hadn't really changed between us…when I saw you with Angel…”
“That didn't mean anything,” she protested.
”Right, you said that,” he paused. “Still, no matter how eloquent my speeches. No matter how much I swore my selfless devotion…” Spike stopped again, and sucked in an unneeded breath. His courage was ebbing. Was he really saying these things to Buffy? Yeah, he was. And now that he'd started, he meant to finish.
“This soul, I got it for you.”
“Spike, we've been over this.”
“No, luv. Actually, we haven't.” It was getting harder to keep the weariness out of his voice, he thought, as he stepped closer to Buffy. “In the Hellmouth, you asked me to leave; you said we'd pushed it back…but why didn't I leave Buffy?”
“I dunno. You didn't believe me when I said I loved you...” Unexpectedly, she sounded confused, almost frightened.
“Nah, that's not why I stayed,” His eyes did not waver from hers as he spoke. “I stayed for me, Buffy. Was my time, Slayer. Time for me to accept death. Accept what I am.”
“What's that?” She said, closing the gap between them while reaching up to touch…
“No!” He flinched, and turned away from her. “I'm dead, and have been for more than a hundred and twenty years. Time for me to rest, Buffy.”
“No,” she whispered.
“I was dyin' Buffy, and it was okay with me,” he said slowly,
“Okay, Spike, I get that. But you're back, and we are here now. Right?”
He didn't answer.
“Spike you aren't going anywhere again, right? I just traveled half way round the world to see you. I don't care about these freaking Wiccas. I came here – to see you.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks.
“Buffy, please.”
“Spike, promise me. Please, don't leave me again.”
Her lips were on his now. Kissing him. Buffy held his face in her hands; caressing it; touching his brow, his eyes, and his mouth. Spike kept his hands at his sides, but he leaned into her body with his own, molding himself against her.
“I know what you are,” she spoke, her lips hot against his. “I've always known. It took me a long time, but I accept you for what you are, and I meant it when I said it. I love you.”
He wanted to wrap his arms around her, and show her all of the desire his soul and demon possessed. But he didn't. He pulled away from Buffy, out of her reach.
Then suddenly, there was a loud noise in the hallway. They both turned toward the doorway.
“Buffy, Buffy!” It was Willow, screaming.
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Right after Spike and Buffy left Angel's office, it began. Lillie didn't understand it at first but she recognized the words of the voice. The only thing that was unusual was that for the first time, it kept repeating the same phrase. “Find it! Find it!” Not the routine interactive conversation she was accustomed to at all – this wasn't a dialogue. These were instructions. She just needed to figure out what she should be looking for.
“Something's not right here,” Lillie said, glancing around the office. "Where'd Spike and Buffy go? Are they coming back? Did they leave us here? Alone?” Lillie wondered for the first time if perhaps Willow was hearing the voices, too. She was looking intense and frantic.
“What are you talking about?" Willow snapped. “Stop it, you're distracting me. I need to concentrate.” Willow was ransacking Angel's office – opening drawers, looking in cabinets, tossing stacks of paper all about. She was looking for something. Yeah, thought Lillie, she'd heard them.
“Are you looking for something?” Willow's head spun as she turned to glare at Lillie, and that's when Lillie saw them. Her eyes were blazing black – two huge darkened irises filled with blood and ashes.
“I know Angel kept it. I know it's here, and I've got to find it.”
“What's here?” Lillie backed away from Willow, nervously scanning the room in search of the doorway through which she could run.
“It's a ring Angel gave Buffy years ago,” said Willow.
“Well, why would he keep a ring in his office? If he still has it, he probably put it away someplace else, like his apartment.” Lillie had stopped, and faced Willow . The voices were loud, and getting louder. They were screaming at her, telling her what to say.
“Why do you want the ring Willow?”
“It helped Angel return from hell.”
“You can't have it!” Lillie shouted. “And you aren't meant to have it. I am!”
“Who are you?” Willow 's voice sounded like steam in a thunderstorm to Lillie. “I am your sister, Strange, and I am the third Wicca,” she grinned. “Before Charm, and after our queen and you, I am the one who comes and goes, and moves most easily through time and dimensions. I was sent to this dimension long ago to wait.”
“For what?” Willow asked.
“For you and Color,” she said. “I've waited for both of you. The earth's princess of witches and the first slayer. You were chosen to join me in hearing the voices of the Wiccans of the L'Quaratong.”
“You know, I'm not one to be chosen. And I definitely am not interested in hearing any Wiccans or the words of Wiccans from another dimension. Enough witches right here to keep me busy.” Willow was bouncing on the balls of her feet, obviously searching for an opening. But for what, wondered Lillie.
“You were chosen before time began and you've already heard the voices. Otherwise, how did you know about the ring?” Lillie said, a full smile sketched across her face.
“You are chosen without a choice,” she added. “The voices are coming. You will hear them. You will listen. Or you and and Buffy will be swallowed by the Noise.”
“No we won't,” Willow said, and then almost to herself she mumbled. “I can stop you.”
“No. Actually, you can't.”
go to the next chapter...
chapter nine – seconds
"Get out! Buffy!” Willow screamed. “Get out! Now!”
Buffy was focused on Willow as she watched her friend's body bounce from wall to wall and floor to ceiling, propelled by a gigantic mushroom-shaped thing with twisted teeth, jagged claws and hundreds of tiny eyes.
“Willow!” Buffy screamed. Her friend's plight froze her where she stood for only an instant before her slayer instincts kicked in. Putting her fear aside, Buffy studied the scene in front of her. Willow was struggling with the creature and putting up a fight. She was punching and kicking with her arms and legs hard and fast against claws and teeth that all but surrounded her. From the way the creature was reacting, Willow had to be using magic to put some extra punch in the blows. It recoiled occasionally, even as it continued to toss Willow about. Maybe that was why Buffy thought she'd seen a solid creature behind Willow when she first turned toward the screams in the hall. Now, she could see it was a portal. Not the typical whirlwind of sound and fury opening Buffy usually found leading into another dimension. This did have wind, swirling violently, circling in front of a black abyss of twisting fury. But this portal was a living, grabbing, vicious animal using Willow as an instrument in a gruesome game of kickball.
“They've – come – for – us!” Straining, Willow spoke, the pain apparent in each word. Unbelievably, thought Buffy, she was able to speak while being flung through the air brutally. “I'm sorry! I can't keep – us – safe!” Willow shouted.
Turning her attention from Willow, Buffy nodded to Spike as they both moved away from each other, taking opposite paths toward the portal.
Within seconds, Spike had reached the doorway and taken a step into the hallway, managing to get closer to Willow than Buffy. She knew they had to act quickly. No telling how long before the portal's grasp on Willow reverted, and sucked her back into the black hole, trapping her in whatever was on the other side.
If Spike attacked first, that was good with Buffy. She was only a few inches behind him, and ready to pounce. Suddenly, Spike leapt from his feet toward Willow; barely missing one of the snapping claws as he swiped at a bunch of eyes with bare knuckles. He also had changed into full game face. His goal was to distract the creature, giving her an opening, an instant, to leap up, grab Willow, and get her to safety.
But then the Noise came from everywhere.
Spike was thrown back into the office, toward Buffy, who took his full weight with her as their bodies hit the wall. Dropping to the floor, they quickly snapped to their feet, ready to go again for Willow. Needing a new game plan, however, Buffy decided to distract the portal and leave Spike to snatch Willow from its grasp. If she took a running leap to her right and forward roll to the portal's backside, she'd be able to occupy it long enough for Spike to get to Willow. He'd always anticipated her moves in the past. She trusted that he still could. With that thought, she launched her body forward – except nothing happened. Her feet didn't budge. She was in the same spot, standing next to Spike. She was stuck, her legs felt as if buried deep under the hard floor. She struggled within herself but only Buffy's skin moved, and it was crawling all over her body as she was seized by panic. She turned her head to scream at Spike that something was wrong. But as her eyes met his, she saw the same anxiety in them that she felt. She couldn't move, and neither could Spike, game face gone, he stood motionless. Must be the Noise, thought Buffy. It had paralyzed them.
A dense, turbulent, screeching din, the Noise was eliciting a roaring assault on all of Buffy's senses, not just her hearing. The vibrations of the sound stung her entire body, crippling it. If she could have moved, she would have crumbled to the floor.
Buffy looked up at Willow as the Noise soared. The creature held her suspended in mid-air, several feet above the ground. Her eyes shone bright as she appeared to float amongst the portal's claws. Still frozen in place, Buffy watched helplessly as Willow's eyes filled with the jet-black irises she hadn't seen in ages. They glowed in her ashen face. Buffy could sense the magic pulsing though Willow as her body stiffened. Within seconds, Willow 's face was covered with blood-gorged veins, pushed to the surface as her body was flooded with power. Willow was pulling out the big guns, using the big magic she rarely tapped anymore to save herself. Then suddenly the portal sprouted dozens of tentacles and grabbed Willow's arms and legs, twisting and tugging her body into a macabre pretzel. Buffy thought for a moment she could hear Willow screaming over the Noise.
Buffy swallowed. She could feel Willow's fear – it was palpable.
Buffy wasn't about to give up, though. She had to get to Willow. She had to concentrate. Maybe if she could just move her hands, she prayed, as a small tingle traveled up her arms from her fingertips.
Arms beginning to work, good.
Buffy glanced at Spike, standing immobile next to her. He might be able to help her even though, apparently, he was still unable to move. Twisting her torso as much as she could against unmoving legs, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed hard – using his body as a springboard, hoping to force her legs into motion. He remained perfectly still against the power of her shove, giving her the resistance necessary to fall back – closer to Willow.
It worked. Buffy found herself standing inches away from Willow's contorted body. Only problem was that the Noise was even louder here. The sound so powerful she thought she could see it. She wondered if the pain from the freaking sound might actually kill her. She reached out with a shaky hand to touch Willow 's foot, but some kind of barrier stopped her.
The Noise roared even louder.
Buffy covered her ears, pressing as hard as she could in an attempt to diminish the pain. She realized she couldn't move – again – and now the portal's tentacles were reaching for her.
“Spike, dear God, help us,” she whispered.
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As soon as they had turned to look into the hallway, Spike saw Willow and the portal. He and Buffy moved into action immediately, and the plan was very clear to Spike – save Willow.
Then the Noise came. Spike felt like it was ripping his mind apart. Sound so intense that he hoped his vampire hearing might do him a favor and simply go away out of respect for a superior adversary.
God, this hurts. The pain was so fierce that after it threw him into Buffy and they both dropped off the wall, he didn't even notice at first that he couldn't move. His senses were being stripped by the Noise, and he couldn't really do anything for a few seconds except pray for it to stop. Then he heard Buffy's voice, asking him for help. And he had to do something.
Dropping to the floor, Spike instinctively knew that he wouldn't be able to reach Buffy if he tried to walk or run. He had to crawl, underneath the power of the sound. Snakelike, he slithered across the floor reaching Buffy's feet in a matter of seconds. She was standing inches in front of Willow and dangerously close to the portal. Spike grabbed Buffy's ankles and pulled her down as hard as he could. Buffy crashed on top of him; her body sprawled across his back.
“What the hell are you doing?” Buffy said, her voice weak, as she landed on his body hard.
Spike rolled onto his side, sliding Buffy from his back to the floor as he shifted her around so that they were facing each other. “We've got to stay low, Buffy, under the sound.”
Spike could barely speak. The Noise was too loud. Even as they lay sprawled on the floor, he could feel the pain throughout his body. Struggling he lifted his head to look at Willow. His winced at what he saw, and turned back to Buffy, who was clutching at her ears as she lay next to him on the floor. He didn't believe the sound could kill Buffy. He wasn't so certain about himself, though. Damned heightened senses, he thought, closing his eyes for an instant as the pain rushed over him.
He felt Buffy's hand on his face, and opened his eyes. Without hesitation, he began to mouth the words of Willow's fate to Buffy. “Sorry, luv, but Willow disappeared into the portal.”
“No.” Buffy cried, and started to raise her head to look at the spot where Willow had been.
Spike pulled her down roughly, close to him, and spoke directly into her ear. “We've got to stay on the floor. The sound can't touch you here.”
“No, we've got to get Willow out of that portal!” screamed Buffy.
Spike looked at her intently; he'd heard her say something just as the brutal wall of sound suddenly disappeared.
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As soon as Angel heard the killing Noise, he began to run. No time for elevators – he nearly flew up the stairway from the deeper underground levels of Wolfram and Hart where the Zeklar demon lay unconscious in a small cell. Angel had returned to torture the demon a second time, after making certain Fred's still-breathing body had made it safely to the clinic. The Zeklar had more than earned another round of pain for what it had done to Fred, let alone its other crimes. Angel hadn't cared how much the Zeklar had pleaded to be destroyed, or, when shifting tactics, had sworn its eternal loyalty if Angel spared it. How could Angel do that? Century upon century of battle after battle had taught him the truth about war. Prisoners were not to be spared – ever. He remembered what it was like in Hell. The Noise brought back the memories of a thousand years of suffering. He could hear the voices of the dead. The screams and cries of millions.
The walls of Wolfram and Hart shook as Angel made his way back to the seventh floor. As he kicked in the emergency door to the seventh floor, he felt the blood dripping from his ears. Stretching his neck violently from side to side, he realized he couldn't do what was necessary unless he blocked the Noise. Looking around for something, anything, to shove into his ears, he saw sheets of paper rolling down the windy hall. Scooping up a handful of debris, he quickly tore and crunched the sheets into small pistons and jammed them into each ear canal.
“Don't hear, don't listen,” he whispered.
Angel made his way down the hallway toward Wes' office where he knew he'd find them. First, he saw Willow in the clutches of the portal. Then Buffy, reaching out to her before being pulled to the floor by Spike. A second later, Willow disappeared into the abyss.
From a dead run, Angel jumped up onto the ceiling, leaping over the portal's jaws and tentacles. Spike and Buffy were on the floor. They were lying with their bodies close, their faces nearly touching. He noticed Spike didn't appear to have anything to block out the Noise. That wasn't good. Angel kept moving, as fast as he could toward them, while avoiding the claws and teeth of the portal. He had to reach them, without getting himself captured by the portal or killed by the Noise.
Dropping down, Angel landed in a crouched position. As he settled low to the floor, he became aware of the weakening effects of the Noise. For whatever reason, the sound was less harsh, less painful, less loud down on the floor underneath it. Sound wasn't supposed to work like that, thought Angel, as he inched across the floor on his hands and knees.
Then suddenly, Angel didn't need to crawl. The brutal wall of sound had disappeared, just like Willow.
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up, down and strange by denny_dc
chapter ten – up, down and strange
Swirling stars and clouds of gas and dust mingling with galaxies of light raced past Willow as she spun down into the depths of the portal. Her body felt weightless, almost like it was floating. Yet something was pushing her downward through space so densely filled with light and sound that she gasped. She wasn't afraid. Sheer fascination prompted her swallowed breath. Willow had forsaken fear when, in the hallways of Wolfram and Hart, Buffy's terror-filled face had disappeared. She was on her own, and had to deal with it.
She was still alive, or at least she was still Willow. Whether her body remained attached to her mind or not was another big scary to be determined upon landing. Clearly, she could think. Definitely, a good sign. If she could keep that up, maybe she'd figure out a way to survive the fall.
There was no point in stressing over when, or if, she'd hit bottom, though. Might as well concentrate on what was going on around her. Her eyes couldn't really see more than the streaming lights since she was being driven deeper and deeper very quickly. Closing her eyes, she reached out with her other senses. Almost immediately, the Noise began to change, transforming from a painful assault on her eardrums, into something else.
Are those words? She listened more closely. Yes, definitely words.
Within the whirling noise, Willow could make out voices, speaking about witches – no, Wiccans and Zeks. Hadn't Fred said something about Zeks when they were in Angel's office? No, don't try to figure out what's being said, Willow warned herself. Concentrate on listening.
“In the darkness, we are a hero, journeying through time. Brilliance and magic are our guides. We avoid the unbelievable and understand our purpose as we wait for her. She is our spirit. She will help us find beauty, which leads to truth, our only love. We are prepared to cast aside what we are for what we must become.”
That was a heap more than a few words, thought Willow, as she continued to fall.
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Fred awoke to the cries and piercing wails of the Noise.
Too many voices, she sighed as she lay in her bed in the Wolfram and Hart clinic. Maybe if she pressed her hands over her ears, she could make the Noise stop. She tried to lift her arms. They were leaden weights, trapped at her sides by the fear clutching her body. In the hallway outside the open door of her room surged an all too-familiar abyss of whirling power. Fred closed her eyes overcome by the sudden realization that another variation of her old nemesis was hovering nearby. The portal was waiting for her.
“I gotta get up,” she muttered. “Can't just lie here and take this.”
Opening her eyes, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and studied the hallway, judging how much time she might have before it sucked her in. But next to the whirling mass, she was surpirsed to recognize a tall, lean figure standing intimately close to its center. It was Lillie, Buffy's and Willow's roommate. What was she doing? And why could Fred hear her voice above the blaring sounds of the Noise and the pulsing portal?
“Hello, Fred. Or, should I say ‘Charm'? It's just me, Lillie, your sister Wicca from the Zek dimension.”
Fred supposed that this was supposed to be good news. Good, because she was still being called Fred. Not good, she was also being called Charm. Then she remembered telling Spike she was one of these Wiccas, and perhaps, she had even called herself ‘Charm'. Her brain was rather muddled.
“Did the Noise make it clear to you?” Lillie continued, as she stepped inside the room. Immediately, Fred noticed the Noise was not as loud or painful as it had been only a few seconds before.
“Yes, very cl…clear. Very clear, indeed,” said Fred, hesitating slightly as the words and the phrases underneath the Noise became a language she now understood. “Are we all here yet?”
“We've always been here, Fred. And only we sisters know what we seek. The others – we must devote more time to the others.”
“Time. Do we have enough?” Fred tried to mask the anguish in her voice. In the hallway behind Lillie, she saw the swirling black pool.
“Not much, true. But we will make it work,” Lillie paused and turned toward the hallway before saying, almost as an afterthought, “Come on, let's go. We need to find Willow, and then Lilith will be able to join us.”
Fred had no choice, as her mind and body followed Lillie out of the room, down the hallway and into the portal.
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Willow couldn't tell how much time had passed since she found herself sprawled on top of a pile of dirt. The falling and pushing, and the words, had kept coming and coming. After awhile she must have blacked out. Now there was grit against her skin as she lay on the ground. Her eyes barely open could see nothing but darkness. It was a cave of some sort, she thought. She felt encased, as if there was no opening near. She reached out to “see” what else she might discover about her tomb. Okay, she wasn't going to give in to despair just yet. This was temporary confinement – not a tomb. No point in going into full-blown panic. She was still a powerful witch. At least, she hoped she was a powerful witch in whatever world she was in now.
“Hello, Willow.”
She recognized Lillie's voice, and it was coming from everywhere.
“Hello.” Willow responded knowing there was no advantage in pretending she was unconscious. She sensed that Lillie knew her state of mind, exactly.
“Yes, I do. I definitely know your mind,” said Lillie, answering Willow 's thoughts. “This is the predestined place where all of us are to meet. Actually, there are only four of us right now. Eventually, all of the Seven Wiccas will reunite here, at the bottom of hell, underneath the Zek dimension.”
Willow sat up, peering into the darkness.
“Charm will arrive soon, and then we will mix, and take the next steps required to bring us completely together again.”
Lillie's voice moved from left to the right in the dark and finally rested next to Willow's ear, startling her as it asked, “You didn't find the ring, did you?”
“No, I didn't find it. Not after all hell broke loose,” said Willow.
“No, not hell, just the L'Quaratong magics, that's all,” responded the bodiless voice of Lillie.
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A fine sheet of white dust lined the black dirt floor at the bottom of hell. Fred had arrived straightaway from the Wolfram and Hart clinic expecting to be submerged in a maze of heat and fire, red flames blazing. The cool, moist air, and pure black and white of it all was more than a little surprising. Still it didn't diminish the duality of her feelings. One side of her brain was overwhelmed with burgeoning curiosity while the other side was paralyzed by crippling fear. She was Charm, the fourth of the Seven Wiccas, and all things seemed to be happening in twos. The rational side of her brain had come up with this hypothesis. Something had to explain what she was feeling outside of fear. She was a witch, but she was also Fred. It was as if she were dressed up in new clothes. Whether they fit or not wasn't the point. She just had to wear them.
Fred looked around, taking in her surroundings. She was standing on a point of a five-pointed star, etched in black dust on the white floor. Willow and Lillie were standing nearby on separate points. An unfamiliar woman, who looked a lot like Lillie, except pale, extremely pale, stood, no floated, above another point. The other spot was empty.
“Who are you?” Fred asked, nodding toward the woman she didn't know.
“Lilith, queen of the L'Quaratong,” she responded. “I am the wife of Truth and the savior of our tribe.”
“Why are we here?” asked Fred.
“To unite the stars between our dimensions,” she responded.
“Okay, making no sense, whatsoever here. Try again – why are we here?” Willow interrupted, with a wild black look in her eyes.
Lilith spun from her spot, arriving instantaneously in front of Willow, her body leaning forward, menacingly. Fred could see black eyes glaring into Willow 's darkened eyes, except Lilith had no pupils, just darkness against translucent skin. Lilith's skin was so thin Fred imagined it could absorb light and colors, altering its tone as her location required.
“Who. Are. We?” Willow persisted.
“In the darkness, we are a hero, journeying through time,” Lilith recited, as she drifted back away from Willow, toward the star's center.
“I don't like riddles,” stated Willow, her shoulders braced defiantly. “Plus, I've heard this one before.”
“Yes, you have. But a repeat performance is as you might say, of the good. So whether you like it, or not, Earth Witch, I will continue.” Lilith careened toward Willow, and stopped abruptly, so close to her that Fred thought she was going to kiss her. “So shut your filthy mouth."
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Spike lay on the floor, clutching the Slayer close to him. If the Noise returned any time soon, he was in big trouble. His body was drained. The Noise had been deafening, and the portal that grabbed Willow was like nothing he'd ever seen. Not only could he hear it – that was for bloody certain – but he also felt its strength. It was more than strong; it was purposeful.
Raising his head, Spike looked into the hallway, expecting to see destruction; instead, he saw Angel standing in the doorway. He had the oddest look about him. Daylight was streaming into Wes' office, and the light streaked across his face. Spike marveled at the way the bright strips affected Angel. He appeared more dangerous than he'd seen him in over a century. Spike wondered what else besides the damned Noise was bothering Angel. Then he followed Angel's glare to Buffy who lay next to him. Spike pulled her closer to him, and was thankful that she was there for him to hold. Then it hit him. The sweet smell of blood. Buffy was hurt.
“Buffy!” Spike tried to scream, pulling Buffy onto her side; he saw the pool of blood.
He jumped up from the floor, and moved around Wes' office quickly, tossing books aside and opening desk drawers and closets as he searched for a cloth, a discarded shirt or anything to help him stop the bleeding. There was just too much blood.
He looked up to see Angel kneeling next to Buffy. He had gathered her into his arms, her head rested against his chest. She wasn't moving. Spike abandoned his hunt.
Straining to hear, he searched the room for the sound of a heartbeat. Moving closer to Angel and Buffy, Spike collapsed to his knees. He couldn't hear a thing. Nothing at all.
go to next chapter
chapter eleven – buffy
She brushed the long thick strands of gold hair from her face, tucking them behind her ears as she leaned forward to see her shimmering reflection beneath her. Buffy's heart fluttered as a rainbow spilled onto her legs while her feet danced on top of the riverbed. She'd been sitting on its banks for an eternity, studying its ripples as they flowed by. It was a mysterious place – this quiet red lake with its pale pink and white roses floating on top of sun-streaked orange waves. She yearned to swim in this juicy sea.
The cold swept over Buffy, saturating her body from the top of her damp head to the moist ends of her toes and fingertips. A madly comforting chill was spreading through her, settling itself into her bones and behind her eyes. It seeped into her pores and pushed out through the frozen sweat on her brow. Buffy had never forgotten being dead, especially after the second time. But this was the first time she could remember dying.
She wanted to jump up, scream, and never stop – never stop screaming. If she screamed loud enough, long enough, no one would have the courage to talk to her about anything ever again. Or, ask her to do anything ever again. Or, force her to pay attention to their problems, their worries, their lives. She would no longer be a hero, a slayer or most certainly not one of Angel's beloved champions. She'd exist in a room filled with the sound of her own screams, and they'd become her lifeline to peace, quiet and…
She was only twenty-five freaking years old, and she was dying again!
For what? She needed to know why, to understand. Almost dead again, she choked silently. And why?
It had to be a dream. This has to be a dream.
Then suddenly her chest heaved, or at least she tried to will her chest to heave, to move, to stretch up, collapse down and then up again because that meant breathing, which meant life. Except it was too hard. She so wished it was easier. Though nothing about being Buffy had ever been easy.
Not now, not yet, please, God. Not yet. Not again. Her brain's rambled thoughts were an anguished plea as she felt the pressure of death resting its weight decisively upon her chest.
Can you feel us, Buffy?
Thoughts were coming to her out of the dark.
Yes, but I don't want to.
Smoke, dust and life – yes, life – wrapped in black leather. They were there. Angel and Spike. Spike and Angel. Nearby. Close to her and to each other. Could she touch them? If she'd been capable of moving, she'd caress their faces. Tell them it was okay. Tell Spike…
The weight pressed down on her chest again, heavy, solid and strong. She screamed within herself.
No! I am only twenty-five years old!
She remembered she'd reached out for Willow, to free her from the portal's clutches. But a barrier, a wall of pain stopped her. All of a sudden, Buffy was on the floor, lying next to Spike with pain in her body so intense, she felt numb all over. She'd said something to him, her mind refusing to give up on Willow, but the Noise and the pain were swallowing her whole. Then abruptly, the Noise ended and in the silence, the pain exploded.
Her body was nearly useless now but somehow her mind was connected to the two vampires nearby. She could feel Angel and Spike. They were in her thoughts. No really, deeply infused into her thoughts. Spike, he was praying. Literally, calling upon deities and idols, and the Powers That Be to help her. How could that be? Can demons pray? She wondered. Such a silly question, Buffy frowned inwardly. He could try; nothing could stop him from trying. Dear Spike, he was so…complicated.
Her demons – her souls. They stood guard, waiting. Of course, Angel wasn't praying. He wasn't even afraid. He was solemnly angry – pissed beyond reason. With only one simple thought on repeat in his head: “Don't die. Don't die.”
Then Buffy sensed another mind within her own.
The easy giggle of a woman's voice she recognized as Lillie's was racing around the room like a rubber ball gone mad. Except there was no funny here. Just Buffy dying – again, she wanted to cry.
No, not dying. The voice said. Just becoming…more.
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“Spike!” Angel was angry and frustrated. He was watching something he'd never planned to see ever again. Buffy dying; she was dying in front of him.
“Spike!” Angel practically screamed this time. Spike was nearly deaf. Angel had figured that out after the vampire had collapsed to the floor appearing more dead than usual when he couldn't hear Buffy's faint heartbeat, making its small attempts at life. Angel suspected that the Noise had damaged Spike's hearing. It had hurt him, too. But his makeshift earplugs helped.
Now he was dealing with Buffy's wounds and Spike's panic-stricken dark blue eyes boring into him whenever Angel said a word. He'd had to repeat several times that Buffy wasn't dead. She was still alive. Barely, but her heart was beating. Though each time Angel said it, he could only wonder how long much longer that would remain the case.
They'd had no choice but to bring her up to his apartment. The Noise had destroyed the clinic and most everything else in the building. Oddly, Angel's apartment had escaped the destruction untouched. He didn't know where Wes and Gunn were. He certainly had no idea of Fred's whereabouts. He'd left her in a clinic bed. No sign of Lillie, either. And there was no doubt from what he'd witnessed that Willow was no longer within the dimension the LA branch of Wolfram and Hart called home. Frankly, from what Angel could sense, nothing was alive inside Wolfram and Hart except for Buffy and her faint heartbeat, it was a dead, barren place.
Once inside Angel's apartment, he and Spike had immediately set to work, treating the unexplained gash in Buffy's side. Angel couldn't figure out what had struck her or what she'd hit to cause such an ugly wound. But as soon as he'd leapt into Wes' office, the smell of her blood was overpowering.
Lifting Buffy's small body from the floor of Wes' office, Angel had wanted to walk right out of the building, find some other location to regroup, find Wes and Gunn, and return with reinforcements to find Fred and free Willow . Spike would have followed him out if he had Buffy, so no problem there. But, of course, they couldn't get out of the building. All exits were sealed. Typical Wolfram and Hart security. As he'd experienced a few years before, W&H defended attack by entrapping its employees. The company's safety procedures didn't include an employee evacuation plan. Just like the old Los Angeles branch, this branch's foolish system preferred its employees dead (or zombies). Damned risk-management. Now, here it was fucking with Angel again.
As Buffy lay in Angel's bed Spike stood stiffly in the doorway of the bedroom like a statue incapable of changing its focus. He was staring at Buffy, his entire body attuned to the Slayer's small attempts at breathing. Angel knew he couldn't hear her, but he was trying with all of his senses to feel her. Angel sensed that.
He looked at Spike and said softly, “I sometimes forget you're dead.”
“What?” Spike finally tore his eyes away from Buffy's face and looked into Angel's eyes. “She's still alive.” Spike spoke loudly, but not so much asking a question but stating what his senses had told him, figured Angel.
“Yes, but not for long,” he responded.
“What did you say?”
“Spike, I've got to go and get something. Stay here. Stay with her. Stay close. Stay near her. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
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Does love really stop? Does it end? Can't be right. She'd loved Angel with more passion, more soul, and more texture than anything she could ever imagine weaving or spinning in her dreams. She'd worshipped the sacrifice of loving him. He was the essence of love gone horribly wrong.
Her mind and memories were twisting through dimensions as she was called, summoned to the end of her life. She didn't want to go yet. No matter what. She had to stay for Spike. He was important. He was…different, and her need for him was what had brought them together in the dream. She knew that had to be what had happened. She'd wanted him in this dimension and in the other place. It struck her that her need for Spike had always had a lot to do with colors – the color of his eyes, his translucent skin, and his oftentimes-white hair. He was light and dark in cellophane, barely concealing the blackness that was underneath, the darkness that was his demon. Even with a soul, she could always find his monster. No matter, though. She was Color, the conduit. The soul of the Seven Wiccas. She heard Lillie's voice claim her spirit.
Buffy opened her eyes. She'd been lingering in the in-between place where she couldn't remember being any place other than where she lay now. Except, she was no longer unconscious. She was awake, and it was time to go.
Soft voices told her that Willow was all right. Fred was okay. And Lillie needed her right away. Her sisters had gathered with the elder Lilith, and were waiting for her. Calming thoughts, if the Slayer chose to believe these voices. But in her soul, Buffy knew this was bad. Worse than she'd ever imagined. She was not going die, though. She was ‘Color' – the fifth of the Seven Wiccas, and they had called her to them. And she had to get up – now – to meet them.
Spike. Oh God, Spike was in the way.
on to the next chapter
the big bang theory by denny_dc
chapter twelve - the big bang theory
A steady thumping echoed in his eardrums as he stood in the doorway of Angel's bedroom. It wasn't sound but the absence of it that vibrated inside his head. The Noise had done some serious damage. Hadn't killed him, though, surprisingly. But, damn it to bloody hell, it had hurt like a son of a bitch.
Oh, God…Buffy.
As she lay in Angel's bed, he almost didn't want to look at her. But sight seemed to be the only one of his senses still willing to work. Even her scent was hard to find. Angel had said that she was still alive. Actually, Spike had watched him say she was alive just before he'd left. 'Course, Spike believed him. Angel wouldn't lie about Buffy.
As the minutes passed, Spike's hearing began to heal. He guessed he'd been deaf since the Noise disappeared. He'd heard it go away but after that, he couldn't hear at all. He couldn't even sense the stillness and quiet of Buffy's injured body as she lay next to him. Hadn't been able to tell anything was wrong with her until Angel – until Angel's face alerted him that something was very wrong.
Could hear a little better now, though – if he concentrated, hard, very hard. The soft and unsteady sound of Buffy's heart drifted to him. It was beating, straining to hang onto life. Using all of his energy to hear, he prayed that what he heard meant what he hoped – that Buffy was going to be okay.
Then she opened her eyes.
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Glaring, wide-eyed and mumbling frantically as if each word she uttered held some universal meaning, Buffy reminded Spike of Drusilla in one of her less pleasant moods. Not good, he thought.
Certainly, he hadn't expected her to awake so alert, so quickly – and most definitely, not so aggressively pissed off. She jumped from the bed, swinging and kicking. His Slayer aimed for (and connected with) most of her favorite points of contact on old Spikey. Nose, jaw, gut – all got tagged in short order. Spike couldn't hear that well. Sense of scent was not at its best. But he could certainly damn well feel. And he was getting his ass kicked.
After wasting precious moments in semi-shock, Spike countered Buffy's blows, his strength returning in anxious waves. Wouldn't bode well for his reputation to have the Slayer beat him to a bloody pulp within twenty-four hours of seeing him for the first time in twenty-four months. With his hearing impaired, his balance was slightly off. Although he was connecting a few good punches here and there. Still he couldn't quite deal with the notion of actually hurting her. She'd been at death's door less than fifteen minutes before.
“B-Buffy,” he managed to hear himself speak her name. “Buffy!” He shouted.
She paused.
“I've got to go, now,” she was looking into his eyes, urgently searching his face for what appeared to be – understanding.
“Where, luv? Where do you need to go?”
“I've got to go, NOW!” she screamed as she leapt into action once again.
A flurry of punches connected, causing Spike successive explosions of pain over various parts of his body. Tirelessly, he continued to adjust, maintaining enough balance and timing to deliver his own share of counter-blows. She was definitely on. Outside of sparing, he hadn't battled Buffy toe-to-toe, and in earnest, since the night they'd fucked for the first time. Bloody hell, this fight was a very close second to that all out war. No doubt, in between punches, near misses and contact, it was not looking too good for William the Bloody. But hey, at least there wasn't any wood in sight.
That's when she broke a nightstand. Splitters flew everywhere, and wouldn't you know it, Spike thought with a sigh, one pointy sliver landed right in her palm.
“Move out of my way, or you're dust,” Buffy warned, without the slightest hesitation in her voice.
“No, Buffy, I don't think so.” Spike's eyes didn't leave Buffy's as he heard Angel's voice behind him. Would be another hundred years Spike guessed before he'd have this thought again, but damn it, he was happy as bloody hell to hear Peaches' voice. It distracted Buffy just enough for him to grab the Slayer's wrist, wooden object falling uselessly to the floor for Angel to kick easily aside. Within seconds, the two vampires had her pinned down on the bed. Each restraining an opposing arm and leg, holding the struggling Slayer in place.
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Fine sheets of white dust lined the black dirt floor at the bottom of hell. She'd expected the darkness, or at least, fire, red flames blazing. But the pure black and white of it all was a little daunting. Still, it didn't make a huge difference to Fred as far as her general feelings of despair, which were swallowing her whole. She was Charm, the fourth of the Seven Wiccas, but she didn't feel charming. It was pretty darn odd – feeling like a witch from hell while knowing you were still you. It was like being dressed up in new clothes. Whether they fit or not wasn't the point. You just had to wear them.
They were standing, facing each other forming a five-pointed star, missing a point. Fred recognized Willow and Lillie. The newest image, Fred did not recognize. Standing across from her was a woman who looked a lot like Lillie, except she was different, very different.
“Who are you?” Fred asked.
“Lilith, queen of the L'Quartatong,” responded the woman. “The bride of Truth and the savior of our tribe.”
“Why are we here?” Fred continued her voice soft and low.
“To unite the stars, the galaxy and the dust,” said Lilith.
“Okay, making no sense, whatsoever, here. Try again – why are we here?” Willow asked, with such a wild black look in her eyes that Fred thought she might have lost all her senses. Lilith appeared to embody badness of inter-dimensional proportions, and Fred couldn't imagine any good coming from making this witch queen from hell mad.
“Who. Are. We?” Willow persisted. Cleary, Willow was not feeling the same fears as Fred about the scene unfolding in front of them.
“In the darkness, we are a hero, journeying through time,” Lilith said as she moved her body meticulously from her spot in the point closer to Willow.
“I don't like riddles,” said Willow, her shoulders braced defiantly. “Plus, I've heard this one before.”
“Perhaps, you have, but I don't care because a repeat performance is as you might say, of the good. So whether you mind, or not, Earth Witch, I will continue.” Lilith was so close to Willow Fred thought they might kiss. “So shut your filthy mouth," Lilith warned.
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Finally, she was asleep. Her breathing and pulse were steady, and her efforts to beat the two vampires into dust abated. Angel released his grip on her, and opened the drawer of the small table next to his bed. Pulling out some rope and throwing a length to Spike, the two vampires worked quickly, tying Buffy's arms and legs to the bedposts.
“Can't take any chances, huh, Peaches,” said Spike, double knotting the ropes strapping Buffy's left arm and leg to his side of the bed.
“When she wakes up, s-she's going to be angry,” said Angel, as Spike gave him an incredulous look. “Okay, she's going to be really pissed. But don't let her leave.”
Angel stood opposite Spike on the other side of the bed. His hands plunged deep into the pockets of his leather jacket, his brooding brow in a familiar frown. Had he ever seen Angel with any other expression? Spike wondered.
Angel pulled his hand out of his pocket and Spike noticed he was holding a small silver ring. “I can't explain right now. But here…keep this,” Angel said extending the ring to Spike. “It will help you later.”
Then Angel strode out of the room.
go to the next chapter - seriously
chapter thirteen - dark matter
Fred had always been comfortable with the idea that all things overlap one another, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot, sometimes completely. However, the physical distortions created by Lilith amazed her. She had transformed from near perfect beauty to feral dog, to dove, to rat and back in seamless succession without pause before spitting out the words, ‘shut your filthy mouth' to Willow. ‘Course Fred had seen vampires shift from demon to man and back, but Lilith's visage was human and beast in one frame.
As she stood in her spot on the dirt floor, Fred could no longer doubt – if she ever had – the power of the Seven Wiccas of the L'Quaratong of the Zek dimension. She felt it humming through her – and in Lilith's mask, Willow 's scowl, and Lillie's blank stare. As a scientist, Fred had to appreciate the intricacies of it. This magic didn't devour but co-existed within them, without diminishing in strength. Fred was able to think and even act independently for the most part. Certainly, there were things she had to do, like follow Lillie into the portal. Still, Fred had to be pragmatic. Being a student of physics had taught her that knowledge was power. She was better off gathering as much information as possible if she had any hope of getting back to Wolfram and Hart to warn her friends – and to help Spike. Good thing Willow and Lilith seemed to be preoccupied with each other. Their squabbles were giving her time to think – and to plan.
“When I was falling, or should I say, being pushed through the portal?” Willow said, sarcastically. “My mind was clear. I knew what was going on around me. Just like now, I know we are being controlled in a kind-a, sort-a, maybe, grungy way.” Willow emphasized her point by glancing around the dirty dark hole where they all stood. “B-but you don't own our minds.”
Lilith stretched her neck from side-to-side, slowly, and then lengthened her entire frame to an eerie height as she floated closer to Willow . “We avoid the unbelievable and understand our purpose as we wait for her.”
“Jeez…riddle queen much or what?” Willow snapped as her chin jutted forward. “I told you. I don't like riddles. Can't you just say what you mean in regular talk?” She sounded like she was scolding an irritating acquaintance who had made a careless remark, thought Fred. Willow was showing no fear whatsoever in dealing with Lilith. Even the Queen Wicca's mutations didn't seem to alarm her.
“What her are you talking about?” Willow demanded.
“You know who I'm talking about. Don't pretend ignorance. It's beneath you,” Lilith wrapped her arms around her own body, embracing herself. “You know how much she means to us.”
“Buffy?” Willow looked like she was figuring something out. “Are you talking about Buffy?” Willow 's voice questioned, irritated.
They both watched as Lilith moved closer to Lillie, who had stood ghostlike and silent for several long moments. Fred shuddered as Lilith embraced Lillie's seemingly frozen body. At that instant, the two Wiccas could pass for twins – they were nearly identical. Same height, knotty coiled hair, piled on top of their heads. But there was something still very human about Lillie and not so human about Lilith.
“Buffy is the core that connects us and she will return us to our ultimate power,” said Lilith into Lillie's ear as she hugged her body close to her own. “Your Buffy the Vampire Slayer is Color, the fifth Wicca, and the her to which I always refer, Earth Witch.”
As she listened to Lilith's words, Fred's heart nearly missed a beat as she got what it all meant. What had Lilith said? Buffy was Color, the fifth of the seven Wiccas or ‘quarks'. Up, down, strange, charm, color, beauty and truth. It was all about physics – quantum physics at that. Beauty was dark matter at the bottom of hell and Truth was decay, rising to top and fueling Beauty's transition to Charm. While Color, it, no she – Buffy – was the force that linked them all together, making them one, making them the most powerful destructive entity in the universe.
Fred forced herself to stay calm – and not scream. If Earth's science was the anchor of the Zek dimension's magic, Lilith had just declared Buffy the bringer of the end of the world. Fred could only imagine the enormity of the power that would be unleashed.
She had to escape and prevent Buffy from meeting Lilith.
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Buffy was asleep as Spike reached for her hand. Seemed to him like the best time to touch her and feel the warmth of her skin against his own for a few moments.
He leaned forward, untying the ropes securing her left wrist. Then he took her hand into his, and lifted it to his face. He pressed her warm, soft flesh against his own. Holding her hand, he fixed his eyes on her hair, then on the long lashes resting against her cheeks. He hadn't really had a chance to look at her – really get a good stare in – since she'd arrived from the airport earlier that day.
“Sod it all, Slayer. You've been in town only a few hours, luv, and look at you,” he spoke softly, unable to stop the small smile forming on his lips. “Beautiful as always,” he sighed.
“Spike, what are you doing?” Her voice seemed to come from everywhere in the room.
“Didn't wake you, did I, luv?” he mumbled. “No, still asleep, pet, still resting?”
Her other hand, the one he wasn't holding, the one that should have been tied to the bedpost, made its way to his face, cupping his chin briefly before moving a thumb slowly over his lower lip. He kissed her fingertips as they passed by. She continued to move her hand, tracing an easy long pattern from his chin, down his throat. She lingered at his neck, her fingers moving over his collarbone, before drifting lower to massage the muscles of his chest through his black t-shirt.
“This is not another bloody dream, is it, Slayer?” Spike sighed, closing his eyes briefly.
Buffy sat up then to push his duster off his shoulders. He shrugged the coat off quickly. She began tugging his shirt out from the waistband of his jeans. He raised his arms, allowing her to lift the shirt over his head. Both of their eyes were open now, and she was looking into his, her lips slightly apart as if she needed more space to breathe. Decisively, Spike turned from her, and reached down to untie the ropes binding her legs.
It took only a few seconds to release her completely. Spike stood up then, and removed his pants while keeping his eyes locked on her face. When he finished, he sat back on the bed, pulling her to him as he raised her arms over her head. He lifted her shirt off almost as quickly as she'd removed his and tossed it aside. Then with flat palms, he rested his hands on the outside of her breasts, before gently pressing them together. Slowly, Spike lowered his head to her bare chest, and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. Buffy inhaled sharply as he also began massaging the other nipple firmly with his fingers and thumb. She grabbed him by the back of his head, drawing him closer.
“Oh Spike, that's good, oh, god, feels so good.”
She started moving her hands over his body. He released her breast from his lips and opened his mouth, drawing the air into his throat to take a breath he didn't need. But he had to – been too long since she'd touched him this way. Would end too soon if he allowed himself to feel everything she was doing to him. The act of breathing might help to calm him.
Just need to think about her face, her eyes, her hair, her body, her breasts, her skin hot against his body. Where was she touching him? He felt her hands everywhere on his body.
"Oh god, yes...there...right there," he murmured.
Buffy held Spike's cock with both hands. Spike watched as she glanced up, meeting his gaze with her own before lowering her head to place her mouth and tongue on the tip of his cock. The heat and the wetness felt so good, so completely unsettling, that he cried out. Buffy paused for a second. Then Spike watched her open her mouth wide, taking his width into it. Instantly, her tongue and lips began sucking steadily, as she slid his cock in and out of her hot throat. A mindless groan escaped him.
“Yes, Buffy, please god, keep doing that. Ahhh...feels good...too damn good."
The smell of her arousal filled his nostrils, crippling his ability to think. He didn't really need to think, did he? This was Buffy. This was him and Buffy. Bodies together, joined, caressing, loving and, oh god, he wanted to kiss her. He needed to feel her wet lips against his mouth. He placed his lips on the top of her head and lingered. She was still working her mouth over his dick, her moist tongue caressing him from his balls to the tip and back. He pulled her up to him, seeking her lips. Her taste and his taste mingled in his mouth as his lips found hers. She pulled him on top of her, and held his ass firmly against her body, her legs wrapped around his back.
Hours or moments later, Spike couldn't really tell, he was on his back and Buffy was on top of him, riding him strong and hard. Moving into him and barely lifting herself, Buffy kept him deep inside her. She worked her hips slowly at first, rolling them back and forth on his cock, her body dripping with passion and heat, covering his stomach and thighs with her wetness. Spike tried to sit up, but she held him down, pressing her strong hands into his chest. Holding him in place, she began to move faster. Back and forth, pressing her weight down even harder than before. Spike thrust into her. As she moved down, he pressed up, his stomach muscles straining as he drove himself into her deeper and deeper. Then she reared back, bowing her spine while placing her hands on his calves. Spike reached up and grabbed her breasts, rolling her nipples with this thumb and fingers, alternating between pulling them into hard peaks and caressing her full breasts completely before bringing them into his mouth to suckle one after another.
He knew they were going to come soon. She couldn't stop him from sitting up now. He sat up, adjusting Buffy on his cock, wrapping her legs around him with his hands before grabbing her hips firmly to keep her still. He kissed her then. His lips grabbed hers, his tongue reaching inside her mouth, searching to find hers. The wet, deep plunge of their tongues didn't stop their moans or smothered cries. Buffy started moving again as Spike loosened his hold on her hips. He kept kissing her, filling her mouth with his tongue. He rocked her hips over his dick with his hands. As she bore down to match his movements, he pulled her faster and faster, back and forth over him.
“Oh, fuck…yes, god, right there, Buffy. Love, oh god, yes.” Spike placed his hand on Buffy's stomach. He could feel himself inside her as he started to come. Buffy's orgasm hit her as Spike cried out her name over and over again.
“Not a dream, is it Buffy?” Spike whispered, holding her shaking body against his own, as they lay back in bed. He was still buried insider her, as she began to kiss him again, more deeply than he'd ever remembered.
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Spike awoke alone in Angel's bed not knowing how long he'd been asleep but instantly sensing that Buffy was nowhere in the apartment. She wasn't even in the building.
He pulled his knees into his chest, wrapped his arms around his body, and closed his eyes.
to be continued...
truth in hell by denny_dc
chapter fourteen - truth in hell
The Zeklar demon was rolled up in a tight fleshy ball in the corner of its cell when Angel opened the iron doors. It didn't look up when he walked in. Didn't even flinch when he sat down on the cot. But as Angel leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasping slowly, the demon retreated into itself, appearing to tighten into a denser ball.
No taller than Spike when standing, the Zeklar clearly wasn't a giant, but it could be very wide or very round or very something else all together. Angel had seen Zeklars alter their appearance numerous times when he was in hell. Now he watched this beast's flesh tighten and stick to the grotesque curves of its body while limp skin pushed through its many crevices. Angel winced and turned his head. He'd seen plenty of monstrous sights in his time and caused quite a few more, but this was different. He knew what this beast was. What its kind could do – and what it had done. He'd seen it with his own eyes. He closed them now, remembering, and felt his stomach churn.
Angel opened his eyes as he spoke. “How'd you get through the portal of Kaluptein Ranza?” He used the Zeklars name for the passageway between dimensions. Solemnly, the creature adjusted its form, unfolding partially from its protective shell, an eye peering through the flesh, seeking out Angel's gaze.
Disgusted, Angel kicked the Zeklar sharply then immediately drew back his foot, ready to deliver another sharp blow. The beast flinched. Forget torture, Angel thought. An old-fashioned ass kicking might well be all that was needed to break the beast's silence.
“Was it the ring?” Angel decided to test his theory about the claddagh ring as he looked at the beast's eyeball buried in rolled flesh.
“Aw…you've said so much for such a taciturn demon,” replied the Zeklar, uncoiling into a sitting position.
Angel's stomach clenched. So, that was it. “The ring helped you get through the portal?”
“No, it's how Lilith got through,” said the Zeklar, its voice making a deep guttural sound. “Her magic reached out to the ring's power and when the portal opened, she was able to pass.”
“The ring's power?” He sighed, recalling the night he'd given the ring to Buffy hours before losing his soul in Angelus. Buffy had been his first love – whether man or demon – he'd never loved before her. Angelus hadn't either – and they both feared being consumed by the power of this rare emotion. Not even Angelus could ignore it. He just expressed it differently than Angel. The only difference between the un-souled and the soul was style. Angelus battled love and buried it in Acathla's hell. Angel cradled love and left it with Buffy when she drove the sword through him.
Angel was remembering who he had been in Acathla's hell. He was a warrior, the king of the L'Quaratong tribe of Wiccans, battling at the side of his beloved Lilith for a thousand years. Brutal combat, endless suffering, losing all they fought for, but in love longer than love existed, or so he had believed. Was that the power of the ring? He wondered. Did it hold the power to control love, selfless, complete and utter love? But he'd left the ring with Buffy. Then he found it later abandoned on the floor of the mansion.
“The ring's power is love,” said Angel, no longer phrasing it as a question.
“Yes, Angel, the ring pulled Lilith through the portal first. I simply followed.”
“You came with her…why?”
“It was my destiny, to deliver that message,” it replied. “To warn your world about their existence and their plan to unite.”
“If they unite, it will destroy this world,” said Angel wearily. “Doesn't Lilith realize that when it all comes together, it will all blow apart?”
“No, she doesn't,” said the Zeklar matter-of-factly. “Of course, her sister Color, your Buffy, only needs to destroy Charm and Beauty, to save your world,” it snickered.
“Fred…and Spike. She has to kill them?” Angel looked up at the ceiling of the cell. Now he understood the Zeklar's plan. “You win either way. The Seven Wiccas will be destroyed, by meeting or not meeting. That's why you delivered the message. You wanted us to know so that we'd make certain they'd come together in this world or be destroyed trying.”
“Yes.”
“You…are, as always…a monster.” Angel stepped closer to the demon, clenched fists held rigidly at his side.
“Yes…we both are,” it replied, reshaping instantly into a form resembling Spike, blue eyes blazing into Angel's.
Angel reached forward, grabbed the Zeklar by the throat with one hand, and drove his fist through its skull.
“Yes, we are both monsters.” Angel held the dead body that had looked like Spike by the throat for a moment before dropping it to the floor. Then he turned and walked out of the cell, closing the door behind him.
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“I started a journey in one direction, traveling far and long…unconcerned with the passing of time. Ultimately, I knew that I would return to my starting point,” said Lilith, arms folded over her chest as she floated above her spot in the dirt. “We are close to the beginning and the end of our journey, my sisters. I sense that Color is near.”
Willow and Lilith had been talking for what seemed like hours. But it could have been a day, a week, or only moments. Time was just that weird down here in hell, thought Willow . She could barely concentrate with the blackness, the stars and the being at the bottom of hell and all. It was tough to think. Besides, if Lilith was telling the truth, Buffy would arrive soon anyway. And that would be of the bad. ‘Course that would mean more than bad, it would pretty much mean the end of the world – again. Willow sighed, wishing she were just plain old Willow from Sunnydale. But Sunnydale was gone – as was that old Willow, she feared.
She looked at the thousand pieces of light that sparkled all around her, combining to keep the four women in the same spot on their points in the dirt. Fred was silent and staring, but Willow could sense she was still alert. Lillie appeared to be little more than a ghost. Lilith was preening with pleasure in anticipation. No point in losing faith now, thought Willow . There had to be something she could do. Then she recalled there had been something back at Wolfram and Hart. Something she needed to remember.
“Great news about Color on the way, Sis,” started Willow. “But I thought there were seven Wiccas needed for this power boost you require, not five.”
“We do not need Truth and Beauty to begin.”
Damn, thought Willow. She'd hoped that the mysterious twosome would be needed to jump-start the big bang theory - unless Lilith was lying. But she didn't seem the sort to resort to lies, so Willow probed further. “We can return to Zek without them?”
“No, they are necessary for our return, just not required to begin our journey,” replied Lilith.
Willow considered her response. Most likely, they were nearby, which meant that since everything had started at Wolfram & Hart, they were somewhere in Los Angeles. Yeah, that's good, she thought. Brain beginning to work again. But there was still something – something she'd forgotten. She pondered. Had something to do with...
“Do Truth and Beauty have the ring?” she asked Lilith, suddenly remembering what she'd been seeking before the Noise made its appearance at Wolfram and Hart.
“T-The ring?” Lilith swayed unevenly, her voice hesitating for an instant. “I was the first one through the portal, and I placed my essence in that ring. It stands for love, devotion, and friendship. It was our beacon to this dimension.”
“You didn't answer my question,” snarled Willow, hiding her panic as she left the ground and was standing on air, looking directly into Lilith's eyes. “Does either Truth or Beauty have the ring?”
“One of them does.”
“Will that one bring it to us?'”
“No, neither one of them will bring it here.”
“Then we must send Fred to get it,” said Willow matter-of-factly.
Lilith tilted her head, looking at Willow as if examining her soul. “You believe we need it to return to Zek, my sister?”
“I believe it will make our trip easier, if we have it,” Willow replied.
“You've always been powerful. Your wisdom never doubted. I will do as you suggest, and release Fred. But her essence will remain here only her physical form will travel to retrieve it.”
Suddenly Fred stepped away from Fred. That was the best way Willow could describe it. She was there but she was also standing over there. She looked confused, too. Good, thought Willow. Not just me up for a bit of who's on first.
"Willow," Fred started to speak. "What's happening?"
"You are free, kind of," said Willow. "Go find–?" She paused, realizing she didn't know who Beauty or Truth was. She looked at Lilith. "Who is she looking for...Angel?"
"No, she must find the one called Spike," said Lilith. "He is Beauty. Angel is Truth."
Willow watched as Fred disappeared.
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Spike swung his legs to the floor and sat up, shuddering as his hands roamed over his naked chest and thighs. He could feel Buffy's sweat and sex still moist on his skin. He groaned, swallowing back tears and anger. He should've known that Buffy really wasn't interested in making love with him. Should've been able to recognize that she'd been under some kind of spell. Had to be. Bloody hell, he'd been under a spell, too. Why else would he untie her? He knew she wanted only to get to the other Wiccas. He'd known that, hadn't he? Then why didn't she just get up and leave? He wondered. Why'd she let him touch her? Why'd she touch him?
Too much, too much, it was all too much. Too much love, too much pain, too much Buffy.
“Bollocks, A-Angel, what the h-hell?” Spike stammered; yanked abruptly from his painful reverie, he hadn't sensed Angel return.
”Where's Buffy, Spike?” Angel seemed to ignore Spike's nakedness as he surveyed the room, eyes squinted nealy shut, nostrils snorting air harshly an instant before he stopped looking for a possibily hiding Buffy to glare at Spike. He couldn't get a handle on her scent, wagered Spike. Angel must have figured out she was not only out of the room or even just out of the building - she was no longer in Earth's dimension.
“Gone,” Spike whipsered, jerking a hand across his face to wipe the tears away before Angel noticed.
“Did you fuck her?” Angel asked.
“Well, I believe we fucked each other,” growled Spike, his voice low and raspy.
“Damn you,” Angel's eyes glistened with flecks of yellow, but he remained in th doorway. “Now is not the time for us to get into this. Get dressed.” He reached down, picking up a pair of black jeans from the floor.
Spike stood up, grabbing the jeans out of the air as Angel tossed them to him.
“If she reaches the others, it will be the end of the world, again.”
“Yeah, knew that. Just something happened. Couldn't stop myself from untying her. Couldn't stop myself…from…” Spike paused, and picked up his shirt from the floor.
Angel frowned. "You really are in love with her." Angel's voice was flat as he shifted his gaze to look away from Spike. “You know I love her, too.”
“Yeah.”
“If she can't reach the other Wiccas. If she does, the world will end.”
“Bloody hell, I know that.”
“Spike,” Angel sighed as he looked down at his feet before meeting Spike's eyes. “If I stop her, she'll either be dead or on her way to find you and Fred.”
“What do you mean?”
“You're part of this madness, too. You are Beauty…Okay, maybe not to me, but to the Seven Wiccas, you are the magic number six. And Buffy can save the world if she kills you and Fred.”
Spike sat down on the bed, his back stiff, legs weak. He didn't want to drop to his knees in front of Angel. Wouldn't be at all manly. He didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to think. Angel had just told him that he was going after Buffy to stop her, or send her back to him to… “I won't hurt her, Angel. If you can't stop her. I won't stop her.”
“She'll kill you, and then she'll go after Fred. Do you want Fred to die?”
Spike looked up.
“Damn you, Angel.”
“Yeah, damn us all."
go to the next chapter
a tear in reality by denny_dc
chapter fifteen - a tear in reality
“Ouch!” muttered Fred as her shin smashed against something sharp in the darkness. Sliding her hand down her thigh, she rubbed the injured spot on her leg. She didn't feel anything moist. No blood, just sore. Real sore. Apparently, her little trip out of hell wasn't going to be that easy if she was surrounded by lots of pointy, jagged things, nipping away at her flesh. She lifted her arms and stretched them wide, reaching out into the blackness on either side, wiggling her fingers, searching. “Okay, then,” she sighed, pleased to find nothing. She turned to her left, and took three more steps.
“Damn!” A razor-sharp ridge scraped her other leg. “Two out of four doors closed,” she said quietly and took another left turn in the dark. Another three steps. Another curse. “I guess it's this way, or no way.” Her legs had taken enough of a beating, Fred decided, so she reached out with her hands again, turned left for the final time, and took a few very careful steps forward. “So far so good,” she whispered, her hands still leading the way. Two more steps. Still good.
“Fred.”
“Huh?!” she squealed, stunned by the sound of a familiar voice in the darkness. “Angel?”
“Yeah.”
“You can see me?”
"Actually, I heard you first. But yeah, I can see you now.”
“Okay…vampire, I forgot about that…,” she said absently, then added loudly, “What are you doing, here? And where in the hell is here, anyway?”
“I'll tell you in a minute. Just keep walking straight ahead. Don't turn left or right, just head straight to me,” Angel said calmly. “Follow my voice. That's right. Keep coming toward my voice.”
Fred took a few more steps and hesitated.
"Don't stop! Keep walking…to me!” he said sternly.
Three quick long strides later and she was in his arms.
“Wow, what was that all about?” She glanced over her shoulder to see the darkness she'd just walked out of closing shut with a fierce snap. She looked up into Angel's face. The phrase brooding brow didn't give his expression full justice. That brow, combined with the concern in his eyes and the tightness of his jaw, made her stomach drop.
“That close, huh?” she murmured.
“Could say that.”
They started walking arm in arm, away from the beast that had almost swallowed Fred, toward a precipice overlooking a giant chasm. She took a deep breath. They could have been looking into the Grand Canyon, except that the colors were off. Pink and purple rocks, white trees and a red river with what looked like orange waves. Not likely the Grand Canyon, concluded Fred.
“We're in the Zek dimension,” said Angel. “But not for long.” He moved closer to the edge of the cliff and peered down. “I need your help.”
“You know, I really am one of them,” Fred said, ignoring Angel's request for the moment and not wanting to ask how they got to Zek.
“Me too,” Angel replied blandly.
“I knew that.” A mixture of scents that reminded Fred of carnivals in Texas drifted to her. The sweetness of overly ripe fruit and fresh-spun cotton candy teased her nostrils as the air became dense with the sugary fragrances. For Charm, these odors were familiar and reminded her of the reason she was there.
“I'm looking for Spike,” said Fred. “He's not here, is he? He's at Wolfram and Hart? Right?”
“He is…and as I said before, I need your help, Fred.” Angel turned and placed his hand under her chin, raising her face to his. “We both need your help.”
“You think I can –,” she started. “I'm not that stable you know.”
“I believe in you.”
She smiled. “Okay, Angel, I understand what I need to do.”
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Moments later, Angel stood shoulders slumped and head down, in front of the entrance to hell. Stifling an angry laugh as he leaned against the entranceway to Lilith's kingdom, Angel wished he had forgotten her. “Lilith,” he whispered. It had been a long time.
He paused, sensing Buffy nearby. He had to focus. The fate of the world depended upon his keeping Buffy occupied long enough for Fred to do what had to be done.
“Angel?” queried Buffy as she took several slow, deliberate steps toward him.
“I guess you've finished baking,” he said.
“What?”
“Nothing…just thought of something you said once,” Angel rubbed his forehead with one hand, the other rested on his hip. He was going about this all wrong. He'd known what might happen between Spike and Buffy when he'd given Spike the ring. No point adding that pain to this madness, he decided. “We have to talk –.”
“No, you need to get out of my way!” Buffy interrupted, as Angel eyed the long steel sword that swiftly appeared from behind Buffy's back and now rested comfortably at her side.
“I can't let you go to Lilith,” Angel braced his body, becoming rigid in anticipation, as he prepared for the attack he expected to come. “You'll end the world if you do.”
The first strike of Buffy's sword caught him in his shoulder. He dropped to the ground, immediately using his good arm to catch his weight as his left leg snapped beneath her feet, dropping Buffy onto her butt. Almost immediately she jackknifed onto her feet in one smooth motion, her sword, surprisingly, still in hand. Angel ducked the next thrust and leaned forward, catching Buffy's left cheek with a smashing forearm before she had a chance to strike again. He didn't anticipate the next blow, though. Her free fist landed fully on his jaw, and an instant later she jumped from both feet, scissor kicking him full in the chest.
“Come on, Buffy! You've got to do better than that!” Angel had stumbled backwards but quickly regained his balance.
“I think I'm doing just fine,” she shouted as she spun and connected with another roundhouse kick, breaking at least two of Angel's ribs.
He grimaced. “Want to send me to hell, again, huh, Buffy?”
“What do you mean?” she hesitated.
“My first visit to this hell dimension was courtesy of Buffy Summers. You remember?” He paused, searching her eyes to make certain she understood. “That's where we are now, Acathla's hell dimension.”
“No, we're in the Zek dimension; I recognize it from m-my vision…when I was dying.”
“Same difference. Zeks, Acathla, L'Quaratong. Hell. It's all the same,” Angel took a step closer to Buffy. “Besides, I was here a thousand years. Believe me, I know this place.”
“Angel, please,” she pleaded. “This is not the time.” Buffy titled her head slightly. “...Acathla was a Zeklar demon?”
“No, Acathla was a Zeklar god, and yes, it is the time,” spat Angel bitterly. “Did you know that vampires can love without a soul, Buffy? Like Spike and Dru. They loved each other. They even loved me…in the beginning.”
“What?” Buffy said tightening her grip on the sword.
Angel shook his head. “I never cared about them. Not Spike. Not Dru. I guess I felt something for Darla. But there was nothing compared with the love I had for you, even when Angelus –“
“No,” said Buffy quickly. “Angelus couldn't love.” She was circling him now, holding the sword firmly in front of her.
“But I am Angelus. Just like I am Angel. Just like you are Buffy and Color and I am –,” he paused, changing his mind. “In Zek, Angel and Angelus co-existed as one entity. Together, we were strong, and ruled a million L'Quaratong Wiccans…with Lilith at our side." He looked down at Buffy's sword. "And we held the Zeklar armies at bay for nearly a thousand years."
Angel's voice dropped, his tone deep as he added, “You'll kill us all, if you go to her,”
“Part of me knows that…another part of me – Angel, I can't help myself.”
“Yes, you can.” Angel relaxed his body and stepped closer to her.
Buffy was no longer circling Angel. She stood completely still in front of him, staring, her mouth agape.
"You are Color and Buffy. You can hold us all together or tears us all apart.” He was pleading to Buffy. “Are you strong enough to save the world, Buffy? To kill the man you love?"
“Stop it, Angel, please stop. Why are you telling me this?" Buffy sounded panicky, her voice tinged with dread. "You want me to do this again? To put a sword through your heart and send you back to hell?"
"We're already in hell, Buffy. And I wasn't talking about me."
"Spike," she whispered.
“Yes, your lover,” Angel snarled. “You must kill him to save the world. Sound familiar?”
“No.” She shook her head, her eyes glazed over.
“He's Beauty, the sixth Wicca.”
“I know,” Buffy muttered, glaring at Angel. “I don't know how, but I know that…I also know there has to be another way.”
“No,” Angel replied. “There isn't.”
“What if I don't love him? What if I still love you?”
He laughed. "You do, and you don't love me...regardless, you still have to kill Spike to save the world."
"But Lilith wants me to come to her." The sword was dangling from Buffy's hand now.
"I can handle Lilith. You must go back to Wolfram and Hart and find Spike," Angel said. "It's your duty. You are the Slayer." Buffy looked at Angel, her eyes filled with tears. Then abruptly she turned, moving away from him. She took three more steps and disappeared.
That was too easy, Angel thought. Still, he couldn't be overly concerned, not now. She was gone, and headed back to Spike – not to Lilith – but to Spike, and Fred. That had to work for now.
Angel dropped his head into his hands. It was time to go back in time to where he'd hoped he'd never have to be again. Sure, he hadn't always been aware of this destiny. Not for the past five or more years since returning to Earth's dimension had he been consciously aware of Zek. Of course, he had to admit that he'd known – deep down – he'd known. Couldn't help but know that for his demon, hell was a destination that was always one step away.
Angel squared his shoulders and jumped feet first into the portal that led to the bottom of hell.
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Fred was standing in the middle of her lab at Wolfram and Hart. All of the dimension hopping and use of portals as routine modes of transportation was getting on her nerves. She really felt that a few days in a nice dark cave would do a world of good for her state of mind. That wasn't going to happen anytime soon, though. She had a job to do. Angel and Spike were counting on her. Even if she wasn't all in one place, so to speak, there was enough ‘Fred' in her to create one more multi-dimensional vortex. She was the queen of portals, even if she was the only one to say so. Sure, this was going to be her biggest challenge. But the math was in her head. She knew all of the equations. She understood the physics and all of the ingredients were in the lab, too. All except one. Spike. But he would do his part. She just had to be willing to do hers.
“I've got to find Spike before Buffy gets here,” Fred said aloud as she grabbed a few items and threw them in the duffle bag she pulled from under her desk.
Moments later, she was taking what felt like a last glance at the laboratory. Fred then looked down at the index finger of her left hand. The ring Angel had given her appeared to shine even though the room was dimly lit. He'd said it would help her later. He'd said it had a special magic. She wondered if it could make certain Spike would be safe. That was very important to her. She loved Spike, and had to try and save him.
"We all need help...all the help we can get," Fred said as she closed the laboratory door behind her.
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to be continued...
fred in paradise by denny_dc
chapter sixteen – fred in paradise
Fred pushed the door open and peered into the sun-drenched living room of Angel's penthouse apartment. “Spike?” she called from the doorway, craning her neck, trying to spot the vampire amidst the blinding brightness. She took a purposeful step into the room, squinting against the glaring sunlight, her duffle bag clenched in her fist. “Spike, are you here?” She called again.
With her eyesight still adjusting to the light, Fred tried to find the big red sofa she knew was located in front of the giant floor-to-ceiling windows. She recalled that it was near Angel's absurdly long mahogany weapons chest as she noticed the sun's rays producing a brilliant reddish brown reflection in a small corner of the room. Had to be the chest, she figured. Exhaling the breath she hadn't even been aware she was holding, Fred stepped further into the room. Now, she could see that Angel's apartment had remained untouched by the Noise, unlike the rest of Wolfram and Hart with its debris-littered hallways, abandoned offices and vacant elevators. This room bore no resemblance to that dark, barren hole of destruction.
“Spike, damn it!” she exclaimed, startled by the sudden appearance of the vampire who now stood stiffly in front of the specially treated windows, his back facing her. Bathed in red and orange sunlight, a brilliant assortment of colors surrounding him, Spike had blended in with the rainbow effect of the sunlight's magic on the room. Could be why she hadn't seen him at first, she decided.
“Spike,” she whispered, relieved.
Still he didn't answer. Compulsion and fear propelled her quickly across the room. Fred ran around the sofa she could now see to the other side of the weapons chest and stopped inches in front of Spike's face. “Please, look at me,” she begged, hesitating for only a second before placing one hand gently on his shoulder.
Turning slowly, he faced her. Soothingly, she smiled into his eyes as their gazes locked. Then Fred gasped, and recoiled, stumbling backwards fearfully. His eyes were empty, dark and barren black holes.
“Oh my god, what's happened to you?” she cried.
He did not answer. Fred continued to move further away from him until she felt the weapons chest against her butt.
“Has Buffy been here?” Fred dropped the duffle bag to the floor.
“No, But I'm here now,” said Buffy from the doorway.
”Buffy,” Fred swallowed as she turned quickly toward the slayer who stood legs apart with a long thick sword held firmly in her hand. Gulping down her panic, Fred worked to keep expression calm. No point in screaming, she thought. She's here. Too soon, but here nonetheless.
“Something's wrong with Spike.” Stalling, she decided chatter might be her best defense. “He's not talking. He won't talk. And his eyes, his eyes, they're gone, Buffy. You've got to help him.”
Buffy strolled leisurely into the living room, and stopped in what was the ideal spot to block Fred's exit though the front door. Even though Fred realized she had little chance in a fight against Buffy, she still didn't like the idea of being trapped in a small corner next to a weapons chest. Wow! If she'd been in a cartoon, there would be a light bulb over her head about now, she guessed. If she could just move fast enough to lift the damned lid and grab the first weapon she could lift, she might be able to...no; she wasn't fast enough, not against a slayer. What could she do? Whatever it was she had to do it soon. Or maybe, Spike would wake up!
“I saw Angel,” Fred was trembling. It was getting more difficult to hide her nervousness. “We met in the Zek dimension. He's one of us, you know. But Lilith let me leave to come here, to find you, and bring you back with me.”
Fred glanced back at Spike. Damn, he was still motionless, his black eyes staring blankly at nothing. No help there, she groaned. “Angel... told me to get back here to you...to help you, Buffy," she continued. The sun was sliding deeper into the horizon and the colors in the room weren't as blinding. The rainbow was fading away. But Buffy just stood resolutely, her eyes locked with Fred's eyes. She hadn't even glanced at Spike. She just kept glaring at Fred.
“He gave me the ring.” Fred raised her hand, wiggling her finger to show off the band. Buffy tilted her head and glanced at it.
“Doesn't work,” Buffy said. “Only worked with the vampires.”
Slowly, Buffy stepped closer to Fred, her outstretched arm holding the sword menacingly in front of her, sharp end pointed at Fred.
“Buffy, why aren't you the same as the rest of us?”
“What do you mean?” Buffy asked, incredulous.
“I am Charm, but I am still Fred. I can't hurt you or Spike, or Angel. How can you hurt us? Why are you only Color?" Fred was pleading. Nearly shouting now, her panic-stricken face eyed Buffy's sword.
“I'm a slayer. It's what I do. No matter what dimension,” said Buffy as she pulled back the sword, and shoved it through Fred's chest.
“Ohmygod!” She screamed.
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Angel landed on his feet, facing a creature he hadn't seen for nearly eight years – earth time – a millennium in the Zek dimension. He'd dropped easily through the Kaluptein Ranza, the Zek's special portal had apparently lost some of its punch and teeth and screeching voices. No longer sucking the life force out of its snacks, the portal simply deposited Angel in front of its god.
“The Truth arrives,” announced Lilith. “Finally.”
“Hey, Angel,” said Willow. “How ya doin'?”
“Been better, Willow…but thanks for asking.” Angel, ignoring Lilith, looked at Willow. He almost expected her to give him one of her patented little hand waves, and a shy grin. But the haggard look on her face belied her easy words of greeting. Willow was floating above the dirt nearly as high as Lilith. Angel was impressed. He had no doubt about the magnitude of the internal battle she was waging against Lilith. No matter the dimension, these two sister witches were rivals. They'd never gotten along in Zek. No reason anything should be any different in the Earth's dimension, reckoned Angel.
“Don't mind Lillie over there, she stopped talking a while back,” Willow was saying. “I think our goddess took the soul right out of her.”
“She'd served her purpose, and was no longer necessary,” Lilith glared at Willow and then looked back at him.
“How's this going to work, Lilith?” Angel began. “I won't let you destroy this world."
"How will you stop me?" Lilith asked.
"I will," he assured her. "But for the sake of argument...even if the seven are united...what's the point? You'll destroy this dimension for what? You'll return to Zek? The war between the Zeks and the L'Quaratong ended thousands of years ago. There's no one left in Zek, Lilith."
"Yeah, Sis," added Willow. "What's the point?"
"The point?" Lilith replied. "That's easy. I never wanted the Seven Wiccas united. That's what your Zeklar demon wanted, Angel. It knew that our coming back together would end this world."
“So what do you want?” He asked.
“I want her to suffer for what she took from me.”
"Who her?" said Willow, looking quickly from Angel to Lilith and back again. “Me?”
“No,” chuckled Lilith. “I have you, and Lillie and Fred. I came for the other one.”
She and Angel spoke at the same time. "Buffy?"
Willow stammered. "Th-This is about Buffy?"
"Yes, and no," Lilith smirked. "I told you as much when you were in the portal on your way here to me.”
Willow recalled the words of the voices she'd heard while spinning down to hell. In the darkness, we are a hero, journeying through time. Brilliance and magic are our guides. We avoid the unbelievable and understand our purpose as we wait for her. She is our spirit. She will help us find beauty, which leads to truth, our only love. We are prepared to cast aside what we are for what we must become.
"She took away my Truth, my Angel," said Lilith. "I will take from her what she stole from me."
"She didn't steal me away," said Angel. "I was released from Zek through no choice of my own, Lilith."
"If she hadn't let go of your love by dropping the ring, you would not have been released."
"I don't understand. If you wanted me, why didn't you just come after me?" protested Angel, angrily. "There was no need for this multiple body swapping business."
"Truth, you are absolutely correct," Lilith was nearly giggling. "It's magic. Remember, we're Wiccans. You forgot what it is we do. We. Cast. Spells."
"What do you mean?" whispered Willow.
Lilith moved like lightening from her spot at the point of the star, grabbed Angel around his waist, lifting him up away from the ground, and held him rigidly in her arms. He couldn't move. He didn't say a word. Then Willow watched as they disappeared.
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Spike dragged his hands roughly through his hair as he paced from the bedroom to the living room of Angel's apartment. He was desperately trying to piece the puzzle together in his mind. Had to have been some kind of spell, he decided. Definitely, magic at work. He'd seen Fred in front of him an instant before. She was talking about Angel. She was talking to Buffy. Then they both disappeared.
He hadn't been able to talk. He'd been frozen in between dimensions. He'd traveled back in time, too, he believed. There, he'd met Beauty as he journeyed through the Zek dimension. He learned that for centuries, Beauty had fought along side his brother Truth against millions of Zeklar demons and gods. Truth had called Beauty his anchor. Solid, strong, and powerful. A wickedly single-minded warrior, Beauty could not be diverted from his mission and could not be warded off from his prey. He battled recklessly, passionately and absolutely. The way he fought was the same way he loved Color and the same way Spike loved Buffy – completely.
“Damn, multi-dimensional puzzles,” Spike complained. “Really don't like this bloody shite, at all.”
Spike stomped through the rooms of the apartment, stopping in front of the wall-sized windows, the sunlight beating onto his face. “What the bloody hell is going on!?” he shouted. “Damn it Fred, a little less mystery and a little more plot, would help a bloke out here.”
Beauty, Charm, Color and Truth. Physics or magic? What else had Fred said? Spike turned abruptly from the window, stepping around the weapons chest. Then it struck him that Fred also said the Zeklar made it possible for him and Buffy to be together that first night by warping time and altering space.
“It warped time?” Spike growled. Maybe this isn't about science, maybe–maybe, Spike wondered, it's just magic. And if it's magic, we can stop these other worldly Wiccans. "I've got to find Willow."
Spike ran out of the apartment, and straight into the jaws of the Kaluptein Ranza portal.
to be continued...
particles and light by denny_dc
chapter seventeen – particles and light
A breeze brushed harshly over the treetops, pulling the white leaves from their branches as the trees rocked from side to side. Falling from the sky, the foliage looked like the oval petals of a white chrysanthemum Buffy recalled seeing in a book in her mother's bedroom years before. She watched joylessly as the leaves zigzagged briskly across the bright blue sky, cutting a path into the red lake below. Buffy couldn't help but think how beautiful it looked. Not even the terrible pain in her gut, now traveling to her chest toward her sternum, prevented her from noticing how lovely it could be in the Zek dimension if it weren't for all the evil. This she understood far too well. She had killed a human being. Taken her sword and pushed it through Fred's chest. Proof of her deed lay on the ground before her. A crumbled heap, face up, blood still spewing from the wound, Fred's body lay quiet, her huge brown eyes staring wide in surprise at the last sight they'd seen – a mindless slayer butchering her with a sword.
Buffy fell to her knees and began to weep, her body racked by sobs of grief. “Oh my God, what have I done?” She cried. “What have I done?”
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Spike heard Buffy before he saw her. The sobs she wailed cut through the landscape, her loud gasping cries of anguish and despair carried by the wind. He ran toward the noise.
When he first caught sight of the two women, he saw one body lying motionless on the ground, and another, shoulders heaving, hands cradling her head, knelt beside the still figure. Buffy and Fred had disappeared from Angel's apartment to arrive here, where he had followed them when he stepped through the portal. He surveyed the land as he continued to run toward them, taking in the odd combination of vibrant primary colors and the sugary, too sweet smells that permeated the air. Okay, he thought, this is the Zek dimension. Angel's hell for a thousand years didn't look that bad to Spike. Had to be the demons and the witches that lived here that made it all it could be as far as hell dimensions go. Then he was there.
“Buffy,” he whispered, kneeling beside her.
“Oh Spike!” She jumped to her feet, and immediately into battle stance, bringing her sword into striking position. “Get out of here! I'll kill you! I swear it! Just like I killed her. I can't help but do what I have to do.” Buffy's voice was a groan, her eyes filled with pain and a grief he hadn't seen in them ever before.
“No, Buffy,” he said. “You won't, and you haven't, at least not yet.”
“Won't?” She repeated, confused, but still holding her sword at the ready to attack. “What are you saying?”
“Fred's heart is still beating.” He'd remained on his knees next to Fred as he spoke, ignoring the danger of Buffy's sword and her warning words. Carefully, he adjusted Fred's body so that she was lying flat on her back – no longer in a twisted heap.
“But my aim,” Buffy hesitated, uncertain. “My aim was true.”
“Luv, I'm not positive,” Spike began. “But I believe Fred started moving through a portal as your sword struck.”
“But…”
“Buffy!” he shouted, jumping to his feet. Spike then grabbed Buffy's shoulders, giving them a good shake. “Listen to me. We've got to help her, and fast or she'll die. Do you understand me?”
“Spike, I've got to…”
“Damn it, Buffy. Please don't do this,” he pleaded. “I don't have time to fight you and save Fred. You'll just have to kill us both.”
Spike let go of her shoulders and turned his back to Buffy as he returned to Fred's side, kneeling next to her. He shrugged off his duster, and pulled his black t-shirt over his head then tore it into shreds quickly before tying the ends together to form a body-sized tourniquet to wrap around her chest. “Buffy, are you going to help me?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder.
Spike froze as he looked up at the slayer. Buffy had raised the sword over her head. He could see in her eyes she was struggling, trying to decide. He felt colder than usual as he considered that she might just do it. End him for once and for all.
Spike realized he couldn't help Buffy make this decision. His only choice was to fight her – fists and fangs – in an all out battle to save his un-life. If he started this, it might take hours before it ended, and Fred would be gone. He had to trust that his Buffy, not this vicious woman who stood over him with a sword pointed at his head, was still inside the small perky body that threatened him. He had to trust that she remembered loving him enough not to kill him. Buffy had to battle whatever it was that was controlling her. Be it the magic, the science, or just being in hell, Buffy had to understand that she wasn't a mindless scientific particle or quark. She was Buffy, the slayer, and she had to make up her mind. God, he hoped, she'd make the right decision, as he turned his back on her to tend to Fred.
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Willow was alone. Well, she and Lillie were the only ones left since Lilith had disappeared with Angel. But Lillie wasn't exactly company or even a decent foe anymore. At least, she wasn't right now. She was a shell. Couldn't talk, hadn't moved since Fred had arrived, and worst of all, she hadn't even blinked – not once in hours. With Lillie's incapacitated state and the others having completed their vanishing act, Willow saw no reason to remain a captive in the bottom of hell. It was time for her to escape. She had to go, right? She was stalling, she realized, surprised. Seemed unusual that she had to convince herself that leaving hell was a good thing, but something was missing. Shaking her head, she decided it might be best to worry about it later.
Taking a deep breath, she assembled her energy to bring the pieces of her consciousness back into her mind. She'd been all over the place during the past few hours. Angel had guessed right when he'd dropped into hell. Battling Lilith's mega-spells and glamours hadn't been easy on Willow. She'd struggled, that was for sure. Lilith was a Zek dimension Wicca – not your usual earthly brand of witch by any means. Okay, Willow was queen of the hill, so to speak, as far as Earth was concerned. She never shied away from witch-to-witch combat, no matter where they called home. Willow had succeeded for the most part in moving bodies from dimension to dimension, controlling emotions and keeping the L'Quaratong at bay. Well, okay, not quite. But she'd done a good job with Fred and Angel and in particular Spike. She'd kept Charm from controlling Fred completely, allowing Fred to get back to Wolfram and Hart. She'd been able to keep Spike entirely free of Beauty – except for that one time. However, Buffy...well with Buffy she'd failed big time.
Willow sighed, her nerves were sapping her determination. She just hadn't been able to reach Buffy. Didn't know where she was most of time. Couldn't find her in the vortex Lilith controlled. Perhaps she could try again? She might as well try to reach out one more time, find Buffy, and get this Color Wicca under control. Bet it couldn't hurt to try again, she wagered.
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Buffy's body was trembling so violently she thought she'd break apart. The sword was poised, zeroed in on Spike's neck. Stupid vampire! She groaned. He'd turned his back. Why'd he do that? She was preparing to sever his beautiful head from his beautiful body, leaving nothing but dust, and he'd turned his back. She was amazed at his blatant foolishness, and managed to refrain from smiling at his typically Spike behavior.
Tears streaked down her face as she realized she didn't want to do this. She really didn't want to hurt Spike. Suddenly, she felt like Buffy, not some distorted combination of Buffy and Color, just plain old Buffy. She started to chuckle as she let the sword drop to her side.
“What's so funny, Slayer?” Spike asked. His attention still focused on Fred, he didn't turn around to look at Buffy as he spoke. “If you could grab the other side of the shirt, over there, we'd get this done without jostling her much.”
Buffy placed the sword on the ground, stepped to the other side of Spike and Fred, and sat cross-legged opposite Spike. She pulled the cloth underneath Fred's body, and gave Spike the end to secure as she raised her eyes to look into his face.
“Right. So, Buffy is back,” he smiled.
“Spike, I hurt her…bad.”
“That you did, luv.”
A soft moan came from Fred's mouth as Spike finished up the last of the bandaging. “Got to get her back to our dimension.”
“I've got to go after Lilith. You can get her back."
“Can't leave you here, Buffy.” Spike's eyes were soft as he tilted his head slightly to meet her gaze. “Likely you won't be able to stop Color for too long. Can't risk you being here in Zek without back-up against Lilith.”
“Can't risk returning to Wolfram and Hart, either.”
“Then we'll stay here.” He said, quietly. “For now.”
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Angel was hanging in mid-air, his feet dangling several feet above the ground. His body was bound by a Zquan spell of some kind. He could see the magic crystals sparkling around him in the cave he recognized from so long ago. The memory made him cringe. It was an internal cavern, separated from the labyrinth of caves, that the L'Quaratong had called home for centuries, by a series of cliffs and lakes. It was all underground. He definitely remembered that. They'd lived under Zeklar demons and gods, like creatures of the night, in their own way – for an eternity.
“They're here,” Lilith floated in from an opening he hadn't noticed to his left. “We're all in the Zek dimension now.”
Angel didn't acknowledge her. He was trying to remember the characteristics of the family of spells that held him. Zquan magic was powerful but rarely resulted in physical pain unless the captive struggled to free itself, he recalled. He twisted slightly to test his theory. Immediately, his body jerked against the invisible chains as stabbing needles circled his chest and stomach. Yeah, his memory was pretty good he reasoned, as the agony spread to his legs.
“Did you hear me, Angel? They're here,” Lilith repeated. “On Zek…all of us are here.”
“What do you mean? I thought you only wanted me?” He murmured, trying not to let out the groan that was nestled in the back of his throat.
“I do want you,” she said, a flirtatious tone in her voice. “But first we must draw upon the power of the Seven, and then you and I will be the foundation of the next race of the L'Quaratong.” She giggled.
“Why do you keep up this foolishness?” He barked, agitated. “If we come together, we destroy everything!”
Her laughter made a throaty sound that bounced off the walls of the cave. “We are all here on Zek, and if you haven't noticed, there's been no big bang.”
Angel felt his legs touch the ground and Lilith's face was in front of his.
“So what do you think of the Zeklar's theory now?”
“I believe you are a fool.”
Lilith slapped Angel across his face with an open hand. His head jerked to the left from the force of the blow and his jaw tightened as he licked his lips, tasting his own blood.
“You're still a fool,” he mumbled.
“Maybe,” she smiled. “But I'm also the most powerful Wiccan in this universe or the next.”
A bright orb suddenly scorched through the cave, bringing with it a trail of light so intense Angel thought he might be dust in an instant.
But it wasn't daylight.
“Hey, Angel,” said Willow. “Lilith, good to see you.”
to be continued...
message in a bottle by denny_dc
Author's Notes:
Note-October 9 update - the epilogue is included in this chapter to meet SR's 1000 word limit per chapter. No animals were harmed in making this adjustment:)...
chapter eighteen – message in a bottle
It was a rolling sensation, taking place mostly in his stomach and then pressing eerily up and under his spine. Early shocks always resonated inside his body first. Like any other animal, he could always sense the big bad approaching before it struck. Besides, he was a veteran of quite a few of these jolts mostly in southern California, but also one or two in Africa during the getting back of his soul time. Even though he never really liked them, he recalled appreciating Darla's observation made decades before about nothing better than a natural disaster for killers like them – really made mealtime a free-for-all. The pickings had been almost too easy for a vampire family like theirs. Then Spike felt the second tremor surrounding him and Buffy as he bent over and lifted Fred's unconscious body from the ground. He stumbled slightly but held her firmly in his arms. Frowning, he realized that the biggest problem with this earthquake was that it was most definitely not natural.
“Lilith,” stated Buffy, knowingly.
“Yeah, just getting too close to her and the other Wiccas I'd wager,” he responded, eyes searching the horizon for anything that might provide them with some shelter. Squinting, he smiled, briefly, thankful for suns in alternate dimensions that didn't turn vampires into crispy critters in the daylight. Then he abruptly forgot about the sunshine as another jarring quake sliced open a huge portion of terrain fifty yards in front of them.
“Wow!” Buffy's legs were spread wide, as she struggled to stay on her feet. “We've got to go back. No way, we can jump over that chasm.”
With Fred held securely in his arms, Spike turned as he and Buffy started running toward the portal entrance that had dropped them off in Zek originally. A gigantic swirling black hole, with bursts of lightening leaping out of its throat, it gyrated expectantly a hundred yards ahead of them. He hadn't seen it there a few moments before, but that was the thing with portals, he mused. They popped up whenever and wherever they chose.
Buffy arrived at the opening first. Panting heavily, she suddenly yelled at Spike to jump just as the earth split open in front of him. With one step, he was airborne and hit the ground feet first on the other side of the gap before dropping to his knees with Fred still held against his chest. A huge ball of smoke rose from the crevice behind him as another gash opened to his left, spitting out dense clouds of dust and debris.
“Buffy!” Spike tried to shout over the rumbling noises of ripping earth that were becoming more intense. “Go! Get out of here,” he yelled.
“Spike,” He was startled by Fred's voice whispering his name. “Put me down. Go…go with Buffy,” she managed to say softly.
“Not gonna happen, pet.” He gave Fred a quick glance and a smile before searching for Buffy's figure through the smoke.
“Buffy!” he shouted as he made up his mind about what had to happen next.
He knew they couldn't stay in Zek without this world blowing apart. So did Buffy. She had to know it. Now, he just had to convince her to leave. No matter what, the Seven Wiccans of the L'Quaratong could not be allowed to reunite. Separated, he and Buffy could save the world from another Apocalypse.
Through the smoldering clouds, he finally could make out her figure. She was standing, seemingly taller for some reason, and she'd found her sword, which she held tightly in her hand. Her shoulders squared. She was a defiant warrior in any dimension, thought Spike proudly. He watched her eyes search and strain to find him in the smoke. After a few seconds, their eyes met. “Shame your eyes give you away, Slayer.” He whispered, seeing the tears glistening in them even from this distance. He smiled and formed the words she had to know he'd say, “Go luv, go now.”
Buffy turned and stepped into the portal.
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As Buffy stumbled into the portal, she tried not to think about Spike. She understood that he had to stay with Fred. But more so, she knew that she and Spike couldn't stay together. Not if they had any hope of defeating the L'Quaratong. She exhaled as she settled into the portal. She'd have to find a way to get to Angel when she got back to Wolfram and Hart. She just assumed that had to be the direction the portal would take her. She hoped. Then she noticed that the Noise of the portal that had torn away at their senses so savagely before had given way to a bleak silence. Something had changed and Buffy wondered how long the trip between worlds actually took. There was no way to really tell, but this was her second or third time in the portal in one day. Or had it been a week, or even longer since she, Willow and…
“Oh, my God! Lillie?” exclaimed Buffy, stunned by the sight of her roommate in the portal even as the stars billowed around them. “How did you get here?” Until that instant, she realized she hadn't thought about Lillie since walking out of Angel's office to follow Spike. Lillie had been with Willow. Maybe she knew what had happened before Willow was bounced down the hall by the Noise.
“You okay?” Buffy decided to be polite first.
“Yes,” responded Lillie. “I'm good. I'm really good.”
“Have you seen Willow?”
“I know where we can find her,” answered Lillie. “I can even take you to her.”
“Okay, but…” Buffy paused, mildly suspicious of Lillie's almost too convenient to be true timing. “This portal's not a bus, you know. It won't just drop us off at our stop.”
“It will stop, where I want it to stop,” she said, calmly.
Buffy tensed as the portal began to slow down as soon as the words came out of Lillie's mouth. “Now, that's a damn good trick.”
“No,” she replied. “That's just some good L'Quaratong magic.”
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Willow circled Lilith. She had her exactly where she wanted her. Okay, Willow grumbled silently, she wasn't certain where she wanted Lilith. She just knew she had to occupy the witch long enough for Angel to embrace the pain and dissolve the Zquan spell. Once free, they could combine their Wiccan power and do Lilith some serious damage. That's what Willow believed, and she was sticking to it.
“I'm doing well,” said, Lilith, responding to Willow's pleasantries upon making her surprise entrance to this new portion of hell.
“You don't seem surprised to see me,” Willow said, continuing to move in a circular pattern around her. Both Wiccans were elevated several feet above the ground as they maneuvered. “I'm disappointed.” Her head ached from the strain, but she had to keep going. “Angel, how you doin with those chains?” she asked, intently, using her rarely used gift of telepathy. “Are you there yet?”
“Almost.” His thoughts sounded strong to Willow as she kept her eyes concentrated on Lilith. She just had to trust that he'd free himself soon. She couldn't deal with a Zquan spell and the body snatching all at once. In separate corners of her mind, she was exerting control over Fred, Spike, and Buffy, who she'd finally been able to pinpoint only a short time before. Her biggest concern was that everyone felt too close – proximity wise. That couldn't be good.
Risking a quick glance at Angel, she asked him, How much longer? She was getting really tired. She had five minds she was keeping above water or at least above the Zek seas and lakes and Lilith's absolute thirst for power. She figured that it might be a good sign, though. If she was tired, so was Lilith. They'd been battling for a long time. Even for the likes of the L'Quaratong, this was a heap of a lot of magic to maintain. These changes weren't like Willow's gaffs from days gone by in Sunnydale. No “will be dones” or ‘Tabula Rasas" – this magic and these spells were fundamental structural changes in molecules, enzymes and if it continued long enough, their very DNA might be altered. Fred had been right – it was science and magic combined.
Then she felt the first quake, and she knew.
“Oh, my God.” Willow tensed, her mind shifted from thought to thought. She'd lost control. One of the Seven was free.
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Buffy opened her eyes and saw Spike hanging over her, his arms and legs pulled in opposite directions by sparkling magical chains, she assumed. On the other side of the cave was Angel – his body was stretched and held in a similar position by the same kind of magic. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She was afraid to see the third body that hung listlessly above her. Willow 's eyes looked alert, but she was just as imprisoned by the sparkling manacles as Angel and Spike.
She couldn't have explained how she got there. She didn't know when they'd picked up Spike and Fred. Now they were all together. The Seven Wiccans of the L'Quaratong were in one spot, and the uniting was about to begin.
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Fred felt like she'd been sleeping for days, still her body was not rested and she had so little strength. She was surprised she could even open her eyes and move her head. However, she could, and when she did, she saw Angel and Spike hanging above her. They seemed far from her vantage point on the ground where she'd been deposited, now unnoticed and ignored. She'd awakened after she'd felt the earth underneath her shake and tremble as if it was being torn apart from the inside out. She was barely conscious, but she was completely aware. This is what Angel had wanted. Sure, Buffy wasn't supposed to stab her in the chest with a sword before she could complete the portal. But there's always a glitch in the best-laid plans. She was pleased that Angel had let her in on his idea on the way to outsmart them all. As for her talent for creating portals? It was about time it came to good use.
Fred rubbed her thumb against her index finger to make certain it was still there. The silver band, the small ring Angel had given to her. It felt smooth. Then barely moving her arm or hand, she managed to push the ring off with her little finger and thumb. Such a talent she had for things that were round, like portals and rings.
“Lillie, my sister, you are a star among stars.” Fred could hear Lilith's voice almost chanting in praise of her sister's deception. Her stone-faced act had convinced Willow she was no longer functioning. Just like now, they were ignoring Fred. All of them, except for Angel and Willow. They knew she was there, and waiting.
That's when it began, thought Fred as if she were watching an old black and white movie.
Angel dropped to the floor, gestured to Fred and she instantly understood as she tossed him the ring. Grabbing it out of the air, he began to recite the words, “Kaluptein Ranza, Kaluptein Ranza…Kal, Tein, Charming Beauty, Take Me.”
Lilith screamed as Spike dropped from the sky next. Buffy rolled in time to avoid being hit by Willow's descending body. She jumped to her feet and headed straight toward Lillie who she punched in the face.
Then Fred, recalling her math and science, created another portal. She raised her head and said quietly, but loud enough for Spike's hearing to detect, “Get everyone in the portal, now.”
Spike didn't hesitate. He moved quickly, pulling Buffy away from Lillie's now heavily bruised face and grabbing Willow's hand as he helped her up off the ground, before moving to lift Fred into his arms. Angel was still reciting, and Lilith was screaming as the group stepped into the portal.
Within seconds, Angel was standing on the edge of the twisting vortex, the last to enter. Suddenly, he grabbed Spike's hand, and pressed the ring into his palm, withdrawing his hand as the portal opening closed.
“Where's Angel,” asked Buffy, nervously looking around, counting bodies as they'd tumbled into Angel's office at Wolfram and Hart. The portal disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
“With Lilith,” said Fred as she turned to Spike and asked. “Did he give you the ring?”
“Got it,” whispered Spike.
“Can he get back?” Willow looked at Spike, and then Buffy.
“One day.”
epilogue follows...
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epilogue
“Spike?” Angel sounded agitated as he stumbled out of the vortex into the cemetery. Spike hadn't seen him in nearly 50 years so he couldn't help but be surprised at how little he'd changed.
Glancing down at the ring in his hands, Spike still had to wonder why it had taken him so long to use it. Although there really hadn't been any other choice but to wait. Couldn't risk bringing Angel back too soon. Besides, they'd all insisted that Spike use the ring to bring Angel back one day. Just had to wait until they were all gone, that's all. Hadn't counted on the bloody loneliness, though.
“Yeah, Angel. I'm Spike, and a vampire, like you, or like you used to be,” he said. “Am a member of your family, too." Bending forward, Spike folded his knees and tucked his legs under his ass as he eased his body to the ground. Angel seemed confused. Spike knew it had been a few thousand or more years for Angel since he'd last been in this dimension. Sure, he should give him some space. But staying in hell had been Angel's choice. And no one else's fault.
“You know, Peaches, I'm drunk.”
Angel stared at him, and repeated his name with a little more confidence. “Spike.”
“Yeah, that's me. But as I was saying,” he reached into the pocket of his duster, pulled out a flask, and waved it seductively in front of his face, “Drunk. Care to join me?”
Spike glanced up at Angel. He could see by the glimmer in his eyes that Angel wasn't as confused about being back as he'd been a few minutes before. Seemed clarity returned fast, even after a few thousand years in hell. That's when Spike decided he might as well give Angel the latest news quickly so that they could move on.
“They're all dead,” said Spike, avoiding Angel's gaze. “That's why we're here, in Paris, at her grave. She wanted to come back here to die.”
“Who?” Angel's voice sounded hard and unused.
“Buffy.”
“Is that why I'm here?”
“Knew the ring could bring you back. Thought this would be as good a place as any.”
“How long has she been gone?”
“Twenty years.” Spike emptied the contents of his flask down his throat. “When we got back in your office, turned out we'd been gone longer than a few days. Something like 10 years. Buffy stayed in LA for a long time, lots of things had changed. And Willow just disappeared. Fred never quite recovered from her injuries or from leaving you in hell. So when she died, Buffy and I came back here.”
“Sorry, to hear that.”
“Longest living slayer in history," he said. “Don't be sorry.”
“You were with her…?”
“For the rest of her life after we left you in the portal.”
“Did she…”
“She missed you, Peaches.” Spike smiled. “What about Lilith?”
“Dead.”
“How was Zek?”
“Colorful.”
The End...
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