Chapter 8: Fused
8 8 8
It felt like a river. A river that threatened to overwhelm us. We felt intrinsically aware of everyone’s minds. There were currents, layers to us all that we could dive through. We could see through our eyes, and knew at that minute, Adam had just blown away our protection. Surprisingly enough, however, we weren’t scared.
Raw power surged through us all, combined. We had never felt such strength. And such a perfect fit! The spell had warned that those who were not meant to enjoin would summon disastrous forces that would most likely destroy them. It had been a risk that we’d taken, but now that they had, we realized that we never should have worried. We were like five pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that neatly fitted together.
Time seemed to have frozen in this one second when we all joined. We felt memories sifting past, and out of curiosity, dived through them. To our surprise, images immediately washed over us in a quick succession. We learnt things that we’d never dreamed of. Dark secrets, laughter, and an infinite sadness and happiness…
888
“Xander!”
The eight year old Xander ran laughingly through the house as a similarly small and short Willow pursued him in vain. Jesse just sat on the sidelines and laughed as they ran around in circles. When Willow eventually burst into angry tears, Xander finally relented, and gave her back her doll.
Willow hugged her Barbie close to her chest. “That was mean!”
“But Willow,” Xander gasped, out of breath. “It was so funny!”
“You’re mean,” she accused. “I’m not going out with you any more!”
Xander’s jaw dropped. “But… but…”
“No buts,” Willow put on her youthful resolve face. “You stole my Barbie!”
888
“I’ll make her scream for me, Giles. You’ll see.”
The pain that set his body aflame was nothing compared to the agony of his mind. The thought of Buffy… almost like a daughter… succumbing… being broken by that… that…
“Fine, if you won’t tell me, then I’ll just have to…”
“No!” Spike “You can’t kill him, you stupid wanker. He’s the only one who can tell you about the ritual. Leave him alive.”
Angelus growled. “You’re overstepping your bounds, Spike. After all, you’re still Special Needs Boy.”
Spike smirked. “But I’m right, and you know it. Leave the Watcher alive. Can’t get information out of a dead body.”
Giles’ head sunk as exhaustion and agony washed over him. He was in the grip of three Master vampires, all cruel, and in their own ways, insane. There was no hope for him. He only hoped that Buffy would stop this…
But before he completely fell unconscious, Spike caught his eyes. And to Giles’ surprise, there was something in there. Not compassion. A demon couldn’t possibly be capable of compassion, could he? Just recognition, and a small hint of hope.
It was one of the only things that got Giles through the rest of that time.
888
It had hurt. Every second of it had hurt her, leaving scars so deep that even she couldn’t see them. But they were there, because she could feel them.
Deep. Throbbing. Painful. Forever.
Seeing that beloved face looking back at her, a face that she loved with all of her naiveté and youth and innocence twisted with mocking laughter had hit her so hard she almost hadn’t recovered. The months of constant fear had gradually worn down the barriers she had put up of denial. Denial had always been her number one defence mechanism. Denial that this… monster in front of her was really her Angel. Denial that Angelus and Angel were one and the same.
Denial of the fact that she still loved Angel. Separating the two in her mind as different entities. Waiting for Angel to come back. Just wishing it was all a dream.
And then the taunts came. The taunts, and Jenny Calendar’s death. Giles’ subsequent almost-death as he sought revenge. The sheer terror that had shorn into her heart at the thought of losing her watcher, tempered by the hatred and utter loathing she now bore towards Angelus.
And yet always separating the two in her mind. She still loved Angel, she would always love Angel… she could love Angel and hate Angelus at the same time… couldn’t she?
And then he was back.
The sweet, beloved face of Angel. Wisdom incarnate. Worrying, protective, brooding. Her Angel. And the mouth of Hell gaped behind him.
The instant that she shoved the sword into his gut broke her, and she had known it. Angel’s face contorting now in pain, betrayal, and surprise. It had hit her time and time again, harder than any blow any other demon could inflict.
Had to run away… run away…
From the harshness of her job that made her have to sacrifice everyone she loved.
888
The yelling above was so loud. So loud… even the bottles crashing against the walls couldn’t compete. Xander sat silently in his bed, trying to drown the screaming out with anything.
Star Trek discs lay discarded where he’d half thrown them in disgust at their uselessness to get his mind off what was happening upstairs. The computer was still blinking sleepily, but he’d long since turned the monitor off. Behind his dopey façade, Xander was an avid chess player. But now, even chess couldn’t take him away from what was happening.
And so, cross-legged he sat still, as if his silence alone could somehow drown out the voices above. A smile sadly danced across his face as he remembered better times. He travelled through his memories, sifting each one with infinite care.
Then one hit him.
Jesse.
It was this, and not his parents, that forced him to roll over and be sick all over the basement floor. And then sit, crying, until the voices died away, and he was left with only his memories, and empty platitudes that echoed around him like he was in a wind tunnel.
888
"Lu-mi-nous... no, no, uh, irra-di-ant... wait, that’s better…”
William sat on the couch, chewing his pen. Glasses perched precariously on his nose as he gazed down at the paper, wondering. Soft brown curls partially impeded his sight, and he pushed them away impatiently, still deep in thought.
“Sir?”
A Butler held out a tray of hors d'oevres, and his question stirred William from his reverie.
“Quickly,” William smiled eagerly at the confused man. “I'm the very spirit of vexation. What's another word for "illuminate?" It's perfectly perfect as many words go but the bother is nothing rhymes, you see…”
Obviously perplexed, the butler merely forced a smile, bowed, and moved off into the crowd to find someone else to serve. Slightly miffed at his inability to find a fitting word, William stared through the crowd, looking for inspiration.
He quickly found it when the object of his infatuation descended regally down the stairs, surrounded by a gaggle of dashing male suitors. William swallowed, transfixed, and then eagerly began to write. Quietly, he whispered one word under his breath as he wrote feverishly. “Cecily.”
When he finished, William stood and tried to push his way through the crowd to where she was standing, almost glowing in what he believed to be her almost dark and glowing beauty. As he neared, he heard snatches of their conversation.
“I've heard on good authority they're not human at all. Animals of some sort. Escaped from a travelling sideshow,” declared a foppish young gentleman.
“But wild animals would leave a trace of some kind. Tracks...” suggested his lady. She hung onto his arm like her life depended on it.
“Mangled bodies, indeed.”
“Charles! Don't be ghastly.”
“I merely point out that it's something of a mystery, and the police should keep an open mind…”
The crowd finally noticed him as he tried to enter their circle. Raoul Evans attempted a benign smile. “Ah, William. Favor us with your opinion. What do you make of this rash of disappearances sweeping our town? Animals or thieves?”
Caught unawares, William let the words spill out of his mouth ”I prefer not to think of such dark, ugly business at all. That's what police are for.” He eyed Cecily shyly.
She averted her gaze.
Could she be flirting?
William stared at her for another moment, feeling his heart leap in his chest, before continuing. “I prefer placing my energies into creating things of beauty.”
At that, Raoul showed his true smile, maliciousness tainting his handsome features. “I see. Well. Don't withhold, William.”
He snatched the paper from William's hand. The others, clearly looking to join in the fun, plastered on their own fake smiles.
“Please do. Rescue us from a dreary topic.”
In a panic, William almost dropped his glasses.
“Careful!” He cried, almost standing up for himself. But one glare from Raoul under heavy lidded eyes was enough to make him back down. Half contritely, he looked around for an excuse. “ The ink's still wet. Please, it's not finished...”
“Oh, don't be shy, William. Let’s see…” he cleared his voice. Quickly, he scanned it, smiling again as he chose what he deemed to be the part most able to make William squirm.
”Descending from yonder stair she comes,
My heart expands,
'tis grown a bulge in't,
inspired by your beauty,
Effulgent…"
Raoul broke off with a roar of laughter. “Effulgent? Well, William! Your vocabulary is certainly improving!”
There was a beat, and then everyone else joined in the mocking laughter. William felt his face almost physically crumble. Cecily, embarrassed, pulled away from the crowd to walk to a quiet place. William followed her hopefully, but still hearing each word spoken behind him.
“And that's actually one of his better compositions,” Raoul mocked.
”Have you heard, they call him "William the Bloody" because of his bloody awful poetry!” the lady laughed brightly. The play on words seemed to delight her.
”It suits him,” her partner snorted arrogantly. “I'd rather have a railroad spike through my head than listen to that awful stuff...”
Trying to ignore their drifting voices, William followed the object of his infatuation to a small room adjoining the main one. She sat on a small couch, looking rather bewildered. Crushed by the expression on her face, William moved closer to comfort her.
”Cecily...”
She looked up, but when she saw who it was, she angrily looked down again. “Leave me alone.”
Undeterred, William continued, fumbling. “They're vulgarians,” he comforted her. “Can't you see? They're not like you and I.”
“You and I?” She turned to face him directly. He swallowed at the sight of her beauty. For one second they were close. Intimate.
“William, I'm going to ask you a very personal question, and I demand an honest answer. Do you understand?”
He nodded, his heart in his throat at her words.
Cecily took a deep breath, and then began to speak in a rush. “Your poetry. It's… they're not… written about me... Are they?”
Still affected by their proximity, William groped for suitable words. “They're about how I feel,” he answered, lamely.
”Yes,” Cecily said impatiently. “But are they about me?”
William hesitated for a moment, and then lay his aching, beating heart out in front of her. “Every syllable,” he whispered.
“Oh, God...” Cecily turned away from him. William scooted around to face her, making a desperate, impassioned plea:
”I know... This is sudden. And - and, please, if they're no good, they're only words. But the feeling behind them... I love you, Cecily…”
She shook her head mutely, and interrupted him. “Please stop…” she said faintly.
He plunged on, regardless. “I know I'm a bad poet. But I'm a good man. All I ask is that you try to see me...”
“I do see you,” she murmurs, and he held his breath with the sudden hope that flooded through him. All to be crushed by her next words.
“That's the problem. You're nothing to me, William…”
She paused, and then continued. Truth flashed in her eyes.
“You're beneath me.”
888
Without his hat and coat, William tore down the street. Hot tears streaked down his face as he went, each step only accentuating the blind pain and agony in his heart. He ripped up his poem with each shuddering step, bumping into a group of three people as he went. In the midst of his pain, he threw away his English manners.
“Bloody... watch where you're going!”
He continued down the street, ripping up the paper into smaller and smaller bits. Already damp from his tears, they shredded easily under his raging hands. Then suddenly, his feet stopped. Slowly, the rage drained out of him, and he slumped against a wall.
A soothing, understanding voice came from nowhere:
“And here I wonder... what possible catastrophe came crashing down from heaven and brought this dashing stranger...”
The strange woman reached out, gingerly wiped away the last remaining tear from his face, and stared at him in understanding. “...to tears?
He swallowed. Several times. She was… beautiful. It was one of the first times any beautiful woman had ever paid any attention to him that wasn’t mocking or derogatory.
Finding his voice, he stammered out the only answer he could think of. “N… nothing. I wish to be alone.”
She shook her head gently at his words, laughing softly. “You've been alone too long.”
”What could you possibly know of me?” William asked in disbelief.
“I've seen you,” she replied, her pupils dilating. “A man surrounded by fools who cannot see his strength. His vision. His glory. That, and burning baby fish swimming all 'round your head.”
She stepped closer to him, even as he backed away, suspicion cloaking him.
“Th-that's quite close enough,” he told her. “I've heard tales of London pickpockets. You'll not get my purse, I tell you.”
She chuckled lightly. “Don't need a purse. Your wealth lies here…” She touched his heart with slim fingers. “And here.” She brushed her tips against his head.
He shuddered as she continued. “In the spirit and imagination. You walk in worlds the others can't begin to imagine…”
He was gone, now. Hypnotized. How could she know these things, he wondered. She stepped even closer, invading his personal space.
“Yes... I mean, no. I mean… Mother's expecting me,” he muttered incoherently.
She ignored him, leaning closer, whispering in his ear. “I see what you want,” she tantalized. “Something glowing, and glistening. Something effulgent. Do you want it?”
She guided his limp hand to her chest, and his eyes widened as he felt the distinct lack of heartbeat. Without thought, he spoke the words that would seal his fate.
”I - yes! God, yes!”
She smiled. As she vamp-faced, and bit deep into his neck, he felt a million feelings running through him, culminating in…
Pain.
Pain.
Shooting, utter, pain.
“Ow. Ow! OW! Ow ow ow ow OW-WOO!”
888
We saw all this, and more. We gasped in astonishment, but then the waves of wonder subsided. Of course we knew this. We had always known. We just grasped it when we joined. Caught the eluding feelings that had swum deep inside us. We knew of our childhood. We knew of our loves. We loved Anya, Angel, Jenny Calendar, Oz, Tara, Buffy, Willow, Xander, Giles, and Spike. We loved, and it was irrefutable. We loved together. Intense. A flame.
Drawing strength. Combining as we merged into the One. Forging an unbreakable bond between us as raw power rushed through conduits we never knew had existed.
All of this in a second.
Yet there was something to be done. Revelling in our joint power, we swam into reality, just as Adam pulled the trigger and hit the barrier we had erected…
888
“You can’t last much longer,” Adam sneered.
“We can,” we stated calmly in our joined voices. They fitted perfectly. Like a harmony. “We are forever.”
He merely smiled, and then fired at us. They hit an invisible energy shield that we had erected.
“Interesting…” he frowned slightly, and then fired again. This time, we merely changed the bullets into doves. It was a nice touch.
“Very interesting…” he grated out.
We now moved with a confidence none of us had ever felt. With a wave of our hand, his gun retreated back into his mechanical arm. We saw his confusion. Felt it. Felt anger and uncertainty as he stalked towards us.
We knew we could take him.
Easily.
We walked, no, glided towards him, each step radiating with our power. He swung at us as if in slow motion, and we easily evaded him. Then, we sprang into action. Each punch and kick we threw was timed perfectly. We had never felt this strength before. Not even when we were Called, or when we became a Vampire. Not even when we began learning magic or had become possessed by the spirit of a hyena. We dodged, twisted, and attacked with such wonderful grace, it was unbelievable.
We quickly backed him against the wall, hitting him again and again. We saw his surprise as we threw him on the floor and advanced.
“But how can you…?” he gasped in surprise as we spin-kicked him into the wall, and held him.
“You will never know the source of our power,” we chanted in unison.
And then we thrust our arm deep into him, and closed our fingers around his uranium-cortex, and yanked it out. He slumped to the floor.
“But yours,” we whispered as we held it in our hands, “is right here.”
“Buffy,” we heard Riley call us, but we ignored him. He wasn’t a part of this… besides, we still had one thing left to do.
“Amien den, coloura den, amien hular antruen den…”
Propelled by our magic, the uranium-cortex flew into the air, before coalescing power destroyed it utterly. We stood there looking at the space it had just vacated, revelling in our combined power.
“Buffy?” Riley asked again.
Then we ended the spell. Each fibre of our being screamed to stay united in this way, in this perfect fit. Love, acceptance, strength, power, understanding… we weren’t separate. We were one. Bound together for an eternity. It took an enormous amount of willpower to separate ourselves, and when we did, we all fell, gasping, into our respective bodies.
But not without something remaining within us.
We could feel it, just before we split apart. The potential. The bonds that had already formed, and only needed to be joined again.
And we exulted.
Because we knew we could get back to completion.
8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8
As Buffy fell into Riley’s arms, Spike, Willow, Giles, and Xander collapsed with a sigh, the candles illuminating their exhausted features. They were open, helpless.
Prey…
A demon that had been crashing against the door for the last minute finally burst through, and launched itself at them with a primitive bellow. Exhausted as they were, they knew they could barely move, let alone defend themselves. In the split second they had, they readied themselves to die…
But then a blinding flash of light shone incandescent against the darkness of the room. They flung their hands against their faces to shield themselves against that beautiful light, even though part of them yearned to drink it in. The demon howled pitifully, backing away, but then the light vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving in its place two people.
They watched in awe as the two shook themselves, took in their surroundings with surprise, and then realized what was standing in front of them.
Realization took them, and as the demon rushed towards them, one stuck out a crutch. It fell with a thump to the floor, and before it could get up, the other delivered a punishing blow with an unused chair.
They looked at each other in fear.
“Now what?”
The demon was already beginning to stir, and in the compromising position the one with the crutches was in, he fell on top of it. It bucked him off, stood again, and threw him against the room. The other moved in as well as she could, but it merely batted her away like an insect. Looking around the room, it decided which of its six possible victims it should go for first, and decided on the crumpled body lying against the wall.
Looking rather defenceless.
The steel tip of the crutch batted ineffectively at the demon as it ran, but he managed to crawl out of the way. Luckily for him, this demon was more muscles than agility. Again, it tripped over the crutch. But that was all he could do midst his pain. He slumped, exhausted, as the beast started to rise again.
But in the time that they had bought, Spike had recovered enough to close his hanging jaw and leap on the demon’s back. With a swift crack, he broke its neck.
And then, looking at the two new appearances, he voiced what everyone else was thinking.
“Who the hell are you?”
8 8 8
(Hope you enjoyed. Please, R&R!)
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters except for Mia, Bryan, Daniel, and Cassandra. Joss Whedon owns all of the others.
(Alright! Chapter 8 is here, now. Enjoy! And Review! Please!)
(Alright! Chapter 8 is here, now. Enjoy! And Review! Please!)