Chapter Two
There was a definite chill to the night air. A sense of change and foreboding altered the atmosphere. It was if the planet held its breath, waiting for it all to slam back into focus. .
The crumbling street was quiet, an uneasy peace held sway. The buildings that lined the ghostly street were long abandoned by their owners and falling into disrepair, windows shattered and walls kicked down by beings stronger than the norm. The centre was held by Buffy and her army of fighters and they were deeply entrenched their wards in place against the hordes of roaming demons that occasionally chanced an attack. The remaining leaders had instructions to leave the area in the morning. A naval carrier would be waiting off the coast to launch helicopters to evac them out and take them back to Europe; it was a risky operation but hopefully it would be unnecessary.
The small town was a needed sanctuary for what they were about to attempt, though a temporary one. It had cost many lives to get this far into the demon's territory, a month of fighting and hard won battles had bought them a toehold in a small coastal town just north of LA. It had been their last big fight to establish themselves that led to the death of Xander and her final slayer in arms – Molly. It was as close as they could get to Los Angeles and it would suffice for their needs.
It was a calm before the storm.
Silent figures slipped through the shadows. Most of them were shouldering rucksacks and carrying much needed weaponry that had been carefully scrounged up over the years, and vigilantly cared for. A sharp blade was often all that stood between its wielder and death. Willow's hands were filled with bags of herbs and a faintly glowing crystal orb. Buffy watched as her group all caught up with her and gave her faint nods and smiles.
Buffy shoved her shoulder against the warped steel door that lead down to the basement they had been using for their meetings and ushered in the group she had escorted in. From what she could hear the others were already there preparing for the trip. A strong hand rested on her thin shoulder briefly, offering her strength and support. She looked up into Mr Chase's face and he offered her a fleeting smile as he stepped past her and headed down the stairs. She yanked the door shut and headed down after him, unaware of the eyes that were watching them from across the rubble strewn street.
Buffy stared at the back of the older man's head; still unbelieving that he was involved in the supernatural fight. Part of her was always freaked that Cordy's dad was here; she never met the Chases when they had all lived in Sunnydale. They had been part of the elite rich Country club types, so not in her mom's league or Giles's.
Hell, she would bet her last ten stakes that he had never had a clue about the things that went bump in the night during his sojourn as a fat cat in Sunnydale. So to have him and his wife join the fight, after she and her army had liberated the prison they had been incarcerated in, had been an eye opener. The once soft businessman was now a hardened fighter with nothing left to lose. His daughter was long dead and his wife now also gone.
The rest of her group kinda made sense; all of them had a reason to fight and also to join her on this last desperate mission. She was here for Dawn and Spike, both dead because of Angel. Spike's sacrifice she understood, but when Ilona in Rome had turned up and slashed Dawn's throat trying to open a portal to her favourite hell dimension to escape the Apocalypse that Angel's battle had started, it had nearly killed Buffy. When Andrew had discovered the big boobed bitch worked for the same law firm Angel had embedded himself within, Buffy had seen red. There had been little left of the firm in Rome by the time she had finished with them, her vengeance had some collateral damage. Andrew, he had died helping her, another life that needed saving.
Julian had been the major surprise; he had appeared at the Council doors over a year ago, hammering at the door demanding to speak to the Slayer. She, a distraught Robin and incensed Roger had luckily been in England at the time. Usually they were all over the world fighting to save some corner for humanity. But this time they had returned—to bury Faith. She hadn't wanted to talk to him but when he had yelled Angel's name, she relented. And the tale he told sent chills down her spine. It had taken a year or so after LA had fallen for her to accept that it had been Angel's abortive attempt to take down The Circle that had caused the unending chaos that she was fighting against—the same chaos that she was losing friends and family to.
But Julian was not there to talk about a fallen comrade or Champion for good.
He was there to talk about a vampire who had managed to create a child with his sire. The same souled dumb ass vampire who had happily brainwashed his friends, and been seduced by the power he had gained by running a branch of the law firm from Hell. Becoming the head of their L.A branch and a de facto representative of evil—even if he had sugar coated it with the idiotic idea of fighting from within. Yeah right! That only worked if you were swallowed by a momma Beozar and had an axe in your hands. And then used said axe to hack your way out. Taking on the representatives for evil in this dimension and working from within was so gonna work for a vamp with a tenuous grip on a second-hand soul – not! Giles had so been right about Angel and discouraging her from contacting him. Buffy winced though over the realisation that maybe if Giles had helped Angel, then Roger and Patricia Burkle might not have lost their daughter, Fred.
A big part of Buffy had died when Julian had told her about Darla and Connor. As the story had unfolded she had died a thousand tiny deaths. By the time he had arrived on the object of his hatred, Julian had been weeping uncontrollably. Jasmine, a being who had only gained a foothold on their dimension due to Angel's badly considered actions and that had resulted in the creation of his son Connor and his consequent relationship with Cordelia Chase. Buffy had nearly puked as he told of the teen shacking up with a woman who had essentially been a mother to him. By the time Julian had made it to the whole Jasmine and 'Summer of Lurve' and shiny happy people thing, Buffy wanted to wash her ears out with acid just to get rid of the words. All that had echoed in her mind was, ‘what the hell had Angel been thinking and why on earth hadn't she known?!’
Julian had lost his wife and two children to Jasmine's need to feed on humans to survive. Once he and all of L.A had recovered from the mass hypnosis, he had begun to plot his revenge. He had been ready to act, but then hell had been unleashed. Unsurprisingly, by Angel, another thing to lie at her ex's feet. And she was so not getting into the whole ‘lets not tell Buffy that Spike was alive bit.’
Her mind veered away from that taboo subject. No thinking about Spike in any shape or form, as that lead to her falling down in a soggy heap of tears and major depression. Not now, she couldn't think of him now – that was saved for quiet moments in the dead of night. Buffy sank her hand into her pocket and ran her fingers over the battered leather notebook that she had spent day after day writing in, filling it with her hopes and dreams, but more importantly, filling it with dates and facts. It was an important something she hadn't told any of the others about; as far as she was concerned, it was something she had to do.
They might think one single action would change everything, but time and experience had made the diminutive blonde a realist. The moleskin notebook was her insurance. Spike had taught her not to hide from the truth; his quicksilver mind and equally fast tongue had kept her on her toes for more years than she could admit too. Even when he had been the pure unadulterated evil master vamp ‘I am gonna kill you on Saturday’ guy, he had told her what was what. Always in plain black and white, with no frills and no lies to make her feel better. She’d initially respected him for it, and later, loved him for the unadulterated truths he threw at them all, making them face up to things usually swept under the proverbial rugs. Spike had been very much like Julian and how he had laid it out that fateful day in the Council library, where she, Ethan and Roger had listened to the horror story that was Angel's life in L.A.
That was when they had begun to formulate a tentative plan. The same plan that was now about to come into fruition and Buffy was praying not-so-silently that it worked.
Gwen stood back from the group and watched as they set up; she was relieved. The Slayer was back on the ball and taking control. She hadn't signed on to be general and it had felt weird last night when she'd had to get the meeting going. Everyone was waiting for the mojo guys to do their thing and then it was all out attack. They had a plan and were all set.
Either it worked or they died trying.
Gwen pulled out the laminated map that Willow had made for all of them, her eyes tracing over the now familiar lines of the town they were going to. It was not somewhere she'd ever come across during her other life, a career thief. Which had surprised her, now that she knew more of its secret and the relics there. From the stories she'd heard some of them might have helped her retire early on a tropical island far from all the troubles of the world. That had been then, now she was not that person. Now she fought to make a difference; Gunn had taught her that.
"Have you got it?" Ethan frowned over at Willow.
"Yeah, here it is." She shot Buffy a guilty look and pulled out a sepia tinted photograph. It was worn and frayed at the edges but would suffice as a focus. There were three figures in it and Buffy's breath caught in her throat when she saw him there. The hair was longer, caught back in a ribbon, but his face, his dear face… It was the same one that she'd spent hours running her fingers over its familiar lines; the brownish tint to the image robbed his eyes of their depth and personality, but it was there in her mind's eye and that was more than enough for her.
Ethan took the image and laid it carefully in the large copper bowl. He and Roger set up candles around it and lit them one by one. Willow knelt down and began to crumble herbs and spices around the focus of the spell. Her voice was low as she whispered a blessing, her hands deft and assured. Behind her Roger thumbed through the spell sheets as he waited for the other two to set up.
All the others shifted nervously. It was all too intense, the months leading up to this moment all now were a brief whisper of a memory. Seeing the reality of the mechanics of the spell being laid out was stunning. They had hoped, dreamed and planned for this and now it was nearly time. If it worked, then the world would be a very different place.
"Ready?" Ethan straightened up and pulled out the rose quartz ball he'd been saving as a focus for the power they would be calling on.
"Yup," Willow said as she wrung her hands nervously.
"Saddle up, guys." Roger Burkle took his wife's hand and nodded to the others.
Buffy gulped nervously. She pulled out the Scythe and nodded at the silent watcher.
"Get going, Roger." Julian's voice was filled with throbbing excitement; it was time for a reckoning. Well past time, he wanted the bastard's dust coating his entire body.
Revenge was close to hand.
~~~~~~~~
Willow , Ethan and Roger's voices were united in harmony as they chanted the spell. The vortex in front of them was the size of a basket ball, spinning in a whirl of reds and blacks with small bolts of lightening flickering out here and there. Streaks of grey were appearing in Willow's normally white hair as she channelled some not-so-pure forms of magicks. All the group were gathered close together, poised to leap in once the vortex was large enough.
The door swung open behind them; unnoticed a Turok Han slunk into the basement. It had been attracted by the spell's power and the gathering of the mortals; he had been watching them from the building across the street. Somehow it had managed to elude the sweeps of the town, hiding away in the shadows of the sewer system, waiting and biding it's time. But the power of the spell had drawn it out; it snarled silently, fangs gleaming in the light. He was one of the few of the primeval vampires left in the area, canny in its ways, surviving against the onslaught of Buffy's army.
Once Los Angeles had fallen, The First Evil had gained a foothold in the dimension and sent its foot soldiers into the world to prepare the way for its return. Big mistake for the First, as by the time the armies of the prehistoric vampires had finished eating their way through the population there had been no humans left for the First to torment. Its potential power base, humans and their souls were gone, either dead by the fangs of its followers or fled behind impenetrable shields of untouchable white magic. The primordial evil had not been able to manifest and had disappeared into the depths of Hell, snarling and moaning at its folly. It left behind it a leaderless army of monsters, who now roamed the wastelands of Western America searching for prey in any shape or form. Snarling quietly the uber vampire showed its fangs, which dripped ichor and gleamed in the unnatural light of the vortex.
The spectacle of the rapidly expanding vortex was too much of a distraction for all of the humans. He moved on silent feet and prepared to attack.
Willow gritted her teeth against the power that buffeted her; she could see Wes's dad shouting the Latin section of the spell out over and over. His raised his hands as he called on all the power he could channel through his body. Between them stood Ethan, the crystal ball cradled in his steady hands, a beam of white shooting out of it and feeding the size of the vortex. She carried on chanting her part of the spell to open the time vortex and prayed silently to Gaia that she would protect them all.
Buffy shifted her feet anxiously; it was nearly big enough. Reaching out she herded them all into place and shouted at Julian over the thunderous noise of the spell. "Be ready to go through. I have no idea how long they can hold it open.
Julian nodded, his eyes gleaming feverishly now that they were nearly there. So close to their goal he could almost taste it. He looked down at the photograph of the three vampires and mutely swore that two of them would die slowly and painfully. The other was not his to touch, that was part of the bargain he had struck with Buffy and the others.
The Burkles huddled together, their mouths open in shock at the magnitude of the spell being cast. All that they could think was that soon Fred would be saved. NO demon god to take over her body and burn up her soul. It would all be fine and dandy, they just had to work out a way not to let their girl get sucked into the Pylean dimension. Little did they know someone had already thought of that and worked hard to make sure the tall sweet Texan had a chance at a good life, one free of gods and monsters.
Gwen and Mr Chase stood silently; they'd not waited this long to be shocked by the sight of the vortex being opened. They wanted to get through and get going.
Eve gritted her teeth against the wind that had been created from the vortex and held the bowl steady in her hands. She knelt before Ethan steadying the focus of the spell, her fair hair whipping around her head, strands slithering across her pale cheeks and getting into her eyes. She shook her head and blinked against the mini dust storm that was now spiralling around them and caught a flash of movement behind them. Before she could say a word the vortex groaned and shuddered and widened.
"Go! Go! Get moving!" Ethan screamed. The beam of light nearly blinding him with its intense brightness and his hands lurched and shook as he tried to keep the orb steady.
One by one the travellers leapt through, soon leaving only Eve, Buffy and the three spell casters remaining in the past. Ethan moved his head and was about to urge Buffy through when he saw the Turok Han.
"Oh for Christ sake, not now," he shouted. Reaching down he heaved Eve up and threw her in. Spinning he grabbed Willow and tossed her after the former representative to the Senior Partners. The orb remaining cradled in the crook of one arm, he pointed over at the prehistoric vampire. "Roger!” he shouted. “Get Buffy and move it, we don't ha—" He clutched his chest, blood gurgling out of his mouth as he looked down in surprise. "My, this wasn't the way I thought it would happen…" He pitched backwards into Roger's arms.
"NOOOOOO!" Buffy screamed as her last link to Giles coughed up blood and reached futilely for her. She twisted around, raising the scythe and in a swift downward motion slashed the Turok's head off in one deft smooth move. It hit the ground and bounced through the portal.
"Christ, no. Ethan!" Roger clutched at the wound pressing down, trying to staunch the flow of blood from the mortal wound. Blood poured between his fingers as he scrabbled to help the fallen man. Unnoticed the crystal orb fell to the ground and rolled towards the vortex, power still channelled through it, and for now it held the rip in time open. Buffy sank down next to them, her hands reaching for the dying chaos mage; gently pulling him into her arms, she cradled him against her, tears filling and quickly spilling from her eyes.
"Oh, come on darling, you knew some of us might not be there for the last hurrah…Just… remember to stick him good from me and Ripper." Ethan slumped in her arms and the light finally faded from his eyes.
[Reviews - 23]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 2707 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +