Buffy was brought to a squat clay structure. Two zombies stood guard; as she approached, they wordlessly pushed a rotting wooden door open. The zombies dragged her into the room, and closed the door behind them. Buffy was starting to get some feeling back in her body as the zombies dumped her limply into an oversized plush chair opposite a roaring fire. She looked around the room, taking in her surroundings. The room was dark, but clean; the only light coming from the crackling fireplace. Shadows danced on the walls as some sort of sweet smell hung in the air. The door opposite her opened and a shadowy figure entered. He was concealed by the flickering darkness in the room as the zombies bowed in reverence. One of the zombies handed him Mr. Pointy, then rejoined his partner.
“Leave us,” a dry voice rasped.
The zombies bowed once more and left the room, leaving Buffy alone with the man.
“Where are my friends?” she rasped, her mouth still numb.
The shadowy figure shifted slightly to regard her.
“The woman has been buried,” he informed her. “After the ritual tonight is completed, they will be transformed into my servants.” There was a pause and Buffy could imagine the evil creature smiling. “She will be a powerful weapon in my army,” he mused.
“And my brother?”
“Yes, him. Your brother, as you call him, is… unusual.”
“Yeah, he made an impression on your little helper.”
“That, in and of itself, is noteworthy. Nyssa, my ‘little helper’, as you call her, does not impress easily. What do you know of his power?”
“I know he could kick your ass.”
“Mine and yours, I assure you. And all things that exist.” His profile turned slightly, a tilt of the head to suggest consideration. “The powers of life and death seem to hold little sway over him. Whatever consumes him from within is stronger than even the grave. It appears his darkness goes beyond death, into the void that lies between the stars.” The creature’s tone took on an amused sound. “I look forward to performing a proper dissection.”
“You bastard!” Buffy hissed through clenched teeth.
There was a dry chuckle, rasping with decay.
“Perhaps,” the shadow shrugged. “As for the vampire, he is beyond salvation.”
Buffy looked up suddenly.
“What do you mean?” she demanded.
The creature began to step into the light.
“The effects of the grave rot are debilitating and painfully fatal.”
He stepped fully into the light and Buffy gasped in horror.
What had once been a vampire was now a rotted shell; the skin on his face had melted off, making it look like nothing more than a horrific mask. What remained hung like tattered shreds from his yellow skull. His nose had rotted off and the lips as well, revealing sharp teeth. His skin was yellow and gray and his eyes a milky white. Black clumps of hair stuck out in patches on his skull. The vampire put a skeletal hand on his chest and bowed.
“As you can fully see,” he finished, smiling grotesquely.
“What are you?” Buffy breathed.
The creature rasped with laughter.
“Not all vampires are as blessed as your Angel. The price for knowledge of the grave can be high indeed,” he replied, his teeth grinding against each other in a sound that turned Buffy’s stomach.
“Mercurio,” she stated simply.
The decayed vampire bowed again.
“In the flesh… or what’s left of it,” he smiled gruesomely.
“How…?” she asked in morbid curiosity.
Mercurio cocked his head to the side with a cracking of vertebrae.
“The powers that I wield, that my followers wield, it takes its toll on the body,” he explained, sitting down opposite her. “Your friend Angel, has felt the power. I imagine he’s not feeling well at all at this point.” He commented dryly, grinning a skull’s grin. He turned his attention to the stake in his hand. “This,” he gestured, “will be quite useful,” he assured her sinisterly.
Buffy snorted, getting back some of her bravado.
“Why? You going to give it back to me and let me turn you into instant soup-mix?” she retorted.
Mercurio shook his near-fleshless skull. “Not quite.”
He closed his eyes slightly and a pair of zombies entered the room.
“Take her to the cell and keep her there until the ritual,” he instructed.
The zombies nodded mutely and grabbed the Slayer, roughly yanking her to her feet.
“I’ll be back for you, you great walking morgue!” Buffy yelled at him. “Count on it!”
Mercurio smiled.
“Oh, I’m sure,” he replied quietly, stroking the stake covetously.
The zombies heaved Buffy into a cage made of bones and closed the door. She threw herself against the bars, but they were sturdy.
“Buffy?” a weak voice gasped.
Buffy whirled around. Angel was lying in a cot facing away from her.
“Angel!”
She rushed to his side; weakly he tried to push her away.
“Don’t come any closer,” he warned.
Ignoring his protests, she turned him towards her… and nearly died.
Angel’s face and body were aging rapidly. His skin had turned gray, his face wrinkled and stained with pockmarks, the skin around his face hung on his bones like wet paper. The brown of his eyes had faded, obscured by cataracts. He was coughing and wheezing.
“Buffy… are you...?”
He couldn’t finish and sagged against the bars. Buffy placed a hand over his eyes, trying not to notice the oozing sores leaking from his brow.
“Oh God, Angel,” she whispered, stripping off her coat and wrapping it around him.
He coughed again and took her hand in his own wasted hand.
“I’m dying,” he whispered hoarsely, sounding almost amused at the idea.
Buffy shook her head through tears.
“You’re not dying! Nobody’s dying! I’m going to find Alec and Willow and get you cured and we are getting out of here!” she told him fervently.
Angel’s eyelids fluttered, his eyes rolled back into his head. Buffy roared and lashed out against the bars.
“What the hell did you DO to him?!” she raged.
The female vampire from earlier smiled slightly.
“The powers of death have robbed him of his immortality.” She gestured to the decrepit Angel. “That is his body catching up with him for his centuries’ worth of unnatural youth,” the vampiress smiled smugly.
Buffy narrowed her eyes in hate.
“I’m going to get out of here, and I’m going to kill all of you,” she whispered, her voice lethal.
The vampire smirked and gestured to two zombies. They shambled towards the cell door and unlocked it.
“I sincerely doubt that,” the vampiress commented as Buffy was dragged out of the cell.
Angel feebly reached after her and collapsed. Buffy shot an anguished look over her shoulder at her dying compatriot before being dragged to a large circle of fire. The zombies fastened her to a rack made of skeletons and left her there to wrestle against the restraints, which were skeletal hands. Mercurio walked towards her, smiling, holding Mr. Pointy in his own skeletal hands.
“Good evening, Slayer,” he rasped. “I trust you have been made comfortable?” he asked mockingly.
Buffy rolled her eyes.
“Question, Skeletor. Well, actually two. One, does that whole ‘decomposing walking bone heap’ look go over well with the ladies, and two, why do all villains feel the need to ask stupid questions?” she snarled.
Mercurio smiled gruesomely.
“You are, of course, correct, I care little for your comfort.” He bowed and turned to the assembled vampires. “Tonight, you will witness my transcendence,” he smiled, holding up the stake, “with this.”
Buffy snorted.
“What are you going to do, stake yourself into a higher consciousness?” she asked sarcastically.
Mercurio favored her with patronizing smile.
“Watch and learn, Slayer.”
He smiled and walked over to her, and with one quick movement, impaled the stake through her shoulder. She bit her lip and tried not to cry out as he slowly twisted the stake in the wound, causing blood to dribble out of her shoulder. With a snarl, he ripped the stake out of her, causing her to gasp in pain. He leered covetously at the blood dripping off the stake, before turning to her.
“The blood is the life, yes?”
He put the portion of his skull that had once housed his nose to the gory stake and inhaled deeply.
“But this weapon, it reeks of death, of young life cut short,” he leered at her. “It will be perfect.”
“It’s really… not in your color,” Buffy bit out.
Mercurio just grinned and turned to a large plate on a bone pedestal. Placing the bloody stake in the center, he brought his fingernails under a rotted tatter of skin on his cheek and slowly began to peel it back. Buffy felt sick as the rotted vampire finished and wrapped the strip of dead flesh around the stake. Gesturing to a set of torches, they burst to life as he began to chant, the acolytes humming, mantra-like.
“Powers of death, hear me, your most impious servant.”
He raised his hands over his head and brought them down slowly, fanning them over the plate, which had begun to sizzle for no reason.
“Take this offering, of blood and flesh, call forth thy most polluted death. Phantasm most profane,” he chanted.
Bringing a finger to his robes, he slid them off. Buffy choked back bile as she saw that almost his entire body had rotted away, leaving yellow bone and clumps of gray flesh.
“Bring forth from death, to become my slave. Bring forth, o’ powers of decay, essence of murder and of pain,” his voice rose to a crescendo, “bring forth death!” he screamed, holding his hands high in the air.
For a second nothing happened and Buffy snorted loudly.
“Too bad, huh, Merc? Don’t feel bad, though, one should never pass up an opportunity to strip naked in publ-”
She stopped as she felt a chill pass through her. She exhaled and gaped in surprise as her breath crystallized into a chilly mist. A slow moaning sound began to fill the room. Buffy looked around fearfully as Mercurio’s hideous face broke into a grin.
“She comes! At my command!” he whispered exaltedly.
There was a low wail that blew through the room, whirling around the stake; the drops of blood dripping from it continued to hit the pan, which was sizzling madly at this point. Suddenly, the whole pan burst into green flame. Buffy’s eyes widened as a face appeared in the flame, a face she recognized.
“Oh God,” she whispered, “Kendra…”
Kendra’s soul wailed in pain as Mercurio reached forth and, with a cackle of triumph, plunged his hand into her, pillaging her soul and absorbing it into his rotted body. There was a brief flash of light as Mercurio’s body was consumed in green fire. His laughter, at first rasping, became deeper and booming. Buffy gaped as new flesh began to stretch over his bones, regenerating decayed tissue. The acolytes had moved away in awe of the profane spectacle.
There was another ghostly wail of pain as the last of the green flame disappeared into Mercurio’s regenerated body. The creature collapsed onto the floor, hands over his face. What had once been a rotted corpse was now a fully formed, muscular, black-skinned man. An acolyte cautiously stepped forward.
“Lord Mercurio?” he whispered.
The man stood and faced Buffy, causing the Slayer to gasp - the face was a mixture of both Mercurio’s and Kendra’s features. The man opened his eyes, revealing green flames in their sockets.
“Not anymore,” Mercurio replied in a familiar Jamaican accent, before throwing his head back and howling with wicked laughter.
Buffy stared at him in horror.
“What did you do?” she whispered.
Mercurio shook his head and pointed.
“Oh, no, my dear, what did you do?” he taunted. “It was your blood that let me access the soul of a Slayer, and you brought the item that let me chain her to this realm long enough to…” he grinned as his face changed into that of a vampire, “…suck her dry!” he rasped.
Buffy paled. “You… raped Kendra’s soul?” she asked in disbelief.
Mercurio chuckled.
“Just the parts I wanted - the power, the strength - the rest…” he made a dismissive gesture, “…like so much spiritual refuse,” he replied grinning.
Two acolytes wrapped him in a black robe. He smiled and stretched his arms.
“Ah, the feeling of blood flowing through my veins.” He grinned manically and turned back to the Slayer. “So, this is what it is to be a Slayer.” He inhaled deeply. “It’s incredible.”
Buffy shook with anger.
“You’re a freak,” she whispered. “You may have stolen Kendra’s soul, but you’re not a Slayer!” she spat defiantly.
Mercurio grinned.
“Oh, you’re quite right, I am not merely a Slayer.”
He flexed a muscular arm and reached out to grasp a stone. His hand glowed in green light and the stone crumbled into dust.
“I command the forces of life and death. I can kill with a touch. I am not a Slayer, I am a GOD!” he cried out.
The acolytes fell to their knees in worship. Mercurio gestured to the hands of bone holding Buffy’s hands, they popped open and Buffy stumbled forward. Mercurio grinned and beckoned.
“Come, Slayer, once I defeat you, I wonder what power two Slayers’ souls will imbue me with?”
He laughed again as Buffy settled into a fighting stance, trying to ignore her aching shoulder and the fact that if she lost this fight, she’d not only lose her life…
…She’d lose her soul.
Buffy snapped out a kick to Mercurio’s head, he blocked it and backhanded her hard, sending her to the ground.
Mercurio smirked. “You’re going to have to do better than that,” he taunted.
Buffy did a handstand and kicked up with both feet, catching him under the chin and sending him stumbling away.
“How’s that?”
She asked, before launching into a series of punches. Some were blocked, but a few made it through his defenses, causing him to flinch. Mercurio grabbed her arm and, twisting it around her back, shoved her towards the sizzling plate. She collided hard into it and sent it tumbling with her atop it. Rolling over onto her back just in time to see Mercurio’s foot descending in an axe kick, she gasped and lurched away, the blow missing her narrowly. She lashed out with a foot aimed towards his face, but he caught it and sent her sprawling away. She winced in pain as she landed heavily on her wounded shoulder.
Buffy tried to beat back desperation; it was like trying to fight a powerful vampire AND a Slayer. Shaking her head to clear it, she did a handspring to her feet and spun round, sending a spinning back fist to the vampire’s jaw. He flew back and stumbled as Buffy resumed the offensive, raining blows on his head.
Mercurio snarled, his face shifting to its vampiric visage in frustrated rage and he beat her to the ground. She fell on her hands and knees as Mercurio raised his bare foot and slammed it down hard into the base of the Slayer’s spine; she screamed in pain as he slowly twisted the foot back and forth, the sound of cracking vertebrae filling the room. Buffy’s eyes opened wide, and suddenly focused on an object just out of her reach.
Lying next to the overturned plate was Kendra’s stake.
Buffy made a lunge for it… and stopped short as Mercurio brought his foot up and back down hard on the back of Buffy’s knee. There was a resounding crack as Buffy’s kneecap erupted in fire. She cried out again as Mercurio snatched her up by the throat, flaming eyes glowing green with glee.
“I wonder if I’m going to enjoy being you,” he taunted.
Slowly, he put his hand over her heart and, with an excruciating jolt, a green flame erupted from her chest, slowly pouring into Mercurio. He had his eyes closed in rapture as he drained Buffy’s life essence away.
For an agonized moment, Buffy was inside him and she could see herself being killed. And see that someone was with her.
“Buffy, do not surrender,” Kendra’s voice called out from somewhere around her. “We are here.”
Buffy’s eyes squeezed shut, trying to block the pain. Suddenly, the arm holding her shuddered as green flame leapt out of Mercurio’s body into Buffy’s.
Mercurio frowned in puzzlement.
“How…?” he asked; his eyes had gone from Kendra’s brown, to Buffy’s green.
Buffy suddenly felt a wave of power fill her. She opened her eyes, and, gritting against the pain, held her hand out towards the stake, lying on the ground.
“Sha me-en-den. Gesh-toog me-en-den,” she gasped out, frowning as some part of her brain realized that she wasn’t speaking English.
Mercurio turned to her in shock and wrapped his other hand around her throat, choking the life out of her.
“Die!” he cried. “Why won’t you die?”
Buffy gasped once and, with a convulsion that shook her whole body, the stake flew to her hand. With a roar, Buffy plunged the stake into Mercurio’s heart. He gasped in pain and shock, dropping the Slayer and severing the soul draining.
“That’s what it feels like to be a Slayer,” Buffy snarled as the vampire put his hands over his head, green light showing through his skin as his body began to crack like hot stone doused in water.
“No! This cannot be! She… is mine!” he roared. “NO!”
He cried out one last time and, with a scream of rage and pain, his body exploded, sending decayed shards and vampire fragments spraying everywhere. Buffy shielded herself from the explosion and looked back. Kendra was standing there, bathed in light, looking at her proudly.
“You did well, Buffy,” Kendra told her, her voice echoing oddly. “You’ve taken the first step.” The glowing soul smiled.
“The others are waiting.” She gestured out past the acolytes, who were looking pretty worried about the destruction of their leader. “Find them,” Kendra continued, “and thank you.”
Kendra leaned down and picked up Mr. Pointy, bringing it to her forehead in a salute.
“Hey, no big,” Buffy said casually, reaching out to the ghost gently.
“I still don’t hug.”
Buffy laughed even as Kendra began to glow until she could not look anymore. When her vision cleared, Kendra was gone. Buffy smiled slightly.
“Thanks, girlfriend,” she whispered.
Buffy slowly stood, hobbling up onto her injured knee; she turned to the assembled vampires.
“Okay, so, who’s next?” she growled.
The vampires looked at each other, looked back at the bloody Slayer, and ran like hell.
Buffy braced herself carefully and stuck a leg out, tripping the female vampire from earlier. She sprawled to the ground as Buffy spun her onto her back.
“You have once chance to live,” she growled. “The antidote for the grave rot!” she demanded.
The vampiress gestured frantically to Mercurio’s chambers.
“In there!” she cried out.
Buffy grabbed the vampire and dragged her along, hobbling towards the chamber door. Shoving it open, she looked down at the two zombies, now reverted back to lifeless corpses, with a snort of derision.
“Next lifetime, Mercurio, delegate a little.”
She turned and entered the study. Hobbling over to a shelf full of jars, she reached over and checked the nearest one.
“No,” she muttered, tossing it over her shoulder; it landed with a crash.
“No, no, no, no.”
There was a pile of broken glass behind her. She reached out and when her fingers brushed against a clear blue bottle, she stopped. Some… instinct told her that this was the correct vial. She took it down and uncorked it, inhaling deeply. The liquid smelled clean, like a snowy winter day. Buffy smiled and then cast a fierce look at her prisoner.
“Stay!” she commanded.
The other vampire, apparently unhinged by the death of her master, merely nodded, babbling nonsensically to herself.
Buffy hobbled over to Angel’s cell. Unlocking the door, she limped and dropped to one knee, gritting in pain. She cradled the dying vampire’s head in her hands.
“Drink,” she whispered, putting the bottle to his lips.
Angel licked blackened lips and gently began to swallow tiny mouthfuls of the elixir as Buffy gently tilted the bottle. The results were miraculous. The dead gray skin began to peel off, revealing fresh healthy skin underneath; the pustules closed and flaked off, his eyes cleared of the cataracts. By the time the bottle was finished, Angel didn’t look a hundred percent, but it was certainly an improvement. Buffy helped him to his feet, trying not to put a lot of weight on her damaged knee.
“Angel, are you all right?”
He coughed and nodded.
“We need to find the others.”
Angel pointed to a large mound of sand in the center of the room.
“There,” he coughed. “That’s the burial mound; Willow and Alec are in there.”
Carefully leaning Angel against the cell wall, Buffy hobbled over to the giant mound, and plunged both her hands into the sand, sifting them back and forth. She growled in frustration, it was like looking for a needle in the haystack. Her fingers brushed against something hard and she cleared away the sand, revealing a collection of white bandages. Digging rapidly, Buffy gripped the white bandages and slowly pulled a mummified body out of the sand. It was weakly thrashing from side to side. Buffy raced over to the wrapped up head, which was distinctly odd in that half of it was stained a wet black.
“Shhh, Alec, it’s okay, it’s me.”
Digging her fingers into the material, she ripped it aside, unwrapping his head hurriedly. A few layers later Alec’s eyes shined through. Reaching up, she gripped the edge of the material and jerked down hard. Alec’s mouth and nostrils were exposed as he gasped loudly for air, coughing hard. He sucked down several more lungfuls of air.
“Willow!” he gasped out.
Buffy nodded hurriedly and closed her eyes again, trying to focus on her friend. There… no, there, very faint. Buffy dove into the sand and dug madly. Angel came over and helped Alec out of the wrappings.
“Willow!” she cried out hysterically.
Alec was suddenly next to her, plunging his good hand into the earth, hurling sand away frantically and growling in frustration at his tentacled appendage that could not dig as easily or as quickly as his hand once had. Angel was right next to them digging furiously.
“I’ve got her!” Angel yelled.
Carefully he dragged the mummified girl out of the sand. Alec dove to her, ripping away the bandages. Willow’s face was ashen gray, her lips blue.
“Willow!” Alec cried out.
Angel put a hand to her chest as Buffy was frantically tearing the bandages off her.
“I can’t find a pulse!” Angel reported.
Alec leaned over and began performing mouth-to-mouth as Buffy began C.P.R.
“Don’t you do this, Willow!” Buffy sobbed, pounding her friend’s lifeless chest. “Willow!” she screamed.
Willow lay still, Alec was forcing her chest to rise with his breath. Finally he brought his mouth from hers, resting an ear to her mouth.
“Nothing!” he yelled.
Buffy sobbed as she pounded her friend’s chest,
“No!” she cried, hitting her chest over and over.
Angel held her hands. “Buffy, it’s over, she’s gone,” he told her mournfully.
Buffy struggled against him, sobbing and screaming. Alec had a hand over his eyes, his fist clenched to the point that the skin on his knuckles split.
“Willow,” he croaked stroking her face tenderly.
Bringing her head up, he buried his face in her hair and cried.
“I couldn’t save her…” Buffy whispered brokenly.
Angel shook his head.
“Buffy, you did all you could,” he tried to console her. “You can’t raise the dead.”
Buffy felt her heart stop; pulling away from him, she looked at him with shock.
“What did you say?” she whispered hoarsely.
Angel frowned. “I said you did all you could Buffy,” he repeated.
Buffy shook her head vehemently.
“After that, Angel! What did you say?!” she shrieked at him.
He flinched at her histrionics.
“I said ‘you can’t raise the dead’,” he repeated.
Buffy whirled around to Alec, still cradling his lover’s body, shaking with grief.
“Alec! Get Willow in the center of the circle!” she demanded.
Alec’s head shot up, his reddened eyes wide in puzzlement. She whirled around to Angel.
“Help me up!” she demanded.
Angel hurried to obey.
“Buffy, what are you doing?” he asked as Alec carried Willow’s body to the center of the ring of fire.
Buffy ignored him and gestured to the bone rack.
“Alec, put her in there and lean it back!” she demanded.
Alec obeyed, puzzled as he fastened her body into the skeletal rack.
Angel frowned. “Buffy, what are you doing?” he asked again.
Buffy whirled on him.
“Help me set this plate up!” she replied curtly, trying to drag the bone pedestal upright with her one good arm.
Angel moved to help her.
“Hurry up!” she screamed at him. “It’s not too late!”
Angel started and helped her move the pedestal back into position.
“Too late for what?” he demanded.
Buffy turned to him.
“To bring Willow’s soul back from the dead,” she replied quietly.
Angel’s eyes bulged in shock.
“Buffy, that’s…” He struggled for words.
“I can’t raise the dead! Fine! But I know someone who might!”
Buffy dragged her prisoner out towards the assembled party. With a little coercion on Angel’s part, they’d been able to find a spell book Mercurio kept hidden in his chambers that, theoretically, could do what they needed done.
At a price.
“But the magic will destroy me!” the female vampire whimpered.
Alec grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her close.
“Lady, if you don’t cooperate, I guarantee you, I will redefine ‘Eternity’ for you.”
Alec brought his deformed, writhing face closer to her and she flinched.
“There are things worse than death...”
The tiny writhing things on his face began to bore into the flesh of her cheek, probing underneath as Alec opened his mouth and something wet slithered out to caress Nyssa’s cold skin.
“…And I’m one of them.”
Defeated, Nyssa sagged.
“She’s been infected with ghoul venom,” the woman said brokenly. “It’ll need to be purged from her body before we can proceed, and we need a healthy sample of her blood.”
Angel reached down to the vampire woman’s belt and took a glass knife.
“This should do,” the vampire said simply. He turned to Alec. “Ghoul venom works into the extremities first which causes the paralysis; blood closer to her heart has a better chance of being pure enough for this to work.”
Alec nodded and, taking the knife, made a small cut on the inside of Willow’s elbow, trying not to notice how hard he had to saw at her cold flesh to get the blood languidly oozing out from the wound. He handed the knife to Angel.
“Here.”
Angel quickly dabbed the blade against his tongue and then spat.
“No good.”
“Guys, we don’t have a lot of time!” Buffy called out.
Alec took a hold of Willow’s shirt. “Sorry about this, baby, I know you’re shy.”
He jerked and the shirt tore at the collar down the middle. He beckoned frantically at Angel, who quickly gave him the knife. Carefully, Alec made another incision just above her heart, near her breast, with excruciating slowness. He handed the blade to Angel, who tasted it.
Angel looked dubious. “Maybe.”
“It’ll have to do,” Alec replied.
“The venom must be purged from her body,” the female vampire said dully. “All her blood must leave her body.”
“Alec, use your darkness power on her,” Buffy instructed and she quickly explained what she meant.
“You want me to WHAT?!” Alec cried out.
“Just do it!”
Alec nodded and then took a hold of Willow’s head in his good hand, trying to keep his tentacle away from her.
“Angel, keep our friend honest?”
Angel sidled up behind the vampiress. She looked over her shoulder and smiled slightly.
“It’s all right,” she assured her. “I’m looking forward to this now.”
“Are you?” Angel replied sarcastically.
“Oh, yes. You see, this ritual has been reputed to have such disastrous consequences for those involved that it has been known as the ‘Rite of Profane Rebirth’,” she confided.
With a growl, Alec whipped his tentacle around and buried it into Nyssa’s spine. Pain so intense the woman could only gape and gurgle wracked her.
“The spinal column contains the highest concentration of nerve endings within the body and I am quite willing to spend the rest of my time torturing each and every last one of them until they break, unless you move your bloody arse!”
Nyssa just nodded hurriedly, death or even the torments of Hell she was sure awaited her would be more merciful than the pain this young man was inflicting on her. She began to chant.
“Powers of death, powers that be eternal, hear my plea,” she began.
The torches on the wall began to flicker slightly.
“Powers of bone, of blood, of earth and soil, I beseech thee!” she called out loudly, her voice echoing strangely in the chamber.
“I summon forth the soul of Willow Rosenberg from beyond the veil!” she called out grandly.
She held her hand out. “I offer fire!”
Buffy placed a torch into her outstretched hand, and the vampiress thrust the burning flame into the plate; strange smoke began billowing out.
“And blood!” she cried out.
Buffy slid her fingers into her shoulder wound, gritting her teeth against the pain; she removed her fingers, now slick with her own blood, and flicked some drops onto the plate. Her blood began to pop and sizzle madly, and a low wail began to fill the room. Alec gasped as he noticed Buffy’s and his breath began to billow like steam out of their mouths.
“Spirit world, here my plea! Bring forth that which was taken from this mortal coil!” Nyssa chanted, holding her hands over her head. “Bring me the soul of Willow Rosenberg, bring it now!” she cried.
A white mist began to swirl around Buffy. Angel and Alec gaped in astonishment.
“Bring it now!” her voice reached a screaming crescendo, and with a crack of thunder and a flare of light, the mist coalesced and slammed into Willow’s body. The vampiress screamed as her body burst into flames.
Buffy whirled on Alec and called out. “NOW!”
Alec brought his mouth down to Willow’s, the tentacles on the left side of his face latched onto her face like a parasite and he entered her mouth, pushing deep down into her throat, and flexing with all his might. Blackened blood began to ooze out of Willow’s eyes, nose, and ears, as he purged her of all her blood.
“BRING IT NOW!!!” Nyssa screamed one last time before she collapsed into white ash.
There was another flash of light, the whole chamber shook and reverberated with a thunderous rumble. Alec pulled himself free and Buffy brought the glass knife containing Willow’s blood straight down into the girl’s chest. Buffy, Angel, and Alec were knocked clean off their feet as a shockwave washed over them.
The ghostly wail reached a deafening pitch; there was a loud slam, then silence.
The torches lining the wall were extinguished as was the ring of fire. The bone pedestal was twisted and destroyed, the metal plate warped and crushed. Buffy lay on her hands and knees, panting in exhaustion; her hair, sweaty and ragged, clung to her forehead. Alec and Angel got to their feet and looked at the bone rack upon which Willow’s body rested.
For a long moment there was nothing. Alec felt rage building in him; he opened his mouth to scream…
…And, with a loud shuddering gasp, Willow’s eyes snapped open. She coughed hard and Alec raced over to her, ripping open the restraints and dragging her into an upright sitting position, pounding her back.
“Bring it up! That’s right!” he was commanding her semi-hysterically, his eyes streaming with tears.
He kept pounding her back and Willow weakly held up a hand.
“Alec, you’re going to put me in traction if you keep that up,” she rasped.
Alec gasped and grabbed her face in his good hand, his eyes bored into hers with blazing intensity.
“Willow?” he asked, his voice shaking with emotion.
Gently, Willow reached up and stroked his face.
“Miss me?” she smiled weakly.
With a wild cry of relief, Alec gripped her in a tight embraced with his good arm, tears leaking out of his eyes. He kissed her head over and over.
“I love you,” he whispered hoarsely.
Willow just nodded, holding him tightly. Buffy was being helped over by Angel; she gathered the pair in a hug of her own, sobbing out her fear and pain and relief. The three just held each other for a while, crying and laughing at the same time, before pulling away.
“What’d I miss?” Willow asked frowning.
Buffy laughed and wiped at her eyes.
“Buffy, you’re hurt!” the redhead cried.
Swinging her feet down, she jumped from the table and nearly collapsed before Alec caught her in a strong grip.
“Sweetheart, you just came back from the dead, let’s save the aerobics for later.”
Picking her up in his arms, he carried her as if she weighed nothing; she just rested her head against his shoulder. Alec gave his sister a long look.
“Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely.
Buffy smiled and nodded.
“Well, hey, she’s been my friend a lot longer than your lover, but you’re welcome just the same,” she grinned.
Angel wrapped an arm around the Slayer, steadying her.
“What about the Everstone?” he asked.
Willow suddenly looked up from Alec’s shoulder.
“There’s something under the burial mound, like a door,” she told them.
Alec carried his newly revived lover to the burial mound and gently set her down, propping her up against the sand.
“I’m just going to help Buffy dig, all right?” he asked, concerned.
Willow smiled and patted his hand.
“Go on, silly, I’m fine,” she smiled reassuringly.
Alec smiled and kissed her fiercely, long and hard. Willow reached up to stroke his face. Finally, they broke apart. Alec kissed her face with almost bruising force.
“You are so amazing,” he whispered.
Willow stroked his hair; he caught her hand and kissed it before turning to Buffy.
“Okay, you rest, Angel and I will dig.”
Buffy was about to argue when Angel growled at her.
“Fine,” she replied, sighing.
Angel rested her next to Willow, the two friends quickly joined hands, entwining each other’s fingers tightly around the others. They smiled at each other.
“I’m okay, Buffy, really, I am,” she shrugged. “I mean, okay for having just arisen from the grave,” she quipped.
Buffy laughed and gathered her friend up in a gentle hug, trying not to bleed on her.
“I love you, Wills,” she whispered.
Willow laughed. “I’ve been hearing that a lot today. I should die more often.”
“NO!” Buffy and Alec both yelled, the latter looking up from his work, aghast.
Willow smiled and shook her head.
“Only kidding, being dead once was enough for me for right now,” she smiled and stretched her legs out, resting her head on the Slayer’s unwounded shoulder. Buffy rested her head on Willow’s and together they sighed contently in relief.
Angel and Alec continued to dig for about an hour, before they felt something solid under the sand.
“Jackpot!” Alec called out.
Willow and Buffy both looked up as he and Angel cleared off the sand revealing a large door set in the ground with a rusted metal loop. Angel grunted and pulled hard on the loop. He strained and, with a loud sucking sound, the door opened, a blast of stale air rushing out, blowing Angel’s hair back. He set the door down parallel to the entrance and peered in, there was a long series of stairs winding down into it.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s been in here for a very long time,” he commented. Looking back at Buffy and Willow, he continued. “Be a good place to hide something.”
Alec nodded. “Okay, so, let’s you and I go get the Everstone.”
Angel nodded, before stumbling and sagging against the sand, his strength fading. Alec hurriedly caught him.
“Whoa! Maybe not you, refugee boy.” He looked over at Buffy questioningly.
“Angel was super-aging, he’s probably still not over it,” she explained.
She struggled to her feet, wincing in pain. Willow helped her up.
“And you’ve been stabbed and your knee looks all puffy and icky,” Willow observed.
Buffy shook her head.
“Willow, I’m going down there. I want this damn stone,” she gritted.
Willow nodded and wrapped the Slayer’s arm around her shoulders.
“Well, then I’m going with you,” she replied, bracing the Slayer.
Angel got his second wind and came over to support Buffy’s other arm. Alec dug into his pocket for a lighter and lit a torch, peering down the stairs.
“Okay, let’s do this thing and get the hell out of here,” Alec growled.
“Amen,” the other three vowed in unison.
Alec took the lead with Angel and Willow helping the injured Slayer down the stairs. After what seemed like an endless time of winding stairs, they reached another door. Soft light could be seen emanating from the crack beneath the door. Alec carefully reached out and pushed it open slowly, already conjuring darkness.
“Oh, good, there you are,” a familiar voice called out. “Do any of you perhaps know a four-letter term for Christmas?”
Alec gaped at the sight.
The old man from the graveyard, Oliver, was casually sitting in a chair, a jumbo pen pressed to his lips, thoughtfully peering down at a copy of the New York Times. He smiled up at the group through his beard.
“Well, hello, Alice, Bunny, Wilma, Angelina.” He smiled and beckoned the stunned group into the room. “Come in, come in, no need to be shy.”
There was a bark and a black Labrador came trotting into the room. Oliver glared at the dog.
“Oh, hush up, Mikey, be nice, these people have come a long way.” He flashed the group an apologetic smile. “Pain-in-the-butt dog,” he chuckled and sat down.
Angel found his voice first.
“What… how…?”
Oliver nodded.
“Well, Angelina, those sound like very important questions,” he nodded sagely, “and for the life of me I can’t answer any of them.” He smiled quirkily at the group. “But, I can help you find what you came here for.”
“The Everstone?” Willow asked breathlessly.
Oliver bobbed his head.
“You betcha, Wilma!” he grinned and got to his feet, before frowning down at the crossword puzzle. “You sure none of you know a four-letter term for Christmas?” he asked.
“Noel,” Alec replied without thinking.
Oliver’s bearded face broke into a wide grin.
“ ‘Noel’! ” he laughed and scribbled something on the paper. “Perfect!” he grinned to the pair. “Was voted three time crossword champion back in Crabapple Cove,” he chuckled and turned to the group.
“Well, you're looking for the stone or ain’t ya?” he demanded querulously.
The group slowly hobbled towards him, Willow and Angel supporting Buffy, Alec at point. The old man smiled and led them into another room.
“Yup, here we go.” He gestured to the room.
The group peered in… and froze in astonishment. There was a large bonfire set in a great stone protector in the center of the room, surrounded by a glittering ring of white sand. Light shined from giant gold mirrors set in a circle around the chamber, each one facing a different direction, but that wasn’t the main attraction.
The room was completely filled with gems.
Big ones, small ones, of all shapes, sizes, and colors; the group looked around in awe. Each stone glittered brightly in the firelight.
“I know I’ve seen this in a movie,” Alec muttered.
Buffy turned to him. “Which one?”
“ ‘Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade’,” he explained. “The last scene, Indy has to pick the right Holy Grail from a room full of grails.”
“Did he pick the right one?” Willow asked.
Alec nodded.
“What happened if he picked the wrong one?” Buffy questioned worriedly.
Alec turned to her with a grave look. Buffy’s face fell.
“I see,” she replied grimly. She turned to Oliver. “I don’t suppose you have any input to add?” she asked dryly.
The old man smiled apologetically and shook his head.
“Sorry, Bunny, free will and all that,” he replied, truly sounding sorry.
Buffy sighed; she was in too much pain and too tired to get angry. Carefully, the group fanned out through the room, peering at each and every gem.
“The Everstone is that which balances light and dark,” Alec muttered to himself, peering intently at each and every stone.
“Maybe we should find a gem that’s made up of both light and dark stone?” Willow suggested.
Alec nodded. “Give it a shot,” he replied.
The group searched high and low, but they could not find a stone that had both light and dark mixed together.
Angel sighed.
“This is getting us nowhere,” he growled, kicking some sand from the ground, sending the sparkling granules flying into the air.
Alec froze.
“Light and dark combined.” He looked down at the sand at his feet. “Light and dark inside us.”
He looked around at the mirrors that reflected light, and, with a shock, he realized that there was no light, except that from the fire in the center, which couldn’t be responsible for THIS much light.
“I’ve got it!” Alec cried out hurriedly. “Light and dark, light and dark!” he screamed with joy.
Everyone looked at him like he’d gone mad. He gestured.
“Willow, get to those mirrors, and focus all the light on the fire!”
She frowned, but obeyed. Alec spun to Angel.
“Angel, get a handful of sand and get ready to throw it into the fire when I tell you. Buffy, get on the other side of the fire and get some sand, too.”
The pair looked at each other, then back at him.
“Just do it! Trust me!” Alec yelled.
They moved to opposite sides of the fire as Willow finished moving the mirrors, adjusting them so their light all shone into the fire. Alec grinned and pointed at the cavern walls.
“Look! The light from the mirrors doesn’t pass through the fire!”
He was nearly delirious with excitement. The others turned to look and gasped. Sure enough, the reflected light passed into the fire, but not out. Alec grinned and aimed his hand towards the fire, a darkness tendril emerging from his arm.
“Okay, on the count of three, Angel, Buffy, throw the sand into the fire,” he instructed.
They nodded and readied themselves. Alec grinned at the fire.
“Light and dark,” he repeated. “Ready? One, two… three!”
With a heave, Buffy and Angel hurled the glittering sand into the fire, and, with perfect timing, Alec lashed out with the darkness tendril. The darkness collided with the glittering sand, which glowed in the light directed by the mirrors like a million stars. There was a bright flash of light as the fire roared and blazed up to become a towering inferno. There was a whooshing sound and the gems in the room all shattered, like worthless glass. A jolt of purple energy shot up the darkness tendril, slammed into Alec, and knocked him back to the ground. Then, just as suddenly, the fire died. Alec carefully got to his feet as he and the others peered into the blackened fire pit.
There, resting in some ash, was a large egg-shaped gem with a thousand different facets. It pulsed and hummed softly, glowing light surrounded by a ring of swirling darkness. They group grinned.
“The Everstone,” Buffy breathed, gingerly reaching down to reverently pick it up.
The old man threw his head back and laughed.
“Ha ha! Good for you! I knew you could do it!” He grinned triumphantly down at the dog. “You owe me ten bucks,” he declared smugly.
The dog whimpered and fled into the other room. Willow walked over to Alec, amazed.
“How did you know what to do?” she asked.
Alec grinned and gestured at Angel…
…with two hands.
“Alec, you’re cured!” Willow cried out in delight.
Alec looked down at himself and marveled; he did indeed possess two normal looking hands. He brought them up to his face.
“My face?”
Willow came over and kissed him tenderly. “Beautiful, as always, but now less-“
“-unbalanced!” Oliver cried out in grinning, old-man glee. “That’s what the Everstone does my boy: it brings balance and, I must say, you look much better for it!” he added with a chuckle towards Alec.
Alec laughed, the first real laugh he felt he’d had in ages.
“It is unbelievably good to be back,” he said.
Oliver nodded. “Yeah, I’ll bet it is, my boy. You just keep that stone on you and you’ll be all right,” he assured the younger man.
Buffy whooped with delight and hugged her brother’s neck hard.
“So how did you know what to do?” she asked.
Alec grinned his long-absent, and painfully missed, crooked grin and answered.
“Thank, Angel. When he kicked the sand, I noticed that the light from the mirrors made the sand kind of sparkle in the air. It made every grain of sand sparkle. There was no way that all the mirrors, the way they were positioned, could make all the sand sparkle. Then I remembered how you make glass,” he grinned.
“Fire and sand,” Angel replied.
Alec nodded.
“And as far as the light and darkness goes. Well, that was just a guess,” he smiled wryly.
“And a darn tootin’ good one, lad!” Oliver piped in.
He slammed Alec on the back hard enough to knock him forward.
“So, now that you got yer Everstone, what are you gonna do with the blasted thing?” he demanded.
Alec sighed and shook his head.
“Well, one down, two to go,” Alec muttered.
Buffy looked up. “The Wordless Psalm or Hymn or whatever?” she asked
Alec nodded. “That would be my next guess, yeah.”
Buffy sighed. It had taken them weeks to find the stone; how much longer would it take them to find the other two items?
Oliver noticed their glum faces.
“Hey! What’s with the sourpusses? Y’all did great! Darn fine work, each and every one of you!” He smiled through his beard and herded them out of the room.
“Well, I’m willing to be you want to be getting back to the surface, don’t ya? I can’t blame you, I have awful neighbors, chanting all the time, raising the dead at all hours of the night.” The old man shook his head and sighed disgustedly. “That’s what I get for not getting myself a nice condo down in the Keys.”
Buffy frowned at Oliver.
“You knew about the vampires?” she asked incredulously. “Who are you?” she demanded.
The old man grinned and waggled his bushy white eyebrows.
“Me? I’m a Pisces, I like water-skiing, Italian food, and long walks in the rain. You?” he replied.
Buffy sighed and shook her head.
“I’m sorry I asked," she muttered.
Oliver scratched his head confused.
“You don’t like Italian food?” he questioned meekly.
Buffy tried to glare at the old man, but there was something about him that didn’t let her stay angry with him. She sighed.
“I’m a lasagna girl myself,” she replied.
Oliver grinned.
“Ah, a spinach girl! Yes, I can see that, now, builds strong bones, healthy teeth!” he nodded approvingly.
“Ummm… I think that’s milk,” Willow commented tentatively.
Oliver spun around to face her.
“It is?” he asked amazed.
She nodded.
“Hmmm… you know that might explain why my Corn Flakes didn’t taste right, even with lots of sugar.” He frowned at her. “You’re sure it’s milk and not spinach that fortifies your body with nine essential vitamins and nutrients?” he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Willow nodded, and the older man harrumphed.
“Well, then, I guess I should stop trying to pour creamed spinach into my breakfast cereal,” he commented thoughtfully.
Willow made a face.
“Excuse me, sir?” Buffy put forth. “Not to interrupt your fascinating, yet incredibly nauseating conversation, but we’d like to get out of here,” she informed him.
Oliver bobbed his head.
“Oh, sure thing, you want me to just magic you up there?” he rolled up the sleeves of his dirty white sweatshirt. “I know a couple of humdingers, eye of newt, brain of toad.” He frowned suddenly. “Or is it the other way around?” he muttered absent-mindedly.
Alec sighed. “Is there another way out of here? All of us are in pretty bad shape,” he told him.
Oliver frowned.
“Maybe it’s ‘brain of mouse, eye of house’. No. Wait. That’s not right either.” He looked up at Alec, shaking himself from his musings.
“Whazat? Oh, sure, a way out!” he grinned and gestured to a large pile of enormous green leaves on the floor, just below a very large hole in the ceiling, “Just ride those up to the top, you’ll be surface side in no time flat!” he assured them.
Angel frowned at the old man.
“Ride them?” he asked puzzled.
Oliver bobbed his head.
“You betcha! Best in foliage transportation there is. Warranty’s still good for another two hundred years.” He frowned and furrowed his brow. “I think…”
Buffy sighed and hobbled over to stand on one of the gigantic leaves.
“Whatever, this won’t be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”
She exhaled hard, favoring her uninjured leg. Alec, Willow, and Angel exchanged looks, sighed, and, hanging their heads in defeat, plodded over to the leaves, resigned to their fate that logic shall never ever apply to any of them, ever again.
Oliver grinned at them.
“Well, then, be sure to keep your trays in the upright position and your chairs firmly stowed and locked away.” He grinned, not noticing how badly mangled his imitation of the immortal airline advisory was. There was a bark, and Oliver turned to face a brown and white terrier.
“Oh, that’s right, that reminds me!”
Lunging to the table, he snatched up the copy of the New York Times he was working on, and he peered at the paper.
“Does anyone know a four letter Hebrew term for ‘truth’?” He peered at the paper. “And a three letter Hebrew term for ‘death’ that starts on the second letter of that first one?” he asked puzzled.
He got blank looks from everyone and sighed.
“Oh, well, guess it’s not your fault. Too busy going to sock hops and drive-in movies.” He sighed and shook his head. “Anyhow, enjoy your trip.”
Buffy frowned.
“What do you mea-?”
The last word was lost in a shriek of surprise as Buffy’s leaf rocketed into the air, carrying her with it up the hole. Angel, Alec, and Willow had time to swallow loudly before their own leaves followed suit. Grinning, and offering a mocking salute to the departing group, Oliver chuckled and turned back to his chair. He regarded the crossword puzzle intently, penning the letter ‘A’, he leaned back and stopped to admire his work.
Their names, everybody’s, was in the crossword puzzle. Buffy, Xander, Spike, Angel, Giles, Willow, Alec, Faith, Anya, and Dawn. Each one entwined with the other, forming a crossword puzzle; the only thing on an otherwise completely blank version of the New York Times newspaper. Oliver smiled, crossing the ‘A’ in Angel’s name. The dog barked again, and Oliver scowled at him.
“Oh, hush up, Michael.” He turned and scowled at the paper. “You didn’t know ‘noel’, either.”
Harrumphing, Oliver got to his feet, which were clad in bright white sneakers with yellow smiley faces on them, and walked out of the room, the dog following.
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