Spoilers: Really covers all of the Buffy series and the basics of the Angel series. Specific episodes include: Buffy Two-Part Season Finale, Season 1 ep. ”Becoming” Parts 1 & 2, Buffy Series Finale, Season 7 ep. “Chosen”, and Angel, Season 1 ep. “To Shanshu in L.A.”
Dedicated: To Candice (lilacdream7) for your support, friendship, and undying devotion to your one true obsession….James! ^_^
A/N:This story was started before the last few episodes of Angel, Season 5 aired so the whole battle against Wolfram & Hart battle is ignored and wouldn’t occur for awhile longer – basically it takes place a little over one year after Illyria has lost her time-jumping powers in “Timebomb”.
The last fading rays of the setting sun began to vanish behind the L.A. skyline. As the darkness settled in, her reflection grew brighter and brighter in the pane of glass before her eyes. She could see the others moving around the large conference table behind her, waiting, hoping. Finally she heard the sound of the door being opened and without having to turn around she watched Giles, Wesley, and Gunn pour into the conference room, their arms piled high with books.
“So what’s the final word, guys?” she turned, her arms crossed across her chest; the general taking command once again.
“I think we’ve finally worked out the details of the ritual,” Giles replied, dropping his armful of books carefully down onto the tabletop. Pulling out his handkerchief he began wiping at his glasses. “I won’t lie to you; as a whole, it doesn’t look very good for Willow, but we think we’ve found a window of time to work with. From what we could find, the ritual is set to take place tonight at midnight as we originally though. Whoever this Avatar is, he will be using Willow and the magic within her as the conduit through which he’ll release the four horsemen on the world. The essence of the horsemen are enclosed in four sacred jars, similar to the canopic jars that ancient Egyptians used to preserve the major organs of those mummified. According to the ritual, the Avatar must recite a specific chant before breaking each jar. As each jar breaks, the essence of the horsemen released will enter into Willow through her blood: first Conquest, then War, Famine, and finally Death. Each horseman, once inside Willow, will feed off of her blood and powers, until finally Death kills her, unleashing four corporeal horsemen.”
“Our best chance,” Wesley continued, “is to prevent the Avatar from breaking the last jar and freeing Death. Without the last horsemen the other three will be trapped within Willow.”
“Will that kill her?” Xander asked with baited breath.
“It won’t be pleasant for her,” Wesley sighed, “but, no, it won’t kill her. The ritual is contingent upon all four horsemen being released at the proper time in the proper order. If after one hour all four are not released the ritual is over and those that have been freed can be re-sealed by repeating the same chant backwards.”
“So we just keep this Avatar busy for an hour and we’re home free?” Faith nodded stretching her back lazily. “Sounds like my kind of a battle.”
“Ok so our main priority is keeping that last horsemen in his jar,” Buffy chewed at her lower lip. “Any ideas on what we’ll be up against as far as minions?”
“Only what Angel and I scouted the other night,” Xander shrugged. “Looks mostly vampire, but we did see a few humans, or maybe demons in disguise. Nothing we can’t handle I imagine.”
“How about entrances?” Buffy shot back.
“From the schematics the guys brought back, we’re looking at one front and one back entrance to the building itself. But according to the map the ritual will most likely take place in the basement vault, in which case we are talking about one entrance only through a trap-door in the main warehouse floor,” Gunn replied, flipping between several schematics.
“So three main doors to watch,” Buffy muttered to herself, a plan formulating in her mind. “Ok here’s how it’s going down. We go in through the front and back doors: Faith, Giles, Gunn and Angel you guys take the front. Spike, Wesley, Kennedy, Xander, and I will take the rear. Once inside we need to neutralize any guard dogs as quickly as possible. We are only going to have one chance to take them by surprise. Giles I want you, Wesley, Xander, and Gunn covering our entrance and escape through the trap door. I’ll need two of you up in the warehouse above and two of you just below with us in the basement.”
“Gunn and I will take the warehouse floor,” Giles replied.
“Ok, Xander you and Wesley have our backs in the basement then,” Buffy nodded. The sound of clock chiming 7:30 pm reminded everyone of what little time they had left, and Buffy quickly pressed on. “Faith, Angel, Spike, Kennedy, and me will take care of any road blocks downstairs before dealing with the Avatar straight on. Is there anything else we need to know about him or the ritual?” She glanced sidelong at Giles and Wesley.
“Just make sure to stand clear of the horsemen when they are released,” Wesley replied. “If their essence touches you, you will fall victim to their powers whichever they may be.”
“Ok, good safety tip,” Faith smirked. “Thanks, Wes.”
“Oh, by the way, Blue’s willing to join the fray,” Spike’s voice rumbled out of the shadows he was leaning into in the far corner of the room.
“Pardon?” Giles raised an eyebrow at him.
“Illyria?” Wes looked back at Spike evenly. “I’m impressed you were able to arrange that one.”
“Well I think the little shelia’s been itching for some action for quite awhile now,” Spike shrugged. “Call it a hunch.”
“Are you sure we can trust her?” Giles replied uneasily.
“Oh don’t worry about Illyria,” Angel glanced from Wesley to Giles. “She’s a great asset in any fight. She’ll keep her word; if she says she’ll come, then she’ll be there.”
“Ok so that’s one more then,” Buffy interrupted. “Now let’s get moving. We need to have control of that basement before the ritual begins.” Quickly the group dispersed. Angel led Buffy, Faith, and Kennedy into a small room adjoining his office in the back.
“Your own personal arsenal,” Faith grinned, pulling out two light blades and twirling them in each hand. “Sweet deal you got going here, Angel.”
Angel helped himself to a long broad sword while Kennedy grabbed a crossbow, slinging a pouch of arrows over her shoulder. Glancing up from her blades, Faith noticed Buffy hadn’t picked up anything yet. “Nothing matches your shoes, B?” she teased.
“Nah,” Buffy smiled back, “I’ve already got what I need.” Turning she headed back out into Angel’s office and made her way over to her leather bag that she had discarded in the corner after her arrival. Untying and flipping back the flap of the main pouch, she pulled out her silver and red scythe. “I excalibured it so I might as well use it.”
The moon was full as she stepped out the front door of Wolfram & Hart. She paused for a few moments looking up at the moon. It shone so brightly in the starless sky, a few wispy clouds dancing across its luminous face.
“Beautiful,” Angel murmured beside her. She turned to look at him. They hadn’t spoken since their conversation in the conference room and she couldn’t help but feel a few pangs of guilt over how she had handled things. Love was never easy. She smiled at him and nodded slightly.
He smiled back, so many words and feelings hidden in the darkness of his eyes. For a moment they just looked at one another then, almost hesitantly, he moved forward, following the others, leaving her to her thoughts. She watched him go, his strong broad shoulders bathed in moonlight. It would be a lie if she didn’t admit that she had thought about ‘what if’ with him. But that had been a long time ago and she had been a different person then.
He watched her watch Angel move away, watched as the distance between then grew with each step Angel took. For the first time he had to admit he didn’t feel any pangs of jealousy watching her with the older vamp. As he stood their watching her slim form glowing softly in the moonlight he was reminded of another time decades ago when he had watched Drusilla in the same manner. He had meant to make her his and only his forever that night, but even with Angel lost to his soul, he had found no relief from Dru’s wandering lust. He had realized it sadly as he watched her sway in the moonlight. She may have created him but it had been as a toy and though he did not doubt that she loved him, she could never love him in the way he hoped, so he had put away his secret, feeling its weight until this very moment. Reaching into his pocket, he felt his hand touch the small velvet pouch, and with a smile he moved towards her.
The touch of a gentle hand on her shoulder startled her, and she glanced up to find Spike staring down at her. His eyes moved between her and Angel but he said nothing. He squeezed her shoulder gently and moved a few paces forward.
“Spike,” she called out as she caught up to him. She should explain.
“Been meaning to do this for awhile now,” his voice startled her, “but every time something seems to get in the way,” he turned to face her, looking down into her eyes. “Was thinking about what you said before about you and me,” he continued a bit awkwardly, “and I suppose now’s as good a time as any,” he held out a small black velvet bag. “For you, luv.”
Buffy looked at him with surprise. A gift was the last thing she expected at a moment like this. Graciously she reached out and took the small bag in her hand. Slowly she undid the ties and tilted its open mouth over her outstretched palm. In a flash of light a small piece of metal fell through the beams of moonlight into her open palm. Gently she lifted the small silver ring in her hand. “Oh,” she breathed.
“Got it off of a bloke a long time ago, and been saving it for the right lady,” Spike plunged on; for a poet he could sometimes get quite flustered, “and I think I’ve finally found her.” He bit at his lower lip and looked nervously at her waiting for a reply.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed still transfixed by its simplistic elegance. “Thank you,” she looked up into his eyes and paused. “What does this mean exactly?”
“Doesn’t have to mean anything now, but when you want it to, it will be there.”
She smiled up at him and pulled him to her for a kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered again, as she slid it onto the middle finger of her right hand. For a few moments she just stood there staring down at it, watching it shimmer in the soft glow of the moon. Finally she turned and smiled up at him, “We’re going to win.”
The streets around the warehouse were completely deserted, the dark dingy alleyways illuminated by the soft glow of the full moon that hung heavy in the sky above. Quietly, slowly, she made her way among the garbage cans and debris that lined the backside of the building. Behind her she could hear the others following her as quietly as possible, each straining to hear the first hints of trouble. But no sound came, only the soft whisper of a growing wind as it twisted its way up and down the alleys. Slowly she approached the back door, and pausing she counted to three before kicking it in. The rusty metal door flew off its hinges and clattered to the expansive floor of the warehouse with a crash. She stood, framed in the doorway scythe in hand, ready for the inevitable attack but none came. Slowly, cautiously she lowered her hands and moved through the doorway, the others on her heels. They made their way across the warehouse floor, moving in and out of shadows and patches of moonlight streaming in through the cracked and grimy windows above.
“That was too easy,” Gunn frowned as his form began to move into the light before her. The two groups met in a large patch of moonlight at the dead center of the warehouse floor, bodies tense, senses straining.
The massive room was unusually empty, two enormous industrial drums taking up the far corner, a string of rusted catwalks crisscrossing overhead. The muscles in Buffy’s shoulders flexed slightly as she turned cautiously in a circle. Two vampires and three full-blooded slayers; between the five of them someone would have to sense any attack. Seconds ticked by in silence, then minutes. Finally with a heavy sigh, she lowered the scythe and glance at Giles, “Looks like they all must be down below.”
Suddenly a series of blood-curdling cries broke the shadows and stillness around them, as hordes of vampires raced at them from all directions.
“Ambush!” Xander cried, raising the ax he carried and beheading two vamps in one swing. Their bodies dusted away mid-stride, spraying Xander in a cloud of sand.
A vampire with a long thick black ponytail slowly stalked in a large circle around Buffy. His clothes were old, out-dated, but his eyes were young and hungry. “Give us a kiss, slayer,” he hissed, a voice deep with a hint of southern accent.
His fingertips wiggled in the air, as he prepared to strike, his lips curling back revealing his fangs. With a deep growl he lunged at her but she sidestepped him easily, slashing down at his back with the back end of the scythe. She plunged the staked-tipped end deep into his back, cutting straight through his heart. He vanished in a rain of dust.
The sound of clashing steel and growls filled the air. Two large, beefy vamps raced at Spike from opposite directions. He just stood still, arms folded across his chest as they came closer and closer. Finally at the last moment he flung his arms outward, his palms open and flat. Two stakes concealed on thongs attacked to his wrists shot out along his open palms. The vampires met in a heap of dust at his feet.
“Dramatic much?” Kennedy raised an eyebrow at him, but before he could reply two more vamps leapt at her and she was forced to dive and roll to one side, firing her crossbow with deadly accuracy.
Within minutes the attack was over, and they stood once again in the center of the empty silent warehouse. “Nothing like a fight to get the juices flowing,” Faith purred as she wiped blood off her forehead with the back of her hand.
“Over here,” Wesley’s voice called out. “Gunn, I need help.” Together, the two men pulled open a large metal trapdoor in the floor.
“Now what?” Gun breathed heavily, his breath still coming in ragged gasps.
“Now we finish this,” Buffy replied, her voice even and cold. “Everyone knows what their doing?” They all nodded in silence. “Good.” She glanced up a Giles, “See you with Willow when it’s all over.” He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. With a smile, she dropped down through the small hole.
“Quiet!” Buffy hissed, as Wesley dropped through the trapdoor with a thud, and Giles and Gunn secured it from above. For a moment they all stood together in silence taking in their surroundings. They were beneath the foundation of the warehouse in an earthen room no bigger than a closet. A hallway, or rather a tunnel through the red earth extended out before then illuminated by torches hung at intervals along the wall. There was nowhere else to go but down the tunnel.
Buffy nodded and Faith, Kennedy, Angel and Spike began to make their way slowly down the tunnel. As their figures disappeared around a sharp bend, Buffy turned back to Wesley and Xander. “You guys are our last line of defense. I’m counting on you to keep anyone from escaping and to watch our backs.” The both nodded, and with one final smile, almost regretful, Buffy turned and raced after the others. Now it ended.
After about five minutes of walking, the tunnel opened up into a large stone room. The gray stones that made up the walls, floor, and ceiling were ancient and worn smooth from years of feet moving across them. It must have been quite an active chamber. More torches hung in sconces along the walls, and at its far center a huge obelisk rose up to the ceiling like some giant lightning rod. It was larger than anything she imagined that they would find down in the bowls of the Earth, but all the same there it stood, its pointed top nearly touching the ceiling. It was made of some black polished stone, thick and strong, and was covered with thousands of ancient runes and hieroglyphic-type pictures. A small shaft of light fell down on it from above, bathing its top in the pale liquid light of the moon. Somehow the shaft must have connected to the floor of the warehouse, and threw it to the world above. All in all, it could be described as nothing less than a conduit, and bound to its smooth face was Willow.
“Will!” Kennedy cried, her eyes falling on the form of her beloved. She made to race forward, but Faith caught her around the waist, restraining her.
“Not yet,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “We wait for the welcome party.”
Buffy swallowed hard as she took in the broken and battered form of her friend. It was a hard sight to look at. Willow’s red hair hung long over her face, concealing her features in shadow. Her body was dressed in a low-cut long white gown, no doubt some sacrificial garment; there always had to be an official outfit for bloodletting. She grunted at the notion. They dress you all up in some elaborate and expensive looking gown so they can then make you bleed all over the thing. Religious rituals, it was something she would never understand.
The exposed parts of Willow’s chest and arms were covered in strange runes, carved into her skin. They appeared dark against her pale skin, but no blood flowed from them. Instead, thick dark-purple lines of clotted blood outlining them, indicating that they were at least an hour or so old. Her arms were tied loosely with thick rope cords above her, but high enough so she could not lower her arms below her head. Two long cuts ran from one side of her wrist to the other, and blood flowed freely down her arms. Even from where she stood, Buffy could tell they weren’t deep enough to kill her, at least not yet. They were no doubt just deep enough for the ritual. After all if Willow died to soon then there would be no point to the bloodletting.
“Show time,” Spike whispered to her left, snapping her attention from Willow.
She had been so transfixed by the horror of her friend’s form that she had tuned out the rest of the room. Slowly several vampires dressed in long gray robes moved out from the shadows along the sides of the room. Glancing back over her shoulder she watched as eight more shuffled in from hidden doors behind them; so much for the element of surprise. The vampires stalked towards them, teeth gleaming in the torchlight, their movements forcing Buffy and the others into a tight circle at the center.
“Ready B?” Faith smiled, her twin blades poised and shimmering in the torchlight.
“Wait!” a deep voice commanded from the shadows beside Willow. The vampires stopped moving, all eyes focusing on the shape that began to materialize to the left of the obelisk. A short stout figure dressed in a long flowing black robe, stood clutching four earthen jars, each topped with an ivory figure of a man on a horse. The Avatar. Gently the figure placed the jars around Willow’s feet. Willow’s head moved upward ever so slightly and a groan slipped out across her lips. “Soon dear,” the figure in black whispered to Willow, touching her chin ever so gently, almost motherly, with long bony fingers, “Soon the pain will be gone.” Willow seemed to nod in understanding, her head dropping back to her chest.
“Don’t touch her you monster!” Kennedy’s voice shrill and full of malice echoed off the stones that surrounded them.
“She won’t suffer long, if that is what you fear,” The dark void beneath the black hooded-robe replied.
“That’s right,” Kennedy, cried her face twisted with anger and hatred, “because you will be dead before you can lay a hand on her!” As if to punctuate her threat she fired an arrow straight at the figure’s heart, but the boney hand caught it with ease.
A deep sigh emanated from the Avatar. “I am sorry but her sacrifice is needed for the rebirth, for the end to all this suffering.” It gestured widely with its boney hands, still clutching the arrow tightly in its fist. “I feel your pain and I grieve for you and for her,” the hood glanced sidelong at Willow, “But it is not for you to understand right now,” the voice was like ice as it snapped the arrow in its hand.
“That’s rich,” Spike snorted, his voice caustic and smooth.
“Do not interfere. Your deaths would be meaningless here,” the voice was hard but deadly soft now. Yet there was something else in it, something softer, but Buffy couldn’t quite make it out. It almost seemed like weakness.
“Why then?” she pressed, her instincts telling her there was something more going on.
“As I’ve said,” the voice began.
“Yeah we know, ‘to end all this suffering’”, Faith interrupted making a mocking gesture with her hands. “But B makes a good point. What’s in it for you?”
That was Faith, always to the point, Buffy sighed inside. But her eyes never left the deep circle of black beneath the hood. Who was inside of the robes?
“I have my reason,” the voice replied, its voice cracking ever so slightly on the last word. And there it was, Buffy’s answer. In that split second she had heard it, grief, deep inconsolable grief and the fading strands of a woman’s voice. This figure, the Avatar was a human woman! The realization streaked Buffy’s face with surprise, her mouth hanging open ever so slightly.
“That’s it, let’s take this monster down now!” Kennedy growled, but Buffy placed a staying hand on her wrist. “She’s human,” Buffy replied quietly well aware that her voice would carry easily across the room.
“She?” Angel’s eyebrows went up in surprise.
Slowly the Avatar lowered its hood revealing the wrinkled, aging face of a woman. Her black hair was streaked with large patches of gray and had been pulled up in a tight bun behind her head. Her skin was tanned and taunt around her features, two deep opal-shaped eyes as black as the stone of the obelisk beside her shone dully out of her weathered face. She couldn’t be more than sixty but her eyes looked like she was about ninety.
“Bollocks!” Spike muttered, shaking his head. “Now I’ve seen bloody everything.”
A human was not what any of them had been expecting, or at least not a human working alone. And instead they were looking at the great Avatar, a brittle-looking old woman who commanded vampires no less. Something deeply human shone in her eyes and Buffy swallowed hard. There was a reason behind this madness and she had to try to reach her. Maybe, just maybe this all could end with little or no bloodshed.
But before Buffy could speak the woman spoke, “Do not underestimate me or my powers, slayer.” She spoke directly to Buffy ignoring the others. It was as if she could read her thoughts. “Oh I know very well who you are, all of you,” her dark eyes moved from one to the other. “I know what this girl means to you, but I will not let you stop me. The ritual will be completed and this planet will be purged!” Her voice was gaining in volume, her face flushed with rage. She spat out the last few words like they were poison, her voice shrill and unsteady; vengeance smoldered in her eyes.
“So be it,” Buffy whispered sadly. For a moment her gaze held the burning eyes of the Avatar, but with a cutting motion the woman unleashed her minions upon the group.
The first wave of vampires fell on them with guttural growls, teeth flashing in the torchlight. But the five of them worked together, their backs forming a tight circle, as they took the creatures down one by one. Soon they were again standing alone in the center of the room, each gasping for air, sweat trickling down their foreheads. The first wave had been fairly easy, but somehow they all knew it would only get harder.
“Impressive,” the woman cooed, she now held one of the jars in her hand. The figure on the top of it showed the man on horseback with his arm outstretched, his hand holding the severed head of a man.
“Conquest,” Angel whispered.
Before they could move a new wave of vampires fell upon them and they were embroiled in battle once more. Over the sound of cries, growls, and groans Buffy could hear the Avatar beginning to chant.
“Kennedy! The jar!” Buffy cried, as a vampire grabbed her from behind and sent her sailing into the far wall.
Kennedy whirled and aimed her crossbow, but a female vampire with short blonde hair tackled her to the ground before she could get the shot off. “Get off of me, bitch!” Kennedy cried as the vampire sunk its nails into her arm, blood pouring in long streams down her forearm. The vampire knocked her onto her back and leapt on top of her, pinning her at the waist with its knees. It let out a lustful purr; its hands gripping Kennedy’s shoulders as it leaned down to bite. Quickly, Kennedy grabbed the vampire by the back of the head with one hand and began to slam her other fist into its face, her feet flailing wildly at the nearby wall, trying to get some leverage, her knuckles getting cut on the creature’s fangs. Finally Kennedy was able to brace herself properly and with an angry cry she flipped the vampire off of her and over her head. The vampire hit the ground and rolled stopping right at Faith’s feet.
“So not your night,” Faith winked, slicing the demon’s head of with her two blades.
With a swing of her scythe Buffy took down two more vampires at once, and moved a few feet closer to Willow and the obelisk. She could hear the woman still chanting and the Avatar now stood directly in front of Willow the jar raised high above her head. For a split second Buffy swore she could hear Willow’s voice in her head.
“Buffy, please,” the voice echoed in her mind, Willow’s life force dancing tangibly before her eyes.
Without a moment of hesitation, Buffy made a break for Will, racing full speed forward, her scythe clutched close to her body. But just as she stretched her body forward in preparation to leap upon the old woman’s shrunken form, a vampire grabbed her by the ankles from behind, and she slammed hard onto the stone floor. She rolled quickly to her side, tasting blood in her mouth, and in one fluid motion flung herself back up to her feet. She moved from foot to foot in place tentatively, watching her assailant move closer and closer, until suddenly she was startled by the feeling of body against her back. Turning slightly she was pleasantly surprised to find Angel’s back against hers.
“We need to get that jar!” she yelled to Angel over the din of the battle. He nodded, but before either of them could move the sound of breaking pottery froze them in their tracks.
Her heart pounding in her ears, Buffy watched in horror as a thick gray cloud began to rise up out of the pieces of broken pottery at the Avatar’s feet. Slowly it circled upward, and the woman moved carefully out of the way as many of the vampires began to do so as well. The cloud began to consolidate into a tight orb just above Willow’s head, spinning faster and faster until suddenly it exploded in a wave of yellow light, expanding out toward them.
“Watch out!” Angel cried, his body pushing Buffy down to the stone floor as the wave washed over them. He grunted as it hit him in the back and he toppled over Buffy, his body skidding across the floor into the far wall. A storm seemed to have been suddenly unleashed within the chamber as wind crashed around them.
Through her hair, Buffy could make out the center of the gray cloud, now pulsating with an eerie yellow light. Slowly it drifted down towards Willow and then plunged into the long wounds across her wrists. Willow’s body shook as if an electric shock was pulsating through it and her head slammed back against the face of the obelisk, her eyes rolling back in her head. The yellow light seemed to move down through her arms just beneath the skin, finally settling in her heart. Willow’s eyes flew open and she screamed in agony.
“Willow!” Kennedy sobbed, scrambling to her feet as the wind died down. She stumbled forward, anger and tears blinding her. She fired two more shots at the Avatar before a vampire tackled her to the ground.
As Willow’s screams died down, her head lolled back against her chest, and a new wave of vampires washed over them. Scrambling to her feet, Buffy sent a charging vamp flying into the wall with a roundhouse kick, her eyes searching for Angel. Had he been hit by the shockwave? She glanced around frantically; if he was hurt it was because of her. A new wave of adrenaline pumped through her veins as she spotted his form slummed against the far wall.
“Angel!” she called out to him, but before she could make her way over to him she heard chanting again. This time the horsemen carved at the top of the jar held out an outstretched sword. No doubt about it, the Avatar was preparing to unleash War.
Again she tried to push forward to get to the woman, to destroy the jar, and once again she was pushed back. The vampires seemed to be concentrating in a half moon circle just in front of the Avatar. They understood the importance of the ceremony and of Buffy’s need to get to the jars. She glanced sidelong to her left where Spike was having an unusually tough time with two large vamps.
The two vampires were at least six-eight each, their necks nearly the size of Spike’s waist. They must have been body-builders in their former lives. One of them, a red spiky haired demon dressed in a black tank top, had Spike pinned by his neck against the wall. The other was circling to his left, a stake in his hand ready to strike.
The red-haired one was laughing in Spike’s face. “You’re going to pay for killing your own kind,” he grinned a mouthful of yellow broken teeth.
“He’s not your kind,” Buffy growled from behind. Surprised the red-haired vampire turned as she plunged the stake-end of her scythe through his heart. Spike hit the floor followed by a large cloud of dust. The second vampire, the one with the stake, grabbed Buffy from behind in a bear hug, his breath cold on her neck. She kicked her feet desperately in the air, slamming her head into the side of his face to keep him from her neck, but he was just too strong and Buffy braced herself for the pinch of his teeth.
“I’d appreciate you letting go of my lady!” Buffy felt the vampire’s body stiffen behind her as his head slid off over her shoulder, followed by a rain of dust. Turning she found Spike panting, her scythe in hand. “You alright, luv?”
She smiled slight and nodded, her hands rubbing at her throat. She opened her mouth to thank him but the look on his face made her blood run cold, and instinctively she turned in the direction of his gaze, back towards Willow and the Avatar.
“Oh god,” she whispered as she watched the second jar crash to the floor. A deep red cloud began to snake its way upward this time, mimicking the spinning motion of Conquest. With a loud explosion, War unleashed its shockwave of red forcing them to dive to the floor as the very room around them shook with the violent force of the horseman’s essence.
Again Willow’s body shook violently as the cloud followed her blood to her heart, her head thrown back in waves of agony. Suddenly fresh wounds began to appear across her body, the sound of gunshots could be heard followed by bloody holes appearing on Willow’s chest and stomach. Invisible swords slashed at her body and gown, leaving her body bloody, draped in ripped cloth. War had fallen down upon Willow.
“No! Stop!” Buffy found herself screaming. But as Willow’s cries died down the blood from the wounds seemed to vanish, her torture momentarily over as War joined with Conquest within her body.
The fading wave struck two unsuspecting vampires in the back sending them flying forward. Slowly the two got to their feet and leapt at one another, tearing each other apart with their bare hands until they lay in bloody heaps on the floor, their bodies barely bodies anymore.
“Good safety tip indeed,” Faith murmured remembering Wesley’s words to avoid the shock waves. With a flick of her wrists she beheaded the two shredded vamps, an oddly humanitarian act.
“The sides,” Buffy cried out to the others, as Faith moved back into the fray; the vampires moved towards them again. “They are weakest along the flanks!”
Instantly Faith and Spike began to inch their way along the left side, picking off one vampire at a time. Kennedy, still too blinded by her anger and love was slamming into the middle of the line with everything she had. Instinct told Buffy to call out to her; the young slayer was liable to get herself killed, but there was no time to argue with her. Kennedy had made her choice and her fate was in her own hands now. The right side was open for her…for her and Angel.
“Let’s finish this,” his voice was so close it made her jump. She hadn’t seen him get up but there he was by her side, sword in hand.
“You all right?” she eyed him carefully, a big ugly looking gash crossing his smooth forehead.
“Never been better,” he replied in his normal, even monotone. “Ladies first,” he gestured with his hand.
She shot him a brief smile, “Just like old times.”
“Always said I’d have your back,” he grinned from behind her as she raised her scythe ready to strike the first vampire in her path.
But the strike never came. Instead the scythe fell with a clatter to the ground, her hands gripping the pointed blade end of the broad sword that stuck out through her stomach. She stared down at it, her mouth hanging open ever so slightly. The battle around her seemed to have slowed down, figures fighting and dying in slow motion, the harsh sounds of the fight felt so very far away. All she could was stare at the bloody blade, watching blood slowly seeping down her shirt covering her hands in her own blood.
“Buffy!” Spike’s voice carried over the fading din of the battle. She blinked at the look of horror on his face, the same look she saw mirrored on Faith’s and Kennedy’s. The world was definitely slowing down, the sound fading to a soft din. Above it all though she could hear the soft chanting of the Avatar; the third jar, Famine, clutched in her boney hands.
She felt Angel’s body move in closer to her, his hands grasping the hilt of the sword and pushing it further through her body with a wet sucking sound. She heard a scream and slowly it dawned on her that it was her own voice. She dropped heavily to her knees, the blood flowing quickly now, her shirt and jeans bathed in red. It was strange but she felt no pain, at least not yet, her body still in shock. She turned her head slightly looking up into Angel’s eyes. “Angel?” she whispered hoarsely.
He grinned down at her, a wicked satisfied grin. “Sorry Buff, nothing personal,” his lips slipped back exposing his fangs.
“Angelus,” she whispered. It was more of statement then a question, and suddenly it all made sense. He had been hit with the euphoria of Conquest’s wave. Angel was temporarily gone, and now Angelus stood in his place.
“It was nice seeing you again, Buff,” Angelus chuckled, his hands griping the sides of her head, preparing to snap her neck. But the snap never came. Rather Buffy watched, as if in a dream, as Angelus’s body flew across the room and slammed into the far wall with such an impact that a large segment of it crashed down on top of him, burying him in rock.
Buffy fell forward, her eyes watching the floor rush up to her face, but suddenly strong arms were encircling her, holding her. She felt her body being turned on her back. Looking upward she found herself looking into piercingly blue eyes. Spike. And behind him the strikingly blue form of Illyria looking quizzically down at her, before glancing back at her handy work, Angelus’s unconscious form.
Buffy stared up at Spike. She opened her mouth to speak his name, but he pressed a finger to her lips, “Hush now, luv,” his voice was soft and gentle, tinged with fear. “Don’t move.” He laid her head down gently, the soft leather of his jacket balled up behind her head.
“The wound is mortal,” Illyria’s voice poured like silk over her.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Spike replied, his eyes still fixed on Buffy’s face as his hands tentatively touched the wound.
She reached down for the sword, but his hands stopped her. “Got to leave it in for now, pet,” his eyes were soft with emotion. “Only way you won’t bleed to death.” She blinked at him, her head turning to look at Willow. The Avatar was about to smash the third jar.
“Will..,” she choked.
“Spike!” Faith cried out, the vampires were beginning to over-run her and Kennedy.
“Protect her,” Spike looked up at Illyria from his crouched position beside Buffy, his eyes saying more than his mouth ever could. The blue demon nodded at him. His eyes met Buffy’s one last time, fear turning them from their brilliant blue to a muted gray. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, before racing forward carrying her scythe in his hand.
Buffy watched through an almost dreamlike state as the third jar broke and Famine entered into Willow. The young sorceress’s body spasmed again as black pustules and sores broke out all over her exposed skin, just like the haunting images that had appeared to her one the plane flight to L.A. With each agonizing wail the plague ravaged Willow’s body until the three horsemen became one within her.
The room was beginning to shake violently now as she watched the Avatar begin to move towards Death, the fourth and final jar. She watched through staring eyes as the others fought their way closer and closer to the obelisk, to Willow, but just as quickly they were thrown back. They were never going to make it in time. And then she remembered Illyria.
Glancing up at the unworldly form above her, Buffy was surprised to find her staring back down at her. After the way she had handled Angelus none of the other vampires seemed eager to tangle with her, and so she stood alone, hovering over Buffy.
“Spike,” Buffy gasped, her voice soft and grating. It would take every ounce of her strength to get her message across to Illyria. “Help him.”
Illyria cocked her head to the side and Buffy sucked in deep breath preparing to argue with her. But instead the strange woman nodded and strode forward. Obviously the sight of mortal death did not fascinate her as much as Buffy thought it might. Illyria cut a path through the vampires with ease, bodies flying all around, and Buffy smiled slightly to herself. She would have to remember to thank Spike when it was all done with for recruiting Illyria.
“Bout time Smurffette joined in,” Faith smiled, her face covered with blood and grim. Only a handful of vampires stood between them and Willow, but the Avatar had begun to chant again and there wasn’t much time. Together the four moved forward.
“We’ve got to destroy the jar before she does!” Kennedy cried, slamming her body full force into a large male vampire. “We have to keep it out of Willow’s blood.”
Suddenly Spike’s head snapped up as it all suddenly dawned on him. He glanced over his shoulder at the slumped figure of Buffy watching them from the floor. Their eyes met and he suddenly knew what he had to do. It was so simple; right there before his eyes all along.
Buffy realized what was in his eyes and hers grew wide. She rolled slightly to her side, the sword tip still dripping with her blood, grated softly across the stone floor. With shaking hands she reached out towards him, the ring on her middle finger glittering in the torchlight. She had to stop him. That wasn’t the only way.
Without a backwards glance he raced forward and dove over the top of the last few vampires. Hitting the ground with his shoulder he rolled to within a few feet of the Avatar just as she released the last jar from her hands. He moved with lighting quickness towards Willow, away from the Avatar and the jar. With a cry, he swung Buffy’s scythe with all his might at the cords that bound Willow to the obelisk, snapping them easily, sparks flying into the air as the metal of the scythe’s blade met the smooth rock of the obelisk. Willow’s body fell limply forward into Spike’s waiting arms as the last jar shattered across the floor.
“No!” the Avatar raced forward at Spike, her nails scratching at the air as a black cloud began to rise out of the fragments of the final jar. He turned his back, prepared to sacrifice his body in order to shield Willow from the woman’s attack but Faith got their first, sending the woman flying into the wall with a dull thud.
The Avatar’s hair hung wild about her head as she lay panting on the floor, Faith staring down at her. As the black cloud began to grow thicker over head, the Avatar let out a deep bone-chilling laugh, “It begins,” she cackled, her eyes staring up at Faith through long strands of black and gray hair.
“We have to get Willow out of here!” Kennedy cried as the room began to shake and the violent wind began to pick up again.
Spike looked down at Willow’s tortured and weak form in his arms. She barely weighed anything. He glanced from the Avatar to Kennedy to Faith to Illyria to Buffy. Something inside him told him running was not going to save any of them. There was only one thing he could think to do, and he had no other choice.
“Get out of here!” He cried at the others, as rocks began to tumble down about them, an inner light beginning to illuminate the black cloud as it prepared to explode.
“What! No!” Kennedy cried, tears in her eyes. She began to stagger towards Spike but Faith caught her in her arms, dragging her towards the door. Kennedy kicked Faith in the stomach, escaping from her grasp only to find Illyria in her path. Without a word Illyria whacked the young girl across the face with the back of her hand knocking her unconscious. Scooping her up in her arms, she began to head for the door. The remaining vampires quickly followed suit, fear leading them to abandon their master as they scrambled over one another. Faith bent to pick up Buffy, but the floor buckled under her feet as the cloud let loose its fury in a bone-shattering explosion, and she tumbled over backwards as the ceiling caved in on top of her.
Glancing down at Willow, Spike could feel her nestle closer to his chest, her left bloodied wrist hanging limply over his arms. He could feel the electricity and cold breath of death emanating from the black cloud as it began to move towards Willow, the three horsemen already within her calling out to it.
Behind him the Avatar let out high pitched laugh, her hair and cloak spinning wildly around about her in the crushing wind. “You are too late!” Madness flashed in her eyes as her hands clawed the air above her head. It was now or never.
“Forgive me,” he whispered to Willow. Closing his eyes he unleashed the demon within him and sank his fangs into Willow’s neck. She moaned in pain, her hands coming up pushing against his face. His soul cried out within him to stop, to let her go, but the demon tasted blood and he could not stop the rush of desire that filled him. With a deep breath he began to feed.
Her body convulsed in his arms, terror running thick in her veins. The taste was all that more tantalizing and he pressed down harder on her neck, streams of blood slipping out through his lips. Desire rose up inside of him hot and carnal, and he felt his body giving in. No, no he wasn’t like that any more; he didn’t take pleasure in the kill. He needed something to ground him, and opening his eyes, he forced himself to focus on Buffy, the vision of her keeping him from giving in completely.
Buffy stared back at him through the clouds of dust and debris that were falling down around her. Above him the black cloud began to move towards Willow’s open veins, slowly creeping in, Willow’s body shaking violently again as the blackness moved towards her heart. A scream of pure terror and pain escaping her lips, and with a wave of fear Buffy recognized it as the scream from her vision. But before the blackness could reach Willow’s heart and combine with the others, Buffy was surprised to find the other lights, the other essences of the first three horsemen moving out of her heart and into Spike! With pain she watched him shudder as his body began to glow, first yellow, then red, then the green of Famine, but still he drank. Finally the black of Death passed complete over Willow’s heart, her body going limp in Spike’s arms, and finally into him.
A red light began to illuminate all the runes on the face of the obelisk and light like lasers shot out from its surface encompassing Spike and Willow. As the black of Death passed into him, Spike released Willow from his bite, his body convulsing and staggering back against the obelisk. Slowly he opened his eyes, his arms holding Willow tightly to him. The red light was now shining out of his own heart, the four horsemen combining within him, within his already dead heart. He glanced back at Buffy, her body blurred to him through the pulsating red light. Lifting up a hand he smiled weakly at her.
“Spike…Willow…” she tried to call out their names but her body was too weak and it came out as squeak, nothing more. The room was shuddering something awful now, as if the very Earth itself was being torn apart around them. She could hear the shrieks of the Avatar somewhere off to her left, the elderly woman finally realizing that she had failed. The horsemen were one, but there was no live sacrifice from which they could spring. No death to be had. She reached her hands again towards him, the red light shining out of him bathed her ring in the crimson light of blood. She saw him raise his hand. She saw him smile as the light within him exploded in a bright white ball.
She slammed her eyes shut to the light, the room around her rocking so violently she was sure she would be buried alive. Rock and sand fell about her and she coughed as it filled her nostrils and mouth. She could feel the puddle of her own blood congealing beneath her back. Her body was exhausted. As the world crashed down around her she gave into the darkness and faded away her last conscious thoughts were of him.