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“Man, they’ve really tightened security up here lately!” Mr. Xander said, glancing over his shoulder at him, as the fellow attempted to kick in what appeared to be a rather securely boarded family crypt. “One too many squatters from the Hellmouth,” The young man quipped. At least, he hoped it was a quip. Surely the very gates of Hell were not located in California?

The young blond fellow seemed to think the idea of seeking shelter in a cemetery was less than ideal and was not loathe to share his opinion regarding the matter, though he also hadn’t offered any acceptable alternatives either. Mr. Xander, to his credit, seemed disinclined to suffer the foolish young man. Neither did the fellow’s compatriot, who had expressed his own displeasure with the fellow’s behavior in both a physical and verbal manner a number of times already since they’d fled the quaint little shop at Mr. Xander’s behest. He’d wanted to remain behind to help defend Ms. Anya should she be discovered, but Mr. Xander had reasoned that his continued presence could only increase the danger to Ms. Buffy by way of distraction. It was sound reasoning, and yet he still felt like a cad for leaving. Between the two young fellows squabbling, and the occasionally animated, although hushed, discussion between Mr.Xander and Ms. Dawn, he’d felt quite out of place and unwelcome. Which is to say, quite the typical outing for him.

He spotted the strange light in the sky at about the same time Ms. Dawn, given her rather uncivilized tapping on his arm.

“Xander?”

The fellow ignored Ms. Dawn and continued his tete-a-tete with the young fellow.

“Xander?” The young lady called more urgently.

“What?” Mr. Xander rather abruptly answered.

“What is that?” She asked.

Indeed, that was an excellent question. It alarmingly appeared as if the sun itself had altered its nightly course and was hurtling directly toward them.

Just then, he heard a voice calling to them. It was her voice, though he couldn’t see her, telling them to flee. They’d had precious little time to act upon her directive before the ball of fire impacted the ground at their feet, sending all of them flying through the air as if they were bits of paper scattered on the wind. He’d scarcely begun to recover his faculties when the ground beneath him suddenly gave and sent him tumbling yet again into what he could only assume would be his final tomb.

He counted himself quite lucky as he roused from the fall and attempted to slowly right himself yet again. He began to wonder how these people managed to survive, their lives being a continuous series of calamity and injury, when he realized Ms. Dawn and Ms. Buffy had also suffered the same fate as himself. Ms. Buffy appeared to recover much faster than either he or Ms. Dawn, which he supposed was quite fortuitous given the large sword now occupying the space she had immediately vacated, followed closely by two other swords. He recognized them as the swords they had retrieved from the display at the shop before their attempted escape.

The morning sun began to flood into the cavern as Ms. Buffy repeatedly attempted to scale the steep walls to escape what could very well. He offered her his assistance, but unfortunately, they had both only suffered further insult and injury, and they were no closer to escaping the cavernous tomb. The more they tried, the more desperate Ms. Buffy appeared. And she seemed to be on the verge of hysteria at the moment, as she furtively pulled on the coffins ensconced about the cavern walls.

Ms. Dawn attempted to convince Ms. Buffy that the cavern might somehow be connected to his, or rather Spike’s, place. That perhaps he, or Spike rather, might have supplies or weapons there. He supposed she was speaking about the crypt where the Clem demon had supposedly been residing with him, though he dare not think too close on that subject. The ladies seemed to disregard each other initially, and he was quite content to remain distanced from what appeared to be a developing family squabble.

“There’s nothing there, Dawn!” Ms. Buffy’s temper flared brightly about her. “Spike isn’t there! He’s gone, and he isn’t coming back!”

“Do you want him to come back? After what he did to you?” Ms. Dawn’s retort was no less vitriolic.

“What he…” Ms. Buffy trailed off, her countenance one of shock and confusion.

“Tried to do, whatever.” Ms. Dawn corrected.

What he’d tried to do? He had a distinctively nauseating feeling that the conversation was alluding to what had warranted Ms. Buffy’s grim wish against him, and he was beginning to form an idea as to the execrable nature of his crime.

The remainder of their exchange came only in bits and pieces as his mind tried to argue with him. Surely, even evil, he could never commit such a depraved act against the woman he professed to love? And yet, how could anything less than such a deed provoke a wish of death upon him?

And then suddenly Ms. Anya was among them, with portents of Ms. Willow’s determination to end the world. But then she vanished as if she’d been an ethereal spirit of Dicken’s creation come to warn them of their dire future.

And then the earth was trembling in violent shudders, as demons of clay crawled from their earthly mother and clawed at them with apparent deadly intent. He fairly felt he deserved such a fate. However, Ms. Buffy appeared determined to delay his rightful demise as fiercely as the life of her own sister. As the demons continued to emerge, Ms. Buffy called upon her sister in what he was sure was an event that held more than superficial meaning, to assist in her efforts to fight them.

He watched as together they fought side by side, dispatching the creatures one by one. One of the creatures skirted the pair and charged at him. Ms. Buffy, fully engaged with multiple opponents, called out to Dawn, with a simple commandment, “William!” Ms. Dawn turned and seized the creature by a limb and spun it toward her. The creature drew one of its massive, razor-sharp claws across her right arm. Though the young lady attempted to dodge the move, she was not quick enough to avoid injury.

He may deserve such a fate as to be consumed by the dust-borne children of hell itself, but Ms. Buffy and Ms. Dawn certainly did not. He may have committed an irredeemable sin, but perhaps he could pay penance in some small measure. He could not allow either Ms. Buffy or Ms. Dawn further injury in his defense. His life may no longer be relevant to anyone, but he could put it to use in service of defending the two ladies against these monsters. They had suffered enough offenses for a lifetime in just the last few days, and for some reason that made him rather…angry.

He quickly charged forth into the midst of the fray, dodging a swing from a demon as Ms. Buffy called to him to stay back. He seized upon the remaining sword and called upon every one of his previous fencing lessons. He’d been quite skilled at the sport. The only sport he’d excelled at in fact. He quickly deduced however that these golem’s had no regard for the rules of the sport, and adapted his tactics. It wasn’t terribly difficult, the general methods of defense and attack were the same, just with much less decorum and restraint.

As he invested himself further into the fray, he noted with a small amount of awe that Ms. Dawn was certainly quite capable with a sword herself. Her technique lacked the finesse and clarity borne of hours of repetition, but she’d obviously studied the art to some degree.

Ms. Buffy, on the other hand, was the very embodiment of the warrior goddess Durga. Her movements were so swift and decisive, her sword’s trajectory as fluid as the ocean, that it was not hard to imagine her charging into battle astride a lion, with multiple arms each carrying a death-dealing weapon. Her purposes to defend against the demonic and evil forces then, as now, clearly written upon her face.

And then it was over. The golems fell to dust. After a moment of wary confusion, it appeared they had won. Ms. Dawn expelled a well-earned sigh of relief, but it was Ms. Buffy’s response that defied all expectations as she sat upon a coffin and simply wept. It left both Ms. Dawn and himself at odds as to how to respond. But then her tears were revealed to be those of joy. This ethereal creature before him, one moment a mighty warrior goddess and the next as delicate as an orchid, was crying tears of joy for her victory.

And then the two were embracing as Ms. Buffy and Ms. Dawn shared what appeared to be a nascent moment between them. The moment might have even served to mark what these ladies felt to be a right of passage, and he suddenly felt quite odd that he should be observing such a private moment between them, and sought to make himself as unobtrusive as possible.

“William?” Her close yet soft voice startled him out of his observation of the cavern’s geology.

“Thank you.” Her gratitude also caught him off guard. “For helping.”

“It was the very least I could do,” He answered, unable to meet her gaze.

She gave him a rather odd look, as if his answer troubled her, but said nothing. Instead, she returned to her younger sister and pronounced that together, they would all get out of this grave. Their cooperative efforts stacked the dislodged coffins together and enabled them, enough elevation to be able to climb their way out.

He watched as the two walked hand in hand to the hedges to greet the day anew, and he wondered what more this new day would bring.





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