Flood
by Valyssia
Put Out the Light in My Eyes
[reviews]
The ground is breaking down right under me.
After sweeping up the glow-stick, Faith turned her back on the vampire and began to move toward the sound of lapping water. Cautiously traversing the rough terrain, it took several minutes for her to reach the shoreline.
She looked down at the water that swelled up onto the beach. The sand was deep, clear green and shimmered like crushed beer bottle. Chunks of jagged, polished rock poked arbitrarily out of the glimmering sand. The effect was surreal as the glow-stick cast an eerie, blue light on the glittering beach. She resisted the urge to reach down and scoop up a handful of sand. Turning her attention past the limits of the small circle of illumination, she noticed the light that radiated from the passage reflected off the tips of waves as they surged toward the shore.
Angel's voice sounded out, tearing her from the daze, "I'm tempted to say, 'beautiful,' but every time I find myself thinking that, this place hands us our asses. Let's get moving."
Tearing her attention from the water, she nodded, peering vaguely at the vampire. The beam of light behind him silhouetted his form, making him hard to look at. She turned away and began to pick her way along the shore.
As they traveled together, her eyes began to adjust to the muted light levels and more detail came into view. Just inland from the coast, the terrain turned craggy and mountainous. Despite the elevation changes, the light of the passage was never out of view. Least we'll be able to find it...if we survive.
They'd been skirting the shoreline for only a short time when another sound caught her attention. Instinctively, she turned from the coast to move toward the sound of rushing water. The path they followed was treacherous. Sharp rocks jutted up from the dark ground as they ascended from the beach. She carefully picked a path, climbing steadily up. When they reached the top of the rise, a valley spread out below them, teaming with lightly colored vegetation. On the far end, a waterfall poured into a large lagoon that stretched out into the center of the basin.
Without thought, she began to work her way toward the waterfall. As they drew closer, the already foul air filled with another, more noxious odor. Her sinuses began to burn and her eyes welled up. "What is that smell?"
Angel replied, "Alcohol," over the thundering din of the falls.
Another crashing realization overcame Faith, making her uncomfortably aware how alien this place really was. Any similarities with the world she was from washed away in that instant. The waterfall wasn't water at all.
As they moved closer to the fall, Angel commented in a distant manner, "Think about it, Faith, water would freeze, as cold as it is. All of the 'water' we've seen has been the same—not water at all. I'm surprised you didn't smell it sooner. The air smells pretty bad to begin with, though, so another disgusting stench just sort of bends in. Atomized like this, it gets pretty obvious."
At the base of the fall, the spray made her intensely cold. Her eyes burned and streamed with tears, but there was something that compelled her closer as much as she wanted to turn way. Finally it occurred to her what it was, the waterfall radiated with mild glow as though it was subtly backlit. She moved to the side to try and peek behind the cascade of noxious chemical. Her vision blurred as she struggled to look. She could just barely make out that there was a fissure in the rock behind the fall. Her body trembled from the wet and the cold as she moved toward it. Seeking desperately to avoid the flow of the falls, she slipped into the cavern entrance, quickly moving inside.
Once out of the range of the mist, she stooped over. Putting her hands on her thighs, she struggled to resist the light-headedness that threatened to claim her. Her stomach knotted and she choked back the sickness rising in her throat. She wanted desperately to rub her eyes, but knew it would only make them worse. Fumbling around through her jacket pockets, she located a bandanna and began to wipe way the dew that clung to her skin.
When she was finished, she started to look around. Several small, radiant clusters of clear rock protruded randomly from the dark interior of the cave, providing a delicate, natural light source. The narrow passage appeared to continue inward, but the view was obstructed by outcroppings of jagged rock.
Once she was able, Faith pressed forward, remarking in a low whisper, "Dunno why, but I got a feeling this is it."
"Lead on," Angel replied reassuringly.
***********
Completely flummoxed by the sudden change of course, Willow gasped, "Wha—?" as she followed her girlfriend through the doors of the Hustler Hollywood store. She instantly felt the heat rising in her face. This is just mean.
"C'mon, Will, it'll be fun," Buffy prodded in a light cheerful tone.
Willow rolled her eyes at the sideways glance and the giggle she received. Though she wanted to, she didn't resist as she was towed past all the various brightly colored displays. "For you maybe," she grumbled. When she began to focus on the stock, the awkwardness faded. This is actually pretty tame stuff. The movies are all R—rated, there's some lingerie. She shrugged. But it's brightly lit—nothing seedy about it. Oh! And there are books! I can relate to books.
Her attention fixed on an end cap as they passed by it and she gently pulled, hoping the blonde would stop. 'Lesbian Sex 101: 101 Lesbian Lovemaking Positions' Umm...'kay, so...not stopping. But! But! But! Books! She sighed. Oh well. I'll come back. They were headed for the stairs and Willow took a wild guess that the stock upstairs would be less tame and prepared herself. She's trying to embarrass me. Not gonna budge. She took a deep breath to set her resolve.
When they arrived upstairs, Willow looked around at the displays of porn and sex toys. Yeah, okay...been online before. No big. She continued to follow but put on her best 'bored' face; it wasn't that hard because she wanted to go back downstairs and look at the books. She was a bit surprised when Buffy pulled them both up to a salesperson dressed in a black Hustler tee-shirt.
"Excuse me," Buffy said to get the clerk's attention and continued in a mock curious tone, "I'm looking for a copy of 'The People vs. Larry Flint'."
Willow turned her gaze from the young man, who decidedly reminded her of a young Jon Cryer, to the racks of porn DVD's. The bottom row of each display was filled to capacity with the requested title. This should be mildly entertaining, she mused, directing her interest back to the clerk. Despite wearing a variety of facial piercings, the salesclerk had a boyish charm that was instantly endearing. Again...not exactly what I'd expect, but—
The salesman responded first with a chuckle, then began to explain, "Oh, that? Yeah, if over fifty percent of our stock is R-rated and below, we aren't a porn shop. It makes things lots easier to deal with from a legal standpoint. So, we pad the stock with—" he gestured to the display of adult DVD titles. "I mean, it's his store, right? Why not?" After offering a warm smile, he added, "So, is there something I can help you ladies find?"
"Oh, no, just browsing," Buffy replied in a casual tone, "Thank you. Knew there had to be a story."
"There always is," he noted with a chuckle. As the salesclerk went back to straightening displays, he added, "If you need any help don't hesitate to ask."
Something caught Willow's attention and she moved off from the pair toward a row of glass cases at the back of the store. She stood staring at the largest piece of Pyrex she'd ever personally seen. When she felt Buffy approach, she began to comment sarcastically, "So, the only thing that comes to mind is, 'this and a steel fifty-five gallon drum and you could attempt to break the record for world's largest Bundt cake.' Otherwise, I'm drawing a total blank." Willow smirked as her girlfriend chuckled and spun her around.
Appearing slightly disappointed, Buffy asked, "Not enjoying this, are you?"
Willow shrugged and glanced over her shoulder at the glass case full of sex toys before she answered, "It's not that I'm not enjoying. It's that I don't see the point." Meeting her girlfriend's gaze, she pulled her close and whispered, "Thing is, when you decide you want me to touch you again" — she cupped Buffy's cheek and slowly traced a path with her fingertips from temple to chin as murmured — "I want it to be me. I want to feel you under my fingertips, to taste the salt on your skin, to smell—" A little shaken, she took a deep breath to clear her head and whispered in the blonde's ear, "You smell amazing."
Obviously uncomfortable, Buffy looked down.
Willow guided them around, pressing her girlfriend gently against the counter and persisted, "Remember how it felt?" She grinned wolfishly, taking in the effect she was having.
Buffy was trembling, her pulse had jumped slightly and she was taking deep, determined breaths.
Willow gently forced eye contact by hooking her fingertips under the blonde's chin. Her voice turned silky as she continued, "Knowing exactly what I was thinking. Feeling what I felt when I touched your skin. So close, we were almost one person. I want that and I don't think I need any of this to have it. All I need is you." She leaned in, giving her girlfriend a tender kiss and released her.
Turning for the stairs, Willow glanced back to say, "Now what I do want is a book. I'll meet you downstairs when you're done and we can head for the club." She winked at the slack-jawed blonde and walked off. Two can play that game, Missy.
***********
I'm not sure why I come here. Micha's gaze traveled around the room, drifting over the skulls that covered the walls and the mass of drunken people. I don't like this place. It's unseemly. Look at how they paw at one another—feeding on each other's flesh. Filling themselves with that foul, red swill. Becoming evil by playing at the role. Only a fool would welcome evil.
After sliding over against the wall of the booth, her attention fixed on a pair of women that had just seated themselves at the bar. You embraced evil once—wrapped it around you like a warm soft blanket. The dark haired woman threaded her arm around the blonde and bent in to whisper in her ear. As the blonde leaned into the embrace, giving the dark haired girl a lingering kiss, Micha's stomach turned to ice.
She studied the blonde, suddenly struck by feelings of familiarity. Her fine cheek bones and brow framed blue eyes that spoke of experience earned too early in life. Her complexion was far to rich to fit in with the pasty faces around her. While Micha watched, the blonde's full lips curved into a smile that lit the room.
Micha could feel the heat of her shame pouring from her face. Her gaze traveled down fixing on a plain silver cross that rested just above the blonde's full bosom. Vivian? Vivian, do you not see? 'Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God?'
Confusion tearing at her, Micha peered down at her hands. Blood poured from open wounds and she struggled to blink it way. Instead, the thick crimson flow crept out onto the table, trailing down her wrists. She fought to choke off the scream that threatened to flood the room, drawing attention to the solace of her corner. Faintness overcame her and she was defenseless to stop it. She dropped her head into her bloody hands, feeling the sticky moisture bathe her skin. The world around her turned murky, dimming as it was washed clean in the blood.
Michael wiped his hands across his moist brow and cheeks. Raising his head, his gaze set on his bloody palms. Silly sow, she always brings me here to search for her precious Vivian. The fetid crimson swill faded as he stared, giving way to a wash of pure, cleansing light that bathed his form. Vivian is dead! She paid the ultimate price for her repulsive behavior—for corrupting a blithering idiot, too weak with lust to see how she made Father weep.
After caressing one of the skulls, he slid out of the corner to get a better view. He looked expectantly around the room for the blonde woman he knew he'd find. Where'd she go? Michael stood quickly, then paced a lap around the room, slipping past the unclean vermin that stood in his way. When it became clear that his prize had stolen away, he set off, frantically searching the rest of the nightclub.
Moments later, Michael pushed back the heavy wooden door and stepped outside. He ran to the street, swinging around to scan both directions. A flash of blonde hair in the crowd caught his eye near the end of the block and he set off in pursuit. It's always the same. Time to bring peace.
***********
Angel pushed past the slayer, taking point. Okay. She's starting to make me crazy. I get that she doesn't care, I even sort of get the 'why,' but she's trying to get us killed. This place has enough dark recesses and blind corners to drive me nuts without dealing with the slayer who acts like she's taking a walk in the park. He glanced back to wink and Faith glared.
After careful study, he slipped around the corner into a large, open chamber. Shadows hung thick around the edges of the cavern. The only light sources were a few clusters of crystal that emitted an eerie, green glow. The surface of the walls and ceiling made him feel as if he were inside a huge geode. Jagged spikes of clear rock projected out from almost every surface. The ground was uneven and covered in crushed, colorless rock. It was as though, over years of use, the crystals had broken down underfoot. He clung to the darkness as he skirted the edges of the large pond that occupied the middle of the room.
Faith tapped on his shoulder causing him to startle. He swung around and she pointed. His eyes grew wide as the shock hit him. He stood, mouth agape, for several seconds, peering through a piece of clear stone set into the rough wall. Outside the natural viewport, fan-shaped, white plants grew out of clusters of polished, clear stone. Seeing the plants billow in the flow of the current, he realized that they were beneath the ocean.
The awe and wonder of the moment was cut short when a large black face rose up to peer through the portal. Angel reflexively drew his weapons as he locked eyes with the demon.
This demon looked like another step up the evolutionary scale from the previous ones they'd seen. His eyes were like faceted obsidian. The surface of his face wasn't smooth; instead, ribbed, convex channels ran in geometric patterns over the surface of his carapace. The finish of the conduits was glossy, set off by the matte surface of his under-shell. A jagged row of spines crested the top of his head.
The slayer skirted back round the pond, picking a projection of rock to stand behind for cover. She notched an arrow and drew back, aiming at the pool.
As Angel watched this peripherally, keeping eye contact with the demon, he prayed that the slayer had not loaded an explosive arrow. When the creature swam away, Angel saw rows of jagged points cresting his back and the outsides of his arms. Well, he's just lovely. Turning, he slipped back into the shadows to await the inevitable.
Faith let the arrow fly the instant the demon erupted from the pond. The shot was good. It broke through the soft tissues around the demon's neck. Instantly smoke started to billow from the wound. She dropped her bow when Angel leapt from the shadows to attack the surfacing demon.
Swinging both weapons into the demon, Angel carried the momentum around into a brutal kick. All three blows connected, leaving gashes across the creature's chest. He staggered back into the pool. A cloud of milky-blue clouded the clear water. It swirled as the demon launched himself at Angel. He swung his weapons to parry the attack.
Faith used the distraction to slip between the demon and the water. Swinging in a crossing motion, she brought her sword down into the creature's neck as her dagger slipped through a joint in his body shell. She spun around, carrying the demon with her. She ripped the dagger out as she moved. His head hit the floor at her feet seconds before his body splashed into the pool.
She glanced at the vampire and smirked, then turned to kick the head in the pool. Stooping down, she began to wash her weapons in the cold alcohol. Wordlessly, she slid them into place and went to pick up her bow. Once it was retrieved, she motioned for Angel to lead on.
He bent to quickly rinse his weapons and slid them into the harness on his back. No wonder she's not worried. I've never seen anything move like that in my life. I'm fast, but she makes me look positively human.
***********
The humid night air hung heavy and warm around Buffy as she walked, just barely keeping pace with her exuberant girlfriend. She leaned heavily on the cane, relying on it to keep her standing. As they left the crowds of Bourbon Street behind, shock overcame her when Willow picked her up and swung her gently against the side of a car.
The crush of soft flesh overwhelmed Buffy's senses. A hungry mouth sought out her neck while eager hands caressed her body. Yeah...I'm doomed, she mused as soft lips met hers. She returned the passionate kiss with equal enthusiasm. It's a good kinda 'doomed,' though. As 'doomeds' goes—it could be worse.
Wedging her thigh between her girlfriend's legs, Willow started to move in a slow, firm rhythm.
The pressure forced Buffy to break the kiss, groaning into her lover's mouth. Hands came to rest on her breasts, thumbs tracing circles through the fabric of her corset directly over her nipples. Her mind went fuzzy and her body started to tremble. She could feel beads of sweat forming on her forehead. After propping her cane against the car, she seized Willow's ass and took control of the movement. If I don't stop this, our second time's gonna be on the hood of a car—at least it's not a police car! See what I get for letting her read? No more books for Willow. Yeah, that'll be the day.
Moderating her strength, Buffy turned, rolling Willow against the car. My turn. As she started to assert herself, gently nibbling the moist, salty flesh of her girlfriend's neck, something very strange happened, Willow went limp. What the hell? Then a sensation similar to a bee sting caused Buffy's shoulder to burn. She winced with the pain. A dizzy feeling threatened to overcome her.
A strange pair of hands grabbed her. She swung around. Catching hold of the cane as she moved, she lashed out at the attacker. She missed but used the momentum to flow into a counter-move.
This time the cane connected. Their assailant reeled, quickly shaking herself off.
Buffy's focus lapsed as the tranquilizer took hold. The cane was wrenched from her weakening grip. Seconds later, she felt it connect across her lower back. Oh God! Her left leg folded and she collapsed onto her side. Pain erupted across her shoulders. She rolled onto her back to try and block the blows. After summoning the last of her strength, she sat up.
The aggressor slipped from view. Buffy yelped when a blow came from behind, striking her right kidney. The cane impacted her right clavicle, sweeping her over backwards. Tears welled up in her eyes. Her right arm lay entirely useless. She tried to move it. Sharp pain shot from her shoulder when the broken bone dug into her muscle.
The attacker started to use her feet to break through Buffy's feeble defenses. Between the sedative, the kicks, and the cane, she was overwhelmed. Closing her eyes, she screamed as the dark-haired woman struck her. Her cry choked to silence when she felt her ribs snap. The air rushed out of her lungs and she lay in agony, gulping for breath. Tears leaked out between her closed eyelids.
It became impossible to follow where the blows were landing. Soon her entire upper-body was on fire. Allowing her head to fall to the side, she opened her eyes. While the woman beat her, she peered dimly at Willow. I'm so sorry. Her mouth tasted like tin. She swallowed to clear the blood, remembering the salt.
I failed. It was my job to protect her and I failed. In that instant, nothing else mattered. Her heart broke, rendering the pain meaningless. All of the sensations blurred and Buffy started to slip away. Terror clawed at her—not for herself, but for Willow.
***********
Sinking into the shadows, Faith listened to the sound of something approaching. It was impossible to tell exactly what was coming their way, only that it was big. She looked around the corridor where they were hiding and turned her attention to Angel. She made a jerking motion with her head to indicate they 'fall back.' When Angel nodded in reply, she began to slip through the shadows toward the chamber with the pond. At least we'll have room to move.
Once they arrived in the cavernous room, Faith moved back to her previous hiding place and notched another arrow. When she was ready she glanced over at Angel. He was shaking his head. Jeeze! What's wrong now? She strode noiselessly over to the vampire and whispered, "What?"
"No poison, Faith. If this thing is what we want—"
She cut him off by holding up the plain hunting arrow. Looking annoyed, she stated frankly, "No poison," not bothering to suppress her voice.
He nodded and mumbled, "So long as you know," appearing mildly self-conscious.
She abandoned the vampire and returned to her post.
When the demon finally entered the room, it headed straight for the pool.
As she lined up her shot, Faith mused, These things just aren't getting any prettier. More bumps and spiky shit than that last bastard. Hope this is paydirt 'cause, they get much nastier, I'm askin' for a missile launcher.
The demon caught sight of the body in the water and reared back, bellowing out a piercing wail.
Faith let the shot go. Before the arrow hit, she had her weapons out and was halfway to the demon.
The cry fell silent as the arrow tore into the creature's throat. It turned its attention to the slayer unleashing a series of vicious blows with all four arms. After it swung, its upper right hand went to its neck and tore the arrow out, casting it aside.
Yeah, faster and stronger too. Parrying all but one blow, Faith reeled from the onslaught. A grunt slipped out as Angel moved behind the hulking demon. Recovering within seconds, she flowed into a series of counter-moves.
The demon easily deflected the blows as Angel lined up and took one brutal swing. His blades connected along a ridge of barbs where the demon's spine should've been. Silvery-blue blood flowed for only an instant before the wound began to close over.
The creature spun, driving a clawed hand into the vampire's gut. Angel flew backwards across the room. Smashing into a column of quartz and shearing it off.
Faith took the opportunity to unload. Bringing her blades down into the demon's left shoulder as it turned. She finished with a brutal kick that sent the demon flying across the pond. Not letting up, she descended on the creature as it flailed to stand. Don't do well on your back, do ya? Dodging the swinging limbs, she drove the sword down into the demon's cracked carapace. That sword was blocked, but the dagger slipped through. It laid open her victim's throat. Shimmering blue blood flowed freely from the creature.
Yatzee! It's different. Same shit, but full of steel filings. Sounds healthy! Yum! She drove a foot into the demon's healing chest. About half her blows were countered as she focused on collapsing the beast's upper body. The sound of splintering shell soon filled the room.
The demon lay defeated and broken moment's later. Blood welled up in its crushed chest. Faith took out a heavy black plastic bottle and dipped it into the pool of fluid. Instead of closing the lid, she raised the bottle and whispered, "Here's to your health, B.," then tipped the bottle up. After draining the contents, she made a face and wiped her mouth. Okay, not yum! That was just gross! Giving the demon another brutal kick to slow the repair, she bent down and filled the bottle again. This time, she capped it tightly and shoved it into the inside pocket of her coat.
Grabbing up her weapons, she turned away from the demon. Her gaze fixed on Angel. He still wasn't moving. She ran toward the vampire half-afraid of what she'd find. He's not dust, so it's all good. When she reached his side, he was stirring. Blood still poured from the gaping abdominal wound. "You gonna be able to stand, Boss?" she asked as she offered a hand down.
Struggling to sit on his own, Angel groaned, "Yeah. Give me a minute," and accepted the hand.
After helping the vampire to his feet, Faith went over to the pool to wash her weapons and put them up. As she worked, a flourish of moment and a shower of something wet caused her to wince and spring to her feet. What she saw shocked her. The demon was fully repaired. Angel hung, suspended by the base of his ribcage, on one of its arms. It was obvious he had stepped into a blow meant for her. She rolled her eyes. Hero types. Do they come any dumber?
The demon was about to rip him in half when she attacked, opening with a low, sweeping kick. The demon's legs folded. As it collapsed, Angel was thrown across the cavern. Faith continued to focus low on the demon, tearing into its legs. Careful to stay out of range, she hacked until one of them came off. Moving around as it floundered; she concentrated on the right arms. The majority of her swings were blocked for the first few seconds until she did enough damage to break through. When the right arms were severed, she quickly moved to the head. The leg was already starting to reattach. Sensing the pressure for time, she took one vicious swing and cleaved the head off.
She rushed to stow her weapons and ran to Angel. The gaping abdominal wound was much larger. He winced when she threw him over her shoulder. Again, not dust. He'll live, but y'know that's gotta smart. Leaning down when she passed her bow, she snatched it off the ground as she fled.
***********
The sound of hammering caused Willow to stir. Her eyes fluttered open, but her vision was too blurry to make anything out in the dim firelight. Tilting her head in the direction of the noise, she blinked, trying to clear the distorted image. There was something hard in her mouth and it burned. She tried to swallow. Instantly regretting it as acrid salt washed down her throat. While she struggled, the board across her back bit into her shoulders. She kicked out futilely with her bound feet.
A raspy female voice growled out of the haze, sounding along side the pounding, "Were they ashamed because of the abomination they had done? They certainly were not ashamed and they did not know how to blush. Therefore they shall fall among those who fall. At the time of their punishment, they shall be brought down."
When Willow's eyes focused, her heart stumbled. Gasping, she started to gag on the salt in her mouth. She felt sour acid rise up in her throat. With her mouth taped shut it only added to her sickness. Panic ripped through her when the woman turned her way with blood pouring from her nose.
The woman sprang to her feet and swung around to face the witch. As she moved, still clutching the claw hammer, she snarled, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."
Trembling, Willow peered into the woman's malevolent face. Tears streamed down her cheeks, flowing into her ears. Sweat beaded on her skin. Her breathing grew erratic. The tape across her lips billowed in and out, pulling at her skin. Numbness paralyzed her as she grappled with the certainty that she was about to die.
With each step the woman grew weaker. Blood began to leak from her ears. When she reached the witch, she slumped onto her knees. Spittle mixed with blood and ran down her chin. It dripped onto her dirty, white tee-shirt as her neck sagged, no longer supporting the weight of her head.
Willow tried to scream, only to choke again. Confusion tore at her. She didn't understand why the woman was injured. The limp body dropped on top of her. It took her several moments to grasp that the other woman was dead. When the reality finally crept in, Willow tried to scream again. She gagged and acid rose up into her mouth. The sound of her own heartbeat was deafening. The weight of the other woman across her chest was making it hard to breathe.
Fighting to remain conscious, Willow focused on the ropes that held her right hand to the board. The knots were hard. As she struggled to loosen them, she grew faint.
***********
Angel felt like he'd been swept into one of those crazy video games the kids played at the mall. The tunnel walls blurred as they rushed by, weaving and dodging. As they rounded a corner, his head came dangerously close to a sharp outcropping of rock and he winced. He was amazed by how smoothly the slayer ran. Her footfalls barely jarred the wound in his stomach. It was the view instead that was causing alarm, making him sick.
He cringed when the demon came into sight behind them down a long straight stretch of tunnel. The creature was picking up speed as it healed. A clawed hand hit the catacomb wall as the beast ran, sending a shower of rock down behind it. Angel closed his eyes when Faith started to weave again. If one of the sharp chunks of rock was going to hit his head, he sure didn't want to see it coming.
Fine mist coated his skin. Oh! Thank! God! We're out. He opened his eyes in time to see the waterfall moving into the distance. Then things turned peculiar for an instant. He was being thrown. Flying through the air, he landed on his back, just in time to see the slayer draw her bow. Oh hell! His eyes fixed for a moment on the arrow tip and he screamed, "No!" It was too late. The arrow flew as the demon burst from the waterfall.
Angel's hands reflexively covered his face as the slayer dove on top of him. Time hung for just an instant. Strange how comforting it is—having her protection. He grappled with this thought for a second or two before the world around them turned to fire.
He found himself flying again. This time he wasn't alone. Faith clung to him. They bounced and tumbled, shearing off rocks in their path.
When they came to a rest, Angel pulled his hands from his head and swept the slayer's singed hair from their faces.
After rolling off him, she asked, "You okay?"
Struggling to sit, he replied, "That's a relative thing. It depends on what you mean."
Faith smirked and offered wryly, "Still not dust—you'll live."
Angel began to chuckle despite the pain as he stared at the fire that poured over the cliff into the burning lagoon. Falling silent, he remarked, "Subtle—somehow, I have a feeling that word just isn't in your vocabulary."
"It's not a very useful word," she supplied with a grin. Giving the vampire a sideways glance, Faith asked, "You gonna be okay to move or do you need—?"
The look on her face told him everything he needed to know. He peered shame-faced at the wound in his stomach as she held out her bared wrist.
"You're useless to me that way. Get over it and drink before company comes," she stated frankly.
When he pushed the arm away, she added, sounding mildly amused, "Be happy. I got the goods. So, let's get over it, get outta here...and save your princess." She pushed her arm back under his nose and added, "Sound okay to you?"
He was surprised when Faith winced at the bite. Withdrawing, he looked questioningly at her.
She sat like a statue, obviously waiting for him to finish.
What the hell changed? He watched the blood well up from the wound that instantly started to close. She's right; we don't have time for show and tell. If this doesn't attract attention, nothing will. As he drank, he could feel his injuries repairing. He didn't take a lot. He didn't need to. The blood was the most incredible thing he'd ever experienced. After a few moments, he sprang to his feet, completely healed and feeling better than he could ever remember.
Faith collected her bow and bounced to her feet. Smiling knowingly at the vampire, she asked, "Better, Boss?"
Ignoring the question, Angel wordlessly set off for the passage. Eventually, after his face changed, he said, "Thank you," just out of sheer courtesy.
***********
When Willow's right hand ripped free from the board, she tore the tape from her mouth. Turning her head to the side, she spat the salt rock out and vomited. After heaving the corpse away, she rolled over, immediately starting to work on her left hand. It took several minutes of struggling with her shaking hand to loosen the rope. Once her hands were free, she turned her attention to her feet.
Finally, she pushed herself to standing. She staggered to keep her balance and tripped over the body. Her right wrist made a loud cracking noise when she landed. Tears welled up in her eyes and she resigned herself to crawling.
After slowly dragging herself across the dirt yard, she slumped over next to Buffy. The first thing that crossed Willow's mind was to feel for a pulse. She put her hand to her lover's throat and started to weep. She's alive. Her gaze fixed on the blood soaked rope and the nail that held her girlfriend's right wrist.
I need to think, but I'm so tired. After struggling to sit, she began to look over the injuries. As she gently pulled the tape and removed the salt from Buffy's mouth, reality sank in. There was nothing she could do. She sagged over shaking and sobbing. Repeating pleas for forgiveness, she wept until her head started to pound. Her grieving ended with a whisper, "I'm so sorry," and a kiss. I need to stop with the guilt and do something!
Anger at her own foolishness strengthened her resolve and Willow sat up to take a look around. An old cabin sat up on stilts about twenty feet from where she was. There was a late-model minivan sitting next to it. The fire pit that provided scant illumination to the clearing was to her right and a marsh lay to her left. Two massive, gnarled cypress trees that had grown together at the base of their trunks stood near the edge of the water, shrouding the clearing.
She started to inch back over to the corpse that lay between her and the cabin. I need to see if she has a phone. If not I'll try to get in the cabin. I don't think I can drive, but I may have to find a way. I won't leave her, though. I don't care what it takes. I refuse.
After reaching the body, she rolled the woman onto her back. Willow's hands were shaking so hard she could barely thread them into the pockets of the woman's jeans. I did this. I'm not sure what terrifies me more: that I did it or that I don't understand how I did.
Locating nothing useful on the body, she began to crawl to the cabin. It seemed to take forever to even reach the steps. She pulled herself up, holding onto the door for balance. The hasp that held the rickety door closed was loose. She turned the knob and stepped into the cabin. On an old table by the door, she found a purse. Dropping to the steps, she began to rummage through it.
After quickly locating keys and a cell phone, she dialed nine-one-one. Her heart skipped a beat when the phone actually began to connect. This is good! We're not so far off the grid that there's no cellular signal.
The phone rang twice and a neutral male voice declared, "Nine-one-one operator, please state your emergency."
Tears rolled down her cheeks as Willow stuttered into the phone, "I-I was—I mean, my friend and I—we were abducted. She's really badly hurt and I-I don't know where we are."
"Is the person that abducted you still there?"
"Y-yes," Willow forced herself to say, quickly stammering to add, "But sh-she's dead."
"Please stay on the line. We can attempt to triangulate your location. Can you reach your friend?"
Trying again to stand, Willow fought to keep her balance as she replied frankly "I can get to her. It'll take me a minute." After a moment, she sluggishly set off across the dimly lit dirt yard. About half-way across, she collapsed to her knees, grunting when she hit the packed dirt.
"Are you okay, Ma'am?"
"I-I'm fine—well, as fine as you'd expect. I just fell. I'm not walking—w-walking is bad," Willow stammered to explain and started to drag herself on her side, pushing off with her legs.
"We have your location and are dispatching an ambulance. When you get to your friend I need you to take her vitals for me. Can you do that?"
"Y-yes," Willow gasped as she struggled to move.
"Can you tell me something about where you are? Anything would be helpful. We can get a rough fix on your location, but it's impossible to be exact."
"It's an old cabin in the bayou," Willow said, fighting to keep her tone even, "There's a black minivan in the driveway and a fire burning in the yard." Heavy bruises had started to rise on Buffy's exposed skin. Willow began to weep again as she drew closer.
"Are you alright, Ma'am?"
"Sh-she's hurt re-really bad," she choked through the tears.
"Are you with her yet?"
After creeping the last few feet, she replied, "Yes."
"And you have a watch?"
"Yes," Willow stated, already starting to take her girlfriend's pulse. There was a short pause and she offered, "She's bleeding really badly from her right wrist" — she began to untie the rope from Buffy's left wrist — "I'm going to try a tourniquet. I've never done one, but I get the principle." So stupid! If I'd done this when I first got to her she'd—
"Ma'am?"
"Her pulse is weak and thready—forty-three beats per minute. She needs a blood transfusion," she rattled off, understanding what was being asked. When she got the rope loose, she threaded carefully behind the injured arm. Before the task was finished the phone went dead. "Hello?" No answer came and she pitched the phone aside. Once the arm was tied off, she curled up in a ball facing Buffy.
Fear reasserted itself and Willow began to sob. She lay watching the fire cast warm radiance over Buffy's broken form. I'm afraid to touch her. It looks like all I could do is cause her more pain. I've already caused her enough. She's— She gasped, shaking as she struggled with the thought. She's dying because of me.
After several moments, she shut her eyes. Her body shook as she fretted. The cricket song overwhelmed the watery breath sounds of the body next to hers in waves. Occasionally, a pop from the fire disrupted the melody. Severe fatigue and the serenade of the bayou eventually lulled her into a deep, fitful sleep.
***********
Faith was starved. Sitting with unusual restraint on the cold ground next to the Norseman, she mused, A coupla cheeseburgers, a bucket of coke, and three large fries. Her mouth started to water. Oh! And another bucket of ketchup! That's what I'm gonna ask for. I don't really care about much else. After living on bugs for who knows how long in that creep's cave and this freeze-dried shit for a couple weeks after. Hell, I dunno how long it's been, really. There's no night here. It seems like a lifetime. All I know is gimme real food! She patted the lump in her coat made by the pouch Willow had given her as she watched the vampire dig.
Angel pulled the duffle bag out of the ground and began to remove the items.
Her heart lurched when he set the skull on the ground and began to cut into the top. I'm seriously going home. Crazy after all this. The really weird thing? I don't hate him anymore—either of them, actually. We depended on each other too much and they never let me down—not after we got free. Angel didn't let me down before that. I've never been happier to see anyone then when I saw Siggy dropping that damned rope. And I think Angel was right, Siggy here's not a bad guy. He was just a guy put in a bad spot. What kinda name is Sigvaldi anyway?
Angel lifted the top of the skull off and opened a few bags of dried herbs, crushing them before sprinkling them into the skull. He glanced up, making eye contact with Faith before pouring the venom over the top.
Faith smiled brightly. I'm going home! She felt like her face might split open from the smile when the first drop of venom produced a wisp of smoke. A tear trickled down her cheekbone, freezing before it reached the hollow of her cheek. It's gonna work. Pulling the locket from under her clothing, she mumbled, "Hear that, Red?" The portal crackled to life. She stood up and moved towards it. Now the question is: besides food, what the hell am I gonna do? Her body trembled as the energy of the portal washed over her. Take it one day at a time.
When she stepped through into the warmth of their world, there was a crash. She jumped at the sound. The portal faded behind her and the world went impossibly dark. A thud to her right made her flinch again. Instinctively, she fled the sound.
As she collided with a wall, Giles' voice muttered out of the blackness. Giles and he's talkin' to someone—someone who's scared. Blinking reflexively to clear her eyes, she heard the Norseman gasp and choke as though in trouble. Her nerves settled while she listened to the exchange. He's comforting him. Siggy's freaked out. Well, I guess that's expected. Guy was sorta trapped in Hell forever.
When her eyes finally adjusted, Faith had trouble understanding what she was seeing. Giles stooped over the Norseman, holding his hand while the other man convulsed. A putrid foam poured from Sigvaldi's mouth as Giles muttered something about 'Valhalla.' That's like Norse heaven. He's dying. Why's he dying?
Faith stood stark still staring in slack-jawed disbelief. When the Norseman finally passed away, she was no longer hungry.
***********
As Buffy drifted on the edge of sleep, she gradually grew aware that her head was throbbing. She cracked an eye and quickly snapped it shut against the bright lights. Her head pounded its thanks. Bad idea.
A wave of nausea gripped her as a fragment of memory returned. She swallowed hard to try and regain control. Willow's unconscious face hung in her mind's eye, haunting her. Willow? Willow was hurt! Panic gripped her and she screamed, "Willow." Instead, her voice sounded like a weak croak.
"I'm here, Buffy. You're safe."
Oh thank god! Buffy tried to move her arm. It jerked, hitting the bedrail. Wait! What's wrong with her—her voice, it's wrong—distant, detached. She winced reflexively. Her arm dropped back to her side before she rasped, "What's wrong, Will?" It hurt to speak, but she struggled to finish, "Is something wrong? You're scaring me."
"There's nothing to be scared of."
That voice. It's wrong—it's hollow and wrong—like she's trying to hide something. Buffy was getting really uneasy. Her stomach knotted again as another memory returned. I was being beaten—watching Willow and being beaten. I was with Will—so happy. There was another woman—a dark, angry woman—empty eyes, gaunt face. She looked sick. "Will, please, the light, could you turn it off? I need to see you." Why's she not touching me? I need her. Last time I needed her she was holding me when I woke up. What's wrong?
Her girlfriend was moving and Buffy could sense it. As Willow neared, it was like a weight lifted from the slayer's chest. She could hear the other woman's heartbeat; it was strong and healthy. Willow was nervous—her respiration was a little heavy—but uninjured. There was a strange lope to her step as she walked past the bed, but she dismissed it. It's minor. Will's okay! She's really okay!
The lights went out and Buffy's eyes fluttered open. She wasn't surprised to be in the hospital. What did surprise her was that Willow had continued out the door. Why? What! She looked down at herself. Both of her legs were in traction. The bits of bare skin she could see were deeply bruised. No wonder she's afraid to touch me. I wouldn't want to touch me either. I look like shit. 'Kay, so...calming down—breathing normal—I'm not gonna get sick.
When Willow returned to the room, there was a nurse right behind her. "The nurse is going to give you something to make you feel better, 'kay?" she said in a temperate tone.
"What's wrong with you, Will?" Buffy begged when her girlfriend limped right past her.
Willow came around to the other side of the bed and took a seat before she spoke. "Nothing, Buffy—well, actually I have a broken wrist and a sprained ankle, but I'm fine. I just feel bad, y'know?"
"Yeah, okay..." Buffy replied uneasily. She turned her head too quickly when the nurse touched her I.V., instantly regretting it as her head answered by pounding. Her eyes started to water. "Wh-what is that?" she asked, nervously eyeing the needle.
"Something to help you relax, dear," the nurse replied in a reassuring tone.
Buffy felt the flow of cold liquid enter her vein and her vision blurred. In a matter of moments she drifted away.
***********
Giles pulled the Citro'n into his usual parking space at the school and climbed out. His face filled with concern as Faith caught his attention again. He'd never imagined that she could look so ragged and unkempt. You're acting like a mollycoddling old biddy. Do show some self-control.
Faith offered a weak, reassuring smile as she climbed from the car. Barking a laugh, she remarked, "Get a grip, G. A shower and some food, I'll be good as new."
Giles replied with waning concern, "Yes, quite right, you look at though some rest might do you some good as well." Turning, he matched pace with the slayer as they moved toward the school. When they reached the doors, it occurred to him that he hadn't seen Angel exit the vehicle. He stepped away from the entry to have a look around and asked, "Where on earth did Angel go?"
She shrugged vaguely and opened the door. Meeting Giles' gaze when he turned toward her, she remarked flippantly, "How long's it been, G.? You should remember he does this crap all the time. It's no big."
Casually answering the question with little thought, "Nearly two weeks now." He didn't delay passing through the entry as the slayer held it open for him. Giving her a sideways glance, he set off down the corridor toward the library. It shouldn't surprise me that they've become accustomed to one another's habits, as long as they've been gone. What does have me a bit bewildered is Faith's behavior; I didn't imagine that she would be nearly so friendly when she returned. In fact, I thought quite the opposite would occur. I suspect there's an intriguing story to be had if we could prompt either of them to speak of their experiences.
"The others should be here shortly," Giles remarked as he pushed open the door to the library. He was a bit taken aback to see Angel standing with Xander by the stacks, whispering.
As Giles approached, Xander set off for the door at a brisk pace, offering a hasty, "I'll be back in a few, Giles, gotta get something from the car."
Furrowing his brow, Giles took a seat at the head of study table, his attention fixed on the vampire. He's looking remarkably better. His skin is still grey, but the blackness around his nose and mouth have faded. It's remarkable, given the condition of the Norseman, that Faith seems to have suffered very little damage. Her skin was obviously chapped, but one would think, with the extensive frostbite the other man had— Well, at any rate...we'll call it a small blessing. Taking her to the hospital with severe frostbite would not have been enjoyable at all.
As Angel silently made his way to join them, Giles began to examine the slayer's hands again. Neither one of them are willing to share any of the details. I suppose that is fitting. One can tell, just by looking, that they've been through quite an ordeal. He took in the black bone and tendon structure that showed through the translucent skin.
Faith smiled, twiddled her fingers to allow Giles a really good look, and placed her hands in her lap.
Giles turned his attention right to address Angel. I really must stop gawking, he chided himself before asking aloud, "Might I see the sample you've returned with?"
Angel nodded to Faith and she pulled the container out, placing it on the table as she remarked, "There you go, G., the miracle cure-all."
Giles picked the bottle up and opened the lid. It was full to the brim with a light blue-grey fluid. He quickly replaced the cap and set the bottle in the center of the table. Shifting his attention between the two as he spoke, he offered sincerely, "We are all in your debt for doing this. It's quite remarkable, really." As he fell silent, Angel nodded and walked toward the door.
Faith smiled and snarked, "Well, I'd say, 'No trouble, G.,' but I get you not likin' the lyin'. It's cool though. It got me outta the 'Dale for a few weeks."
Turning to see where the vampire had run off to, Giles replied, "Indeed." He sat puzzling over the details while Angel and Xander both reentered the room. Xander quietly took the seat across from Faith and Angel sat next to him. Yes, that would indeed explain it. His gaze fixed on the bottle. This fluid—this blood is said to endow the person that imbibes it with remarkable regenerative abilities. It would stand to reason that, given an opportunity, Faith would partake. That doesn't explain her hands. That is unless they were— Dear Lord! It's no wonder she doesn't wish to speak of it.
"G-Man?" Xander asked, appearing concerned. He snapped his fingers in front of Giles face.
Pushing the hand away, Giles glared at Xander and grumbled, "Xander, if I told you once, I've told you a hundred times, please do not refer to me that way."
Xander put his hands up in a 'surrendering' gesture and offered apologetically, "Sorry, you were just zoning pretty bad."
Turning toward the younger man, Giles offered truthfully, "Terribly sorry, Xander. My apologies. I just have a great deal on my mind."
Silence hung over the room for a time and the attention of the entire table fixed on the bottle in its center. Finally Wesley and Joyce entered through the side door. The others turned to greet them.
Once they were all seated, Joyce took out the cell phone and hit the send key. "I've already tried this twice. It worries me that they're not picking up. I suppose it's nothing. They're probably just out to dinner." When no one answered, she hung up the phone. She smiled self-consciously at the attention she was getting.
"Not to worry, Joyce. I'm certain, as you say, that they've just stepped out," Giles offered reassuringly, "Once they see that they've missed your call, they will return it in short order."
Wesley chimed in, "Until we have some notion where to deliver this miracle serum, there really isn't much to be done. Might I suggest we allow Faith and Angel to go tidy up a bit?"
"That sounds like a reasonable plan," Giles returned, "That is unless they have something to report?"
After rising from the table, Faith replied casually, "Nada, G."
As Angel rose to leave, both entrances to the library opened. Four men in black tactical gear, carrying assault rifles, rushed in through each door, surrounding the table.
Quentin Travers strode into the room through the main doors and asked smugly, "Do you seriously believe we weren't watching?" He gestured to Faith and Angel and four of the men broke formation, seizing them by the arms. He went directly to the table, sweeping up the bottle.
The slayer growled as the men both pressed the muzzles of their guns into her ribs.
Travers began to pace as he spoke, "Tobias uncovered evidence to suggest that this" — raising the bottle so the others could plainly see it — "is the Holy Grail: 'le san gréal,' or rather the Royal Blood: 'le sang réal' it was fabled to contain. I always did love a good pun, no matter the language." He chortled, "Rich with irony, this magical liquor of Christian legend actual comes from deep within the bowels of a demon dimension."
Removing the top of the bottle, he started to drink, then paused, returning to gloating, "Did you have any idea, Mr. Giles? Did you see the connection, or did you just send these two festering piles of shit to Hell on a hunch?" He leered at Faith, giving her a contemptuous grin.
Faith tensed, pulling against the two council goons who held her arms. She looked over at Angel who gave her a slight head shake and she stood down.
Turning to glare at Giles, Travers continued his sermon, "Documents buried deep within our vaults suggest that Widukind was beheaded during the Bloody Verdict of Verden along with 4,500 other Saxon leaders. There are those who believe he still walks the earth today. While this may be folly, it is clearly documented that, after the slaughter, Widukind dedicated his life to erecting churches to honor the Christian God." His tone turned venomous. "And you honestly expect me to sit by while you grant this miracle to an impudent wretch who defiles our great council's name with her very life?"
"What I expect from you is betrayal," Giles snarled, "I expect egotism and cruelty. Good of you not to disappoint."
Travers smiled sweetly, appearing even more evil for the effort. "Yes, yes, very well, Mr. Giles, show what a big man you are by casting rubbish insults around. Now we see who the better man is," he said in a patronizing tone and turned the bottle up, draining the contents.