Waiting on a Friend - Part Ten
DISCLAIMER: This chapter borrows from Seamus Heaney, Alfred Lord Tennyson, and Norse bards. NOTES AND SUMMARY: When last we saw our heroes: Cumberbatch arrived at the Giles house; Buffy and Anya figured out how they both could feel their guys' emotions; Wesley did a Bad, Bad Thing with Lilah in order to get information; Giles forced Spike to talk about William Bennet, then they arrived at the Lady's cavern. This chapter: 11 o'clock Wednesday night is quite a happening time.
"'Wolf of the deep'," Spike murmured, and Giles had to agree. The Lady was not quite what he had expected.
Monstrously strong and nearly seven-foot tall-- check. Exuding dark power-- check. He just hadn't anticipated the gown wrapped around her like fur, like scales, gleaming and shifting in the red light every time she moved. He hadn't looked for the claws, curved and extended like a parody of a woman's nails, on both her hands and her bare feet.
The wolf's muzzle was perhaps the most unpleasant surprise.
She lowered her claws and growled. "Strangers. Who are you?"
"Actually, we were wondering about you. The Lady, we presume?" Spike began. She rumbled a warning, but of course Spike never heeded danger signs, Giles thought. "You got another name, or is it the old feudal spirit 'round here?"
She whirled behind her, grabbing what seemed to be smoke off the glowing red fissure in the center of the cavern, then turned back and threw it at Spike. The smoke transformed into a fireball; Giles pulled Spike aside just in time to escape vampire immolation. Spike's eyes narrowed, but he said with what Giles thought commendable sang-froid, "Titles only, I see."
"Humans, it was foretold that creatures of your kind would invade Below and attack us here. I will not allow that." The Lady slunk forward. "Like those who press upon our world, you must die."
Giles could feel sweat trickling onto his fingers, threatening to loosen his grip on the sword. He clutched it tighter, and with his other hand held Spike back from whatever madness the tosser was considering. "Lady, we did not invade. We were, um, investigating our own signs: that you were planning to attack us, your dimension rising into ours."
"Besides-- hello, vampire!" Spike snapped.
The Lady moved forward, sniffing. Giles was taken aback at the flash of fangs which accompanied her action. "Hmm. That creature is not human. Yet there are no prophecies about such a-- thing."
"Right. I get that a lot."
She growled deep in her chest, and the stone walls of the cavern shook. "You should not be here with the human, then."
Giles said, "Yes, he gets that a lot too. To return to our point, Lady: we respond to your attack on us, not the other way around."
She leapt forward, claws out, and the two stumbled back. A few feet away from them she stopped herself, then began to pace in front of them. "Still, you both are from Above. I smell the foulness of that atmosphere upon you. You belong to that dimension which chokes the One. I have sworn to protect Her from you, to feed her with the refuse from your bone-yard."
"So you're sayin' you're the security force AND the chef?" Spike said.
"Silence, unprophesied creature." Suddenly she jumped, back toward the glowing fissure-- which by now Giles had figured out was the One to whom the Lady referred. Bending, she scooped up a handful of clay and crushed it in her fingers; clear liquid ran through her fist and dropped onto the floor.
She opened her hand and snapped the remaining water at Giles and Spike. It sizzled, acid in flight, as it went by their heads to burn into the wall. "There. The dimensions will come together by water and fire. My action here could be felt Above. It is time."
***
The windows of the study rattled, a blast of wind hurling pellets of hard rain against the glass. Buffy looked at the study clock: it was 11. Where could Wesley be?
The home troops were ready. Raincoats and a sword were piled on the sofa. Dawn and Anya sat, arm in arm, staring at the floor; that was so strange, the way the two of them had bonded. Even Cumberbatch, usually hard to read, was nervously alternating glances at his watch and the clock. He stopped his time-watching to say yet again, "We really should take action before midnight. Just to be on the safe side. We really should."
"We can't do anything til Wes--" Buffy began, then the front door slammed. She'd never seen a room clear so fast. Sighing, she gathered up all the gear before she went to join them.
Wesley stood, dripping wet and shaking, by the front door. Dawn threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his waist, as if to hold him still. "The focal point is on the river itself," he said without preamble. "The second Door is between Albert and Battersea Bridges."
Buffy said, "Dawn is ready to try to open the Door, Wes. Then Anya and I will call the guys' attention, and I'm going in." He looked puzzled, and she added, "Never mind. You'll see. The problem is--"
"How shall we get onto the river?" Cumberbatch supplied.
Wesley gave a twisted little smile. "Got it covered. Let's go."
***
The Lady twisted, growled, and raised her hands to the One. Not exactly a bitch with a sense of humour, Spike thought. "I have guarded the Spirit since before your and my dimensions separated. I give her what she needs, I decide what is required, I have chosen the time to act. She tells me now that she craves warrior-blood and bone." With a feral snarl, the Lady whirled back and leapt at the two of them. "Yours."
Giles rushed forward with his sword. He managed to strike at her thigh, and her dress ripped. Spike could see fur, scales, skin shifting below it.
She tried to spin away from Giles. Seeing an opening, Spike threw a punch which snapped her back a step or two. Giles followed, his sword twisting upward.
She evaded, then howled. "I see now why I let you come Below. I must match my strength with yours; the One will be pleased when I feed you to Her." She ran a hand down the ripped material, claws catching at threads. "You aren't very good with a sword, old man, but I do feel the power in you."
Oh, that'll piss him off, Spike thought, as Giles drew in a sharp breath. "'Old man'? I'll have you know that Spike could give me eighty--" Without finishing the sentence he lunged, sword out. Its point almost reached her shoulder, but she slid sideways. Her clawed hand reached out to catch the weapon, but it slipped out of Giles's grasp.
It clattered on stone, several feet away.
Bugger. Spike used every drop of supernatural speed he had, but it wasn't fast enough. The Lady raked Rupert's forearm, up and down, before Spike could reach them. Giles bit back a scream.
Spike threw himself between the crouching she-wolf and Giles, his elbow up to jab her in the face. Her damn fangs almost caught in the tweed of his overcoat. When he yanked hard, willing her extended canines to come loose, she shrieked and worked free.
Spike hauled Giles back to the entrance of the cavern. Rupert had his teeth gritted; Spike felt a little like grinding his own when he saw that Giles's blood already was swelling through the layers of clothing. "Sorry, mate," Rupert managed.
"We bloody knew it was going to be bad," Spike muttered. "No need to be sorry."
Giles wrestled off his coat and pressed it to the wounded arm. "Half a league half a league, Half a league onward--"
"All in the Valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Or, in our sodding case, walked the two," Spike finished. Giles gave a husky, pain-filled laugh.
The One hurled red-orange flames to the cavern ceiling, and the Lady howled again. The sound echoed off polished rock and dull clay, sinking into Spike's bones. Yeah, he'd bloody known it was going to be bad.
***
"The river's bad. But I can get you out there. Just a few minutes." Tony Kemp opened the gate to Cadogan Pier, gesturing them forward onto the walkway and toward his waiting river-taxi. The boat pitched back and forth, up and down, on violent waves.
Cumberbatch said, "Thank you, Mr. Kemp, I'll go first." Imran had been unsurprised at seeing Kemp, Wesley thought, but then he'd apparently met the man at a small gathering for the dead Watcher Sheringham that afternoon. Cumberbatch, like any Council member, knew the value of using those who craved justice.
Anya moved onto the walkway after Cumberbatch. Water poured over the sides, onto all available surfaces of pier and surroundings, as if to chew away all human artifacts. But Anya wasn't human, was she, and she crossed with confidence. When a wave tried to wrap around Imran's foot, she lifted him out of danger, then said, "That wasn't rude, was it? I mean, to grab you like that?"
"Not at all, Anyanka. Deeply appreciated," Cumberbatch said, then sprinted to the relative safety of the boat.
Buffy said to Dawn, "Should I carry you, honey?" But Dawn was feeling brave, and after just a squeeze of Buffy's hand she skittered across. Wesley actually didn't know if it was good that the river didn't attempt to grab her.
Then Buffy turned to him. "River-men and Slayers last, Wes. You go on." She clanged the gate shut behind him.
He looked at the water, churning black except where the river-lights threw grey-white gleams along the tops of waves. His stomach felt as tight as when he'd first seen Lilah, reflected in the mirror along one wall, come toward him in the bar: as if he were far too close to evil, as if he could be sucked under. He rolled his shoulders to shrug off the taint, then stalked across the walkway.
The water merely splashed against the tops of his boots. .
***
The Lady scooped her hand through the red glow and the smoke, almost as if she were splashing in water. Splashing in blood, more like. She shrieked, "Come try your luck, unprophesied one!"
Giles put his hand on Spike's back. "Got the Fenrir variation down?" At Spike's glance, he added, "You know. Almost Germanic, maybe a bit north."
Spike huffed. "Don't you sodding remember how the source turned out? Bloody hell. 'Course, I'm feeling magnanimous since I won the bet." In a mirror movement, he put his hand on Rupert's back and patted affectionately. It was gone so fast that Giles might have missed it. But he didn't.
Damn glad that he'd gotten to know the real Spike.
That real Spike, all swagger and bravado, rose to his feet and moved back into the heart of the cavern. "So, Lady, can't help but notice the surprising lack of minions here. I'd think a bird like yourself, deep into the tradition gig, would have a couple hundred lackeys floating around."
"I need no help," came her immediate answer. Then she paused. "I can call creatures to serve. You met two in that riverbed I reclaimed tonight--although I feel they serve no longer?"
"Yeah, that's about right. 'Less you got a call for headless, water- preserved geezers to scare the little children." Without sword Spike prowled full into the light. Giles noted he'd gone into game face. Nice touch, emphasizing the demon; the Lady's eyes widened at the sight. "Seems as if you might be looking for staff."
"Do you offer yourself?" the Lady asked, and once again the red- orange flames shot out of the One. Giles now knew what the source of the gnawing sound was. Wished he didn't.
It didn't affect Spike's presentation at all, of course. "Not as such, m'Lady. Not as such." He moved closer to her, then snarled. "I offer a deal. Game of trust, right? You win, I serve in any capacity you choose. You lose, you let me and my mate leave."
"But the One requires warrior-blood and bone." The statement was oddly hesitant, as if she asked him to refute it.
"Who's to say, pet, that we're the blood and bone your boss wants? I mean, I don't show up in your scrying mirror and your texts and what all. Maybe you'd be hurting the One rather than serving-- Her, did you say?" Spike stuck his thumbs in the waistband of his trousers. Giles repressed a woozy grin; somehow the signature move looked a bit odd on a blue-jumper-wearing, tweed-coat academic in full vamp face. "You don't want to lose your place by making an elementary mistake, d' ya?"
The Lady shot a look back at the fissure, which crackled as if it were munching tasty flesh. "What would this game be, unprophesied creature?"
"My hand in your mouth. I manage to remove it before you take it, my friend and I win."
A literally wolfish smile lit the Lady's face. "I know this story. I was old when this story happened. You will lose all, one bite at a time."
"There ya go." Spike stood directly in front of her, looking exceedingly small. Giles calculated that Spike would have to extend his arm to its fullest to reach the Lady's mouth. "Then if you know how it ends, yeah, what's the damage?"
The One hissed and spat fire, but the Lady no longer paid attention. She stared down into the ridged, yellow-eyed face, mesmerized. "Let us play."
Fangs smiled at fangs. "T'riffic." Spike gathered himself, then extended his arm up, up. The Lady licked her pointed teeth, rumbling. Spike's hand almost touched the slavering maw--
Then he dropped down, diving with incredible speed under her dress. The Lady howled and spun, looking for him.
Giles levitated the dagger he'd hidden from the Lady. "Fly, death to the she-wolf," he murmured. And the dagger flew into her neck.
Story definitely worked better with the variation, he thought.
***
This was definitely, totally it. Dawn looked at Anya and Buffy (with sword, of course), solemnly moving into position against the rail. They looked so fierce, hair whipping in the rain and wind. And they left just enough room for her. For her big moment.
It was scary to be the one with responsibility for once.
"Will you help me, Wes?" she asked, her hand going to his.
"What do you need from me, dear?" he asked, fingers gripping.
"I'll do the thing. But I want you to steady me." He squeezed her hand, but didn't say anything else. Didn't need to. Together they went to the rail, and Dawn looked down into the dark water gnawing at the boat.
And then the water smoothed, the wind dropped, the rain eased. Dawn didn't know if that was good or not. She decided she just had to go on. She let go of Wes.
Kemp and Cumberbatch stood back, watching. Anya said, "Yay Dawnie," which made her smile. And Buffy said, "It's your turn to star, Littler Summers."
"Taller than you, shorty," Dawn managed, then put one hand on the rail. Wesley put his hands around her waist, making her feel as if she weren't on a tossing boat above some horror-dimension. She reached into her coat pocket and drew out a needle.
A drop of river-water caught on the needle-point, and the shore lights made it shimmer. Dawn breathed in, and took her hand off the rail.
***
Back to his normal (human) face, Spike used both hands to haul Rupert to his feet. Dad had done the spectacular-- witness one Lady-corpse spread across rock and clay-- but here they still were. Stuck in the Lady's cavern, with a fissure-thing belching fire to the ceiling.
"Do you have any ideas on what we do now?" Giles said wearily. "I don't know if we've stopped the dimensional slippage, and I fear I've exhausted my brilliance for the night."
Spike stood for a few beats, his brain ticking back through the statements the Lady had made. The One seemed unsettled-- what might satisfy it? Her?
And then he smiled. He walked forward to the Lady's body, and albeit with some difficulty, began to drag it to the One.
Nobody said, he reasoned, that the warrior-blood and bone couldn't be hers.
***
Dawn pricked her finger, so that one drop of blood blossomed on the end. She leaned over the side, grateful for her Wesley-anchor, and squeezed.
The one drop fell onto the now-still Thames.
The Door opened.