Fortress Around Your Heart - Part Eleven
DISCLAIMER: The title belongs to Sting. Catch the Empire-Strikes-Back shoutout, too.
NOTES AND SUMMARY: When last we saw Our Heroes: Spike and Buffy went Below and headed toward the Fissure, while Dawn and Imran watched the Door; Giles and Anya-as-Buffy killed some Fyarls and detained, but did not stop, Burberry and his crew from going Below as well. Meanwhile, a giant wolf (the Lady's essence) appeared. Spike fought the wolf, but in the second that Burberry's crew arrived, he and the wolf slipped into the Fissure. Buffy felt his spirit leave. In this chapter: Imran's words come true. The Watcher-in-jeopardy action continues, however.21 DECEMBER 2007. LONDON, AND BELOW. MORNING.
Her love was gone. For the first time in five and a half years, she felt nothing out there when she searched. Love was gone.
Buffy's hand went to her chest. With Spike's cut-off scream, she'd been sliced open. She could feel bits of herself falling away into nothingness, joined forever to him. Maybe this was what it's like to be turned, she thought. The irony didn't escape her: without him, she felt like she'd lost her connection to humanity.
The Slayer would make others bleed for her loss.
She turned to the newcomers. After a quick survey of the cavern floor, the Nullat demon had already started to work. He drew a line across the entryway, dragging his heel through the clay. Next, he pulled three plastic bags out of his pocket. From the first one, he scattered a handful of ash onto one of the endpoints of his line.
Red sparks tore at Buffy's vision. These creatures had distracted her, had kept her from saving him. She leapt toward the demon bastard, but one of the vampires stumbled in her way. With one slash of her blade, she decapitated it. This brought the rest of the security force toward her; they ranged themselves in front of the trench-coat thing.
The coat demon carefully poured a splash of blood onto the other endpoint. Buffy whirled around and beheaded the second vampire. Dust exploded, some drifting into the blood. Coat Guy looked up nervously, then shrugged and continued.
Two Tallents were left to guard the thing. Buffy crouched, shifting from side to side, looking for an opening. She howled again. The Tallents jumped back, and she followed.
Her weapon was up, heart-high. Evading the claws and teeth- that's all Tallents were, she thought - she spun-kicked and took one of them down. The creature screamed, fell to its knees. She followed through with a blow to its shoulder.
Coat Guy cautiously paced forward. At a glance, Buffy guessed he was trying to make a triangle, the third point equal from the other two. His move took him very close to the curtain of smoke and ash, now smelling entirely of blood. Her love's blood.
She sliced off the kneeling Tallent's head.
Coat Guy took his remaining bag and took out- what? It looked like water. He poured it onto his unmarked third point.
The remaining Tallent demon hissed at Buffy, teeth grinding pathetically. Without exerting real effort, she killed it where it stood.
The coat demon didn't see his last soldier fall. He faced the Fissure, its flames and its smoke. Hands in his pockets, he began, "Return as you were, solid first-"
Then Buffy's sword buried itself in his heart and twisted. Let him see what it felt like, she thought.
Yet the demon's death-gurgle made her feel...nothing. She yanked out her weapon, then stood. Lost. Alone.
And then Spike, his hands wrapped around the throat of a huge wolf-woman, fell out of the smoke and ash.
***
At last the Door came back.
Dawn rubbed her neck, puzzled. For a couple of minutes her portal had closed on its own-as if something had ripped through the energies of both dimensions. Nothing she tried had worked to restore it. But now the Door was back, sparking blue against the grey day.
Somehow its return, however, had made the river angry. That was the only way Dawn could explain the wave upon wave upon wave suddenly battering their pier, spraying them with droplets that seemed like sleet. The pier surface shifted, and Imran fell against the railing. When she grabbed for him, her hands slid helplessly against the metal.
He managed to steady himself, though, and plant his feet on the slippery platform. "Dawn!" he shouted into the freshening wind. "Are you alright?"
"Yes." As alright as she could be without Wesley, without being able to communicate with him. She couldn't try to reach out to him when she was working here: it required all her energy. She had to be focused on the mission, just as he had been when he'd made her leave him.
She'd tell him that when he came back to her. She'd tell him she understood. Then she'd so kick his ass.
Beside her, Imran dragged damp hair out of his eyes. "I'm going to call Rupert," he said. "Perhaps this is happening further east as well."
Dawn looked back at the Door. She would keep focus. God, she wanted Buffy and Spike to come back.
***
Giles stood at the Embankment wall, across from Temple Place, and gazed at the raging Thames. "Raging" ordinarily would be a cliche, he thought. But the water eating at the brick and cement, at the very earth on which London rested, was definitely angry.
"Rupert?" He turned to see Anya, in her Buffy guise, looking at him. "What next?"
"I don't really know, darling." He felt unfocused; his attention was split between those Below and his friend up in the skyscraper, between the hell in front of him and what he feared was above.
With a squeal of tires, a black van pulled up alongside them. "Oi, Rupes!" came a familiar voice from its interior.
"What the - Dazza, you're back!" Giles grabbed Anya's hand and dragged her to the van. The door slid open, and they scrambled in.
Darren Cunningham, specialist in British Prophecies and Arsenal supporter, sat in the driver's seat. His bloodshot eyes twinkled behind his wire-rimmed spectacles. "Hullo, all. Where to?"
"Imran called us; he suggested we find a convenient base of operations for your rescue and recovery effort," Emily Jenkins, Human Resources, said from the depths of the van. She leaned past them and slammed home the door.
"What about the loading dock behind the Wolfram and Hart building?" Anya offered.
"Perfect, my love. Go round the Place, Daz," Giles said. Darren nodded, cast the most cursory of glances behind him, and accelerated into Embankment traffic. Horns honked, but he ignored them.
Giles's cell phone rang, and he picked up. Imran's voice crackled, "Are you having any difficulties there, Rupert? We've had a spot of bother with the Door, and we're worried about what might be happening Below."
***
"Spike, get away from her!" Buffy shouted. Once out of the smoke, he had begun punching the wolf-lady in the face, but the bitch had sunk her teeth in his hand and ripped. He was starting to bleed again.
He never listened (he was back, oh God, he was here), he was such an idiot (her darling, her life). She jumped into the fray and grabbed his shoulders. He was hot to the touch, even through the duster. When she pulled, he bellowed, "Buffy, bloody hell!"
Why that brought the tears to her eyes, she couldn't have said.
Nevertheless, she wrestled him away from the creature. He landed flat on his back on the ground and didn't move. "Baby, you alright?"
"I feel terrible." Shakily he lifted his bleeding arm and draped it across his eyes. "And we'll talk about this later, yeah?"
Oh, of course. Buffy turned around. The wolf-thing had crawled to her knees. There had been some damage done - a slashed foot, a battered face - but yellow eyes blazed at her. "I will not be going back to hell a third time, child."
"Shut up," Buffy said, and lunged. The sword went into the creature's chest. Wolf-bitch gave an unholy howl, clutching fruitlessly at the weapon.
Spike struggled to his feet, then caught at his own sword. He moved forward and thrust the point into the creature's neck. "This, my heart, is the Lady of whom you've heard so much."
"But didn't you and Giles kill her?"
"Apparently it didn't quite take." She thought his voice sounded weird, raw. "Lot of that going around."
The dying Lady managed a howl, then closed her eyes. Spike retrieved his weapon. "I think this is a job for the Fissure." Using the sword, he crawled forward into the pall of grey and red smoke and reached around. When he was satisfied, he came back out. "There. It's close, four or five feet."
Buffy got her own sword back and laid it aside. Then on her hands and knees, she rolled the dead weight into the ashy cloud. Suddenly a blast of burning wind and fire cleared the air, and she found herself a foot away from the glowing red crevasse.
The chewing sound was very loud here.
It only took one hard push, and the Lady's body toppled into the opening. Spike pulled Buffy back from the edge, from the ripping teeth. Flames rose orange, yellow, blue, then the Fissure went quiet.
And Spike sagged to the floor. Buffy caught him in her arms, and he leaned into her, head against her shoulder. She threaded one hand through his curls. His body felt fever-hot, with a dark flush burnt across his nose and cheeks. It was so strange, she thought: his lack of heartbeat reassured her in some weird way.
He was here. Whole (well, basically). She allowed herself to believe it at last, and a sob caught in her throat. Wincing, he reached his unhurt hand up to caress her arm. "Love, what's wrong?"
"I thought you were gone. Oh Spike, I thought you were gone." She tried to keep her tears hidden, but he fought to sit up on his own. When his thumb wiped the first layer of salty drops away from her face, she lost control completely and cast herself into his arms. He soothed her, bringing her close. Mouth against his neck, she said, "Honey. God, honey, what happened?"
"Don't know," he murmured into her hair. "It's fuzzy. I-I wasn't here, though. Was somewhere else. For a bit." He kissed the top of her head. "But I longed for you, wherever it was."
"Because you're mine, full-stop." Her sob turned into a watery chuckle. "And I'm yours."
"Full-stop," he said. They both collapsed into silly laughter, hands wrapping around each other, holding tight to what had been lost.
"So this is what's taking so long," came a familiar piercing voice from the entryway. Herself again, Anyanka glared at them. She folded her arms. "Rupert and Imran sent me to fetch you. We're not finished, you know. Come on, come on."
"Sorry, Mum," Spike said. Buffy helped him to his feet. He leaned on her for a second, then stepped away. "Let's go storm the castle and get back our poor sod of a Wyndham-Pryce."
***
Lilah leaned on her desk, flipping through her files. Her Nullat demon obsessively checked his PDA, although she had no idea what he was looking for. The result of his brother's sortie below wouldn't show up in the database, surely.
The other creature was late with the Wolf. And when she looked out the windows, she saw a Thames that now looked ominously calm. Her special project, no, her career seemed to be in danger.
"That's enough waiting," she said. The demon in Aquascutum looked up at her. "The Home Office said that we needed to ensure one of the Watchers perished. Perhaps that's what we need to turn the tide. Before we raise our reserve weapon, at least."
"Do you want to execute the Watcher? Personally?"
Did she want to kill Wesley Wyndham-Pryce? Yes, of course she did. She wasn't entirely sure why she hadn't yet, even after that first phone call. Perhaps it was because once he was dead, she lost her power over him. She was so enjoying her power.
Still, business was business. "No, I think you should use the last revenant. Your partner seemed to think that it won't be satisfied until murder is done."
Aquascutum nodded. "Of course, an excellent choice." He checked one more item on his handheld, then got to his feet. For the first time she noticed the pall of smoke and ash which hung around him. When had she stopped smelling the blood, she wondered.
He stepped a few paces back. "Yes, I remember this one," he muttered. "Oh, right." He coughed, then said, "Be as you were, solid first; yet threefold vicious, threefold cursed."
The smoke and ash coalesced into the form of an 18th-century merchant, small and pinched. Lilah wondered about the choices these Nullats had made in their assassins- honestly, not the most threatening creature she'd ever seen.
The revenant looked at his hands, then up. "Master. What have you bargained for?"
Aquascutum said, "We wish you to deliver death. The victim is in the next room. He's already weak, shouldn't be a problem."
"Ah, of course." The revenant smiled, and Lilah's spine froze. She understood the choice now. "Is blood required?"
"No. Just his death."
"Certainly. Might you have something with which I could smother him? It long has been my favourite."
Lilah smiled at the assassin. "That's perfect. Utterly perfect." She looked around the room. Unfortunately Wolfram and Hart believed in modern austerity as a setting for its evil. She couldn't see a pillow or cushion anywhere. Then it struck her.
She took off her suit jacket and folded it up neatly into a thick pad. "Will this serve you?"
The revenant hissed, then took it into his hands. His fingers clutched on the material. "I think it will serve well."
Lilah smiled. Her perfume would be the last thing Wesley took with him to hell.
***
Giles tapped his watch. Where were they, where were they...."Dazza, what time do you have?"
His colleague said, without looking away from the laptop he'd perched precariously on the steering wheel, "'Bout thirty seconds after the last time you asked me. Now let me get back to the sodding prophecy Imran's been whinging about. Got to drive to 'Boro yet today- technically still on holiday, mate."
Emily checked her medicine/herb bag again, hands dancing over the healing substances. She was ready for Wesley.
Giles was ready too. He rolled his shoulders, then said, "I'm going to have a look-round." He crawled out of the van and stood up. The darkness of the loading bay seemed to swallow him; the lights were dim, casting huge shadows.
Then Anyanka stood beside him, and the lights blazed on full-force. "They're coming, Rupert. Buffy and Will did their job Below, and everyone's on their way."
***
Wesley stirred. He thought he heard someone coming- of course he'd been hearing noises for the past hour, ever since Lilah had pronounced the death sentence on him.
Again.
He might have gotten up, but he'd felt lost. Even once he'd realized he was able to move out of the chains, he needed more information in order to plan. How many Wolfram and Hart employees were out there, how he'd escape in his weakened state: he tried to think, he really did, but his head hurt so terribly. So he sat, still bound, and tried to recruit his strength.
Sadly, he still felt terrible.
The door clicked behind him, and a foul odour wafted in. It was the same smell of smoke and blood that had accompanied the first murderer.
Wesley opened his eyes. A new creature walked in front of him. It was a small man, dressed in frock coat and breeches, holding a thick pad of cloth in sharp-nailed hands. The cloth looked like, what. Like a pillow-
Pillow coming down over his face in an antiseptic room, he deserved it, he should let it happen, God, he'd failed so horribly -
He blinked. Back to the present. The assassin smiled at him, a cold baring of teeth. "Now, young man. I give you only what you deserve."
"'You're going to get what you deserve'": he'd heard those words before. Perhaps they'd been accurate then. Wesley swallowed, hard. But he'd tried to atone, he'd tried to re-connect.
He had family now. He had Dawn.
Wesley shook off his chains and stood. Then, weak and unsteady, he pitched forward into the assassin's arms.
***
"Where do you want me to stand?" Lilah asked.
Aquascutum pointed to a spot outside the triangle he was pacing out. "You don't want to interfere with the energies."
No, she wouldn't want to do that. She moved to her place. If part of her mind was in the next room, where Wesley would be breathing her last, it was only to be expected. Yet she should be concentrating here. On the coming triumph.
The Nullat scattered blood and bone and ash, muttering while he did so. Then he reached into his trench-coat pocket and pulled out a crystal vial, filled with black powder. After unstoppering the vial, he poured the magick substance on the floor, marking the triangle.
"Shouldn't that be a pentagram or some more occult form?" Lilah couldn't help asking.
Aquascutum looked at her. "Are you doing this or am I?"
"Oh, you. Continue, please."
The Nullat shrugged, then stepped to one point of the triangle. "Enter into being, Great Moebiuk. We call you to this dimension," he intoned.
Behind them, in the corridor just past the office, the elevator bell rang. Lilah turned around. There was supposed to be security on the elevators, no one was allowed up -
The doors slid apart. Out of the elevator strode five people: Rupert Giles, William Bennet, Buffy Summers, Anyanka Giles, and a young woman who must be the Slayer's sister. The Watchers and the Slayer carried weapons.
Oh hell. She couldn't fail again.
Then a hiss, followed by a scream, rose from the triangle. An enormous indigo demon, breathing acid, materialized. It almost filled the room. One of its five arms grabbed at the Nullat, claws raking at the expensive coat. "Have you called me, insect? What destruction should I wreak? On what should I feed?"
It caught sight of the five, then, and let the demon go. "There. You must be the feast prepared for me, creatures of light. Come to me, come."
Lilah backed against the wall. Perhaps all was not lost.
The new arrivals exchanged glances. The Slayer and her Watcher consort rolled their eyes. "Well, if it's not one sodding thing it's another," Bennet said.
And the five charged.