Chapter Twenty-One
“Right. We got this,” Buffy murmured as she and Spike stood at the top of the massive, well-lit arena on the edge of Vampire Villa and stared down at the mass chaos of the battlefield below and around them. Because a dome covered the large open area surrounded by seats, the sounds were loud but also muffled and far away, so Buffy could hear Spike with ease.
The reptilian kranooks slithered up and down the stands as if they were smooth. They lashed out with talon-tipped fingers and whipping tails at the leaping and dodging vampires, who were hacking and swiping at them with their blades and weapons. Tendrils of magic sparked and crackled and zigzagged through the air in rainbow-tinged electrical charges. No one seemed to be gaining an upper hand, and the grunts and calls of agonizing death and pain rose and fell in rapid succession like the sounds of a strident symphony.
“S’not as bad as the hellmouth or Glory,” Spike observed.
Not taking her eyes off the scene, Buffy balanced her ax against the metal of the seats, tracing the edge of the blade with a finger. “But worse than Adam and the Master and Angelus. And the Mayor. . . who could forget the Mayor as a giant demon snake that he worked decades to become?”
The thought crossed Buffy’s mind that they were comparing apocalypses like most couples compared vacation spots, and then, the musing drifted away before she grasped onto it enough to comment.
Taking a step forward to balance on the bleacher seats next to Buffy, Spike imitated her stance, his sword blade resting on his shoulder, and shrugged. “Dunno. Wasn’t there for a few of those.”
“I know,” she glanced at him with gentle affection. “You were there for the really bad ones.”
He slipped a casual arm around her waist, and she leaned a little into him. She felt him holding his breath and thought how hard it was to believe that the easy affection between them was true. When he inhaled again, he said, “Well, that’s comforting at least.”
“How so?”
He lifted his eyebrow at her. “That was sarcasm, pet.”
“Oh.” She grinned at him and turned her attention back to the tableau before them.
“What’s our plan now?”
Pushing all conscious thoughts out of her mind, Buffy slid into the familiar mental state that Giles had been so persistent in teaching her, his reluctant teenaged pupil. Her eyes and mind took in the whole scene while simultaneously searching for signs of Stephanie or Angel or Roxy or even Harmony. Jon would be too difficult to distinguish among the hundreds of kranooks, who all appeared alike to her. After several seconds, her brain deciphered a pattern to the magical lights that were darting all around the arena.
“There.” She pointed at a spot in the distance to the far right on the ground level.
She saw Spike follow along and nod in her peripheral vision. “I see it.”
“I think Roxy is down there. . . see how the lines of magic kinda seem like they fan out from that point?”
“Yep. Making preparations, no doubt.”
“Ready to join her?” Buffy gripped her ax.
Spike brandished his sword. “Always ready for a fight.”
She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. She wanted to tell him the gesture was for luck, but in reality, it was so much more than a wish for good fortune, so she didn’t speak.
He smiled, his feelings for her lighting his eyes, and together, they loped down the bleachers and slipped into the fray.
To go from the safety of the silence on high to the clamorous roughness of shouting and fists pounding against flesh and copper-scented blood flying in fanning arcs was jarring and bright and vivid. Bodies flew and fell and tumbled around them in an echo of Buffy’s long ago descent into the Sunnydale crater, and with the first slip of the ax blade through a vampire’s neck, her body took over, her Slayer strength singing through the muscles in her legs and arms and torso as she whirled and kicked and ducked. . . and danced. Somewhere close behind her, she heard Spike laugh with unfettered joy as he slid into a renewed easy rhythm, the sound of his sword slicing through the air as he dusted their foes and rescued their startled reptilian allies.
The pair was so lost in the heat of the battle as they cut through the vampire mass that they almost didn’t notice that the energy of the air was intensifying and that the glimmers of magic around them were brighter and stronger.
A vampire landed a well-placed kick hard on Buffy’s lower back as she leapt to avoid a charge from the opposite direction, and she pulled herself into a roll as she hit the ground, pain radiating up her spine. Spike roared and spun, grabbing the vampire by the back of his shirt and jerking him back away from her. While Spike sliced the head off a second vampire and turned back to slay the original foe, Buffy pushed herself off the ground.
Enemies dispatched, Spike bent and offered her a hand, which she took, goosebumps flying over her flesh at his touch. She bounced up next to him.
“You okay, love?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” A wave of mystical force rolled by them, too big to ignore.
Spike lifted his chin, and she glanced the direction he was indicating. “The witch.”
With her long legs spread wide, Roxy stood a few yards away before a huge opening in the side of the arena, facing the battle. Her eyes were solid black in stark contrast to her pale skin and blonde hair which flew out behind her as the wind whipped around her. Her arms were raised and her mouth moved with a constant stream of unintelligible words as the energy from the spell she was casting swirled and built. She seemed completely oblivious to the fray all around her. Buffy was reminded of Willow and felt a hint of trepidation about Roxy’s intentions.
“Not sure what she’s doing,” Buffy said.
“Let’s hope it’s according to plan.” Spike inclined his head in another direction. “Take a look at that.”
Buffy squinted into the shadows around the archway that led under the arena and saw a familiar horned figure slinging the unconscious or dead body of a kranook to the ground. “Lorne.”
“The question is which Lorne?”
“The only one here. The possibly evil one. Actually, he disappeared in the middle of all the stuff with Angel and his soul, and I don’t know where he went.”
“Well, obviously, he’s still here,” Spike stated. “The others can’t be far behind. Looks like that’s the way to go.”
Buffy’s heart skipped a beat with the anxiety that came from the unknown. “Looks like.”
Spike and Buffy flew at the green-skinned demon, and Lorne barely had time to recover his bearings. Buffy lightly bonked him over the head with the hilt of her ax, and he slipped into dreamland with his lips parted as if he were about to say something.
Buffy gave the avocado green form a small smile as the demon crumpled to the ground. Then, she saw Spike staring at her with an amused expression. “That was very satisfying.”
Before Spike could respond, the lights in the arena abruptly went dark, and there was a sudden hush in the battle behind them as all the creatures hesitated. Roxy’s voice rose behind them, and the force of the wind exponentially increased. The witch staggered under the power, almost falling with the weight of her burden, and then, the rush of air died down again. The light from the magic brightened and illuminated the vast room, chasing away the shadows in repetitive, flowing streaks.
“Well well well.” A familiar voice sounded behind Spike and Buffy, and before Buffy could recover from the shock, two cool arms slung over their shoulders.
“Angel,” Buffy stammered, paralyzed by fear as her brain adjusted to the appearance of the dark-haired vampire who wore his ridges and fangs.
“Not quite. Guess again there.” He patted her on the head like she was a little school girl who got the wrong answer to a math problem.
Buffy froze as memories of Angelus’s rampage through the vampire guards flooded her mind. She could still smell the scent of blood and hear the crunch of bones, and most of all, his words about her and Spike echoed in her mind.
“Angelus,” Spike spat out, shrugging the vampire’s arm off him.
“Oh ho, look who got his strength back. And still a real boy, too.” Angelus leered at him.
Buffy bobbed away from his unwanted embrace and landed next to Spike. Just being near him helped her reconstitute, helped her feel strong again.
Angelus continued, “Guess that’s why Buffy’s letting you get all cozy with her. She couldn’t wait to get away from you when you were human, and now. . . well now she can have the best of both worlds.”
“Shut up. You don’t know what you’re prattling on about.” Buffy heard the edge in Spike’s voice and knew he was likely reacting the way she was in response to some past memory in which Angelus hadn’t been so kind to him.
“He doesn’t,” Buffy chose the light approach, something that was easier with Spike at her side and her soul not recently almost sucked away. “It’s sort of laughable that he thinks he can go there and have it make a difference. Guess the spell didn’t work.”
Spike smiled down at her, borrowing her levity. “Red did her best. It’s too bad. He’s so annoying when he’s evil.”
“Guess you two have had a little talk then. Ah well. And Willow? You think that little Jewish girl who didn’t want to hang a cross on her wall and cried over her dead goldfish could restore my soul inter-dimensionally? Even she’s not that good.”
“She did it from her hospital bed,” Buffy reminded him, “when she was recovering from a head injury and not nearly as powerful as she is now.”
“As I recall, she did it in LA, too,” Spike added.
“Whatever. The past doesn’t matter. What matters is the present, and you, my friends, are outnumbered and very outmatched.”
As Roxy’s Latin continued to hum around them, Angelus’s twin melted out of the shadows, one hand in the front pocket of his dark pants and the other hand twirling a small thin pen-shaped object that looked vaguely familiar. Buffy considered for a moment that maybe she was dreaming about the worst Doublemint gum commercial ever made and maybe if she pinched herself, she’d wake up to the smell of her mother and Dawn cooking bacon and pancakes downstairs.
“Well, hun,” she said, deciding the dream option wasn’t likely and slipping an arm around Spike’s waist, “looks like you’re not the only one with a twin around here. Gotta say, it’s majorly weird to see the two of you together.”
“You and Spikey boy always joke around when you’re really shitting your pants,” human Angel said. “At least, I’m assuming they do the same thing in your world.”
Angelus laughed. “I think you nailed it.”
“Will you please shut up and dispatch these two? We have a job to do, and then, we have a home to get back to.” Wesley appeared, holding a large heavy-looking book. A posse of vampires in black materialized with him.
Human Angel frowned at the ex-Watcher from his dimension. “We talked about this. I’m taking Buffy with us. Celeste needs her mom. I need –”
“That is inadvisable.” Wesley interrupted him through gritted teeth. They’d obviously had this discussion. “She doesn’t want to go, and it would probably disrupt some forces we don’t even understand long term.”
“I’m with the head boy on this one,” Spike said protectively. Everyone except Buffy glared at him, and he held one hand up and let things play out.
Holding up the small item, human Angel started, “We can discuss this later. First things –”
Buffy used the moment to launch herself at Angelus, ax raised.
She heard Spike fighting behind her, the metal of his sword swooping through the air followed by the familiar sucking and whooshing sound that came with dusted vampires.
Angelus was completely taken off guard, and Buffy swept him off his feet so that he landed flat on his back. She hadn’t fought him in so long; she forgot how big he was, and she fell on top of him with a grunt, the ax smashed between them. Angelus’s hands were on the handle, and he reacted by flinging her over his head so that she landed behind him and lost hold of the weapon as the breath was knocked out of her. He was on his feet in a moment as she barely recovered and sprang up, and he stalked toward her so quickly that she backed up into the cold concrete wall of the arena. He pressed the wooden handle hard into her upper chest, avoiding her neck and he leaned over, his fangs close to her carotid. Buffy struggled and started to bring her legs up to hurtle him away when she barely heard him whisper over Roxy’s chanting.
“Buffy, slow down. It’s okay. It’s me. It’s Angel.” There was tenderness in his voice.
Angelus had pretended to be Angel before to mess with her mind and break her heart; she was very clear about that, and she wouldn’t be fooled. . . never again. This time, she was not a vulnerable teenage girl, and she was not wearing her heart on her sleeve. This time, she was listening with her Slayer ear, and she heard something different in his tone. To continue the facade, she continued trying to get away albeit with less enthusiasm and not to the best of her ability.
“H-how?”
His breath cool and gentle over her neck, he murmured, “Willow’s spell worked.” She waited for more. “I’m sorry about. . . everything. I’m looking for the right moment. Work with me.”
She nodded her consent so that only he could see – only they would know. Then, shifting the ax to one hand, he grabbed her by the throat with the other and jerked her around and back toward the group. Buffy watched Spike as he scrambled, scrapping and fighting and dusting several vampires as was his way when faced with insurmountable odds. She hoped he wouldn’t do anything stupid.
A wave of kranooks slithered up and joined Spike as he was tripped up by a couple of foes. One kranook hesitated next to Spike and then scooped him up with his tail. Buffy thought she recognized Jon now that they were closer.
Propping the ax against his hip, Angel brought his fingers to his lips and blew a loud shrill whistle that carried over the sounds of Roxy’s spell and over the scuffle before them. Everyone ceased moving and stared at the vampire and the Slayer.
Angel then re-gripped the weapon and strode forward, and Buffy held fast to his arm with both hands, so she could get some oxygen. Angel knew she was not very good at pretending, so he kept his arm tight around her neck.
He stared Spike down. “I don’t think I need to say more.”
Sword at the ready, Spike kept his gaze on Angel, really studying his eyes. Buffy willed him to not see the truth just yet. Spike wasn’t very good at faking, which she usually appreciated.
“Drop it,” Angel commanded.
Metal clattered against concrete. A nearby vampire scooped up the lost weapon and backed away.
A hiss filled the air, sliding around the syllables of Roxy’s Latin. “We do not hold to such orders.” Jon’s eyes glowed.
“You will now,” human Angel said and blew on the instrument in his hand. A piercing noise rang out over almost everything. It was the same noise from their fight in the forest when Buffy and Spike were separated, and the kranooks began their conditioned retreat, sliding back the way they came. This time, however, they didn’t flow out of the arena and away from everything. They reached just past Roxy’s spell-casting form and stopped.
“What the hell?” human Angel huffed.
Angel snorted in keeping with his façade. “Well, that’s a brilliant trick there.”
The kranooks paced and slithered, bucking up against an invisible barrier.
“Obviously, the magic from the witch is interfering with your little toy there,” Spike noted.
Clearly irritated, Human Angel glared at Spike and retorted, “And you’re still hopelessly outnumbered, and your girl’s in more than just a bit of trouble.”
“Enough of this nonsense! It’s time to stop playing around.” Boot heels clacking loudly, Stephanie stormed out from the underground place, her long hair woven into two tight braids, her pale skin luminous in the dim light. She had a black bag slung over her shoulder and a glowing purple globe in her hand. More vampires flowed up in her wake. “We have a city to move.”
The lizard creatures were temporarily collared, Spike wasn’t in the know about Angel, and they were surrounded by enemies. Buffy felt the panic in her chest and decided that they were totally screwed.