Face The Strange - Chapter 2/11: Risky Business free porn video

FACE THE STRANGE by Crazy Baron Chapter 2: Risky Business The breakfast at 1630 Revello Drive on the following morning was a thoroughly routine affair, except for the fact that I was even more mentally absent than usual. Joyce was having toast with bacon and coffee, Dawn was busy consuming corn flakes soaked in milk with some orange juice on the side, and I mostly sat deep in thought and stared in front of myself. The others chatted as they usually did, which primarily entailed Dawn informing us about what was happening with her school and her friends, while I shoveled my cereal portion into my mouth slowly and mechanically, a small spoonful at a time. I didn't find the taste particularly appealing, but that was not the main reason for my preoccupation. What really made me pensive was the kiss. Right after I had confessed to Angel how much I longed for a normal life, he had leaned in and kissed me tenderly. My masculine side had tried to register a feeble complaint, but the Buffy persona had handily overruled it and made me respond eagerly to the kiss. I had opened my mouth and let his tongue in; then, the lip lock had turned into a passionate one that left me almost gasping for air. It had been heavenly to have his lips on mine and to feel his embrace, and it had satisfied me, even though it did pave the way for a desire to take things further despite the grave risks involved. The remainder of our rounds had been uneventful as such, but my dreams that night more than made up for the lack of action in real life. This time, my recollections were not too clear as to the small details, but I had no trouble at all remembering the gist of my dream: having wild sex with a man in my bed. The identity of my imaginary partner had been somehow indistinct or mutable. For the most part, he was presumably supposed to be Angel, but his face and body would keep changing into those of some other men I had met or seen. Nonetheless, they were all guys Buffy, or the female me, obviously found attractive. Taken together, the kiss and the dream had elbowed my every other concern aside. Unlike when I had had the previous wet dream as a girl, Kate was not there to comfort me afterwards. She could understand me perfectly because she knew my true identity and past, but hardly anyone in Sunnydale did. Joyce, Angel or virtually any other person I could potentially have confided in assumed that Buffy only wanted the life of a typical teenage girl; Dawn had evidently forgotten all about Scott and was happily living her own life; the same applied to Charlie as Cordelia; and finally Jake was struggling with the Willow persona and was probably in dire need of emotional support himself. I had briefly toyed with the idea of telling Joyce and Dawn who I really was, but after imagining how the conversation would flow I had become convinced that baring my soul to them wouldn't turn out well, no matter how supportive and loving they otherwise were towards me. Some kind of a reckoning was likely at hand, I mused. It was plain to see that my masculine side was now entirely at the mercy of its feminine counterpart. Buffy could take over completely whenever she wanted, and she was beginning to want that more and more often. The question of whether I should continue to resist or simply give in still remained unresolved. I might have been more willing to choose the latter option if I had had an assurance or at least some kind of a reason to believe that deep down, my old personality would stay intact. If some unforeseen act of God was to take me away abruptly and whisk me back to the ordinary world, Buffy Summers would be just as out of place there as I was here, missing her family and friends and having to adjust to the life of an average non-magical person. It was agonizing to think I might never see Kate, my parents and my friends again, and worse yet to imagine being reunited with them as a total stranger who had lost every emotional tie to them. Dawn finished her breakfast first and I had to hurry to catch up. "Just put the bowls on the counter, girls," Joyce instructed us. We were running a bit late and she was concerned that we should get to school in time. "I'll take care of them later. As soon as you guys are ready, we're out of the door." "I can walk," I suggested. "That should save you a couple of minutes." "But not much more," Joyce countered, "and that would mean you'd be late for your first class, Buffy, so that's not an option. Less talk and more action, dear." I went upstairs to get my backpack and to check my appearance one last time before heading out. Dawn, who was far more enthusiastic to start the new day, rushed past me in the stairs, dashed into her room to collect her pack and then ran quickly downstairs again to wait for me by the outside door in the foyer. For today, I had chosen a tastefully understated outfit that would allow me to blend in, namely a gray hooded light tunic, reddish tan-colored pants and a pair of low-heeled, relatively comfortable boots. The clothing required no adjustment, but I did devote a minute on touching up my face. As I arrived downstairs, finally completely prepared for one of my last school days at Sunnydale High, the other two females were showing definite signs of impatience. "Enter the slowpoke," Dawn commented flippantly. "The main thing is that we're ready to go," Joyce said and hurried out of the house. "I'll get the car!" she announced from the yard as she went. I sighed and looked at Dawn, who didn't seem to suffer from persistent worrisome thoughts or motivation issues. She flashed a brief smile back at me, but her expression turned quizzical almost at once. Although she most likely no longer knew or remembered the real causes of my internal turmoil, she could definitely sense that something was bothering me a great deal, just as Angel and Giles and Joyce had sensed it. "Come here," she said all of a sudden. She reached around me with her slender little arms and pulled me into a warm hug. I was so surprised that it took me a fair amount of time to respond to the gesture in kind. "What was that for?" I asked her as the embrace finally ended and Dawn let me go. "You just looked like you needed it," she answered in a happy tone, smiled and went out of the door. Joyce dropped me off first. She wished me a good day and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek as I was getting out of the right front seat of the black Jeep Cherokee, and then she drove off to take Dawn to the middle school campus on the other side of the town. I lifted my backpack on, heaved a sigh and began to walk up to the main entrance of the center building. The front yard was nearly empty as the majority of the students had arrived earlier and gone inside; Joyce had been right to hurry me along. In fact, I was among the last large group of people who squeezed themselves in through the doors. A quick visit to the lockers later I headed for the first class of the day, English literature. We were due to turn in an essay about H. W. Longfellow and his creative influences. Of course, the whole thing had slipped out of my mind and I had considered skipping class altogether when, as I was about to go out on patrol the previous night, I had discovered the completed essay among my notes. I had absolutely no recollection of writing it, and, what was more, the handwriting wasn't even mine. Who had completed the assignment for me was another mystery to be added to all the great and small ones I had encountered, but I was at any rate thankful to that unknown person as I walked to the teacher's desk and handed the paper to her in my turn. I maintained a low profile for the first half of the day. This was made easier by the fact that the classes tended to be somewhat boring, either because the teachers gave uninspired and dry, by-the-numbers lectures or because the subject matter failed to rouse my interest. Despite having been a better than average student during my own high school years, I was no stranger to this feeling. None of my friends were in any of these classes, and I got the impression that my classmates, even though they didn't actively shun me, preferred to keep me at an arm's length. They must have known something about my Slayer exploits and therefore wanted to disassociate themselves from the dangers that belonged to my life. The lunch was nothing to write home about either. I got my tray at the start of the service line, collected a sizable if not very appetizing serving of food (mashed potatoes and brown sauce of some sort, along with steamed vegetables and milk for a drink) and found a seat at one of the small tables. The other tables surrounding it were mostly occupied by the nerdy crowd on one side and by students who were leaning towards being misfits or loners on the opposite side. In the end, I ate alone that day. Xander came into the cafeteria hall a little after me, waved and smiled as he went past and sat down with a group of basketball players in the far corner. I raised my eyebrows and wondered whether this was an early indication of something unusual. It took until after the lunch break for a memorable incident to happen. I had just left the Biology class when I again spotted Xander in the hallway. This time, he made a beeline for me. "Hi there," he hailed me happily as he finally managed to get past the three hulking jocks standing almost side by side and chatting in the middle of the corridor. "How's your day been, Buff? Full of cool learning and stuff, courtesy of our public school system?" "Oh, absolutely," I replied with pretended seriousness. "For instance, the English Lit class gave me plenty to think about, such as the problem of whether or not a person can theoretically be a creative writer without excessive consumption of alcohol. Did you know that if Ernest Hemingway had been drinking a little less, chances are he would've written his best short stories after his death?" My little wisecrack took Xander by surprise to such an extent that he was quiet for nearly a full second, looking at me with a perplexed expression, before his smile returned and he let out a chuckle of his own. I considered this a remarkable achievement, bearing in mind how he nearly invariably had a joke or a clever comeback ready in every situation. We began to walk together in the general direction of the auditorium. "Yeah, right you are," he said. "Old Papa sure knew how to live the good life in the Caribbean, downing drinks and shooting sharks with a Tommy gun. I wish we could do that too." "Shoot sharks with a submachine gun?" "Well, maybe not that, but get away and take it easy, let someone else worry about the... problems we've got to deal with in the near future." "I'm with you, 100 per cent." I sighed and imagined myself back in my modest city apartment, wrestling with my doctoral dissertation, which in all likelihood would never be completed now. Even that dull daily rut, no matter how frustrating it could be, had become an object of longing, never mind vacationing somewhere down south and leaving the Hellmouth behind. I decided to change the topic before my mood had the chance to go sour. "So," I spoke up, "have you been making new friends?" "New friends?" he asked back. "Oh, you mean me having lunch with the guys! Nah, I wouldn't say I'm trying to enter their clique, if that's what you're curious about. It's more like gathering info and keeping abreast of things. Besides, I get along pretty well with Larry Blaisdell and his crew these days. It's a good thing we got around to clearing up that little misunderstanding we had, or he had, way back when." "A misunderstanding?" I inquired. "I'm not exactly keen on going there, if you don't mind." "Okay." "Anyway, what do we have next? Math?" "That's on Thursdays," I pointed out. "I think we've got History next, and then Home Room." "Skip, skip, and skip whatever comes after that," he recited in response. "What do you say?" "Your plan sounds extremely tempting." I had yet to make up my mind with regard to the rest of my school day when I saw Willow and Oz some distance ahead, talking by the former's locker. Before I had heard one word of their conversation, I could already tell that something untoward had occurred between them. The redhead was visibly distraught and pouring her heart out, and Oz, while outwardly as unflappable as ever, gave off an air of sullen pensiveness. "How could this happen to us?" Willow berated him. "What were you thinking? O-or were you thinking?" "We celebrated the record deal, that's all," the boy replied in an even, calm tone. Despite being quite short compared to the average senior male student, he managed to stand out in his own way, with his spiky, dyed hair, boots and his unique brand of seemingly effortless cool manner and charisma. "It's got nothing to do with us, Wil." "Oh yeah, the big break of yours," the agitated Willow went on. "Does your contract include a clause that says you've got an obligation to sleep with the talent scout of the record company that signs you up?" "I didn't sleep with her." "Your bandmate, Devon the Bigshot Singer Dude, begs to differ. It's all over the school now! You guys---" "We didn't do anything like that. It's just a rumor. Willow, you know better than to believe every piece of gossip going around. Or at least I thought you did." "I know plenty! I-I've been through a lot, going from one dimension to another, a-and the end of the world, and, like, everything else--I don't need another problem to worry about. I can't handle it anymore!" "What do you mean? One dimension to another?" While Oz no doubt was genuinely taken aback, he managed to maintain his composure to an impressive degree, only letting a very subdued reaction show to the outside world. For my part, I was downright alarmed by his girlfriend's words, but barging in would have been very tactless, no matter how tempted I was to do that. "Like you don't know!" Willow retorted. She sounded as if she were on the verge of tears. "Greensville, Texas, Sunnydale--I'm torn out of one place and thrown somewhere else, back and forth, a-and it's just confusion and fear and pain for me! This is not who I'm supposed to be! There's no end in sight, and then you..." "I'm sorry, but I'm not following," Oz confessed. "Was it a dream or a vision you had, or...?" "No, it's a nightmare! My life's a nightmare! And you have to make it worse by having sex with that skank!" "People!" Xander interrupted the couple. "I think what we have here is a simple failure to communicate." "You think?" Oz said. "Uh, yeah, basically. It's about priorities. As a wise man once said, everything's relative. You shouldn't get stuck on small details when it's the big stuff that really matters. Try a bit more Zen approach to your issues and let them pass." A heavy silence fell. Willow stared at the would-be mediator with an incredulous and hurt expression on her face. Xander, realizing his mistake, added quickly, "And I reckon that didn't come out anything like the way I intended." "You can keep your priorities and contracts a-and... and missions and... everything!" Willow suddenly spat out angrily, with a teardrop glistening in her eye. "Why don't you handle this mess on your own, you smug, mean... persons! Count me out!" Cordelia Chase chose this very moment to join us. She strode towards our group from the opposite side and stopped nearby, obviously curious to see how the situation would develop. Even among the local female students, who for the most part were very conscious of their appearance and followed the latest trends, her place was firmly on the higher end of the fashion spectrum. To underscore this, she was sporting a plaid off-white miniskirt with white and dark brown stripes, an orange sweater tied around her shoulders, a top matching the sweater and a pair of high heels. Her long chestnut brown hair was extremely carefully groomed, faintly suggesting some sort of special occasion. "I'm sorry," Xander apologized. "What I meant was---" "Forget it!" Willow exclaimed. "Just..." She left her sentence unfinished and marched away in a huff. A number of students around us had followed the scene as interested spectators, and the dramatic departure of the leading lady elicited several comments made in a low voice, together with a few unfriendly chuckles from the more indiscreet members of the audience. I aimed a stern glare at a gaggle of five sophomore or junior girls who had enjoyed the show and additionally provided a distasteful remark, and they promptly got the message and went on their way. "I'm on it," Xander offered bravely and turned to leave. "My bad." "No," I said. "Let me talk to her. I believe I---" "Buffy, it's fine. I'm fixing this. It's time I made a positive contribution for a change." "Ah, Mister Xander Harris," Cordelia chimed in with a feigned smile of pity on her lips. "A man who never fails to make a bad state of affairs worse by opening his mouth. What a truly magnificent talent." "Go on," the man fired back. "Make fun of me if it makes you feel better about yourself. But just so you know, Cordy--the day will come when that same mouth will save the world with its words. I know it. The mouth is going to have its crowning hour of glory, I'm telling you." "Well, I'm convinced," the brunette said sarcastically, but Xander had already left, walking briskly down the hallway after Willow and weaving between the groups of students who were hanging around or slowly meandering to their next class. "It's puzzling," Oz mused cryptically and took his leave as well, heading for the patio. Our little gang had thus dispersed, and I was left with Cordelia. "I guess we'll just have to content ourselves with each other's company," she commented to me breezily. "So it would seem," I said in a polite tone. I stole a glance at her and wondered if the soul of my old friend Charles McGee was really buried somewhere inside the beautiful but blunt-mannered girl. I ended up going to the History class with her. However, regardless of her words, she made no effort to speak of to socialize with me after we had entered the classroom, and as it happened, we sat in different rows, so she was no threat to my privacy. I spent most of the time drawing tiny pictures of silly alien creatures and their spaceships in my notebook, just as I had often done during the high school classes I had taken in my previous life. When the bell finally rang, I escaped to the courtyard, found a nice place to sit under the shadow of a palm tree and began to do my homework for tomorrow. This was a fairly productive way to spend the typically useless Home Room period as well. I should perhaps have gone to look for Willow in order to talk to her and offer my support, but an instinct told me that interfering too soon would have been counterproductive, although she was a close friend of mine in every timeline and universe in which we had ever existed. I would step in only if Xander failed to sort out the trouble. The other members of our gang were presumably busy doing their own things, and so I was left in peace for a good hour. Time flew by, and a bit later, as it seemed to me, the bells signaled the end of yet another period. I took this as my cue to go to the library, so I packed up my books and went back inside the main building. Most of the others were already there. Xander, Oz and Cordelia sat at the center table, and Giles was standing nearby with his hands on his waist, looking clearly worried and troubled. The list of participants was rounded out by Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. The younger of the two Watchers, once more impeccably dressed in a dark suit and a tie, stood stiffly a little to the side, with his lips tightly pursed. He looked sharp and utterly helpless at the same time. "Okay, there she is," Xander announced my presence. "I think we can start now. Lay the bad news on us, G-Man." "I'm afraid you're basically right when it comes to the quality of, um, the latest developments," the older Watcher said, "but I don't see Willow here yet. Do any of you know if she's coming?" Oz and Cordelia aimed a look at Xander, who was to his patent dismay saddled with the responsibility of explaining what had taken place. "Uh, right, here's the deal," he began. "There's been a wee snag with regard to Willow. A snafu, you might say." "A snafu?" Giles inquired. "A problem, an issue, a setback, a---" "I know perfectly well what those words mean." "Right. Good! I'm glad we're on the same page." "Willow believes I've cheated on her with someone," Oz interjected calmly. "It didn't actually happen, though." "So, she's really upset," Xander continued, "and I may--allow me to emphasize the word 'may'--have sort of complicated matters by trying to offer her a couple of words of advice, but I'm working on it." "Working on it? Could you elaborate?" Giles asked but went on to add quickly, "On a second thought, maybe it's for the best that you don't." "I'm picking up this vibe of you folks kinda lacking faith in my people skills," Xander commented. "Th-that's not what I meant," Giles hurried to tell him. "However, we must deal with any differences and misunderstandings quickly now. We'll be needing all the resources we can call on to counter the current problems." He let out a light, barely audible sigh, inhaled and continued, "When I went to my apartment before lunch break today, to consult the Kippler volumes about something I thought could relate to the Ascension, I found a hand-written note at the front door. It was a message from the surviving Sathir'na demons." "Wait a sec," Cordelia interrupted him. "Who?" "The Sathir'na, a species of humanoid demons," Wesley clarified for his colleague and began to reel off the textbook definition. "They are on average a little less than seven feet tall, typically of bulky body structure, and possess considerable physical strength but have a generally limited understanding of magic. Their material culture is rated at 3.4 on the universal Brasch scale, but---" "Thank you," Giles interrupted him. "They are demons who have the Angronok talisman. We battled them at the old factory last Saturday, but some of them escaped." "Where's the talisman now?" I asked. "Are you sure they still have it?" "Everything points to that, unfortunately. Willow and I performed a location spell on the lunch break, and we interpreted the results to mean the talisman is in or near Breakers Woods, outside the town. A strong, lasting buildup of energy also appears to be in the vicinity." "Breakers Woods?" Oz chimed in. "Isn't that the druidic retreat?" "Yes. There's a clearing in the woods where rituals are sometimes performed, as the locale itself tends to enhance spells." "I thought the location spell didn't work on the talisman," Xander pointed out. "It gave no result at the factory." "We have no explanation for that discrepancy, as yet. There could've been a protection spell in place that kept us from detecting the talisman, or it might have happened for, well, some other reason." "Indeed," Wesley added. "It's not unknown for spells to yield highly varying results, depending on the physical surroundings, the mood and level of concentration of the caster, together with a number of other variables." "A little field trip to the woods seems to be in the offing," I commented to steer the conversation back on track, "but what about the message? What was it?" Giles looked at me with a somber expression. I could detect anxiety, even pain in his eyes, and I suddenly grasped that he was apprehensive of breaking the news to me. It had to be something horrible and devastating. I braced myself, both reluctant and impatient to learn what it was that bothered him so. "Buffy," he said, trying to sound unperturbed but not quite succeeding, "the demons hold you responsible for what happened at the factory, and they want to avenge the death of their leader. They demand that you come to Breakers Woods tonight. Alone." "Or what?" "Or they will hurt Dawn," Giles replied, casting his eyes down. "They kidnapped her this morning." The Watcher's words hit me like a physical blow. For several seconds, I was unable to form a coherent thought, much less say anything even remotely sensible. I had feared something like this could occur, I had almost even predicted it, but that made the shock no more bearable. The others stayed quiet out of worry and compassion, the severity of our problem having sunk in immediately. "Is... is she okay?" I stammered. "Is Dawn okay? And is my mom okay?" "I called your mother," Giles said. "She's safe and she, uh, had no idea of what had happened. Of course, she's very distressed and afraid, although I did my best not to overstate the danger your sister is in. As for Dawn, I think we have reason to believe the demons will treat her in a comparatively decent manner. I-it's you they want, not her. The Sathir'na aren't known for pure sadism and brutality for brutality's sake toward humans, unlike many other demon species." "Actually," Wesley jumped in, "that claim is not entirely accurate. They might be more fittingly characterized as---" Giles silenced him with a significant look. "We will naturally mount a rescue operation and try to recover the talisman while we're at it, if it's at all possible." "I'm going to start the preparations straight away," Wesley volunteered. "When shall we leave?" "I was thinking we'd move out at dusk," Giles said. "Angel will be joining us, as will Faith." The name of the other Slayer sent a new silent shockwave across the room. Xander's jaw dropped, and he and Cordelia turned to stare at Giles questioningly with large eyes. Even Oz raised his eyebrows in surprise and leaned back in his chair. Xander was the first one to regain his ability to speak. "Faith?" he repeated. "I'm sorry, but am I missing something here? Wasn't she supposed to have gone, you know, totally evil, as in killing innocent people and becoming the apprentice to our local germophobic Sith Lord?" "She contacted Buffy last night and promised to help us destroy the Angronok talisman," Giles explained and went on to admit thoughtfully, "I'm well aware that we're engaging in a blind bargain. The mission ahead of us is risky business throughout, and trusting Faith is but one of the many risks. However, I believe her offer is probably sincere, at least as far as recovering and unmaking the talisman goes. The Mayor doesn't want Angronok released any more than we do, so we have a common interest." "What if she just takes the talisman or amulet or whatever you call it for herself?" Cordelia asked. "Could she use it?" "Highly unlikely," Wesley opined. "The ritual needed to open the portal is very complex and demanding, even for an experienced and powerful user of magic, and as Mr. Giles already pointed out, neither she nor the Mayor has any logical reason to desire to bring about the end of the world." "I really hope you guys know what you're doing," Xander commented. "Anyway, if you say it's all good, then who am I to argue? The more the merrier. Let's bring the devil-may-care, nihilistic, super-powered, sex- crazed loose cannon aboard. By all means." "I suppose we'll have to get another car besides the van," Giles remarked. "There has to be enough room for Dawn too." "We can take my van," Oz said to this. "I'm assuming you've got the engine problems sorted out?" Xander asked him. "Didn't you tell me the Oz Mobile had a tendency to overheat, or something?" "Yeah, but I had a friend of mine take a look at it and it's running pretty smooth now. As long as I don't go much over fifty for extended periods of time, it should be alright." "I'm coming with you guys," Cordelia declared without warning. "I've been missing out on a lot lately." "I should think that's too dangerous," Wesley objected. "This is rather a mission for competent, veteran fighters and spellcasters, such as ourselves. We are likely to face serious opposition." "You mean like demons and vampires? That's why we're bringing the weapons, right?" "Well, yes, b-but we really can't overestimate the risks involved were an inexperienced civilian like you, Cordelia, to venture out and tangle with a large group of Sathir'na who are thirsty for vengeance." Cordelia was undeterred. "I may not be a Slayer or a witch," she argued pointedly, "but I wouldn't exactly call myself inexperienced when it comes to this stuff involving vamps and other monsters. Besides, I'll have you to protect me, Wesley." She spoke the last sentence in a shamelessly flirty manner, and she punctuated it by beaming a wide smile at him. The young Watcher was caught off guard and his cheeks reddened right away. "Uh, we..." Wesley stammered, "we... might... be able to arrange something in that, uh, respect." "It really could be better for you if you sat this one out, Cordy," Oz remarked. "Excuse me!" she retorted. "Didn't someone say just a couple of minutes ago that we need everything we have? There's got to be something I can do!" "Maybe you can frustrate the baddies with your immeasurably witty sarcasm," Xander suggested. "Hell hath no fury and so forth." "Why not," she returned the jab. "It ought to be more effective than you stumbling around and getting your butt kicked, as per usual. Then again, pretty much anything is more effective than you." "As I've said before, just you wait. I'll have my day and the last laugh." "Should I start holding my breath already?" "People," Giles admonished. "We have more important things to concern ourselves with. I'd be grateful if you could save your petty bickering for later." "I can't speak for anyone else, but I'm not going to rest until we get Dawn back," I said firmly. "Then we find the talisman and destroy it. This has gone on long enough. It's high time we put Angronok and the demons and Dan Lee out of business for good." ***** The numbers on the clock in the dashboard of the black van showed 09:56 p.m. when Wesley, who had been trusted with driving, began to slow down. The sun had set two hours ago, and about an hour after that, our little convoy had set out from the high school parking lot. The black van was leading and the Oz Mobile was following. The town lights had soon disappeared behind us, and for the last twenty minutes, we had been traveling in virtual darkness ever further away from populated places. The gravity of the situation was not lost on me, and I felt the typical nervousness that always preceded action or any kind of occasion where my skills and character would be seriously tested. Nevertheless, I was first and foremost determined to set things right. It had been heart- wrenching to see Joyce after I had come home from school; she was wracked with fear of what might happen to her younger daughter and only barely keeping herself from falling apart. I had made a solemn promise to her (and also to myself) to bring Dawn home safely, and even though seeing her in such a state had shaken me, that eventually only served to strengthen my resolve. I would do my utmost to defeat the bad guys and tear my way through an army if need be. Joyce and Dawn were now my real mother and my real sister, equally as Gail and Kate were. There were plenty of other sources of tension in the cabin, as well. Seated between Angel and me was Faith, who had appeared in front of the school at the agreed time, fully dressed and prepared for the mission. She had essentially acted as if there had never been a falling out between her and the rest of us. She shrugged off the probing looks, a couple of terse questions and even an ambiguous and somewhat undiplomatic quip from Xander. We had demanded her to surrender a large knife for the duration of the outbound trip, and this she surprisingly did without protest. Then we had clambered into the vehicle. The seating arrangement was chosen mainly so that Angel and I could restrain Faith quickly if she were to forget our agreement and try to cause problems en route. "Don't you trust me?" she had asked me with her trademark grin when the van started rolling forward. "As a certain former head of state would put it," I responded, "'Trust is good, control is better.'" "Aww, I'm hurt," she reacted with mock offense. "Okay, seeing as you're into being in control, how about some handcuffs? Could spice things up a little, don't you think?" "Dream on," I grunted. At any rate, there had been one heartening development. Willow had shown up at the school when we were preparing to move out, and she and Oz had shared a quick but affectionate hug out in the parking lot. She offered nothing by way of explanation, aside from the briefest of smiles as she climbed in Oz's van. Whether her boyfriend had taken the initiative to mend the rift between them or Xander had exercised his vaunted people skills and thawed her out, she had again taken her place in our ranks, much to my delight and relief. "I think we should stop here and disembark," Wesley said and pulled up, returning me to the present in the process. "We may well lose the element of surprise if we press on in our vehicles." "Quite right," Giles confirmed and nodded lightly. "What's more, it would be difficult to struggle up the track leading to the clearing in a car." "Not this one. It's got four-wheel drive, a state-of-the-art dynamic stability control system, and, most importantly, I fancy myself as a rather capable driver. One of my hidden talents, you might say." "Still, we'd be daft to risk getting stuck up there," Giles said. "Disembark and continue on foot, that's the best solution." The question of where we should leave the vehicles was thus answered, and as soon as Wesley had turned the engine off and pulled the parking brake on, we all got out. He had conscientiously maintained a moderate speed throughout the drive to make it easier for Oz to keep up, and the latter had indeed managed to stay close. His well-worn blue Ford Econoline pulled over a few paces from us, and when he turned his headlights off, the world became dark around us. The sky was mostly clear and stars were shining high in the black firmament like tiny diamonds, but they and the scattered lights from nearby towns couldn't lift the bulk of the darkness. The moon was of no help as it was waning and would not rise until towards the morning. I breathed in the soft and warm nighttime air and looked around. The narrow gravel road curved roughly south here, skirting the base of a low, gently rising hill, but there was enough space left for both vans on the wide and flat grass-covered shoulder. They were not blocking the way and we could turn them around without much trouble. Trees flanked the road on both sides, but the vegetation was appreciably denser on the right. Another, larger opening was situated a few dozen yards further ahead. I noticed an old red pickup truck parked there in the shadow of the trees. The rest of the participants had exited the vehicles meanwhile, and they were gathering in a loose circle near the black van. Our gang wouldn't have given an outside observer the impression of military-like fighting efficiency and order. Not only were the people intent on finding Dawn and the talisman wildly disparate in stature, age and the way they carried themselves, but also our clothes were hardly reminiscent of any standard battledress and again not quite optimal for the task at hand. After school, I had changed into a pair of blue jeans, a lavender- colored sweater with an open neck and sequined hem and a blue jacket (I had kept the black boots, though); Willow, Xander and Oz had on modified versions of their everyday outfits, namely jackets over what they typically wore to school (in her case, an orange cardigan, a short black print skirt, white leggings and sneakers); and Cordelia sported a stylish and expensive, yet for her strikingly utilitarian, track suit with running shoes. Angel and Faith were in their customary, mostly dark-colored city clothing that blended quite well with the surroundings in the absence of daylight. Angel handed Faith's knife back to her, and she accepted the weapon with a mischievous smile, as though the whole issue had been a joke of some kind. Outwardly, she seemed unfazed, completely confident and looking forward to a fight, but I had come to know her well enough to understand this might have been partially a bluff, a well-practiced front that hid her true feelings, whatever they were. "Okay, we're there and rearing for action," Xander declared and rubbed his hands together. "What's the game plan?" "You might want to keep it down," Angel suggested. "I'm pretty sure the Sathir'na have lookouts and sentries in the woods since they're definitely prepared." "Most of you are not familiar with this place," Giles said in a quiet voice, "so I'll explain its basic features in a few words before we move out. A winding foot track begins at the edge of that clearing over there; it leads through the woods and up the side of the hill. There's another clearing on top, and that's the actual ritual site. It has an old solitary redwood tree growing near the middle and a simple stone circle built beside the tree." "Uh," Wesley piped up, "is the undergrowth that dense all the way up to the top?" "In most places, yes, and there are also some large rocks scattered about. We'll have to stay close to the track if we want to move fast through the woods." "I see. From a tactical point of view," Wesley went on, "we're at a distinct disadvantage. The terrain provides ample opportunities for the defenders to set up an effective ambush." His attempt at hiding his nervousness was admirable but didn't quite succeed. "Yeah, exactly," Angel voiced his own opinion. "Besides, they know we're coming. They're expecting Buffy and they probably assume she's not alone despite their demands. If we walk up that track in single file with our hands in our pockets, chances are we'll get slaughtered." "So," Xander asked, "any ideas on how not to let that happen?" "The best fighters should lead," the vampire said, "and anyone not absolutely needed has to stay behind." "Precisely," Giles affirmed. "That's what I was thinking too. Cordelia, perhaps you'd be kind enough to guard the vehicles." "All alone in this place? No way!" she refused point blank. "I'm coming with you." "Then someone has to stay with her," Oz reasoned. "I should think it's not necessarily any less dangerous to remain here," Wesley remarked, "so we must spare one able-bodied person with combat training. Does anyone wish to volunteer?" Before receiving an answer, he continued hastily, "If not, then maybe I ought to bear that burden." "You're insinuating I'm a burden?" Cordelia snapped, disregarding the need to be as quiet as possible. "No, no, absolutely not," her supposed romantic interest denied. "What I meant was that holding the fort, so to speak, in a situation like this may be rather demanding if our opponents display even a modicum of tactical savviness." I suppressed a little chuckle at this maneuver, and even Giles looked away to hide his wry smile. Wesley, while knowledgeable and intelligent, was not famous for his courage or prowess in battle. "Now that sounds better," the brunette commented happily. "I wouldn't mind having a knight in shining armor by my side." "Uh, that's... nice of you to say so," the young Watcher stammered. "I'll strive to be worthy of the trust you are placing in me." "Good, so the cheerleader and Sir Robin will hold the fort," Xander commented. "What about the rest of us?" "I'll go first," I declared, "with backup close but preferably out of sight." "I'll get the mace for you," Oz offered. "No, I don't think I should be carrying weapons openly," I said. "Someone can bring the mace and hand it to me when the action begins. I'll try to get to the ritual site without starting a fight on the way and alerting our friends unless I'm attacked. I'd very much like to take a look at the place first. You guys will follow me and form up at the edge of woods, and then we'll attack together, like we agreed." "I'll be right behind you on the trail," Angel said. "Yeah, me too," Faith added. "The rest of you guys should stay well back." "I think the basic plan is settled then," Giles said. "Good luck, everyone." I started in the direction of the nearby clearing, walking at a steady and easy pace. The others followed me silently. A small wooden arrow- shaped signpost marked the start of the footpath at the edge of the woods. I stopped at it for a second, took a deep breath and stepped onto the track that twisted and turned as it wound its way underneath the trees up and towards the ritual site. I knew for certain that the battle would begin at any moment and it would be fierce. Despite that, or perhaps rather because of that, my thoughts were clear and I was almost serene. The inner conflicts plaguing me had been put to rest, and the Mike and Buffy sides had made a temporary truce in their fight over my identity. My senses were at their absolute sharpest and I had rarely felt this alert and alive to the world around me in my entire life. It was too bad that this wonderful state of mind was destined to be followed by a potentially deadly encounter with infernal monsters. As it turned out, the peace and quiet ended much earlier than I had expected. When I was still in the middle of the woods, without the ritual location anywhere in sight, I suddenly saw and heard some movement to my left. A human-like figure emerged from there and stepped onto the path to block my way. As he stood in a wide, menacing stance in front of me, I discovered that he was a robust, tall man, whose face revealed that he was a vampire on the prowl. "End of the road, girlie," he said through his fangs. "Whatever you thought you'd be doing up there, it's not gonna happen." "Says who?" I asked in a deliberately perky tone. "Me, my pals and my boss. You're not wanted at the site, but you're welcome to our dinner table--as the main course." Out of the corner of my eye, I could discern several more shapes sneaking noiselessly towards us behind the trees and bushes on both sides of the path. Although the lack of light made it nearly impossible to see any details, the enemies appeared to be human in form, in contrast to the characteristically large and girthy Sathir'na. These had to be Dan Lee's hired vampire thugs, I thought and silently cursed our bad luck. We would evidently have to fight our way through them before we could get at the demons. "Would your boss be a girlish fellow in a green suit," I taunted the vampire, "or do you take your orders from a British vamp with dyed blond hair and relationship issues?" "The guy's got blond hair and a British accent," he said, "if you must know. Anyhow, that's not gonna do you any good now. Got any last wishes or something you want to say, or can we get to the fun part already?" "Oh, that Spike," I sighed theatrically. "He made no preparation for my reputation once again." "Was that a joke?" the vampire snarled. "Okay, I've got one for you too, missy. How about I drain you to the last drop and then tear your body to pieces?" I had slid my right hand surreptitiously into my jacket pocket and clutched a stake I was carrying there. The vampire had been too engrossed in his feeding fantasy to pay much attention, and it proved to be his undoing. In a swift motion, I pulled my hand out and drove the stake into his chest. He began to raise his arms to block the blow but he was a few tenths of a second too late. The vampire stumbled back and, with a final look of rage etched on his gruesome face, dissolved into dust. My first opponent had barely ceased to exist when two sets of strong hands grabbed me from both sides. In a heartbeat, the calm night turned into a pandemonium of shouting, screaming, hitting and kicking. The space around me was full of rapidly moving shadows rushing back and forth, trading punches, being thrown across the air and tumbling on the ground. My friends had joined the fray, but I had no opportunity to see how they were doing. The two vampires pitted against me were smaller men than the undead bodybuilder who had stopped me, but they were fast and agile. One of them managed to immobilize my arms, twisting them behind my back. I could hear his low menacing growl in my ear as he attempted, and nearly managed, to pull me into a spinal lock. The other approached from the front, aiming a punch at my face, but I pulled my head to the side at the last moment and he missed, however barely. Using the first vampire's hold for leverage and ignoring the resulting excruciating pain in my shoulders, I delivered a kick in the chin of the second one. It would likely have been powerful enough to break the jawbone of a normal human being and loosen multiple teeth. The vampire staggered back, and I put the respite to good use by prying my left arm free and smashing my elbow into the chest of the vampire who was holding me. His grasp loosened just enough to allow me to strike again and then break free completely. As soon as he let go of my arms, I turned around and hit him several times in the face and the abdomen with my fists. I was about to give some attention to his friend when I received a ringing blow to my right cheek. The other vamp had recovered from the kick sooner than I had anticipated. The hit was hard but once again the smarting subsided fast and I was only stunned for a fraction of a second. I ducked to avoid a follow-up left straight by him, seized his arm and twisted it. He roared as I threw him over my shoulder; a crackling sound came from his joints, and he hit the ground with a heavy thump. The vampire was now lying on his back at my feet and I was presented with an excellent opportunity to stake him, but as I searched my jacket pockets frantically for the other weapon I had brought along, the one who had been trying to hold me by my arms got on his feet again and advanced on me. In no time, they were both fully back in the fight, forcing me to retreat a little. For a few moments, both they and I stood almost still, sizing up the opposition and preparing for our next moves. The short pause was not due to hesitation on the part of my enemies. Unlike the group whose members I had dusted the previous night, these two unquestionably knew that I was no mere ordinary girl, and I needed all my strength and speed to match them; they were more competent fighters than the alleyway gang. They could have escaped and saved themselves, but chose not to. They sprang into action and nearly succeeded in pulling off a concerted attack. If not for a slight miscalculation by them, I might have been in serious trouble. One came at me, but by doing so, he got directly in front of his buddy for a precious second. As a consequence, I could deal with them one at a time. I blocked a kick and a punch by the first vampire and returned the favor by kicking him in the torso. As he was stooped forward, reeling from the blow, I kicked him again, this time in the head. He fell in a heap to the ground. The other one swung his fist in a wide arc, but I managed to block this punch as well. I struck him twice and quickly reached into my left jacket pocket. The spare stake was there, and I took it out, rammed it into the heart of the standing vampire and then pulled it back. His body had only begun to disintegrate when I proceeded to give the same treatment to the other vampire, who had risen with some difficulty and had barely regained his balance when his existence came to an end. A piercing screech and a puff of dust were all that remained of him after my strike, and soon even those faded away. I searched the surroundings for more hostile beings with my eyes, ready to take on any other vampires who remained, but the sounds of the fighting had already died out. Instead, I saw several figures standing not far from me, with the bright beam of a flashlight sweeping through the bushes. Another light was pointed at a man sitting on the ground. Anxious to see how my friends had fared, I made my way towards them without delay. "Is everybody okay?" I asked when I got closer to them. A large silhouette turned around on his heels to face me; it was Angel. "We're alright," he replied. "Just some small cuts and bruises. The surviving two or three vamps made a break for it when they realized how badly they were outmatched." "The jerks weren't expecting to meet the whole Gang and more than one Slayer to boot," Xander commented with a tone of pride and relief in his voice. "Scoobies one, vampires nil." Oz was keeping his flashlight pointed at a blond-haired man, who sat with his knees bent under a tree only a few feet away from him. Clad in a dark long overcoat and trousers that were complemented by a red shirt, he had a deep frown of disgust on his chiseled face. A dark red irregular blotch, reminiscent of a burn mark and covering an area about half the size of my palm, was visible on his forehead above his left brow. I recognized him straight away, and I also knew that under more typical circumstances Oz would have needed something much more potent than a flashlight to make sure the man stayed put. The necessary deterrent was provided by Faith, who was holding the captive at crossbow point. Spike lifted his eyes and looked at me, as if to accuse me personally for any and all of the misfortunes that had befallen him. "Fancy running into you and your little friends here, Buffy," he greeted me in a voice dripping with barely controlled anger and bitterness. "Long time, no see." "Not too long," I responded. "What are you doing here?" "I think that's none of your business, pet," he said and flashed me a joyless smile. "Or are you worried I didn't fill the change-of-address form at the post office? 'Cause that could, you see, be really impolite towards those splendid chaps who work miracles somewhere every day. Wouldn't want that, now, would we?" "Cut the crap," Angel said. "We know you're back in Sunnydale and doing business with a man who wears a green suit and goes around looking for a talisman. We just want you to fill in a few gaps." "And then I'm free to go?" Spike laughed. "Why, that's oh so generous of you, and forgiving. Hip bloody hurrah." He turned his face towards Oz and barked, "Point that thing somewhere else!" His attempt to intimidate the rocker-werewolf failed and the cone of light stayed on him. "Of course," I offered, "if you'd rather have us beat you up and then put you out of your misery, I'm sure we can arrange that." The sardonic smile disappeared from Spike's face but he maintained his composure and superficially indifferent, defiant attitude. "Fine. If you think that's going to help you save the world, then be my guest." "What are you guys waiting for?" Faith asked in an impatient tone. I had difficulty trying to discern whether she was honestly eager to terminate Spike or merely doing her share of playacting to pressure him into talking. "Just stake him if he's not useful." "No," Angel said. "It's not worth the trouble. We've got bigger fish to fry here. We just thought we'd give him an opportunity to be something other than a minor nuisance to us for once." I had caught Angel's drift and smiled inwardly. His strategy might well work, and I would gladly play along. Promisingly enough, Spike cast a pointed look at him but didn't say anything. "Exactly," I concurred, trying my best not to give anything away too soon. "The thing is, Spike, you're not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. Still, it was interesting to see you again. If nothing else, it proves you're reliable in your own way. Or predictable, to use a better word." "Predictable?" he repeated. "Yeah. Like the battered wife who always goes crawling back to get more abuse. How did you put it? Love's bitch?" "Only I think the gender roles are the other way around in this case," Angel added. "Dru left him again, and he came back to Sunnydale to sulk and act pathetic, the same as last time. It's written all over his face." "Alright, alright!" the blond vampire barked. "Ask me what you want. I'm not about to let you enjoy this anymore." "We appreciate your cooperation," I said. "Right, so, I'm under the impression you were the boss of the herd of vamps that attacked us just now." "In a manner of speaking. The sods needed a leader." "Did Dan Lee tell you to kill us?" Angel asked him. "Kill, maim, drain, torture, share a bloody nice cup of tea with you," Spike quipped. "Anything to stop you or anyone else from interfering." "With what?" "With his business. The Sathir'na have something he wants, and that something mustn't fall into the hands of an outsider. Simple as that. And if the demons suddenly change their minds about wanting to part with the... merchandise, we'll give Dan a hand and persuade the blokes to reconsider." "What's in it for you, Spike?" Angel questioned. "You're not the type of person who does favors for others out of the kindness of his heart-- unless that girl of your dreams really did a number on you, probably in ways I can't even imagine. Like not giving you a kiss good night." "That does it!" he shouted in anger and jumped to his feet. Faith, however, had him firmly in her sights, and she raised her weapon and assumed a shooting stance immediately. Spike assessed his position for a couple of seconds, which gave him enough time to cool off and realize that he would most likely end the day as a cloud of dust if he were to attempt to attack his captors. He eventually sat down again, letting out a bitter, dry laughter of contempt. "Let's try this again," I said calmly but in a determined tone. "What is Dan giving you as a reward?" "The chance to pay back some old dues, with assistance, if I need it." "Seems to me you do, but that's not going to happen anymore. What else?" "An amulet," Spike replied after a short silence. "What kind of an amulet?" Angel asked him. "That would be... uh, the Mardochie, if you must know." "The Mardochie amulet?" Giles spoke up. "Did Dan Lee promise you could have it, Spike?" "Yeah, as a matter of fact he did," the vampire said, covering his doubts with outward prickliness. "What's that to you?" "A little background info here, if you please," I asked Giles. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "The Mardochie amulet is, allegedly, a golden pendant which gives its bearer the ability to influence the thoughts and emotions of humans, vampires and some species of demons. It's often said to have originated somewhere in the, um, Indochina Peninsula in the Fifteenth or Sixteenth Century, and some scholars actually trace its name to a corruption of a Cham word meaning 'the horned one'. In any case, it's a mythical item that doesn't exist." Spike failed to contain his shock and consternation. "What? What are you saying?" he burst out. "Mythical? You're wrong, absolutely wrong. It's real!" "No, I'm quite sure it's not," Giles insisted. "There's no room for doubt. If the Mardochie ever existed, which is improbable for several different reasons, it was destroyed at least two centuries ago. All the important manuscripts and catalogs of magical items agree on this point." "I've heard of it, too," Angel commented. "Some vamps on the East Coast talked about it and went searching for it back in the 50s, but I always thought the whole thing was nothing more than a legend." "The way I see this," I said to Spike, "is that you had aspirations to be the head of a personal army or a cult but your business partner pulled a fast one on you. Although I've got to admit it's pretty fascinating, in a morbid sense, to picture you as a sort of blood- drinking Marshall Applewhite, it really doesn't strike me as your style. What gives?" "Power," he replied grudgingly and after another pause, "might be kind of nice, once you get used to it." "Influence the emotions of others," Angel mused. "I'm thinking that's what this comes down to in the end." "He's a self-admitted love's bitch, remember?" I remarked and grinned openly. "Put one and one together, and what do you get?" "Well, aren't you two a pair of bleeding stand-up comedians!" Spike exclaimed in indignation. "For your information, I've had it with this make-Spike-everybody's-whipping-boy routine of yours. If you're planning on staking me, just do it already or let me go!" "Go," I ordered forcefully. The game was over and the smile gone from my lips. "And stay away. If we run into you a second time out here tonight, you're getting the stake." "Fine then," the vampire said, climbed to his feet and straightened his back to fire his parting shot while keeping his eyes fixed on me. "I'll be leaving. But just so you know, pet, I'm not done with you lot. There's unfinished business between us. You'll hear from me." "Not impressed," I retorted. "Get lost before I change my mind about staking you now." "I'd do as she says if I were you," Angel added. "Have fun, you sods," Spike uttered in a sarcastic voice and began to walk down the footpath towards the road with his hands in his coat pockets. Once he was almost invisible in the night and behind the nearest of the trees--but still hardly much more than ten paces away from us--he took out a pack of cigarettes, stopped to light one and then resumed his ostensibly nonchalant and casual hike. During this exchange, Willow had been standing slightly apart from the others, holding a large blue candle in her hands. It was easy to see that she would have preferred to be somewhere else. Although she hadn't said a word and the darkness by and large hid her face, I could sense that her whole being was emanating nervousness and even helplessness, if not outright terror. After Spike's retreating form had vanished into the night, I approached her and asked, "How are you doing, Willow?" "Good," came the quiet reply, and she nodded. "I'm okay." "I see you don't trust these new-fangled electric appliance thingies too much," I noted and pointed at the candle. "Oh, you mean this? It's for spellcasting purposes, not lighting," she explained. "The Mist of Hecate, portable version. Giles and I thought it might come in handy with the demons." "A pretty smart idea." Her hands were shaking and her cheeks appeared paler than usual when a stray beam from one of the flashlights illuminated them for a split second. My concern for her began to mount. Something was plainly tormenting with this young woman, whether it was the fear of physical violence in the upcoming battle, the conflict between the Jake and Willow personalities in her mind, some other distraction, or maybe all these in combination. There was no telling what her mental state was with regard to her identity. Traces of Jake White definitely must have still remained within her, but on the majority of occasions when I had spoken with her so far, she had either been perfectly in character as Willow Rosenberg or confused and flipping back and forth between the male and female sides of her essence. "Be honest with me, Wils," I pleaded with her in a low voice and looked straight in her eyes. "You're not okay, I can see it. What's wrong?" "Uh, it's..." she began but trailed off in the middle of the sentence. "It's..." "Tell me. Please." "It's Oz," she almost whispered. "I don't know what the deal is with him." "I thought you guys made up." "Yeah, we did, but... I still don't know if I can trust him completely. He says nothing happened with the record company woman, a-and I want to believe him, but... I don't know if I can accept that and just pick up where we left. I need some more time. It's like I've got this crazy mix of issues churning inside my head, and he's not making it better." "You'll have to sit down and talk about it with him first thing tomorrow," I advised. "Anyway, right now we have to keep it together. Do you feel up to going through with this, or would you rather go home?" "I can't leave anymore," she argued. "You need me and the Mist of Hecate, and since I'm the only one who can do the spell properly, that kinda settles it." "We can do without the spell if we have to," I said. "I'm not putting a magical gimmick before your welfare, Willow." "It's not a gimmick," she corrected me with a touch of hurt pride in her voice. "It's a fight-winning asset. Remember the last battle, at the factory?" "I suppose you're right," I conceded, not willing to argue. "But if you have any doubt whatsoever, tell me or Giles right away. We'll have someone escort you back to the vans." "No, I-I can't and I won't leave you in trouble. You guys need me." "Alright. I'm still hoping we can sort out this mess without too much excitement, though." Since Spike and the remnants of his posse were no longer an imminent threat, we were ready to move on as soon as Giles had handed me the mace and the others had also checked their weapons. Sneaking as stealthily as possible towards the clearing, first along the pathway and then through the woods, I crept the last few yards with deliberate, extremely slow movements, making myself as small and undetectable as I could without actually crawling on all fours, and crouched behind a tree at the edge of the opening. The others followed me out of sight and did the same, taking up positions nearby for the attack. The excitement made my palms sweat, and my legs trembled slightly as I surveyed the scene. The clearing, roughly fifty yards across and dotted with outcroppings of rock, was almost exactly as I had imagined it based on Giles' description. A beamy but not very tall redwood tree presided over a small, neatly arranged stone circle, and a fire was burning just outside the humble monument that I took to be a druidic altar. A total of nine Sathir'na demons--big, muscular, bald-headed humanoids with a wrinkly, gray skin and a row of spikes protruding from the thick ridges around their jaws--were either standing near the fire or slowly moving about in the clearing, listening to the sounds coming from the surroundings and trying to pierce the night with their solid black eyes. However, something far more important quickly assumed the top priority in my mind. Tied against the trunk of the mighty redwood tree, and partially obscured by it when viewed from my vantage point, was the body of a lanky young girl--Dawn. She was being held upright by her restraints but she appeared to be asleep, with her eyes closed and her head fallen to her chest. Her brown hair was tangled and spilling over her shoulders. My heart raced wildly as I suppressed a desire to run straight to her and instead concentrated on straining my vision in order to determine what condition she was in. I noticed no obvious signs of injuries or blood stains anywhere on her body, and after staring at her so hard that my eyes began to water, I thought I could make out the small movement of her chest as she was breathing. Despite Spike's best efforts, we hadn't arrived too late to save her. Then, my peripheral vision registered a small flicker of yellow flame off to my right, behind a patch of low bushes. The flame grew in size and brightened, and suddenly there was a girlish yelp of pain: "Ow!" It was enough to alert the demons, and three of them, including the largest monster on the scene, turned their heads and looked straight at me. All hope of surprising the demons evaporated at that instant, together with our tactical plans and considerations. The beings let out bellowing cries of alarm and anger. I felt a shiver pass through my body as I found myself under the gaze of their ghastly, irisless eyes, glaring at us from the horrendous faces that were made even more terrifying by their expressions of frenzied anger. Faith ran headlong out of the woods and into the clearing to take the battle to the enemy. Angel was not far behind, and then I sprang onto my feet to give them support. The situation devolved into a confused melee in a heartbeat. I didn't get far into the open before the first demon challenged me. It simply moved in front of me and stood on my path like a fixed object. Its pitch black eyes studied me for a brief while, maybe in an attempt to understand how such a seemingly puny human dared to show herself here, not to mention threaten a Sathir'na with a weapon. Then, it broke the spell and swiftly reached out for my throat with its huge hand to strangle me or to break my neck, but I was faster than it had assumed and hit it on the side of its head with my mace. A long gash opened on its temple, blood burst out, and the demon howled in pain. Long, crudely made but thick and sturdy wooden sticks had appeared in the hands of most of the demons. Angel, who was wielding a sword and had used it expertly to dispatch one enemy, was hit hard on the head and then the shoulder by his next opponent when he was drawing the blade out of the body of his first victim. He had trouble staying on his feet, a testament to the strength of the Sathir'na. Faith, meanwhile, had shot her crossbow bolt and was continuing the fight with only her knife. This put her in a very precarious position despite her speed, but as I had my hands full, I had to hope someone else would be able to give her a weapon with greater reach. A brilliant flash of light burst in the air. My current enemy stumbled back and groaned; its sensitive eyes were adapted to the night, and the brightness of the magical flare had to be downright painful to the being. I took advantage of this opportunity and dealt the demon a fast series of mace hits on the head and neck. It dropped to one knee, only to receive additional blows from me, and finally its legs gave way and it fell on its face, deeply unconscious or more likely dead. I glanced at Dawn and then at the remaining demons, who were clustered near the fire. We couldn't afford to let any of them escape with the talisman, still less hurt my sister, and the only way to achieve that was to keep them occupied. The battle would be fought to the bitter end, I thought and rushed towards the center of the action. A crossbow bolt, fired from somewhere behind me, pierced the throat of another demon who had been poised to take me on before I could get at the largest member of the Sathir'na gang. As the hulking body tumbled to the ground, convulsing in its death throes, the chief turned towards me. It let out a blood-curdling roar and threw its cane away as it stepped closer. The demon was like a walking mountain of flesh, holding its massive head high above me. "Slayer!" it yelled at me in a booming voice and swung its huge fist. I ducked to avoid the punch. "You killed my brother! This is my revenge! I'll gut you, and then I'll gut your sister as well!" "You certainly look to be doing your best," I commented and simultaneously evaded another two strikes by the being's muscular arms. "Murderer!" it cried out in rage. "You had no right! Murderer! I'll tear you apart limb from limb for your crime!" Although I was much too busy with my own survival just then to ponder the morality of our actions, the demon's words stayed with me. It might be a bit of an exaggeration to say that they haunted me afterwards, but the fact of the matter was we had killed his brother and six others of his kind only because we had been impatient to secure the Angronok talisman at any cost. There could have been another way of accomplishing the task, and we had had no particular quarrel with this demon race before that day. I landed a solid hit in the demon's belly, but it seemed to have little effect and the monster was again charging at me when two more magical flashes lit up the clearing in rapid succession. While they were disorienting to me, they obviously made the Sathir'na boss as good as blind. It looked frantically left and right, trying to find me, but its eyes had failed at a crucial moment. I only had to circle around to its side and batter it with the mace, constantly moving and shifting my feet so that its feverishly flailing arms made contact with nothing but empty air. Little by little, the demon's movements slowed down. Blood flowed over its skin from the many wounds the mace had inflicted on it, and its breathing was becoming heavy and hoarse. An overpowering foul smell floated around the being as it made one last effort to catch me with its hands, failed and then fell on its side. It rolled onto its back, let out a loud sigh that emptied its lungs, and then it became completely still. I had defeated and killed the Sathir'na gang leader but I felt no joy over my accomplishment. Immediately thereafter, my senses and instincts warned that someone was probably standing right behind me. I spun around and, to my amazement, found myself staring in the eyes of Dan Lee. The man was dressed in his trademark green suit, wearing a fedora and holding a walking stick in his hand. He was usually hard to miss in almost any environment, a factor that only added to my surprise since I hadn't noticed him anywhere in the vicinity before our attack. We both froze in our tracks, equally astonished by this unexpected meeting. Dan was the first to recover. A look of bestial anger distorted his homely, chubby features, and his otherwise nearly lifeless eyes blazed with pure malice. Before I could react, he gave me a sharp uppercut on the chin. The hit was so accurate and forceful that I staggered back, temporarily almost dazed. "You bully!" he screeched in a jarring falsetto. "You bullying, meddling bitch! I hate you! I hate you!" I evaded another two punches by him and stepped back to get more space between us, and my surprise at both encountering him and his unprovoked attack on me morphed into a blind, all-consuming fury. Every logical thought abruptly drained from my brain, and only one goal remained: to kill Dan Lee and hopefully, by extension, Dan Mancini. He was the person responsible for the whole mess. To hell with Giles' pleas, to hell with mercy, to hell with understanding; the time had come for the devil spawn to pay for what he had done. I swung the mace at him. The bludgeon only hit the top of his hat and knocked the fedora off, with the result that Dan's skull narrowly avoided being crushed. He retreated a little, brandishing his stick and assuming a broad defensive stance while I raised the weapon again for a second try. Although he was expecting my strike, he nevertheless exhibited incredible reflexes and agility. In fact, they were comparable to mine. He took a quick step backwards in the nick of time, but the head of the mace passed so close to his face that it had to shave off a few of his eyebrow hairs. Not wanting to give him an opportunity to go on the offensive or to run away, I unleashed another strike. Dan raised his walking stick to block the mace hit, but the accessory, which doubled as a weapon, broke in two like a toothpick. He jumped back once more, but now his eyes were filled with terror he could barely hold at bay. The willing servant of Angronok and the root of the endless suffering my friends and I were forced to endure had finally had his ego deflated and his confidence stripped away. I felt a surge of grim satisfaction and prepared to eliminate him once and for all. The blow that was intended to end Dan's life never fell. I was only a blink of an eye from swinging the mace when a loud shriek interrupted me. Despite the danger posed by Dan, I turned my head; and then I heard Faith call out, "Buffy! Look out!" To my horror, I saw one of the surviving demons barge towards Dawn with a long knife in its hand. The girl was wide awake and had screamed in fear. I had to act fast. Ignoring Dan, I dashed heedlessly towards the demon and the tree. The fiend was only a few yards short of being able to get its hands on Dawn when I caught up with it and the mace strike that had been reserved for Dan crashed into the back of its boulder-like head. The demon roared and turned on its heels, and yet another one-on-one combat began for me. The last Sathir'na might have been already wounded, or else my blow had found a sensitive spot in its thick skull. At any rate, it could do little as I pummeled it vehemently with the mace, letting my wrath pour out. Along with the control of my emotions, I lost the track of time completely; the fight could have lasted ten seconds, ten minutes or ten days. There was nothing else in the world except for me, my foe, my weapon and my bitter, overwhelming need to kill every last one of my enemies. When my mind began to return to something resembling its normal functioning, I realized that I was standing by the mangled and bloody carcass of the demon, bent forward and panting heavily. The mace, also covered in demon blood, was resting on the ground. "Buffy," Dawn said in a slightly faltering but overjoyed voice. "You came to rescue me!" She was still wearing the clothes she had donned for school in the morning. There were dried patches of brown dirt on her jeans and red, long-sleeved shirt, and one of her sneakers was missing, but that was a small price to pay for surviving her ordeal. "Of course," I responded, still exhausted and breathing intensely to get the missing oxygen that my body so desperately required. Dawn was safe; that knowledge drove away every troubling consideration and pang of guilt, and suddenly it seemed as though the reservoir of my physical strength had been totally exhausted. I nearly collapsed on the spot. "We came here... when we... got the word. Are you... okay?" "Yeah," she said. Faith had finished off the last demon with the spare axe that Xander had brought, and she was now cutting Dawn's ties with her knife. My sister was free in a matter of moments, and I hurried to support her as she took her first wobbly steps since she had been captured several hours ago. "I don't think I've got any broken bones." "What did they do to you?" "They, uh, just grabbed me outside the school, put me in a car and brought me here. They didn't hit me or anything, even though they weren't exactly gentle either when they handled me. The ropes hurt pretty bad, and I'm really hungry." "Way to go, Dawnie!" Faith commended the girl without the tiniest hint of her characteristic sarcasm. If anything, she sounded outright proud. "Looks like you pulled through like a pro." As I glanced casually over at Xander and Oz, who were talking quietly by the fire, my eyes picked up an extremely faint shimmering light somewhere in the distance. I looked again, shielded my eyes from the glare of the flames, and then I saw it clearly. Near the edge of the woods, on the other side of the clearing, there was a thin loop of whitish blue light visible against the shadow of the trees. Hanging soundlessly in the air, the circle bounded by the glow was large enough for any member of our gang to walk through upright. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and blood rushed to my head when I comprehended what the phenomenon was. It had to be that and nothing else--one end of the dimensional portal that connected Sunnydale and this universe with Greensville and the reality from which I had come. It was the way back home, and against all odds, I had found it! For some curious reason, it was located here and not at the Old Cemetery downtown, where the portal had previously deposited me, but this observation held hardly even academic interest for me right there and then. None of the others had noticed the portal yet. As long as they didn't, I--we--had a chance. "Dawn," I said to my sister, striving to keep my voice down but also to convey the utmost urgency that I felt, "the portal's there!" Faith and several others were well within earshot, and in any case, it was only a matter of time before the wormhole would attract their attention too. Dawn stared at me as if I had grown another head. "The portal? What are you talking about, Buffy?" "The portal!" I repeated. "We need to go through it, right now." "What for?" "To get back home! Scott, we need to go back to our families!" "Who's Scott?" she asked with wide, fearful eyes. "Buffy, w-what's wrong with you? You're scaring me!" "What's the matter?" Giles inquired. He walked with long strides to us, making a detour around the body of a large fallen demon, and gave us a deeply concerned look. "Are you injured? Buffy?" "No, I'm fine," I replied, trying to sound convincing. "I was, uh, just---"