Descent

by
C. Woodhaven

Part Sixteen

“Get out.” Buffy’s voice was like ice.

Tara nodded and turned toward the door, weary to the bone. She’d expected this, but still wasn’t prepared for the pain. It was like her insides were ripped out and still lying in ropes on the living room floor.

“Buffy...” Willow pleaded. “Can’t we just listen -”

“Shut UP!” Buffy exploded. Both Willow and Xander jumped. “She’s lived here for months, lying to us and pretending to help. Don’t you DARE defend her!”

“Buffy, we’re not defending her,” Xander argued cautiously. “We just want to understand what happened. To find out why she did it.”

“I don’t care why she did it,” Buffy replied coldly, her expression hard.

Tara was just opening the door when Willow turned toward the foyer. “Baby, wait.”

“Let her go, Willow,” Buffy said frostily. “She betrayed you just as much as she betrayed me.”

Willow whirled around, her expression furious. Her eyes shimmered black for a second and she held up a hand. “QUIET,” she hissed.

Buffy and Xander fell silent immediately, frozen in place by the spell. They looked like macabre waxworks with their mouths open as if they were trying to speak.

Tara wanted to chastise Willow for using magic so irresponsibly, but she held her tongue. She had no ground to stand on; her ethics were broken beyond repair.

Instead she whispered quietly, “You should let them go.”

Willow’s eyes were huge and pleading. “Tara, please, tell me this is a mistake.”

Tara shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry. It’s not a mistake, Willow. I did it.”

Tears filled her eyes, and Willow looked lost. “But, we were supposed to have forever!” she sobbed, sounding broken and sad.

Tara felt her own tears begin to fall. “That only happens in fairy tales, Willow. In real life, we have to wake up.”

“No.” Willow shook her head in denial. “That’s not fair. I love you! Maybe we can do a spell and…”

“You can’t fix this,” Tara replied sadly. “There is no spell. I did what I did, and now I’m paying for it.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crystal. “You can see Dawn with this. I bound the spell using a strand of her hair before she activated the phantasm. Maybe you can figure out a way to locate her that way. A copy of the incantation is in my jewelry box.”

“Thanks,” Willow said, taking the crystal.

Her fingers almost brushed Tara’s palm, but Tara jerked her hand away. Willow looked stunned for a moment at this, unsure what to do.

“Buffy will get over this,” Willow said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself more than Tara.

Tara laughed, unable to help herself. “Buffy will never get over this, Willow, and she’s right. I deserve whatever I get from her, and you and Xander. I was selfish and it might cost Dawn her soul. I’ll have to live with that my whole life.”

Willow held her gaze silently, and nodded, realizing the truth.

Tara stepped onto the porch. “I’ll come by later to get my stuff. When Buffy isn’t around.”

Willow looked anguished, but replied, “Yeah, okay. I’ll call you.”

Tara turned and walked down the stairs. Once the door was shut firmly behind her, she felt the unmistakable wave of magic. Buffy and Xander began shouting, their words were unintelligible, but the tone was loud and angry.

Tara wiped the tears from her cheeks, knowing they wouldn’t be her last and walked away.

~*~*~*~*~

Dawn leaned against the railing and exhaled a plume of smoke slowly, watching the lights of the strip blinking in the distance. Spike would be pissed if he saw her smoking, but she didn’t care. He’d be able to smell it on her anyway, so it wasn’t like she was really hiding it from him.

She loved to come up to the open air lounge at the top of the Rio to think. It was fifty-two stories up and far enough off the strip to get a really good view of the lights at night.

Of course, she wasn’t anywhere near old enough to be in the bar, but she found that everyone made exceptions for her: because of Spike.

“You know, smoking will kill you,” a woman chided, from somewhere on her left.

Dawn rolled her eyes and took a deliberate drag off the cigarette. “What do you care?” she asked, not turning to look.

“I don’t, really,” she replied, unconcerned. “But won’t Spike be upset if you fall ill? Vampires are generally not known for their nurturing skills.”

Surprised, Dawn turned. “Anya? What are you doing here?”

Anya smiled much too brightly. “I was in the vicinity and thought I’d stop by to say ‘hello.’ I missed you.”

“Really?” Dawn raised her eyebrows at this. She and Anya had never been close.

“Alright, no,” Anya admitted, not looking in the least bit sheepish. “I heard what happened with D’hoffryn. It’s all over the underworld. None of the lower beings can stop talking about it.”

Dawn snorted, “Oh, great, I’m the Paris Hilton of the demon set.”

“Oh, no,” Anya corrected. “Paris Hilton is the Paris Hilton of the demon set. But you’re a really close second.” She patted Dawn’s shoulder in an over-cheerful manor.

“Woo hoo.” Dawn twirled a finger in a lackluster circle. Then she frowned as a terrible thought struck her. “How did you find me?”

Anya looked very pleased with herself. “D’hoffryn said you were marked by a Valaxian ward charm. Not too many humans are. It’s a good thing, too, with that phantasm you’re wearing, it was nearly impossible to find you.”

Dawn’s thumb worried over the stone in her ring, anyway, to reassure herself. “So, you’re a demon again? How’s that going for you?”

Anya smiled, looking genuinely happy. “It’s good! Vengeance is really booming. Of course, I guess you knew that, since you asked for a job...” Anya trailed off.

Dawn’s face burned. “Look, I should probably head back. Spike’s going to wonder where I am.” She flicked her cigarette over the edge of the building, hoping almost spitefully that it hit someone on the way down.

“Ok, look,” Anya dropped her voice, conspiratorially, “I think I might know a way to help you.”

Dawn’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? You don’t have a malicious bone in your body.” Anya paused and then clarified, “Okay, maybe the one. But the only reason you wanted in on vengeance is that you want to be with Spike. Permanently.”

“So, what? You’re here to offer me a wish?” Dawn asked, incredulous. “I don’t think so. I remember you telling me what happened to Cordelia.” Dawn barely suppressed a shudder.

“No, I can’t offer you a wish. This isn’t vengeance.” Anya smiled her over bright smile again. “Just think of it as a gift to welcome you into the demon family.”

Dawn raised her eyebrows at this, disbelieving. “A gift, right.”

The fake smile slipped off Anya’s face. “Well, no,” she admitted, and then asked impatiently. “Look do you want my help or not? There are women all over this town looking for vengeance. I could go help them.”

Anya turned to leave, moving toward the elevators.

“No, wait.” Dawn called after her. Anya’s back was to Dawn, so she missed the triumphant look. Had she seen it, she would have been less likely to accept Anya’s help.

“Great! This will be like old times.” Anya looped her arm through Dawn’s. “Let’s go.”

Dawn almost frowned at this sudden show of affection. “I’ll…call Spike and let him know we’re on the way.”

~*~*~*~*~

Spike was more than happy to see Anya; he just didn’t want her at their apartment. There was a small bar tucked away in one corner of the hotel, and he’d met them there.

“This is nice,” Anya said, studying the décor.

Dawn always liked this place, it was like a comfy coffee house, with low tables and squashy ergonomic couches and chairs set around them. They practically had a rainforest worth of plants all around giving the illusion that every little alcove was a private haven, hidden from the world.

Spike slid an arm around her shoulder in such an obvious show of possession that Dawn nearly rolled her eyes.

Anya did roll her eyes. “Oh, please. I’m not here to steal your little human.”

“Why are you here?” Spike asked gruffly.

“Like I told Dawn: I want to help,” Anya explained again. “I felt bad that D’Hoffryn turned her down for a job.”

Spike eyed her warily for a few moments, and then nodded slowly. He turned to Dawn. “Why don’t you get us some drinks, Kitten? Service seems a bit slow tonight.”

Dawn wanted to protest at this obvious ploy to get rid of her, but instead she did as he asked.

As soon as his girl was out of earshot, Spike turned to Anya. “Dawn’s still a little naïve, and I’d like to keep her that way a bit longer. Nothing comes without a price, ducks, especially from you lot.” Spike paused and his voice dropped dangerously low, “I’m only gonna ask you this one time: what do you want?”

Anya didn’t even blink. “I want you to make her pay.”

Spike’s expression grew cold, and his eyes narrowed. “Who?”

“Buffy,” Anya hissed, venomously.

Spike lifted his eyebrows. “You’re gonna offer Dawn immortality because the slayer had a toss with your cast off?”

Anya’s eyes burned with cold fury. “Buffy kept him as her beck-and-call boy for years; always giving him just enough attention so he wouldn’t leave her. She kept her hooks buried in him until he didn’t know what end was up. She ruined Xander, and I want her to pay.”

“Look, I’ve got no love for the slayer. If it were up to me, I’d be more than happy to off the bitch for you. But…” Spike shook his head, “I can’t kill her. Promised Dawn and I’m not going back on my word.”

Anya laughed nastily. “Oh, I don’t want you to kill her! What’s the fun in that? I want you to make her hurt.”

“So that’s it?” Spike asked, incredulously. “I make the slayer hurt…really hurt. And you give us what we want.”

Anya smiled cruelly. “Yes.”

Spike hesitated. You couldn’t trust any demons, but the vengeance crowd was worse than the rest, nearly as bad as Lindsey-boy and his peck of lawyers. Still, things were a bit dodgy at the moment. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his time with Dawn was running out. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” Anya said a little too glibly, and then at Spike’s disbelieving look, she grudgingly conceded. “Ok, fine, maybe I left out one or two details.” She waved her hand as if these were inconsequential.

Spike didn’t believe it for a second. “Uh huh.”

“Look, do you want the chance or not?” Anya prodded.

“You tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll see what I can do,” Spike replied steadily.

"I give you the means for your human to acquire immortality, and in return you make Buffy Summers suffer for the rest of her life. Do we have a deal?” Deep furrows and thick wrinkles formed on Anya’s face. “It will be fully binding.”

“Yeah, pet, we have a deal.” Spike agreed. He didn’t see how he had any other choice. Better to go with the devil you know and all that rot.

“Done.” Anya reached up above her head and mimicked plucking a book from a shelf. As she brought her hand down, a book materialized in it. Ancient, thick and covered in dusty black leather, Spike could feel the dark magic crawling from it.

Anya handed it to Spike, and he accepted it reluctantly. “Get this to Dawn. If immortality is what she really wants, she’ll be able to figure it out. You’ve got one week, otherwise she’s lost her chance. Either way, you owe me.”

Spike looked at the cover as Anya vanished. Beyond Time.

A moment later, Dawn slid into the chair Anya had just vacated. “It took you guys long enough,” she complained as she handed him a beer. “I’ve been standing over there forever.”

Spike frowned. “What?” He hadn't realized Dawn was on to him. She didn’t look the least big surprised that Anya was no longer at the table. In fact, she’d only brought two drinks, as if she’d expected the other demon to take a powder.

“Oh please, Spike. Like I didn’t know you were doing your demon-to-demon talk.”

“Yeah, we finished.”

Dawn stared at the beer in her hands, picking at the label. She’d gotten it so she could have something to hold, she didn’t even like the taste of beer. “So, what did you guys decide?”

Spike looked at her shrewdly. “Not sure I know what you mean, Kitten.”

She finally lifted her gaze from her hands, whispering uneasily. “Is whatever you agreed to something I can live with?”

Spike debated telling her the truth, but in the end, decided against it. But before he could speak, Dawn seemed to sense his intent and cut him off.

“Forget it. If you have to lie, I don’t want to know.” She hesitated. “Just promise me you didn’t agree to…kill…anybody. I don’t know if I could live with myself if that’s what it cost.”

“You know I’d do it in a heartbeat,” Spike replied, seriously. Dawn paled, and he acquiesced, “No, pet, didn’t promise that." Spike held out the book, wondering if Dawn would be able to puzzle out Anya’s cryptic clue. “Demon bint left you this. She said you’d be able to figure out what to do.”

Dawn eyes grew huge as she felt the dark magick seeping from it. "Wow. This is powerful."

~*~*~*~*~

Five days later...

Dawn hadn't slept in days. She was pale and gaunt, her hair pulled severely away from her face in an attempt to tame the wayward strands.

Spike tried to help, where he could, translating mostly. The book was an odd mish-mash of French, English, Latin and some obscure demon dialects. It was more like a journal than a text. It made him edgy that he couldn't help more, he'd been tempted more than once to offer to recruit in some additional help in for them, bringing in another mage or something but he hesitated. Spike didn't want to queer the deal with Anya. He still wasn't sure how to hold up his end of the bargain. Maybe he could cut off the slayer’s hands or something... or disfigure her so the boy wouldn't want her. Anyway, that would have to wait; he was sure he'd think of something,

He was just setting down a cup of coffee for Dawn, her fifth of the night, when she pushed the book across the table in frustration. "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can, love. You'll figure it out."

Dawn shook her head. "No, it's too hard. Some of these spells are so specific. You have to be in the right place and time, and they don't happen for centuries."

She sounded so dejected. "There isn't anything that's looked even a bit promising?" he prodded. "Anya wouldn't have given it to you if there wasn't something you could use."

Dawn sighed heavily. "There are two, but one has ingredients I've never heard of, and the other looks like you can only cast it when a wormhole collapses with people trapped inside." She shuddered.

"What kind of ingredients?"

Dawn pulled the book closer and flipped to the correct page, pointing to the passage. "It's called sangredio, I apparently need a lot of it. I can't even figure out if it's a plant or animal part or what." She sighed. “I don't know if I could do this even if I had the right ingredients. Some of the other stuff is pretty complex, it mentions portals and other dimensions..."

Spike looked over the passage. Dawn was right, it was fairly complicated. He scanned until he got to the part she was referring to. Reading it, and then re-reading it to confirm his suspicion. A cold knot was forming in his gut. Anya had given them a way, all right, but she'd made it damn near impossible to execute. He didn't have a fucking clue how they were supposed make this work, but he was certain, without a doubt, that this was the spell she'd given them to use. "Can't find it anywhere ‘cause it's not 'sangredio'. The text all run together."

"You know what it is?" Dawn asked, excitedly. "Really! I've looked everwhere..."

"Yeah, I know what it is: Sangre Dio." He pushed the book back towards her. "'God's Blood.'"

Dawn stared at the text, and then back at him. He had a feeling that she'd just puzzled something out, but he hadn't a clue what. All the color drained from Dawn’s face, and she looked like she was going to be sick.

"Kitten?" Spike touched her shoulder, concerned.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “What’s the date? Today.” There was a note of resignation in her voice.

Spike frowned. “Love, I don’t even know what day of the week it is. It’s sometime in May, I think.”

Dawn nodded as if she'd expected this reply. Then she rose and walked over to their wall calendar, book still in hand. Spike followed her, curious as well as concerned.

“It’s the nineteenth," she said, nodding to herself in confirmation. "Two days...We have less than two days."

Spike frowned; it wasn't like the deadline was a surprise to her. "Well, yeah."

Dawn turned to him, her expression inscrutable. “I have some research to do, and some more ingredients we have to track down before we leave.” Her tone was flat. "I'll make you a list, we'll need it fast and it's probably going to be expensive."

Spike waved away her concerns, asking the only thing that mattered. “Where are we going, kitten?”

“Sunnydale," Dawn replied. "We have to go back to Sunnydale.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Did you find anything?” Buffy asked, she’d just returned from the geek’s hide-out, where she realized they’d cleared out. Being wanted by the police for murder would do that to people. It wasn’t a moment too soon, either. Now that they were handled, she could concentrate on her sister. She wasn’t going to let another week go by without finding Dawn.

“No, I can see she’s alive.” Willow held up the crystal. “But the spell blocking her is unbreakable. T- She wasn’t lying about that.”

Buffy tightened her jaw at the almost mention of Tara ’s name, but didn’t speak. She tapped her fingers on the table in frustration for several moments, before looking up at Willow with a gleam of hope in her eyes. “Okay, here’s a novel idea. What about Spike?”

Willow frowned. “What about him?”

“We’ve tried to find Dawn about three million ways. Have we ever tried to find Spike? He doesn’t have that photogenic spell cast on him, does he?”

“No,” Willow shook her head. “It would only cover Dawn. I can’t believe we didn’t think of that before.” She turned to her computer and began typing furiously. “We’d need something of his, like a hair or a fingernail.”

“What about his blood?” Buffy asked suddenly.

Willow looked up sharply. “Um…yeah, but where would we get that?” she asked, hesitantly.

Buffy opened up her trunk and began loading up with weapons. “There’s got to be at least one vampire in this town that he sired. We’ll start there.”

Part Seventeen

Dawn watched the landscape blur past through chips in the blackened windows. They were headed back to Sunnydale. Part of her had always felt that she would never return, and it made her incredibly uneasy to be barreling down the highway in that direction in the same car they’d left in.

She sighed uncomfortably. The trip was supposed to take almost seven hours, but she had no doubt that Spike would make it in well under that. Maybe it was better, in some ways, to get things over with: like tearing a band-aid off quickly. She still couldn’t help but feeling that they were headed for trouble.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

Spike glanced over at her; even in profile Dawn was pale and drawn. He’d been waiting for something like this. “Could do it for you,” he suggested. “One more to my tab’s not going to matter much in the balance.”

Dawn shook her head slightly. “Even if you could go through the portal, it wouldn’t work. I have to do it.”

He studied her. She was right. This was the darkest sort of magick, and that always came with a steep price. “Could tell you how to make it quick,” he offered.

“I wish you could,” she said softly as she turned to look at him, finally. A tear spilled down her cheek. “It has to be me, by myself.”

She looked so miserable. And while the part of him that used to be a man wanted to make things better, the monster crowed that she was going to go through with this.

“Spell require any special blade?” he asked suddenly, as an idea occurred to him.

Dawn paled further but shook her head.

Spike reached into his back pocket and pulled out something, Dawn couldn’t quite tell what it was other than that it was thin.

Without taking his eyes from the small patch of off the road, he turned it over in his hands absently before handing it to her. “Could use this. It’s always brought me luck.”

Dawn turned the straight razor over in her hands, careful not to thumb the latch. It was so beyond wrong for his offer to make her flush warmly, but she did anyway. It was thoughtful in a demony way.

“Thank you.”

“We’ll get through this, Kitten.”

~*~*~*~*~

Tara looked around for a final time. Sadness overwhelmed her when she realized that the tables, dresser and walls of the room looked nearly identical as when she’d arrived to claim her things. There were no gaping holes where her personal possessions had been: simply more evidence that she was destined to exit without leaving any sort of permanent impression.

After all she’d been through with Willow; Tara thought she should have had much more than a single suitcase full of clothes and a few mementos.

The door creaked, startling Tara.

“Sorry,” Willow said softly, hovering just inside the door frame. “You have everything?”

“I didn’t think you were going to be here,” Tara admonished.

“I know, I know… you skipped class and everything to be here.” Willow sounded sheepish. “We were supposed to be gone.”

“We?” Tara’s stomach clenched.

“Yeah, Buffy’s in the garden,” Willow admitted. “I just wanted to see you and then she figured out…Xander promised to keep her out there, though.”

Tara glanced out the window. Buffy and Xander were sitting on the bench. To say they were talking heatedly was putting it mildly. Even from her second storey vantage point Tara could tell they were arguing about her. She stepped out of the way before either one of them could look up.

“I’m sorry she’s here. I wasn’t really expecting her to notice me leaving,” Willow explained apologetically. “She’s out most of the time looking for vamps Spike has sired.” At Tara’s frown she continued with a grimace, “Location spell. She keeps bringing me these little vials of blood.”

“Wow. Good idea…if kind of icky.”

“Tell me about it.”

Tara held her suitcase in front of her, and looked down at the handle, uncomfortably. “I’m really sorry. I know it doesn’t mean much…” Before Willow could protest, she rushed on, “The thing is: I don’t know if I would have done things differently. Dawn was in so much pain and I just wanted to help.”

“You were confused. I know that. But I forgive you!” Willow replied, her tone desperately earnest. “A-and maybe someday…”

Sadness swept over Tara at Willow’s wistful expression. “I don’t think there will be a someday, sweetie. You don’t know what it means to me that you forgive me, but I don’t forgive myself, and I don’t think I ever will.”

Willow’s face crumpled as she nodded sadly. Tara hated that she was the one to take her tiny spark of hope away.

Tara wanted to try to say something more but it seemed futile. She didn’t even know if she could put into words how much she loved Willow or how she knew that she’d never, ever, love anyone as much. Instead, she concentrated on the here and now, because it was her last chance.

Willow’s hair shone like fire in the afternoon sun, her green eyes were filled with worry, regret and unshed tears. Her eyes traced the small freckles on Willow’s nose. Tara remembered with bittersweet clarity the afternoon she’d named them all: Wilbur, Fred, George and Ringo. And Emily…she couldn’t forget Emily, the one just to the left of Edgar.

Tara felt tears prick her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Willow’s tears spilled over. “Oh, god, baby, don’t go. I don’t care what you did. I love you.”

Tara couldn’t stop the words or the tears from pouring out. “I love you, too.”

Suddenly, Tara heard the tinkle of glass. She frowned; Willow looked like she was covered in flecks of red paint. “What’s that on your shirt?”

~*~*~*~*~

After he’d given her his gift, Spike became strangely silent, it made Dawn nervous because ‘Spike and quiet’ usually went with ‘someone and dead’ but she was grateful because it gave her time to think.

She toyed with the ring on her finger. It had protected her, kept her and Spike safe from Buffy. Of course, since they were headed to Sunnydale, there was always the possibility that Buffy would find them.

It would be so hard to do what she had to do if Buffy was there to…complicate things. But Dawn found it impossible to believe that they’d be lucky enough to escape without a confrontation.

Twisting the ring on her finger, she continued her internal debate. Rock the boat…don’t rock the boat. Was it better to be prepared for Buffy to show, instead of simply worrying about the possibility?

She still hadn’t made up her mind, when the car swerved sharply into oncoming traffic. Spike cursed as he jerked the heavy car back into their lane, narrowly avoiding hitting a huge truck.

“What the?” Dawn braced herself into the corner of the seat and the door, heart hammering in her chest as Spike pulled off the side of the road and skidded to a halt. She’d never wanted a seatbelt so badly in her life.

“What the bloody hell was that?” he demanded harshly, almost panting.

Dawn was startled by his question. “I was just sitting here and you nearly ran us off the road.”

“Can feel power coming off you in waves,” Spike explained, although that wasn’t the half. He was used to the hollow not-there feeling he got when he was near her and suddenly it was gone. Felt like a million buggery insects trying to worm their way into him. “You take your ring off?”

“No. I was thinking about it, but I didn’t take it off.” Dawn held up a shaky hand, showing him the ring was still there.

Spike shook his head to clear it; his skin buzzed and tingled from the sudden influx of magic into the car. The wave finally passed and he was left with only a mild zing, like he was standing under an electrical tower. He had no idea she’d gotten so strong, he thought he had known, but he’d been wrong.

Dawn didn’t resist when he slid the ring off her finger, even though he could tell she wanted to protest. He felt the same, nothing changed. “Spell’s been broken, somehow. Slayer knows we’re coming.”

Dawn didn’t even dispute this statement. Part of her knew it was the truth. “I wonder how they did that? It was a pretty strong spell.”

“Don’t worry about it. Better the devil you know, eh?” Spike replied with a shrug, unconsciously echoing Dawn’s previous line of thought. “I’ll keep the slayer off you.”

“She’s still my sister, Spike,” Dawn said quietly. “Don’t kill her. Please.”

“Kitten, I may not have a choice,” he replied honestly. “She’s gonna be out for blood. Mine in particular. I have no intention of being dust.”

A sick feeling stole over Dawn. “But you didn’t promise Anya that you’d kill her?”

Spike held her gaze. “No.”

“Then don’t,” Dawn replied simply.

Spike sighed. “I’ll do my best, won’t promise more’n that.”

They sat in an uneasy silence for a few moments, until Spike was about to put the car back into gear. Dawn touched his arm, halting him. “Change for me,” she asked softly.

“Kitten, now’s not the time,” Spike warned.

Her expression hardened. “Change.”

He was on her in a moment, pinning her to the door, his face shifting. “This what you want to see? The monster you take inside you?” he growled.

Her breath caught and she stared up at him, holding his amber gaze. “What does this mean to you?”

Spike grinned ferally, grinding his hips into her so she could feel his erection. “You want to know that the thought of you doing this makes me want to spread you open and fuck you hard? Blood is everything, pet. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” Dawn replied with sudden clarity, finally feeling her misery and confusion diminish.

Spike dipped his head forward and ran his fangs along her neck, scratching the surface lightly. “When this is over, Kitten. This is where I’ll mark you.” His tongue darted out and he licked the small scratches, soothing them.

Dawn shivered.

“I’ll sink my fangs in and finally taste you,” Spike murmured with almost religious fervor.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Spike took her mouth in a kiss, careful with his fangs, even though they were itching to part her flesh and taste her blood. When he pulled back, he held her gaze before shifting back to his human guise. “Love you, too, Kitten.”

“I can do this,” Dawn said with sudden ferocity.

Spike nodded and slid back behind the wheel. “Know you can.”

As they pulled onto the road, Dawn asked, “How much longer?”

Spike glanced at the clock on the dash. “Couple, three hours. We’ll be there in time.”

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy wondered how everything could change in such a short period of time. Night had fallen like a veil of darkness and taken the sanity with it.

She had always thought that the next time she died it would be saving the world. An angry nerd with a gun had never entered her mind. When Warren rounded the corner and shot her, part of her nearly welcomed death: it felt right somehow. But Willow saved her, pulling her back from the brink…only to kill Warren herself.

Images of Willow tearing his skin off flashed in her head before Buffy could stop them. It made her sick to her stomach. How was Willow going to be able to live with herself?

And now Giles was here with some wicked serious mojo of his own from somewhere. Except it didn’t seem to be a match for Willow’s strength; she was tearing him apart.

“Willow, please stop!” Buffy cried. “Let him go.”

Willow smiled nastily. “Sure, Buffy, I’ll let him go.” She waved her hand dismissively.

Giles fell to the ground with a thud and a groan.

“Giles!” Buffy tried to run to him, but Willow waved her hand again, and Buffy crashed through the wall into the training room.

“Willow, stop. This isn’t you.” Giles said, panting harshly.

“You know what, Rupert. I’m thinking this is the real me.” She raised her hand, as if the were going to throw something at him. A ball of fire appeared in it.

Buffy struggled through the rubble and sprinted into the main part of the shop. “Willow, you don’t have to do this! Tara wouldn’t have wanted it.”

Willow turned toward Buffy and said coldly, “You know, you’re really not one to be giving advice. You couldn’t stand living, so you pushed everyone away. No wonder Tara wanted to help Dawn leave. She saw you for the selfish bitch you are.”

Buffy stepped back as if Willow had slapped her. “That’s not true.”

But Willow continued on, “You know, come to think of it, Tara would be alive now if you hadn’t been such a nosy busy-body.”

“Willow, I’m so sorry about Tara,” Buffy said. “I was angry at her, but I never wanted her dead.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Willow screamed. “You aren’t even worthy of saying her name.”

Buffy recoiled as the fireball in her hand began to swell.

“And Xander!” Willow continued. “How could you use him like that? What kind of a friend does that?”

“It was complicated,” Buffy replied defensively. “Xander and I are better now, different. He understands.”

“But are you even sorry?” Willow asked angrily.

“What?” Buffy countered, bewildered. “About Xander?”

“About EVERYTHING!” Willow bellowed and threw the fireball. It sailed over Buffy’s head and punched a hole through the wall behind her, and the one beyond that before it sailed off into the night.

Buffy seethed. “You know, you guys hold me up like I’m supposed to be perfect. Well, newsflash, Buffy’s not perfect. Not even close. I screw up, but I do the best I can.”

“And that works out so well.” Willow rolled her eyes. “You can’t even protect a couple of nerds. You had to send your boy-toy out to try to save them. But don’t worry, once you and Rupert are taken care of, they’ll be next. There isn’t anywhere on the planet they’ll be able to hide from me.”

“You’re just in love with the sound of your voice,” Buffy quipped, “What is it about evil, it makes everyone all rambly.”

“Because it’s so unsatisfying to …just…” Suddenly, Willow cocked her head, as if she were listening to something. She grinned nastily. “Someone’s being very naughty. Looks like little Dawnie has joined the big leagues.”

Buffy was confused by the change in topics. “Huh?”

“You have this pesky need to fix everything, so why don’t you go take care of your own family.”

The world spun, and suddenly Buffy wasn’t in the Magic Box any longer. She stumbled and nearly lost her balance as everything came back into focus.

You wanted to save your sister, Buffy heard Willow’s voice in her head. Here’s your big chance.

Buffy turned, stunned to find out she was amidst the rubble and wreckage of Glory’s crazy tower, the one destroyed by the earthquake. The one where Dawn almost died.

The wind picked up wicked fast, and Buffy heard chanting. The air sparked and sizzled as a hole formed in mid-air. As it got larger and larger; Buffy could see through it, like a picture frame or a movie screen. She watched an endless progression of day and night flicker past, but it looked wrong somehow, like the sun was traveling the wrong direction in the sky.

People walked by occasionally, in reverse, and Buffy blushed when she saw several night scenes flash by with the unmistakable sight of her and Xander…doing things she did not want to see in Technicolor.

The hole reached its apex and finally touched the ground as the tower rebuilt itself right in before of her eyes. The scene slowed and finally halted.

A figure stepped forward with flowing hair, chanting, and for half a second Buffy thought it was Willow. She frowned when she realized that the shape was all wrong, this woman was taller and her hair was lighter and longer.

The witch turned her head and suddenly her profile was illuminated in the flickering light surrounding the portal. Buffy gasped. “Dawnie?”

Dawn didn’t pause or seem to hear her as she stepped through the gateway she’d summoned.

Buffy raced forward, trying to catch her sister before it was too late. She made it a half a dozen steps before she was struck from behind. Swiftly, her arms were pinned painfully behind her back and she heard the familiar, whisky-rough voice of her least favorite vampire.

“Hello, Slayer.”

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Descent

by C. Woodhaven

Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

by
C. Woodhaven