Blooded

by Christopher Golden

“Let her go,” Angel demanded, aware that he also had to protect Willow, who was unconscious at his feet. Though Chirayoju’s own magical self-preservation had healed her almost completely of the wounds she had received while possessed, she was completely drained of energy.

  Chirayoju smiled, and the way its grin twisted Buffy’s face, it didn’t look like Buffy any more at all. “Which is good, Angel thought. That would make it easier if he had to kill her. As if anything could make that easy.

  The smile broadened, and suddenly a moldy, green face seemed to shimmer into being, covering Buffy’s features like a mask, though Angel could still see her through it.

  This was Chirayoju’s true face, then. Angel’s lips curled back and his face changed as well, transforming into the savage face of the vampire within him. Chirayoju had made a mistake. If he’d kept using Buffy’s face, Buffy’s voice, Buffy’s perfect mouth to speak, Angel didn’t think he could ever have attacked.

  But now he saw the face of the demon.

  “I vowed I would not attack, but I said nothing about defending myself,” Chirayoju declared. “Stand aside, Angelus . . . yes, I know your name. I plucked it from the Slayer’s mind. Stand aside, or you will die your final death.”

  Without Buffy, he had nothing to live for, but Angel stood his ground. Chirayoju moved forward, prepared to attack, then stopped suddenly. The green ghost face shattered, and Buffy’s eyes went wide. For a moment, Angel hoped that Buffy had driven the vampire out of her body, but no, the voice that came from her mouth was still not quite her own.

  “I sense . . . something,” Chirayoju said. “But it cannot be. Not here.”

  Then Angel sensed it too. A powerful new presence. He turned, ready to defend himself.

  Then he saw who it was.

  “Xander?” he called, staring at the new arrival. Xander had a huge old sword in his hands and he marched into the dead garden with a wide grin on his face.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Angel asked. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  Xander swung the sword up, held it in battle position. It was a very heavy-looking weapon, and yet he moved it as though it were plastic. Angel looked more closely at Xander’s face, at his strange smile. And then he knew.

  This wasn’t Xander any more than the other creature standing in the garden was Buffy. He didn’t know who or what it was, but it wasn’t the mortal who laughed and joked and called him Dead Boy.

  “Another one?” he whispered to himself.

  “Chirayoju!” Xander roared, or whatever was inside him did. “Once again you defile the sacred soil of the Land of the Rising Sun! And once again, you will fall beneath my sword. So swears Sanno, the King of the Mountain!”

  A powerful wind sprang up suddenly and whipped at Angel. The gale was so strong it almost knocked him back, but he leaned into the wind, trying to figure out what his next move should be. These two were obviously bitter enemies.

  “Foolish little god,” Chirayoju snarled in return. “This is not Japan. The soil you stand on now may have been tilled by Japanese hands, but your nation—your mountain—is far from here. You stopped me once, but we have been locked in our bloody battle for many millennia now, and I have the measure of you, Sanno. You cannot defeat me here, on this dead patch of earth. Not when I wear the flesh of one who was already more than human!”

  Chirayoju raised its right hand—Buffy’s right hand—and laughed deeply. Cruelly. “Time to die, old spirit. The time has come for you to be washed from the earth forevermore!”

  As Angel watched them posturing, circling, sizing each other up in the Eastern tradition of combat, he clutched the disk Buffy had slipped him. He realized he was trapped in a horrible dilemma: if he helped Xander, then Buffy might be killed, and vice versa.

  Chirayoju’s face changed yet again. The sparkle returned to Buffy’s eyes for just a moment.

  “Xander!” Buffy’s voice cried. “No!”

  Then it was gone, just as quickly. But Angel had seen it. And he knew that in her mind, in her soul, Buffy was fighting Chirayoju’s control. For a moment, while the vampire spirit was distracted, she had taken her body back. She was fighting.

  And when the Slayer fought, the Slayer won. In the end. That’s why she was the Chosen One. Suddenly Angel had hope. It might be possible to keep them from killing each other after all.

  “That’s it, Buffy, come on!” he shouted, moving toward Chirayoju, bending against the gale force winds. “Push him out. Take your body back! You can do it!”

  Chirayoju sprayed spheres of flame from his palms and they sizzled through the air toward Xander . . . toward the Mountain King. But the king brought up his sword to stop the flames, and the fire seemed to be absorbed right into the metal.

  The sword pointed toward Chirayoju as Sanno stepped forward. Angel jumped between them, eyes darting back and forth between the two ancient spirits.

  “Stop,” he said. “This battle serves neither one of you.”

  He turned to stare into Buffy’s eyes, searching for her in there. Finding nothing.

  “Out of the way, child,” Chirayoju thundered, and raised his hands again.

  Angel was about to protest when a blast of fire scorched his back. It had erupted from Sanno’s hands, he realized, as he arched with the pain. Then Chirayoju brought fire down upon him as well, and Angel fell to the ground, rolling in the dirt and the dead vegetation to douse the flames.

  He grunted in pain as he stared up at Xander’s face. The spirit that possessed him clearly enjoyed his own show of power and Angel’s agony. It might be a battle of good versus evil, but he didn’t think Sanno was much better than Chirayoju. Not after thousands of years of hatred. Sanno wanted to kill his enemy, and it didn’t matter who died in the process. The Mountain King was arrogant and cruel, just like a vampire.

  Any vampire.

  The winds continued to howl all around Angel, kicking up dirt and uprooted plants. Angel slitted his eyes and began to sit up, wincing at the pain of his burns. But the pain was easy to ignore when he thought of what would happen if he didn’t do something soon.

  Then, over the gale, he heard someone calling his name.

  * * *

  “Angel!” Willow cried again, desperate to understand what was happening all around her. She ached all over, but that was starting to go away. What still hurt was inside: the memory of having been taken over by something not very nice. The brief flashes of reveling in cruelty, of laughing at Buffy and Angel as they had fought her . . .

  Then Angel was there, coat flapping in the wind, ignoring the grit that stung her own face and arms. He moved to her and lifted her easily, then ran a few yards to the small gully where water had once run. They ducked behind the cracked wooden bridge that ran over the gully.

  Willow didn’t even have to ask what was happening. Part of her remembered. The rest of her just knew.

  “Are you all right?” Angel asked.

  There was an uncomfortable moment between them, even as the battle raged not far away. Willow wondered how long that awkwardness would remain. Both of them were acutely aware that it wasn’t all that long ago that Angel had been trying to take her life, rather than save it.

  “I’m alive,” Willow replied. “Alive is good.”

  “You remember how you got here?” Angel said quickly.

  Willow nodded unhappily.

  “Well, something just like it’s happened to Xander. That old Chinese vampire’s greatest enemy, the guy who defeated him the first time, has taken control of Xander. Buffy’s fighting for control of her body, but . . .”

  Angel let his words trail off, and Willow felt a chill run all through her body. It was her fault. She’d been so obsessed with being more like Buffy . . . She should never have touched that sword!

  But even as the thoughts entered her mind, she knew how foolish they were. There was no way she could have known what was going to happen. No, the only thing she had to concentrate on was how to save Buffy and Xa
nder.

  “They’re going to kill each other,” she said, softly enough that Angel couldn’t have heard her over the wailing of the wind.

  “Do you remember any of what was in its head?” Angel asked, shouting over the roar of the storm. “Can you think of any way to stop it?”

  “No,” Willow said, beginning to panic. She shook her head as she stared at the bizarre sight of Buffy and Xander stalking each other, clearly about to launch another attack. She saw the shimmering ghost-faces of the vampire and the Mountain King floating over their features, and that comforted her a little, helped her remember they weren’t really themselves.

  She turned to Angel, frantic. “Can’t you do something?” she demanded. “I mean, come on! I know it’s in there, in you! Angelus is in there, and well, he’s pretty nasty and you could stop them if you really wanted to! Stop them from killing each other. There’s nobody else, Angel. It has to be you!”

  Willow stared at him, her eyes pleading. When Angel glanced away, unable to meet her gaze, Willow sobbed loudly.

  “I’m not Angelus any more,” he said. “And if I were, all I would do is kill them both, and that isn’t really the outcome you’re hoping for, is it?”

  When she shook her head anxiously, he drawled, “Didn’t think so.”

  “I’m sorry,” Willow said meekly.

  “Not as sorry as I am.”

  “So we just let them fight?” Willow asked, wideeyed.

  “What else can we do?” Angel said, turning back to stare at the two figures battling in the moonlight. “I might be able to affect the outcome of this battle, maybe even restrain one of them . . . but not both, Willow, don’t you understand? The Mountain King isn’t going to stop until Buffy’s dead, and even if I could stop him, there’d still be Chirayoju to deal with.”

  “But what about when it’s . . . when it’s over?” Willow persisted. “I mean, if the Mountain King kills Buffy, he might just go away, but if Chirayoju wins . . .”

  Angel looked at her, and Willow knew she had never seen such sorrow in another person’s eyes. “If she wins,” Angel said grimly, “then I might just have to murder the one person I love in all the world.”

  Both of them turned at the sound of Chirayoju screeching in a voice that once had been Buffy’s. The vampire sorcerer launched itself at Sanno. Twirling his sword over his head in great, swooping motions, Sanno charged at Chirayoju.

  Then Chirayoju leaped into the air, shot flames at the Mountain King, executed a somersault, and landed on the other side of him. Fireballs erupted from the vampire’s hands and burned the air as they spat at Sanno, but the Mountain King deflected them with the wide blade of his ancient sword. The orange light reflected off Buffy’s features, giving her face combined with Chirayoju’s ghastly mask a hellish cast.

  Then the two immortal enemies rushed at each other again. Their battle had lasted for thousands of years. Each truly had the measure of the other. But when the battle was to the death, Willow knew there could be only one victor.

  As she watched, Buffy and Xander became a blur of fists and kicks and gouts of flame. Willow smelled burning flesh and singed hair. Sanno brought his sword down, slicing the air. The ugly blade missed Buffy’s shoulder by inches, the top of her head by even less than that.

  Angel turned to her, his eyes narrow and intense. He reached out for Willow’s hand and put something into her palm.

  “Get this to Giles,” the vampire whispered.

  Willow looked down, saw the disk and the crucifix, then stared hard at Angel. “What are you going to do?”

  Angel smiled. “I’m going to try to keep them both alive.” Then he was in motion. He turned and ran at Chirayoju . . . at Buffy . . . and dove at her, face shifting to the savage countenance of the vampire within.

  Willow understood then, understood the words he hadn’t spoken. He was going to try to keep Buffy and Xander alive, even if it meant his own final death.

  But Willow wasn’t about to argue. She knew that Angel was right. There was nothing else for them to do but look to Giles for answers. With a last glance at the fire that burned the air, the blood that spattered the dead garden, the blade that glinted in the light of the full moon, she turned and ran, bent over against the force of the wind.

  She ran as if her life depended on it.

  As if all their lives depended on it.

  In fact, she ran like the devil.

  * * *

  Xander was paralyzed.

  He could see. He could hear. But he could not move or feel or speak. Sanno had taken all of those abilities away from him. All he could do was rage in silence against the being that had invaded his body.

  Somewhere inside his mind, thunder rolled across an entire world. Almost as if it were coming for him, somehow. As if it would roll over him and obliterate him forever . . . leaving Sanno alone in here, in his body. Somehow he knew that if he stopped fighting, if he just abandoned his body to Sanno, that thunder wouldn’t just be in his head anymore. No. It would roll across the surface of the world, starting in Sunnydale. Then the King of the Mountain would be in charge, and anyone who didn’t worship the King just might get rolled over too. Or struck by lightning. Or scorched by fire.

  It was only that weird intuition that kept Xander from retreating completely. For if he could not control his body’s actions, he certainly did not want to bear witness to them. Because his body moved, his arms swung a deadly blade. Sanno was trying to use him for vengeance, but that vengeance was going to cost Buffy her life.

  Quietly, Xander realized that he hoped that Chirayoju would win. Then at least Xander would not have to live with the knowledge that he had been unable to stop himself from killing one of his best friends, a girl he cared very deeply for.

  When Angel dove at Buffy, Xander felt the tiniest moment of triumph. Somehow, they would all get out of this alive. Or, at the very least, Buffy would. Angel wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her.

  * * *

  Chirayoju collided with Angel, and the two crashed to the ground.

  “Fool, fool!” Chirayoju shrieked. “What are you doing? I will burn you from the face of the Earth!”

  “You swore not to harm me,” Angel reminded it, as he grabbed at Chirayoju’s punishing fists.

  “What is his vow worth?” Sanno demanded as he approached them.

  Then suddenly, Chirayoju’s features vanished. Angel saw the light in Buffy’s eyes. He heard Buffy’s voice.

  “Angel, stop me now,” she whispered. “Kill me.”

  “Buffy, stay with me,” he urged. “Fight him.”

  He grabbed her hands and threw them behind her back. Her chest pushed against his, and her breath was hot on his neck. He gave her a quick kiss, if only to keep her mind focused on who he was . . . and who she was.

  Sanno’s eyes lit up.

  “The girl has overtaken him?” he asked.

  “Yes, I think,” Angel replied.

  “Then this is the moment of triumph,” Sanno declared. “Hold Chirayoju for me, boy. I’ll cut off its head.”

  At that precise moment, the light left Buffy’s eyes and she was Chirayoju once more. The demon threw Angel off like a pesky mosquito and snarled at the Mountain King, blasting him backwards with a wave of fire. Then, almost as an afterthought, it used the moment’s respite to grab Angel around the neck.

  “You would have done it, wouldn’t you?” it demanded. It pushed Angel’s head to one side and prepared to bite him. “For that, I will destroy you, as certainly as I swore not to.”

  As Angel struggled, the monster’s face congealed and formed over Buffy’s. Its teeth lengthened and sharpened into fangs.

  “Sanno is correct,” it hissed. “My promises are worth nothing. Honor is for those who can afford it.”

  It smiled in anticipation of the kill, and lowered its teeth toward Angel’s neck.

  CHAPTER 19

  Willow ran.

  She’d expected pain. Aching lungs, bruises on top of bruises
, weak and rubbery legs. And she knew the bruises were there, despite whatever healing magic Chirayoju had at its command. But for now, the pain was minimal, completely overwhelmed by fear and adrenaline. In fact, she felt great—alive. The wind whipped her long hair behind her as Willow sprinted across lawns and pavement, jumped low fences and hustled past silent houses, long since dark.

  Tomorrow morning she was going to be a wreck. But right now, Willow was focused on only one thing—the only thing she could feel.

  Freedom.

  She was free. He was gone from her body. It was almost like the horrible flu she’d had in the eighth grade. She’d missed school for a whole week, couldn’t even blow her nose her head was so stuffy. The sense of relief she’d felt when the flu was finally gone was only the tiniest fraction of the crazy glee that overwhelmed her now.

  Willow ran.

  She ran as fast as she could. After all the times that she had thought of Sunnydale as a tiny little burg that barely deserved mention on the map, after all the times she had walked practically all the way across town, now, for the first time, she cursed her hometown as being too big. The school wasn’t far away, but it seemed as though she’d never get there.

  Then she thought of what would happen if she didn’t get there in time. She’d seen what Chirayoju was capable of—had felt it, in fact—and it was obvious that this Mountain King guy wasn’t exactly a pushover. Angel was strong, but there was no way he could take both of them on without help. Particularly not while he was trying to keep Buffy and Xander alive.

  Buffy. Xander.

  Willow’s adrenaline spiked even higher, but all the good feeling that came from her freedom disappeared almost instantly. It was her fault. She knew that any of her friends would have argued that with her, but none of them were with her at the moment. She was alone. As alone as she’d been the night she’d been mugged.

  That’s where it all started.

  It was all her fault.

  She’d wanted to be more like Buffy, wanted to be tough—a fighter. Wanted, in other words, to be anything but little Willow, everyone’s favorite brainy Smurf. All that had somehow led to her becoming possessed by Chirayoju, though she didn’t know exactly how. Still, it had to be true. When she cut her finger on that blade, somehow the vampire’s captive spirit had sensed her, tasted her blood, felt how vulnerable she was. It had attacked her, violated her in ways much worse than any simple mugging.