Buffy the Vampire Slayer 1

by John Vorholt;Arthur Byron Cover;Alice Henderson

  “We just move on to the next Slayer. There’s no sense returning to a time period Buffy has the incantation for. We’d just be fighting her over and over.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Victor growled, eager to fight her again.

  The portal gained in intensity, lifting them off their feet. Together the assassins vanished into the future, ready to kill again.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  As the vampires’ portal faded in the distance, Giles gathered his thoughts, formulating a plan. “Okay. Right now we need to regroup. It’s important we not think of time as our enemy. We don’t have to rush. We can think this out. No matter when they’ve targeted another Slayer, we have time to return to 1998 and figure it out.”

  “But, Giles! They could be killing her right now!”

  Giles gripped her shoulder. “No. They are killing her in another time period, just like this one. We will find out when, and arrive at the same time as the assassins, just as we did this time.”

  “It makes my head hurt, Giles.”

  He looked at her reassuringly. “Let’s go find Willow and Xander and return to 1998.”

  “Right. Okay. We do a little recon work, find out where they went, and follow them. How will we find Lucien? We only have the one spell.”

  “Are you sure there were no others in the cavern room?” Giles asked.

  “Positive. I collected every scrap of paper in there.”

  “Then he must be keeping any other incantations on his person,” Giles surmised.

  “So how do we find him? Wait in that little room? He’ll notice that I’ve been there, or that someone’s been there, anyway,” she pointed out. “He might move to another location.”

  “When we return, we can have Angel put surveillance on the room. If they move, we’ll know.”

  Buffy agreed. It made sense.

  Giles turned to Incinii, speaking to her urgently. She shook her head, pointing back toward the battle, then launched into a lengthy monologue, which Giles asked her to repeat twice.

  Buffy followed as they turned around, heading back toward the beach. Giles explained as they walked. “I believe I understood most of her response. I told her we needed to rejoin our friends, whom we left back by a bonfire. She responded that if her Slayer duties were finished for tonight, then she must rejoin the battle. She will help us find our guide, and he will lead us back.”

  They walked a little farther in silence, Incinii turning to smile apologetically at Buffy. She saw something in the Celtic Slayer’s eyes—a kind of age, wisdom, and deep sadness. Buffy realized she was lucky in comparison. She definitely had issue with living her teenage years dusting vamps in graveyards and slicing the heads off demons. But while Sunnydale was certainly under continuous attacks by the forces of darkness, at least it was not also under attack by marauding invaders. She briefly imagined what Incinii must feel, torn between defending her home against an invading army and simultaneously fighting off the usual vampires, praying mantis women, and mother Bezor demons. Incinii must get close to no time to shop. And Buffy also imagined she rarely felt safe. Even when she’d spent an evening slaying, Incinii contended with the looming threat of Roman invaders. Plus Giles had told her that Incinii had struggled with the night terror demon for years, a creature Buffy herself had faced. The beast repeatedly took over Incinii’s body while she slept. She couldn’t rest peacefully. For her, it never ended.

  As they hurried back toward the battle, Buffy watched Incinii straighten, then check her armor clasps, her short sword and bow. She was a warrior, made for battle. Unlike Buffy, though, she seemed to be eagerly anticipating the conflict. Even now Buffy caught her smiling, awaiting the fight before her. Buffy didn’t enjoy fighting, didn’t enjoy killing and destroying things, even when they were evil. The day she did enjoy it would be the day she lost something integral to her soul.

  The clashing of swords on metal grew louder, and then Buffy could hear the screams of pure agony and terror. When they crested the rise once again, she sucked in her breath in horror. The Romans had lit the Celtic warriors on fire. Everywhere she looked, figures bathed in flame raced to and fro, shrieking in anguish. The Druids who had been gathered in a circle no longer stood there. Buffy couldn’t make them out in the chaos. One of the stone creatures had fallen, lifeless, onto the beach, and Roman archers climbed it to fire arrows from higher ground.

  The smell of burning hair and flesh hung heavily in the air, and Buffy felt her gorge rise in her throat. Incinii screamed in anger and lifted her sword high. She rushed down onto the warfield, trilling out a battle cry. She struck down one Roman centurion, then another, driving her sword deep into their bellies and throats. As she waded into the combat, she threw down burning warriors and smothered flames with their fallen cloaks. Wheeling, she dragged a Roman cavalryman from his saddle and viciously slit his throat. When Buffy last caught sight of her, Incinii was mounting the stolen horse and riding into the thick of the battle, striking downward with her sword.

  This was a different world. Completely foreign. Buffy couldn’t imagine killing other humans and was glad she didn’t have to defend her homeland like this. As the firelight flickered on the glinting, bloody armor of the Romans, Buffy stood utterly still. The screaming around her grew so intense it almost felt like it came from inside her own head. Men and women on fire shrieked and panicked. Romans stole torches and lit the forest on fire. Another stone giant toppled, and a tree creature ground to a halt. The Druid magick was not holding together. The Romans broke their circle, and now, with flames licking at the trunks of trees, they desecrated the sacred forest.

  “We need to leave,” Giles said, “now!”

  “But, Giles,” Buffy argued, shocked at the horrific scene before her. “We can’t just go—these people need help!”

  Giles grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “Buffy,” he said firmly, “this happened a long time ago. I know it feels very immediate right now, but all this happened more than two thousand years ago. These events unfolded just as we see them now.”

  “But, Giles!” she pressed, watching a woman dive into the dirt, desperately trying to quench the flames engulfing her hair.

  “We must go. These events have to occur as they did historically. We can’t interfere, or we’re no better than Lucien. Besides, if we change the sequence of events, we could even make this worse.”

  “It doesn’t feel right!” Buffy insisted.

  “I know it doesn’t,” Giles agreed, looking around him. “But the two of us couldn’t do much good here anyway. The Romans are just too powerful, too many in number. It’s why they won.”

  He turned her away from the scene, forcing her to move off the rise, down the slope. “What about Incinii?” she asked.

  “She’ll be fine,” Giles reassured her. “She’s one of the longest-lived Slayers. She lives through this night. She lives a long time.”

  Feeling hollow and haunted, Buffy allowed Giles to lead her into the quiet of the forest. “I don’t think we’re going to find our guide,” he said. He peered into the forest. “And I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’d be able to make my way back to the bonfire where we left the others.”

  Buffy stared in that direction too. She thought of the meandering way the guide had led them. “Not a chance.”

  “We might be able to retrace our footsteps back to the cabin, though,” Giles said. “Then Eyra can lead us to the bonfire.”

  Buffy thought of the trees, alive and sinuous, and dreaded returning to that crawling forest. She swallowed her fear and followed Giles into the darkness.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  After only twenty minutes of stumbling lost through the forest, they spotted the flickering candlelight from Eyra’s cabin.

  “Oh, what a relief!” Giles sighed, unable to help himself. He didn’t want to let Buffy know how nervous the willowy trees made him.

  He rapped on the door, and in a few moments Eyra opened it hurriedly. Her expression visi
bly fell when he saw it was only them. “Did you see her?” she asked Giles in Old Welsh.

  “Yes,” Giles answered.

  “And is she …?” the Watcher’s voice trailed off.

  “She’s fighting. And doing quite well the last time we saw her.”

  “Thank the gods for that,” Eyra responded, letting out a sigh of relief. “She is so stubborn. I ordered her not to fight, then I begged her.”

  “I know how you feel,” Giles said sympathetically, with a sidelong glance at Buffy.

  Eyra frowned. “But then again, I myself am involved. I just sent word to the other encampment. Now I must just wait here, hoping Incinii is all right.”

  Eyra then remembered her manners and invited them in. But Giles said, “Actually, could you help us get back to our friends? I’m afraid we lost our guide in the ruckus of battle.” At least, that’s what he hoped he said. His Old Welsh wasn’t exactly spanking accurate.

  Eyra nodded. “I can walk you back there. The guide mentioned you’d been at Fendoch’s fire.”

  “Thank you. It’s time we left.”

  “And where exactly did you hail from?” asked Eyra.

  Giles paused, unsure of what to say. Then he told Eyra the truth, that they’d come from a land on the other side of the world. As far as current archaeological evidence held, these people had not yet visited North America. Eyra marveled at his explanation. Giles decided not to mention the time bit. “You must tell me about it!” Eyra said curiously, perking up for the first time since they’d met.

  Giles agreed, hoping he wouldn’t throw off the time continuum by talking vaguely about California. Eyra closed her cabin door, glancing hopefully one last time down the path that led from the beach. No sign of Incinii.

  Then, with Giles describing the wonders of Sunnydale, they started off for Fendoch’s fire.

  Thirty minutes later Buffy and Giles arrived at the roaring bonfire where they’d left Willow and Xander. Eyra bowed, saying her good-byes, and melted away into the shadows. To Buffy’s utter relief, her two friends still sat next to the flickering flames. Color shone on Willow’s face. Her cheeks stood out, ruddy and healthy. Her lips were pink instead of blue.

  “Buffy!” she cried out as they drew near. She leaped up and hugged her friend.

  Xander stood up, squashing Buffy at the same time. “I’m so glad to see you! Can we get out of here now?”

  Giles regarded the group hug sadly. “I was in mortal jeopardy as well, you know.”

  “Oh, Giles,” Willow said, breaking away and hugging him, too. Xander just extended his Buffy hug until she pulled away. “So did you find the assassins?” Willow asked, turning back to Buffy.

  “Yes. And killed one of them. But the other got away. And there was someone else, too, hiding in the shadows. He ran off too.”

  Xander raised his eyebrows incredulously. “You’re kidding.”

  “Unfortunately not,” Giles said. “And Buffy has a theory that this is only the first of a series of attempts on Slayers’ lives.”

  “We have to get back to 1998 and figure out who the next target is,” she explained.

  “As long as we get off this creepy island,” Xander whispered, glancing surreptitiously around at the nearby stones glistening with blood.

  Giles motioned for them to follow. “I suggest we move away from witnesses before opening the portal.”

  All four took turns bowing and thanking the Celtic warriors for allowing them the use of their fire. They smiled, grasping the visitors’ arms in parting, but Buffy clearly saw the grayness beneath the smiles, the worries of the incoming Roman army. Once again she felt the pang of abandoning people who needed help. But Giles was right, she supposed. This wasn’t their fight. It had been waged long ago without her help. Tonight would have to be no different.

  Following Giles off into the dark of the forest, Buffy forced herself to go.

  They gathered together, and Giles spoke the incantation. In moments the portal expanded into view, brilliant and swirling. A wind kicked up, sucking leaves and pine needles into the vortex. Buffy’s hair whipped toward the spiraling light and then she felt drawn toward it, feet sliding in the mud. The force grew in strength, and she fought the urge to grab on to something. Her feet lifted off the ground and she careened headfirst into the vortex. Willow’s hand found hers, and they screamed as their velocity increased. Just when she thought they would crash headlong into concrete on the other side, the speed cut down. Her stomach lurched. In the next instant the light dimmed and winked out, and they tumbled out onto asphalt. A car honked and swerved around them, its headlights blinding Buffy. She closed her eyes to the night. Willow landed on top of her, then Giles and Xander smacked onto the ground to their left.

  As more cars braked and honked, Buffy forced herself to stand and drag Willow out of the street. They’d landed in downtown Sunnydale, she saw with bleary eyes. She staggered into the street again, grabbed Giles’s foot and Xander’s wrist, and dragged them out of harm as well. Then she collapsed on the sidewalk, nausea rising in her throat. From a club nearby, she could hear the distant strains of “One Week” by the Barenaked Ladies. They were definitely in 1998. Now they just had to find out who the next targeted Slayer was and dive into the dizzying wormhole once again.

  She had to find Lucien.

  She struggled to stay on her feet and failed. As she fell to her knees, a second blinding flash of light startled her. She closed her eyes against the brightness and felt another body slam into hers. She fell on her side. Whoever it was weighed a ton.

  She rolled the person off her and turned to face him. She didn’t recognize the man. He was a vampire. She knew that instinctively. His clothing style dated from at least the early eighteen hundreds, but they were new. His long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and affixed with a black ribbon. She grabbed him by the back of his neck, forcing him to his feet.

  “Lucien, I presume?” she asked him.

  The vampire whimpered. “Oh, damn.”

  Holding him, she looked up to the sky to see a second portal spinning just to the left of their own. Another vampire flew out of their vortex, landing near Giles.

  Lucien twisted in Buffy’s grip, and she slammed him against the alley wall. “You leave before us, and we still arrive first. Tough luck.” He tried to throw her off. She stood her ground. “Don’t make me dust you. You might live a whole extra day if you cooperate.”

  “How generous,” he snarled.

  Groggy, the second vamp rose to his feet. “Giles!” Buffy shouted. “Get him!”

  Giles lay on the ground, shaking his head lightly. “Get whom?” he mumbled.

  “The other assassin!” Briefly she thought of dragging Lucien over to Victor, trying to get them both. But she knew Victor was too good a fighter for her to pull it off. Lucien had stayed out of the action on Anglesey, which meant he thought himself too good to get his hands dirty in combat. Even now he only struggled slightly in her grasp. She could even feel him trembling beneath her grip.

  “Xander!” she shouted. “Willow! Get him!” Victor chanced a look over his shoulder at the Slayer, taking in his boss’s condition.

  “Lucien!” he shouted. “Damn it! I can’t always cover your sorry ass!”

  “Go on without me,” Lucien called back. “Just carry out the plan.”

  “Shut up,” Buffy yelled, slapping her hand over his mouth and punching him in the stomach. He licked her hand, and she involuntarily pulled it away in disgust.

  “Enlist help. You remember,” Lucien reminded Victor.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Victor said, and darted away down the alley.

  “Get him!” Buffy yelled again to her friends. “Or come guard this guy!”

  Stumbling, Giles rushed to her side, pinning Lucien against the brick.

  Buffy gave chase on unsteady legs, running through the dark alley. Ahead she heard a garbage can overturn, the crash of glass bottles rolling and shattering on asphalt.

  He wasn�
��t far ahead.

  She picked up speed, her head swimming with the motion. Dizziness claimed her and she tripped, stumbled on a high crack in the cement, and righted herself. She ran on.

  A dog barked, and she turned the corner in that direction. Ahead she saw Victor’s fleeing figure. His woolen cloak bloomed out behind him as he ran. He, too, staggered, still intoxicated from the vortex’s effect.

  At an intersection, he headed away from the graveyard, away from the entrance to the underground tunnels. He was trying to mislead her. But it didn’t matter. She knew where the hidden room was. In time, Victor would realize that she knew it too.

  He darted out of view around a corner, and she reached the spot a few seconds later. The alley was a dead end. She peered up, catching his fleeing shape jumping from rooftop to rooftop above.

  Damn. She couldn’t catch him now.

  She tried anyway, running along the base of the buildings, but ultimately lost him in the maze of the warehouse district.

  By now she felt completely putrid, and she stopped to catch her breath.

  “Bad trip?” asked a voice behind her.

  She spun to see Angel standing there. “Don’t do that!” she told him, her heart hammering from the start he’d given her.

  “Sorry.” He came closer to her, took her in his arms. “You’re wet.”

  “It was raining.”

  “I think I remember what that is,” he said wryly. Buffy was glad she wouldn’t experience a drenching like that in Sunnydale.

  “Did you get them?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “One of them. Caught another.”

  “That’s something.”

  “Not enough. One got away. The worst one.”

  He put his arms around her. Kissed her forehead. He brought his hand up under her chin and lifted her head. His lips pressed against her, and Buffy felt the stress and tension of the trip spill out of her, replaced by a pleasant tingling feeling of excitement.