Buffy the Vampire Slayer 3

by Nancy Holder

  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 ancient 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 backward 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 NINETEEN

  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 magick 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.

  And then Buffy had come and fought for her. Had been hurt. For her. Then she had done the thing that made Willow feel like throwing up. The thing that was even now gnawing a guilty little hole in her gut. Buffy had offered herself up to Chirayoju in Willow’s place.

  “Oh God, Buffy, I’m so sorry,” Willow whispered.

  Incredibly, though Willow was already at her top speed, she began to run even faster. The little disk clutched in her palm felt warm there, and she prayed that Giles would know what to do with it.

  They were a team. She understood that now, more than ever. Each did his or her part, whatever they were called upon to do. Right
now her job was to get this thing to Giles as quickly as possible. After that, it would be in Giles’s hands.

  “Please, please, please, please,” she chanted under her breath as she ran. But Willow had no idea whom she was pleading with: her body, or Giles, or someone else who could make all this right. Maybe all of them.

  Maybe anyone who’d listen.

  Willow ran.

  Her heart pumped so fast and hard that her chest constricted and she wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like. But when she glanced up again, she saw the school. She had never been happier to get to Sunnydale High.

  Willow stumbled going up the front steps, catching her foot on the long Chinese robe in which she found herself dressed. She skinned her knee on the concrete. But she picked herself up and kept moving. The front door was locked, of course. Giles hadn’t expected anyone to be following on his heels.

  She pounded on the door and began to scream his name. Barely able to hear the sound of her own voice, Willow shrieked her throat raw. The side of her hand hurt, and she started to slap the door instead. Anything. Whatever it took.

  The door opened. Cordelia stared at her.

  “Oh my God, Willow, what’s …”

  Willow fell into Cordelia’s stunned embrace, barely noticing the other girl’s astonishment. Then Cordy hugged her a little, which surprised Cordy as much as it did Willow.

  “What is it?” Cordelia asked, staring at her. “Your clothes. Is that armor? If you’re here … oh my God, what’s happened to Xander? And Buffy?”

  “Still alive, I think,” Willow panted, then moved past Cordelia and started down the hallway toward the library. “But not for long if Giles can’t do something.”

  Cordelia hurried up next to her and helped her along, gripping Willow’s forearm and putting her other arm around her shoulders. “I think we may have something,” Cordelia said simply.

  “For all our sakes,” Willow rasped, “you’d better.”

  In the library Cordelia looked up worriedly and said, “What was that? Are we having an earthquake?”

  “Hmm, not a welcome thought, that. Seeing as the garden has a bit of a bad history with earthquakes,” Giles muttered.

  “Take a look at this,” he added, showing her the fax. “Can you find this for us? On the, um, computer?”

  Willow shrugged. “If it’s on there, I can find it.”

  Giles picked up the sword disk and scrutinized it. It gleamed in his hand and he murmured, “It’s a shame that simply replacing this old disk wouldn’t bind them once again. Of course, we would also have to manage to get that sword from Sanno … Xander … somehow.”

  He must have felt both Cordelia’s and Willow’s eyes on him, for he looked up from the disk and cleared his throat.

  “So, let’s search.”

  “Let’s search.” Willow cracked her knuckles.

  While she was working, Giles received another fax:

  Giles-sensei,

  My deepest apologies for my earlier behavior. It was very rude of me to criticize your methods of working with your Slayer. I feel a great bitterness in my soul that I failed in my own duty to Mariko-chan. It is difficult for me to accept responsibility for her death. My sense of powerlessness now colors my life, and I felt great jealousy when I spoke to you because your Slayer is alive. I am very ashamed.

  As a token of my regret, I offer this: Intrigued by your studies, I have found the Legend of the Lost Slayer, as detailed on a scroll which was discovered late last year in Osaka. I am sending you the complete story, but the short version is this:

  In 1612, there was a Watcher who was a samurai. Because he failed in his duty, he was ordered by his lord to commit seppuku. Where did his duty lie, to his Slayer, or his lord? He chose his lord, and his Slayer was left without help. She was killed three months later.

  I think that your young American girl is fortunate to have such a caring Watcher as you, Giles-sensei. I thank you for this lesson, and again, I beg your pardon.

  Kobo

  Giles swallowed hard, moved by the old man’s confession. There were many kinds of demons in the world, and many ways to be bound by them. In his own way, Kobo had been blooded.

  • • •

  A short time later, they were in Giles’s ancient auto, trundling toward the site of the climax of this ancient battle. Willow only hoped that everyone was still alive.

  “Y’know, Giles, I was thinking,” she said, “I mean, if you can do this thing, put the demon into the sword, why can’t we pull the demon out of Angel the same way?”

  Giles ran a red light and Cordelia murmured, “Yay.”

  “It had crossed my mind. But we’re not sure how well the spell will work. Even if it does, it may only be because we’re using an object that’s already enchanted. Not to mention that, of course, the only result of removing the very thing that makes Angel a vampire would be that Angel would no longer be immortal.

  “But Buffy’s not immortal,” Willow said helpfully. “That wouldn’t be too bad.”

  “What I mean, Willow, is that Angel would be dead.”

  “Okay, that would be bad.”

  “This is all so insane,” Cordelia said suddenly. “Why do I keep getting myself involved with you people? I’m going to get myself killed!”

  “You just can’t help yourself?” Willow suggested helpfully.

  Cordelia smiled weakly. “Maybe not. So, are you okay?” she asked.

  Willow blinked. Surprised and happy that Cordelia would bother to ask. “I guess so,” she answered. “Actually, I’m pretty much one big bruise, but I think I’ll be all right. If I ever get over the guilt of having started all this.”

  Cordelia frowned and Giles shot Willow an angry glance.

  “What’s happened is no more your fault, Willow, than it is Buffy’s fault that we all live on the Hellmouth,” Giles said sharply.

  Willow thought about that. “I don’t know how Buffy does it,” she replied. “I mean, she’s got to live, right? She has to have a life, but she’s constantly putting herself and everyone she loves in danger by being the Slayer. Not that she means to put us in danger,” she added loyally.

  Cordelia turned around in her seat to look at Willow. “We’re in danger just living here. I’ll never admit it if you tell her I said it, but I’d hate to think about what Sunnydale would be like if we didn’t have the Slayer in town.”

  “Willow, Buffy merely does her best. That’s all any of us can ask of her, or one another. Thus far, I think we’ve all done rather well,” Giles said.

  “Yeah.” Willow nodded. “Thus far.”

  But she was comforted by their words. And she agreed with them. Buffy did her best to protect them all, but in the end it was their job to protect themselves. They all had to deal with living on the Hellmouth in their own way. They all had their own roles to play in the fight against darkness. It was a team effort.

  “Thanks, you guys,” she said.

  Cordelia rolled her eyes and offered a little scowl in return, and Giles was already off elsewhere, deep in thought. Which was okay. They were doing what they did best.

  Willow stared out her window at the stars.

  Stared out and saw a reddish glow against the sky.

  Beneath the car, the earth trembled.

  The three looked at one another.

  Cordelia said, “If it’ll make this heap go faster, I’ll get out and push.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Angel landed atop a granite pagoda, which shattered beneath him, sending a good-sized shard of stone tearing through his abdomen. He groaned loudly, rolled over, and tried in vain to sit up once more. His face had long since transformed into its more feral, vampiric appearance, and it felt like ice now to him, cold and dead.

  Angel stared down at the shiny granite shard protruding from his belly, cursed under his breath, and gripped it with both hands. He yanked it out, roaring with the pain of it, and then held a hand over the hole. A ripple of pain passed through him as
he forced himself to his knees, but Angel ignored it.

  His own pain meant nothing as long as Buffy was in trouble. Right now, she was in very serious trouble.

  “You think that little girl’s body can stand up to the King of the Mountain?” Sanno roared through Xander’s mouth, with a voice that didn’t sound anything at all like Xander anymore.

  With that, the Mountain King swept the great sword around once more and brought it down at an angle that would easily have decapitated Buffy. But Chirayoju was fast … Buffy was fast.

  Only when Sanno laughed, as he did now, could Angel hear Xander inside him. That laugh was keeping him from killing the boy. That, and the fact that without Sanno, he didn’t think he had a chance at all of defeating Chirayoju. Which was the dilemma, of course. He needed help to stop even one of them, but neither of them was interested in doing anything but killing each other.

  “I have conquered foreign lands, Mountain King,” Chirayoju thundered as it sent another ring of fire spouting at Xander. “When the bones of your host are ground into the earth, into the false garden of your homeland, I will be ruling nations!”

  Using Xander’s arms, Sanno brought up the sword, and the fire was turned harmlessly away, as if it were a weapon as solid as the blade. Which, in a magickal sense, Angel guessed it was.

  They moved at each other again.

  Angel tried to stand, tried to stop them, but a wave of pain overcame him, and he stumbled slightly. He needed just a few seconds to focus. To orient himself. But they were a few seconds he did not have.

  Chirayoju’s fist was aflame with a magickal blaze—Buffy’s hand was on fire!—and it drove that burning fist into Xander’s face, scorching flesh and boiling blood with a smell that made Angel’s mouth water and made him want to retch all at the same time.

  “No,” Angel grunted, and started stalking toward them.

  With a roar of pain and fury, Sanno drove his sword home. Its point punched through Buffy’s shoulder just below the collarbone, and Angel wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw her shirt tent out in the back, as though the blade has passed all the way through.