chapter 23: bittersweet – part IV

She heard a loud crash and then a quieter sound she couldn't make out right away. Dawn bolted upright in her sister's bed and shook Carlo awake. “Something's outside, and it isn't Buffy or Spike,” she said through clenched teeth.

Carlo swung his feet onto the floor, shoved them into his boots, and pulled on his shirt.

Dawn tilted her head toward the bedroom door and listened. Nothing. The noises were gone. Dawn sniffed the room. She smelled him. The air reeked of his sickly sweet odor. It reminded her of Janice’s baby sister; the scents of soiled diapers and rose water filled her nostrils.

“It's the portal jumper," she whispered.

“That bony bastard from the alley?” spat Carlo as he stuffed his t-shirt into the waistband of his jeans. “Shit.”

“Gotta go,” urged Dawn.

“Buffy said stay here.”

“Buffy didn't know he'd be here.” Dawn stood up, slipped her bare feet into her gym shoes, and fastened the top button of her shorts.

Carlo's large brown eyes stared at her as she grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. She could tell he knew what she had in mind. His expression was a mixture of fear and excitement.

“Ready?” she asked.

"Always."

The spinning sensation felt surprisingly normal to Dawn as the room turned gray and tiny bolts of light shot through the air. She hadn't known until the alley she could open portals. It had been pretty scary; unlocking a wrinkle in time and transforming it into a doorway to another place, another dimension. But Dawn had made up her mind. She'd do whatever she had to do to protect herself, her friends, and her family.

She closed her eyes. It was time to go back to the beginning and face the reason she and her sister had come to New York City in the first place. Holding on to Carlo's hand, she opened a portal to Sunnydale.


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Crushed vertebrae, cracked jaw, and a splintered thighbone. Gruesome descriptions, but Buffy knew her body—and it was a broken mess. The thing Willow had called Shemhazi had emerged from beneath the crumpling concrete and clawed various parts of her body into pieces on its way to Willow. It had sliced Buffy open, mangling her with a thoughtless swipe of a gigantic paw. She almost wished she hadn't followed Spike blindly into the alley, thinking she was some kind of savior. He hadn't even stuck around long enough to watch her die. He'd vanished as soon as the beast had arrived.

Buffy curled herself into a ball and swallowed a mouthful of blood, too weak to spit. She should have stayed in the apartment with Dawn. It had been safer there. If she hadn't run after Spike, she wouldn't be lying in filth thinking about dying for the third time in as many years. But she'd had no choice.

In Sunnydale, her feelings for Spike had confused her. Then she saw him in New York City and grudgingly had to admit the truth. She cared about him. Of course, she hadn't planned on telling him that—although kissing him those two or three times might have given him a clue.

The instant he'd jumped out the window she realized how much she cared about him because of how much it had scared her. He looked like he'd accepted whatever it was that was happening to him. Even worse, it was as if he didn't even want to fight it—and that wasn't the vampire she knew.

No matter what she'd said about protecting Willow, Buffy had run out of the apartment and into this black hole of an alley to help Spike. Now, she was the one who needed help. And he was nowhere in sight.

Look at where love has taken me.

Buffy glanced down at her fractured limbs and swallowed a sob.


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Screams echoed inside her head.

“Must have passed out,” mumbled Buffy as she pried her eyelids open slowly. Lying flat on her stomach, her hands folded beneath her chin, she lifted her head a few inches from the ground and squinted.

She could make out Willow and the thing that had nearly killed Buffy floating opposite each other above the pavement. They were tearing at one another’s flesh, all fingernails and claws, hoofed feet and pointy-heeled boots. Then it seemed as if half the alley disappeared and the two opponents retreated like boxers to opposite corners of a ring, slinging giant balls of smoke and fire at the each other’s heads as they separated.

It reminded Buffy of watching a couple of kids playing catch, except with a really hot, smoky flaming ball.

She coughed as the heat burned her throat. It was funny how magic never worked for her as a visual. A battle of wills wasn't as appealing as the sight of a scissor kick slamming into a demon's stomach or a stake jamming into the heart of a vampire. If she'd been watching that kind of brawl while lying on the ground bent and bleeding, she might not have felt so damned wrong and out of place.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut as her stomach churned with nausea. She didn’t want to vomit on her hands. She might not have enough strength to turn her head to the side, and avoid covering herself with whatever came out of her throat.

“What do you want, witch?” bellowed Shemhazi. His booming voice revved the pain engine in Buffy's head.

“Remove the demon curse from my children!” Willow shouted back.

That made absolutely no sense thought Buffy, inching her body closer to the brick wall behind her. Willow didn't have any kids.

“You end this…or I will,” warned Willow.

“How witch? You exist because of me,” roared Shemhazi. “These half-breed demons are your curse. You did this to yourself. Don't blame an angel of god for your arrogance.”

"God?" laughed Willow. "God doesn't want you. God doesn't even remember you."

“You bitch,” growled Shemhazi. “He would if you'd stop this madness.”

“Fool! You think I'm keeping you from heaven?” shouted Willow. “You killed every man in that village and raped every woman. Then you tried to make amends by giving us the wisdom of the roots and herbs and the words.”

“That was a blessing.”

“Yes, you created the first witches, but then you made our child hell's first half-breed, and now you blame me for your divine punishment?”

Shemhazi's roar pierced the air, the sound exploding in Buffy's ears. She hoped the monster slash angel look-a-like was in as much pain as she was. But as she watched, it twisted its neck from side to side and rivulets of black smoke rose from behind his head.

Buffy rubbed her palms over her eyes. Willow had pissed him off big time, which might not have been such a good idea. But she didn't look like she cared. Willow stood rigid, her eyes raised to the sky as if Shemhazi's bad attitude hadn't fazed her at all. Her hands were above her head and her lips were moving, her voice a steady rhythmical cadence.

Buffy tried to make out Willow's words. But she was speaking in a language Buffy couldn't understand. Not that there were that many languages Willow spoke besides English that Buffy understood. She'd heard Willow rattle off spells or call upon higher powers in foreign tongues before, but she couldn't distinguish one from another. They were all the same can of tongues as far as Buffy was concerned.

She glanced at Shemhazi. He was standing motionless and staring at Willow as if transfixed.

Whatever Willow was chanting was working.

They were completely entrenched in their game. So much so that neither one of them budged when the growl swept through the alley. Loud, angry barks, close to the ground, creeping toward Buffy. She pulled her arms to her sides, bent her elbows and pushed her palms against the pavement, raising her body up from the ground. She then swiveled her shoulders slightly and turned, facing the direction of the noise. She blinked to clear the smoke from her eyes.

She saw Spike crouching next to Willow, hands flat on the ground, eyes blood red, and his features feral and twisted. Jacob bounced on all fours at his side, grinning foolishly. Eyes wide and vamped out, they looked like wild animals, fangs dripping spittle, tongues lapping at dried, cracked lips.

Where had they come from?

Shemhazi swiped Jacob across the head, knocking him to his knees. Jacob staggered to his feet, and stared at the drops of blood oozing from the cuts on his arms. His head shot up and he growled at Shemhazi, but slithered back toward the wall behind him. His features then morphed into a murderous scowl. He'd backed up, thought Buffy, but he wasn't backing down. The vampire was taunting the angel, sneering and growling, body rippling with aggression. He was making certain Shemhazi understood that he wasn’t afraid of him.

The vampire suddenly coiled his body into Willow's side. Apparently he’d changed his mind and had decided to retreat. Then Spike sprang from his hunched position and propelled himself toward Shemhazi. But Willow snatched a clump of his hair and holding on, pulled him to her.

“Stay still.” Willow ordered the vampires as she released her grip on Spike.

"You will make our child whole." She repeated to Shemhazi.

"And if I don't?"

"I will destroy you."

"No...You can't."

Willow folded her arms neatly across her chest. She had a new version of resolve face etched across her features. "Okay, you're right. I can't. But your eternal existence will become an endless hell if you don't do as I ask.”


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A row of squarely chopped bushes with brown-tipped yellow roses withered in the California sunshine. It looked normal to Dawn for the middle of December. On the other hand, the air was suffocating. It was thick like refrigerated syrup dripping over the edges of cold pancakes, all gooey and dense. Dawn’s skin itched as she felt the sweat roll down her back. She had expected it to be warm in California, but not so unbearably hot. She wiped the perspiration from her forehead and then pulled her palm across her dry lips.

When she'd left New York City with Carlo’s hand in hers, she'd wanted to return to Sunnydale desperately. But as she looked around, she realized she hadn't ended up quite where she'd planned. She was standing in a park she recognized that was located in the outskirts of town, far from Revello Drive.

Damn it! Why couldn’t things be different? Why couldn’t she be at home sitting on a stool in the kitchen laughing as Giles and Willow and Tara rolled their eyes at Xander’s latest silly comment? Or perhaps, she was smiling and the others were shaking their heads at some really wrong remark that had fallen out of Anya’s mouth. Or what if the Scoobies were waiting for Buffy to get home and go immediately into explainy mode. When she marched into the kitchen, she’d go on and on about some super demon. Dawn stifled a giggle at the thought of endless Buffy talk. Then with her big sister's voice echoing in head, Dawn figured her only choice would be to interrupt Buffy and introduce everyone to Carlo. Because, of course he'd be there, too. Buffy would smile sweetly at him and make it clear to everyone that she really liked him and wasn't mad at Dawn for dating. Then Anya would say she was hungry and ask Willow and Tara to cook her breakfast. Dawn chewed her lower lip, thinking about what might happen next. Oh yeah, she chuckled. Spike would rush into the kitchen and toss his smoking blanket onto the floor while smacking the flames on his body. As she and Buffy watched silently, the Scoobies would nod hello and he'd smile really big and wave right back at them…

Dawn shuddered. Daydreaming wasn’t going to change where she was or what had happened.

She looked around.

"Giles?" Dawn turned and looked at a figure about fifty yards away, walking toward her. He was dragging his feet across the ground, crushing the grass with every footstep. She expected him to slump to the ground. He looked that exhausted.

"Giles?" Dawn raised her voice and waved. Her fingers felt weak. Then she suddenly remembered Carlo and spun around.

He wasn’t there. She turned toward the swings and then the sliding board. Nothing. She spun in the direction of the sandbox near the stone fountain. Carlo was nowhere in sight.

"Carlo?" she called out. "Where are you?"

She turned.

The Watcher was on the other side of the park. He had taken only a few steps since she’d first seen him.

Dawn’s legs were shaking as a thin film of dust swirled around her. It started spinning fast, making her vision blur. She could barely see the bushes and the burnt yellow flowers. She searched for Giles, but he had disappeared like Carlo.

Then she thought she saw someone walking toward her. She couldn’t make out who it was this time. Sweat rolled from her forehead into her eyes. She wiped the back of her hand over her face and peered into the fog. The dust was getting thicker. It clogged her throat, and she started coughing, uncontrollably until she was choking. Her lungs were drowning in dust.

Then as suddenly as it had surrounded her, the dust disappeared. She closed her eyes and then opened them quickly. The park was drenched in sunlight.

“Giles?” she whispered.

But no, the man was much closer now and she could see him. Clearly.

It wasn't Giles. It was the portal jumper.


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Spike had to figure out a way to break free of Willow’s spell. He'd been trapped by her power. He felt it with every breath he took, every beat of his heart. He'd tried to fight it. In Buffy's apartment and then in the alley. But it had taken him.

But maybe, he could convince Willow to stop. Explain to her the risks of vengeance. Remind her how much she loved her friends and family. Plead with her to remember the young girl she’d been before the thought spell. But he hadn't been able to do that. Buffy had found him, and when he tried to talk to her, he couldn't make sense. Then Willow let him know what she wanted him to do, and he'd jumped up on the roof and watched as Shemhazi and Willow squared off.

He glanced at Buffy out of the corner of his eye. She sat on the ground, her back pressed against the brick wall, her eyes opening and closing as she slipped in and out of consciousness. Even if he hadn’t seen her crumbled in the corner, he’d have known she was there. He could smell her blood, even from his perch on the roof. It filled his nostrils and choked him. She was hurt badly and he had to find a way to help her.

to be continued...