chapter 31 – peace and passion - part I

Carlo thought it was strange how the others had retreated so quickly into their own private worlds as soon as Buffy walked out of the apartment with Spike trailing behind her. Giles, the professor guy, sat slumped in his chair, shaking fingers wrapped around either side of his head squeezed his face into a mask. His watery eyes were fixed on the beat-up book on the desk in front of him and shined brightly beneath his gold-rimmed glasses. Carlo recognized the book as the one the 'professor' had used when he’d cast the spell on Buffy and gave her Dawn’s headache.

Xander sat on the floor in front of the fireplace cross-legged, hands on his knees, face sagging. His expression reminded Carlo of the droopy-eyed small dog in the Jack Nicholson movie, the one where Nicholson freaked out each time he stepped on a crack in the sidewalk. The strange girl Carlo remembered from the alley sat opposite Xander with a shawl pulled around her shoulders, shivering, except it wasn’t cold. Actually, judging from the perspiration on Giles’ forehead and the soaked armpits of Xander’s shirt, she was the only one with a chill.

Carlo shifted his weight. He was crouched in a corner near the doorway, softly banging the back of his head against the wall in a steady rhythm. Two grown men had sent a little girl to save another little girl using magic and now they waited lamely perched on their asses. Sure, they looked worried, even upset. But they were waiting, nonetheless.

Forty-eight hours ago, Carlo would have punched his way through a brick wall to find his girlfriend. No holding back because of an old man and two weirdoes. Nor would he have given a serious second thought (let alone a first thought) about magic. But two days ago, he hadn't known his girlfriend's sister was a vampire slayer. Now, he'd hung out with a blood-sucking real vampire, been bit by another one, traveled in a portal through dimensions and had looked into the eyes of a butt-ugly winged angel in a rain-soaked alley. Still, that didn't mean he was willing to sit in an apartment in a small town in California and wait for a girl, even a strong, kick-ass fighter like Buffy, to save his girlfriend. Maybe that was just him, he reasoned, because it didn't seem to bother her so-called long-time friends.

Carlo glared at the three people in the room. They had bet Dawn’s life on her sister, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and a white-haired vampire turned portal jumper Carlo didn’t trust. But Buffy’s name said it all—the girl killed vampires for a living. What the hell could she do against a death defying man-vamp, or whatever Luke was, a giant winged monster and a redheaded witch?

Carlo’s thoughts screeched to a halt. Had Buffy forgotten about the witch?

The redhead had been as much of a bad ass in the alley as Luke from what Carlo recalled. But Buffy hadn’t explained it that way when she’d mentioned the witch to her friends. Maybe she was afraid of the redhead. Carlo frowned as he contemplated that possibility. He might not be a portal jumper, a slayer, the Key or a vampire, but he wasn’t afraid of anything. He could help Buffy. Carlo was a kid from the Bronx, which meant he was born ready. Besides, his life had been mapped out from the time he'd turned seven and he'd stayed on top of it. No getting lost in the corrupted streets of New York City for him. He and his Mom had charted out his life’s path and he’d stuck to it tirelessly. His Mom had schooled him since the age of seven on how to be a champion, and had counted on it happening since forever. Except for the tall, sweet little thing from California he’d fallen for a few months back, everything had been going exactly the way his mother had planned it.

Carlo wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. They were wet.

It wasn’t that he’d forgotten his mother was dead. There hadn’t been time to think. He and Dawn had been running for their lives, or jumping through portals for their lives, since they’d found his Mom’s bloodied body in the restaurant. He had cried that night, but not since. Carlo had thought about collapsing to his knees and hollering. Rid his heart of the pain of losing her, but that wouldn’t bring his mother back. Nothing would.

But Carlo could make her killer pay.

“Are you just going to sit there?” Carlo hopped up from his crouched position and charged toward Buffy’s Watcher. He'd force him to get up off his butt and do something. Then he paused. God, what if this was the way they dealt with everything? Send a girl and vampire off to do the hard stuff while they sat around like cowards.

“Did you hear me, old man?” He pounded his fists on top of the desk. Giles peered over his glasses at Carlo, his eyes blank. Carlo shot a glance toward the fireplace. Xander stirred on the floor. The blonde pulled her shawl up tighter around her throat. Did nothing get their attention?

Carlo jerked his head toward Giles and slammed his hand down on the book on the desk, only mildly pleased when the Watcher flinched. The memory of his dead mother’s body had kicked him in the gut hard. They’d had so much to get done. Now, she was dead. He wanted to pound the life out of the bastard that had killed her. Break the beast’s fucking neck. What did his Mom have to do with any of this shit anyway?

Carlo spun away from Giles and rubbed his brow, but he couldn’t stop the thoughts burning inside his head. Was it the professor who had caused his mother’s death? Had he been the reason his mother had died? He turned and leaned uncomfortably close to Giles’ sweaty face.

“You honestly believe that Buffy and a magical headache will save Dawn?” Giles looked up at him then, his eyes puzzled, which made Carlo even angrier.

“She’s the Slayer, young man.” Giles replied as if that was the answer to every problem on the planet. “She understands what has to be done.”

The professor's voice was irritatingly matter-of-fact as he pulled his glasses from his face. Carlo controlled the urge to pop him in the mouth.

“That’s what started this." Xander stood up and staggered toward Carlo. “Headaches and witchcraft.” Xander clutched at Carlo's shirt. He reeked of desperation, thought Carlo, as he removed Xander's hot hand from his clothing.

“Yeah, right." Carlo sounded unconvinced, but he didn't care. He was too curious about what had riled Xander into consciousness. He glanced sideways at the old man. His hand trembled as he returned his glasses to the bridge of his nose. Could be the professor was having the same thought, except he didn't seem to be aware of anything but the book on his desk. He was engrossed—no, more like hypnotized—by it. His face was so close his nose rested on the page. Giles seemed as if he was seeing through the damn book and looking straight into hell.

“You knew in the beginning what would happen,” accused Xander, his voice filled with a realization and anger Carlo didn't understand.

Giles ignored Xander and picked up the book, flipping it open to a seemingly random page. Then he ripped it out slowly. It made a crunching sound like bones breaking. Giles crumbled the paper into a ball and tossed it into a trash basket on the side of his desk.

“You and Willow did this to us.” Xander's voice rose. "Didn't you!"

Giles leaned backwards in his chair and ripped another page from the book. Carlo covered his ears with his hands. The sound screeched through the apartment as if the book had screamed.

“Did you send Buffy and Dawn to New York to save them or to kill them?” bellowed Xander. “Why are you t—tearing the book apart?” Xander moved menacingly toward Giles. Carlo backed away from the two men.

“Consequences of magic, Xander.” Giles looked up and his face was lined with tears.

It was as if Mohammad Ali had sucker punched Carlo in the face. Buffy’s friends and the Watcher had done this to her and Dawn? “Why?” Carlo blurted.

"It's because W-Willow—I mean of all of us brought Buffy back to life.” Xander’s voice was shaking. “Am I right?” He shouted. Then suddenly Xander was at Giles’ throat, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him to his feet. “We’ve gone through hell for months and for what? You think you just took away a thought?” Xander shoved the old man to the floor and hollered down at him. “You took our souls! You made us crazy. You set us the fuck up!” Xander lunged forward, his fists smashing Giles’ face, driving him to his knees.

Carlo rushed to Xander and dragged him off the old man as he crumbled to the floor clutching his battered face. Xander twisted out of Carlo’s grasp and stalked toward the front door and leaned against it, gulping mouthfuls of air, his face paler than Carlo imagined possible.

The room had run out of breath, too, thought Carlo. It had become oddly still and except for Xander’s panting and Giles’ barely audible sobs, deathly quiet. Turning his head slowly, Carlo compulsively looked at the girl on the floor in the shawl. She hadn’t moved. She wasn’t looking at him or Giles either. However, her eyes blazed at Xander.

“We had no choice.” Giles rolled onto his side and sat up, his legs drawn beneath him. “We had to make a deal with the Devil.”

“Or what?” Xander choked out the words. “Armageddon. Apocalypse? What?"

“That and more,” mumbled Giles.

“You weren’t even here when we brought Buffy back." Xander muttered under his breath, his shaking body still braced against the wall. “And Dawn had nothing to do with it.”

“I had to pay for Willow’s power.” Giles grabbed the back of the chair and pulled himself up onto his knees. “I saw her power and didn’t have the foresight to stay here and teach her what I knew she needed to learn.”

“You said Willow made a deal with the Devil.” Xander took a step away from the wall.

“It was about bloody retribution.” Giles wormed into his chair and placed his palms down on top of the black book. “We owe the universe.”

“Owe the universe? What do you owe it?” Carlo’s eyes shifted from one man to the other. What kind of magic had these guys been playing with?

“We had to make a deal,” explained Giles. “And Willow was the only one with enough power to get it done.”

“Owe it what?” Carlo's voice was louder. He had figured out most of it, except for this owing business, which worried him. He thought back to his conversation with Officer Darnell at the restaurant. He'd told him about the disfigured headless bodies. He'd told him about his friend Tommy Dugan. Carlo had seen his mother's dead body with his own eyes. What more could Satan want?

“A life for a life,” said Xander, staring at the door where Buffy had walked through less than an hour before.

“Luke killed my mother!" yelled Carlo and ran at Giles, but Xander stepped between them, surprising Carlo by moving so quickly away from the wall. He grabbed Carlo by the shoulders and pushed him backwards.

"You can't let him have Dawn, too!" shouted Carlo, struggling free of Xander's hold, as he felt the tears streaming down his face.

“Luke is nothing,” whispered the blonde girl. Carlo spun toward her, startled by the sound of her voice and her ridiculous words.

“Anya?” said Xander, half-aloud.

“What do you mean?” Carlo edged toward Anya, his mind reeling. How could she call a cold-blooded killer 'nothing'?

“He was a diversion, something we needed to focus on to keep us occupied, right Giles? Like purgatory.” Anya tilted her head sideways and hugged her knees to her chest. “In a way, Luke was our muse.”

Anya smiled then, but her face didn’t look like she’d ever try it again. Carlo felt that was for certain.

A loud noise filled the apartment as Giles tore a handful of pages from the book. “These bloody books must be destroyed for the spell to end,” muttered Giles, ripping pages faster and faster.

“Is that all we have to do for everything to be right again.” Xander's eyes darted from one face to another. “I don’t think so.”

“No, Willow has made a deal with the Devil,” said Giles, still tearing pages. “She is the only one who can save us.” "Does that mean one of us has to die?" demanded Xander. "Who? Dawn? Buffy, again? Who, Giles?"

"You'd have to ask Willow?" Giles' eyes stayed on the leather book cover in front of him. Its contents emptied as he tossed the last of the crumbled, torn pieces of paper into the garbage. "She made the deal."

This wasn't making any sense to Carlo. “Then why was my mother killed?” Carlo looked at Anya. “Luke killed her? Why? She had nothing to do with any of this.”

“Luke killed her because that is what he does,” said Anya, her voice expressionless.

“For no reason?” Carlo whispered, stymied by the wastefulness of it of all. He wanted to vomit. “You are fools and I wish I had the power to kill you all.”

“Wish granted."

__________________________

The park shimmered with daylight, sparkling rays of sunshine casting long bright lines of gold on the vast lawn. The trees swayed gently, their leaves making shadows across the benches and in the sand dunes.

It was a lovely day, thought Jacob as he sat perched on a branch high atop a thick, tall elm tree at the far end of the park. In the distance, he watched Luke, Willow, Tara and the brown-haired girl. They appeared to be talking, like any group of young people out for a mid-afternoon stroll. Except Willow had just knocked the teenaged girl harshly to the ground. Willow wasn’t the type to take long to show her metal. He clucked his tongue and grinned with glee. Whatever deal Willow had struck with Shemhazi, Jacob knew his plan would get her out from under it. Grateful, she’d grant him exactly what he wanted—to take over Luke’s destiny. All he had to do was wait patiently for a few minutes longer and it would all be over.

Jacob folded his arms over his chest and rested against the sturdiest branch he could find. He’d bide his time and wait for Willow to finish her business before he stepped in and saved her from herself.

The swirling black clouds would rise from the ground shortly and cover the green lawn in darkness. The heat would kick in around that time, too.

He looked through the leaf-covered branches at the sunlight. “Bloody hell,” he cursed aloud. “This planning bullshit had better pay off.”

____________________________________

“Time’s up.”

Willow was holding Tara’s hand and grinning at Luke and Dawn. Grinding her heels into the grass, she felt barely able to contain her exuberance.

They weren’t going to stop her.

They couldn’t.

They didn’t know how.

No one had reacted to her question so she fixed Dawn and Luke with a glance and repeated firmly and slowly. “I said time’s up.” She let go of Tara’s hand and sauntered toward the Portal Jumper and the Key, swaying her hips and fighting the urge to glide across the grass. It was hard for her not to feel like flying. Take off from the Earth and soar through the sky above them, looking down and preening. She could do it, too. Fly away and let them sink into hell, join Shemhazi’s world.

“Willow, what are you doing?” Dawn’s little girl voice irritated Willow.

Dawn was over a thousand years old and a fake sister to the Slayer. She wasn't a real girl and she didn't need to pretend like she was anymore, sounding all young and innocent. Willow had stopped pretending. So, Dawn should, too. Besides, this was about Willow. Not Dawn. Not Buffy. Not Spike.

“I’m changing the world.” Willow decided she might as well let them in on her secret. It had been a long hard road since she’d raised the dead. No one understood how it had felt, the power bursting inside her. Even the summer before she'd brought Buffy back, Willow had been the one they'd turned to. The one with the power. She had struggled with it for a time, denied it even. But she freed herself of the guilt when she cast the thought spell. Willow had tricked Giles and even Tara into believing it was a simple spell to stop the portal jumper. But Luke was never a threat. A timeless killer, yes, he was that. But Willow needed the spell to transform her into the most powerful witch on Earth. It hadn’t been her plan at first. She’d wanted to make things right and help save Dawnie like the good witch she was. But then as she read the black book Giles gave her to study and in it, she saw what she could be. There in the arms of Glorificus and Shemhazi, she'd seen her destiny. She could make the world forever right. She could have the power to change it.

“Into what?” Dawn spun away from Luke and darted toward Willow. She didn’t seem to care about the danger of her movements. Willow’s chest swelled with an unexpected pride. There had always been something about Dawn she liked. Quite the feisty child when she wanted to be or when she wasn't whimpering.

“Back off!” Luke grabbed Dawn and pushed her aside. “This is a battle between us, witch. You are here for me.”

“I’m here for everyone.” Willow turned from Luke and glared at Dawn. Luke would never understand the purpose of their battle, she realized absently. Too caught up in his own madness and desires to take in the full scope of her strength.

Willow shoved Dawn to the ground and stared down curiously at her crumbled body, lying in a heap on the grass, round youthful eyes teary and wide. She glanced at Luke over her shoulder and wrinkled her brow at the inappropriately dressed little man in the old-fashioned suit, still mysteriously pristine. Without knowing it, these two, mismatched couple that they were, had held the magic Willow needed to overpower Shemhazi. Dawn and Luke had forced the Devil's hand. Luke stupidly had set out to revenge Glorificus, coming after Dawn and Giles, and Buffy's band of do-gooders. Luke hadn't known Shemhazi wouldn't allow him to succeed and upset the balance of power. Still, Shemhazi hadn't wanted to lose his eternal killer. He had to let Willow have the power to choose to save the world. The Devil's power was limitless in hell. But on Earth, humans and their free will got in his way. He could only sway a soul toward damnation. Witches could change the minds of men and demons with the wave of finger.

“Why do you want to rule the world?” cried Dawn. Her voice had lost its bravado and had taken on that whiny tone Willow hated.

Willow’s hands flew up, palms out as she felt her eyes roll up in surrender. “You silly girl. It’s not about ruling the world. I’ll make the world safe by preventing the last Apocalypse.” Willow bent over Dawn and touched the girl’s wet cheeks. “We won't need Slayers or Councils or vampires because there won't be any monsters left to be afraid of. Humans and of course, all of the world’s witches, will be safe.” She glanced at Tara and smiled. Her lover was standing obediently next to a bench, waiting patiently just as she should.

“Willow?” Dawn’s voice sounded sad. “Please. You can stop this. You don’t have to choose. We can kill Luke. We don’t need a perfect world.”

“I believe you over state,” interrupted Luke. “Killing me will not be accomplished so readily.”

Willow laughed as a gust of wind spun and swirled in front of her and then stopped next to Luke. She scurried to Tara’s side and pulled her into her protective arms as Spike stepped from the portal.

“My, this is getting to be old home week.” Willow grinned. “Spike and Jacob, who’s over there hiding in a tree on the other side of the grass.” She lifted her chin and waved toward the tree. “What next? Buffy? Xander? Anya, maybe? I think you’d like that Luke. Anya showing up, that is.”

Spike was wearing his signature black duster and looking quite dapper thought Willow. He had a smirk on his face and leered at her without the slightest hint of fear. It was what she’d expected. So far, things were going exactly as she’d hoped. “Brimming with confidence I see,” she said to Spike. “Jacob? Want to join us?” Willow shouted in the tree’s direction. “Guess he’s not ready, huh?” She squeezed Tara around the waist.

Spike fankicked at Luke, catching him in the throat with a sharp snap from his large black boot. The portal jumper staggered backwards, but didn’t hit the ground. He lunged at Spike, but Willow held up her hand and froze them.

“This doesn’t have to be a brawl, guys." She chuckled and twirled her finger at Spike and Luke. A fireball jettisoned in a straight line from Willow's fingertip and zeroed in on Spike’s heart. Willow laughed aloud as the vampire leapt out of the way, barely missing his dusty end. Luckily, it struck Luke in the chest and he screamed, patting at his suit jacket frantically, smothering the flames. He wasn't in danger of burning, but Willow knew how much he hated the heat.

Willow let go of Tara, grabbed a handful of Dawn's hair and yanked her up onto her feet. She held her inches away from her face. "You are the chosen one after all, Dawnie." Willow whispered in her ear. "The one who must go to Shemhazi in exchange for my indisputable power. You're going to save the world. And it starts now!" She wrapped her arms around Dawn's shoulders and hugged her tight. "This is the only way it can be, Dawn. But I'll tell Buffy you said goodbye."

"I'll tell her myself, Willow." Buffy suddenly appeared next to the immobilized Spike and Luke with the boy Willow had seen in the alley at her side. She had an axe in one hand and a black book in the other hand. The boy was armed with clenched fists and a familiar look in his eyes. Something she'd seen in Shemhazi's face. Her mind fumbled, as she tried to pull the memory back inside her head.

"Buffy? Carlo?" Dawn was struggling in Willow's arms, but she held her firm.

"You can't stop this Buffy," warned Willow. "You can't change this outcome with blood or Slayer mumbo jumbo or anything like that. This is about real power. The power that brought you back from the dead. Power that can change the world. Make it better." Buffy stared at her, mouth open slightly, breathing shallow. She hadn't blindly attacked, noted Willow. Buffy was thinking, not being the compulsive action-figure slayer. Maybe, Buffy finally understood what real power meant and was ready to live the kind of life she'd dreamed about.

"Dawn doesn't exist Buffy. I'll make this shell go away and then I'll make you forget about her. But first, I've got to destroy it. So please, let me finish what I've started."

Willow heard the unfamiliar pleading sound in her voice. It had occurred to her that it might end this way. A standoff between her and Buffy. But that wasn't what she wanted. She didn't want to kill her friends. She'd made up her mind about that long ago. "I won't hurt you Buffy. But my vampires will."

She wiggled her finger and released Spike. He wasn't human. He had no free will. Willow could make him do anything.

to be continued...