Chapter Six: Hearing Voices
beta'd by Oracleholly


A small part of Buffy's mind understood what was happening even as the rest of
her was unable to escape the multitude of voices that had joined together in a
screaming cacophony ripping apart her sanity. She was trapped, alone and
helpless, and unable to flee the images rolling across the canvas of her
dreamland.

White gloved hands...coming towards her...an hypodermic needle filled with some
clear fluid meant to subdue her ...Those hands changing and superimposing
themselves over larger, dirtier hands ... vials of ugly brown liquid ... brown
dirty floor ...dirty...dirty...”dirty girls”... “Naughty and must be punished”
... chains holding her down ... laughter while she screamed ... ‘cuz it isn't
any fun if he can't make her cry and scream ... “Please! I'll be good girl!”....
Don't... help me ... Mommy, make him ... nooooo! ... Blue ...Yellow and blue
make green ... green like grass and dragon scales ... gibberish in dozens of
languages ... the demon holding her down ... squeezing the air from her
struggling body ... fangs tearing into her throat ...ripping the flesh...her
blood...pouring in a scalding wave down her chest...cruel laughter as she slid
into death...the bone saw got caught halfway and she pushed harder...the sticky
purple pooling atop stark white tile...fingers swirling through the warm, tacky
fluid...war paint in three long stripes...forehead to chin...cooling and drying
as she ran through the night...she had to find him...make the monster pay...
“Stake through the heart, cut off the head”...not scared...strong...won't hurt
if she's quiet...so quiet...hide under the bed...find the box that held the
special medicine...make you sleepy...wake you up....make you numb...he can't
hurt her anymore...not weak...not weak...strong now...powerful...power..."WILLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!"


Buffy screamed in her sleep and continued to thrash and cry as she struggled to
get away from what was happening.



**************************

The teacup slipped from her fingers to shatter on the cold stone floor and
splash its tepid contents across fuzzy blue slippers and the hem of her matching
terrycloth robe. The power filled her in a hot rush. Her hair lengthened
magickally, glowing a bright, silvery white. The energies swirled in her eyes,
pools of onyx obliterating the whites. A silver aura arose from every pore of
her skin as one voice cried out from the legion within her. She was being
called; the Guardian's anguish tore at her, begging, pleading, screaming to her
over the vast distance.

Already on her feet, Willow moved through the corridors of the monastery she'd
called home for nearly half a year, searching for a familiar face. She passed
several robed figures along the way, asking after the whereabouts of the master
werewolf in residence and sighing gratefully when pointed in the direction of
the surprisingly modern gymnasium. If any of the Shaolin monks thought the sight
of the Goddess in her flannel PJ's, fuzzy blue slippers and matching bathrobe
odd, they kept silent on the matter. The temple housed a great many sights that
most might consider odd. The Goddess and the Master didn't faze them in the
slightest. Neither, for that matter, did the small winged creature chasing after
the all-powerful Goddess as it rambled in sycophantic agitation.

*************************

While Willow sought the lone occupant of the well-equipped gym, Dawn was
hurriedly shoving her keys into the ignition of her emerald green Volkswagen
beetle. She'd always wanted a 'punch-buggy' of her very own, and her ‘baby’ was
a sorry-your-life-got-swallowed-up-in-a-freak-accident gift from good ol' Hank
Summers. She figured what the hell? If the old man wanted to shower money and
shiny new condos on Buffy and herself in lieu of actually showing up to give a
damn about either of them, then who was Dawn to argue? Besides, it got her to
and from her job as part time research assistant at one of the world's leading
institutes in demonology. The job paid extremely well, and Dawn was learning
more than Giles had ever taught her.

Out of nowhere, her head exploded in pain, her foot slamming down automatically
on the brake as she cradled her head. Breathing heavily and gritting her teeth
against the pain, Dawn allowed the power to wash over her, turning her eyes into
glowing pools of swirling green energy. The vast nothing and everything spread
out before her, her inner eye honing in on the glowing red thread of the mother
being. Buffy was calling out to Willow, and the Goddess' silvery white thread
was reaching back. Dawn was awed by purity of that color. But Willow wasn’t just
answering. The shining beacon of the Guardian's power was issuing a summons to
all those connected by a similar thread.

Goddess. Guardian. Warrior. Protector. And the Key that bound them all. Dawn
held the others together. She was the link in the center of the chain. The link
the monks had made flesh from the Guardian and the Protector.

Even now, Dawn had trouble grasping the full weight of her existence. Sometimes
the universe called to the power and the energies buried deep within the flesh
and bone vessel. When that call was strong -like it was in this moment- the Key
rose to the surface, guiding the body, while forcing Dawn the girl to be a
backseat observer. She could still think and feel and try her best to influence
the Key, but ultimately it was the Key that was in control.

Not for the first time, Dawn fully understood what Spike meant when he spoke of
his soul and his demon.

The Key had been silent for the last two weeks following the little show of
dominance against the Protector. Dawn had fought tooth and nail, remaining in
control for the most part. But Spike had felt what she was doing and used every
memory of every moment shared between himself and the Summers women in order to
help.

It was the love he felt for them all. Memories of laughter and hot chocolate
with little marshmallows. Grief at both Joyce's and Buffy's deaths. Disgust at
what he'd nearly done in crazed obsession. Joy at Buffy's tinkling laughter.
Misery at her rejection. Bliss in her arms...contentment at knowing his
sacrifice would buy his loved ones a chance to live.

Pure, undiluted happiness at being once more surrounded by their love and
acceptance.

Every last bit of those powerful emotions had been shoved through the familial
claim, forcing the Key back into its resting place.

Long moments passed unnoticed as Dawn drew in all the whirling emotions of the
others and allowed the Key to redirect them toward the one trapped within a
lunatic's fractured mind. Faith was beyond pissed, and Dawn giggled at the
colorful use of four lettered words. Was that last one even anatomically
possible? Nah. You'd have to be an invertebrate. Or triple jointed.

Calming slightly, she eased her foot off the brake and hurried towards home.

***************

A shriek pierced the darkened bedroom as the nightmarish vision changed and
added one more layer to the assault. She was no longer seeing through the eyes
of the insane Slayer. Now she was being forced to bear witness to an even
greater horror as she stood on the outskirts of a major demon war. Broken sobs
became terrified screams as she watched Angel and his team torn open one by one.
Images blurred together, moving too fast before she could make any sense of the
details.

Over and over, Buffy screamed her mate's name; silently begging to anyone who
was listening to end this torment before it devoured her whole.

****************

Oddly enough, the entire group managed to arrive outside the building housing
the flat Spike shared with his girls. Peripherally, he registered the green glow
in his Nibblet's eyes, the steady stream of swearing from Faith, as she'd been
dragged from what had promised to be a righteous fuck, and the fading light of
the portal from whence stepped Red with her ex mongrel and some sort of creature
perched on her shoulder. But, none of that mattered in light of the mental
anguish he could feel coming through the claim he shared with Buffy.

Then the screams started.

As if the first wave of visions -the ones which told her the story of an eight
year old child kidnapped and tortured by a human monster- hadn't been horrific
enough, the new deluge forecasting things to come threatened to shred the last
of her sanity. Screams were being torn from her throat, her body jerking and
thrashing from phantom blows.

Too much...Make it stop... The litany of images repeated on a continuous loop.
Still no one came to rescue her from the tortured screams of the dead and
dying. Everything crashed in on her, her mind overloading and shutting down.

Too far gone to notice that indeed the cavalry had arrived in the form of her
mate and the Goddess, plus the Key and Protector. The touch of his hands on her
skin shattered the last of her tentative grasp on whatever sanity she held onto,
and she fell over the edge into the void.

****************

Willow was right behind Spike as they raced into the master bedroom and went
straight to the bed. Willow's heart skipped several beats, but her warning came
too late as the vampire reached for the petite blonde and pulled her into his
arms. Buffy's eyes flew wide, and the screaming stopped. Her small body became
deathly still, and Willow groaned as she saw a similar reaction in the man
holding her fellow immortal.

"Oh, Goddess," she whispered mournfully. "Not again."

tbc.....