[A/N: My life is sort of settling down, everything falling into a routine, which will settle even more after school starts again. Although my offspring won’t be happy, I might be. By the bye, the fight between Spike and Angel was solely the idea of my offspring, who sold me on it by acting the whole thing out, minus the dialogue, which was my contribution. So if you have any complaint about the way it turned out, blame it all on him. Once again, thanks to Tam for her lovely and efficient beta. Title and quotes are as attributed and disclaimers are in full force effect.]

Previously: The battle rages on at Revello Drive; Spike and Angel are fighting; Drusilla bit Giles; Willow is inside the house, while Wesley is trying to get Dawn, Tara and Connor to safety. This picks up immediately after the last installment.

Book Two. Chapter 64. Let slip the dogs of war


Follow me if I advance
Kill me if I retreat
Avenge me if I die
Mary Matalin and James Carville, All’s Fair: Love, War, and Running for President, epigraph (from a Vietnamese battle cry)

Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge...
Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
Cry 'havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war...
Julius Caesar, act III, scene1

The essence of war is violence.
Moderation in war is imbecility.
John Arbuthnot Fisher

In the heat of battle it ceases to be an idea for which we fight.
Or a flag. Rather we fight for the man on our left,
and we fight for the man on our right.
And when armies are scattered and the empires fall away,
all that remains is the memory of those precious moments
that we spent sided by side.
Jack Durrance, The Four Feathers (2002)


So what now, Jack Sparrow?
Are we to be two immortals locked in an epic
battle until Judgment Day and trumpets sound?
Barbarossa, Pirates of the Caribbean, the Curse of the Black Pearl





Willow stepped through the destroyed door, ignoring the splinters and jagged strips of wood hanging from loosened hinges. With an air of extreme peevishness, she surveyed the damage, then turned around with a slight flourish, only to find her captive audience had fled the scene.

“Huh. Where did everyone go?” Pursing her lips together, Willow looked around. “It’s really no fun when you all run away.”

Spying the shattered window, Willow headed for it. “Is this how you all left the building?”

She stuck her head out, looking around. “Hhhhmmmm. Where is everyone?”



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His long stride ate up the distance and yet the hounds still kept pace far ahead of him. The sounds of fighting were now clear, though he couldn’t see any of the participants, still he knew what was occurring.

The events his Lord had seen – pitting the Chosen One and her champion against the betrayer and her unintentioned allies had begun.

Control was at the root of this conflict – though some of the participants thought otherwise, true it was.

Control over the Hellmouth, control over another’s life; all that and more.

Balance was the key to all things, most especially when dealing in absolutes. This dimension teetered on the knife’s edge between imbalance and balance, and the betrayer had unknowingly, with her performance of Ceridwen’s ritual to restore the dead Chosen One, put the dimension in this predicament.

For one reason alone. For want of control.

A deep sigh rumbled from his barrel chest, lifting the long hair of his scraggly beard. He was only to bear witness, only to retrieve the betrayer and bring her before his Lord, so that the one to sit in judgment of her actions could decide her fate.

Naught more.

And time it was.

The hounds bayed into the night and a grim smile crossed his normally stoic features. This would not be pretty . . . . but it would be fitting.



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Momentarily distracted by Buffy’s cry, Spike shifted, following the line of her outstretched arm. Dawn was on the ground, being held protectively in Wesley’s arms while debris flew toward Tara and Connor, and as Spike was about to vault onto the roof to rescue the pair, something exploded against his head and everything went black.



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Tara huddled down, wrapping both arms around Connor, shielding him with her own body. Two large chunks of door narrowly missed her, but she wasn’t as lucky with the shards of broken glass from the windows. Tiny little cuts dotted her neck and shoulders, and a large triangular piece of glass was lodged in the middle of her shoulder, numbing her left arm. Tara knew it was bad, because she could feel the blood oozing down her back and her fingers were tingling, though not in a good way.

None of that stopped her from moving around to the front of the house, warily watching her footing. She dare not call out, fearing Willow was closer than the others. She also didn’t know what was happening on the front lawn. The last thing she wanted was the wrong kind of attention – she’d rather avoid that.

Connor whimpered in her arms and she ducked her head, whispering against his cheek, trying to keep him quiet.

Something heavy landed behind her, the hairs on the back of her neck rising as her heartbeat accelerated, her heart nearly pounding from her chest. Quiet terror filled her and Tara refused to turn around – even as the voice she once loved and now feared sounded from just behind her.

“Hello, baby,” Willow purred in her ear and Tara fought the dread surging through her.


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Hawkins stared at the spot where Glynnis’ ashes fell to earth, unable to process what had just occurred. He’d known – understood and agreed with Jenner. And yet. . . .

Yet Glynnis had shared his bed for years, been his companion, his lover, his woman. They’d shared blood, shared more than just . . . . . Glynnis had been a part of him, more than just sharing a Sire.

He couldn’t look away.

Couldn’t forgive her for what she’d done.

But another part of him hated his Sire. Hated Jenner for doing what was necessary.

He hadn’t loved Glynnis.

Hadn’t allowed himself.

But he did.

Hawkins lifted his eyes to Jenner’s and fought tears. Jenner lifted a hand, moved to cross the distance separating them when Hawkins stepped back, away from his Sire, shaking his head.

Jenner watched Hawkins go, realizing too late how the other vampire felt.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Buffy reached Dawn seconds after Wesley put her down, wrapping her arms tightly around the younger Summers. “Ow, Buffy, that hurts.”

“C’mon, Dawnie, we need to get you out of here.”

“Wait, don’t. . . Wait, Buffy.” Dawn pulled her back, pointing toward the roof. “Tara’s still up there.”

Wesley looked around frantically for some way to get back up on the roof, rambling all the while. “She’s got Connor and Willow’s up there. We have to. . . “

“Right. Wes, gimme a boost.” Buffy waited just under the eaves until Wesley figured out what she wanted.

“Ready?” He stooped over, hands laced together, standing up when Buffy stepped onto the cradle of his hands. “On three.”

He tensed, preparing to lift her when she bounced once, lightly stepped on his shoulder and up onto the roof. Buffy rolled onto it, coming neatly to her feet. She never saw the blow to the back of Spike’s head, her attention firmly fixed on the three people in front of her.

Just as Willow reached for Tara, Buffy spoke, startling the redhead. “Hey, Wills. Whatcha doing?”

Her voice was deliberately nonchalant, enough to set Willow’s temper flaring again. Sarcasm and disdain dripped from her words as Willow turned to face the Slayer. “Buffy. You really don’t want to get involved. I just need to talk to Tara and get rid of some unwanted baggage.”



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Spike snapped back to consciousness in time to see Buffy roll onto the roof, spring lightly to her feet and move. Angel’s low chuckle sounded from behind him and Spike recovered enough of his wits to duck, avoiding a second debilitating blow from behind. He reeled drunkenly, almost falling over, though he stayed out of Angel’s reach. Shaking his head to clear it, Spike leaned one hand against the house, letting Angel’s taunts wash over him. Gotta . . . . c’mon Spike, get your ass together. Your girls are in danger. . . .

Letting a surge of anger wash through him, Spike eyed the big, posturing vampire. Angel was standing in front of him, one-handedly swinging a baseball bat in front of him, bragging about what he would do once he beat Spike. An inelegant snort erupted from Spike and he shook his head again. “Right, Peaches, talk all you like, coz’ talkin’ is all you’re gonna be able to do.”

“Oh, I’ll be able to do much more than talk. Who’s gonna stop me? You? C’mon, Willie, you can barely stand up now, how the hell are you going to keep fighting?” Angel grinned, showing his teeth and Spike smiled back.

“Never know, I just might surprise you.” Straightening up away from the wall, Spike struck out with a hard left, catching Angel just below the chin. “Should know by now old man, unless I’m dust, I’m not done.”

He launched a quick right as a follow-up, idly remarking, “An’ even then I might jus’ come back to finish the job.”

Angel lurched away, hitting his back against the tree, though he kept hold of the bat. He tried bringing it up, but Spike anticipated the move and wrenched it away. “Really now, Liam, do you have to use this? Are you compensatin’ for somethin’ lacking?”

An enraged growl sounded from the older vampire’s chest and Angel pushed off from the tree, his momentum propelling Spike back into the house. The walls shuddered a bit from the impact, while Spike just chuckled. “Never could keep your head in a fight.”

Spike brought his knee up, hitting Angel square in the balls. The older vampire dropped to his knees, cupping his genitals, emitting soft whimpering growls. Spike stood over him, an enigmatic look on his face. “Get up you fucking git. Get to your feet so I can kill you proper like.”



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Faith raced down the hallway, knowing somehow she wasn’t going to get there in time to help anyone. Too frickin’ late. . . shit, shit, shit. This is wicked bad.

Dawn’s room was trashed, the door wrecked and smashed to splinters, the two windows completely blown out and debris was strewn all over the roof. She could hear one voice, and it sounded like it might have been Willow’s, but Faith wasn’t entirely sure of it. A flash of intuition surged through her and Faith whirled around, sprinting for Joyce’s old bedroom.

Peeking out the window, Faith could see Tara holding onto the baby while Willow turned to speak to someone behind her. Slipping out the window as quietly as she could, Faith motioned Tara to silence. They pantomimed their intentions, with Faith leading Tara over to the edge while Buffy kept Willow’s attention. Over Willow’s shoulder, Faith could see Buffy, trying to keep the other girl distracted. The two Slayers shared a look, and though Buffy didn’t change her expression, Faith knew she’d understood.

Faith leaned over, barely keeping her balance, and her movement caught Wesley’s eye. He moved to the spot directly beneath her while Faith took the baby from Tara. Connor stared up at her while Tara scrambled to safety, dropping heavily into Wesley’s waiting arms.

She was just about to drop Connor down to Wesley when Willow spun around, pointing a finger at the pair.

“He’s part of the problem, Buffy, and I’m going to start fixing things with him.”

A low chant started under her breath, while Willow held Buffy off with her free hand.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Exerting every ounce of pressure possible, Giles pushed down onto Drusilla’s back, forcing her flat against the porch floorboards. He ignored the pain in his leg, using his good one to press into the middle of her back. She was snarling, writhing underneath him, twisting and turning like a snake, scrabbling for some way to roll over so she could fight back.

Blood was seeping into his pants leg, saturating the material. Giles knew his strength was faltering, the muscles of his arms trembling from the strain and his eyes were starting to blur.

Drusilla partially slid out from under his hold and the fear lent him momentary force, but Giles knew it was only temporary. He was nearing the end of his rope when strong arms lifted him up and a slightly familiar voice sounded in his ears.

“Need some help, chief?”

Giles looked up to see Lawson’s slight smile change to deep concern.

“You should get inside. You’re bleeding.”

He set Giles on his feet, gave him a slight push toward the front door, then turned to face Drusilla.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Jenner felt the surge of grief seconds after Hawkins fled. For long moments he stared after his childe’s retreating form, wondering how – or if – they were ever going to adjust. Normally, he was fairly observant, able to gauge people and vampires quickly. They’d always seen eye to eye, he and Hawkins, which was one of the reasons he’d been turned.

But his reaction just now had caught Jenner by surprise. Unaware and unknowing of the depths of the other vampire’s feelings. Hawkins had loved Glynnis. Jenner cursed himself for being all kinds of a fool for not ever entertaining the possibility. Had he realized – instead of dusting her – he might have just drained her and kept her that way, always on the brink until he was satisfied she’d learned her lesson – for Hawkins.

Moving to follow the other vampire, Jenner got no further than the edge of the yard when the Cwn Annwn raced toward him, howling and baying after their prey. He stiffened, unexpected and more than half forgotten prayers to the gods for the hounds to pass him racing through his brain, Jenner vainly tried to appear unafraid. He’d seen dogs before, even rabid ones – but these were no ordinary canines.

These were the hounds of hell, in full hunt.

The biggest of them was close to six feet in height, easily reaching ten feet on its hind legs. Each one sported fangs sharp enough and strong enough to sever limbs in a single bite.
Jenner shivered, visibly reacting when the hounds sniffed at him and kept going.

Low and ominous growls sounded as their quarry’s scent filled the air.

He turned slowly, unwilling to startle the hounds, when movement in the corner of his eye diverted his attention.

Faith was teetering on the roof’s edge, a squirming bundle clutched to her chest. His jaw fell open as some invisible force lifted her up, dangling her mid-air high up over the ground.

Where the hounds were gathered.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Ignoring the sound of Willow’s droning voice, Faith stepped closer to the edge, not wanting to throw the baby, intending to just gently drop him down to Wesley. Her eyes were fixed firmly on the edge, so she missed the small piece of glass underfoot. She slid, overcompensated the other way and only stopped her fall by lodging her other foot into the gutter lining the roof. Faith wobbled, fighting her instinct to fling out her arms and regain her balance that way.

Connor let loose a frightened wail, startled by the sudden movement. Just as Faith got her balance, the air closed in around her, blocking every sound except the hash rasp of her own breath. Suddenly she found herself in the air, hovering over the grass.

Only there was no grass, just a seething, rolling, snarling bunch of really big dogs.

Wind began lashing at her and she cradled the baby closer, his head protected against her breasts, her arms wrapped protectively around him.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Giles collapsed just inside the doorway, amid the destruction marking Willow’s passage through the house. The change in pressure slowed the flow of blood from Drusilla’s bite, though now that he could relax, Giles felt the pain and stress begin to crest through him. He fought the effects of shock, trying to follow what was occurring away from his line of sight.

Lawson had gone right after Drusilla, blocking her from reaching Giles. The two were trading vicious blows, the vampiress enraged over being thwarted.

A low growl, followed by a high-pitched shriek caught his attention and Giles struggled to find the source of the inhuman noise. Oz stepped into view, bringing with him his opponent, who looked no bigger than a child. A hard hit nearly knocked Oz off his feet, but he recovered quickly, landing a heavy blow of his own.

Another ear-piercing shriek sounded from the female and Oz flinched. Taking advantage of his reaction, the female struck, raking her sharp nails down the side of Oz’ face.

Seconds before it happened, Giles knew. The air around Oz seemed to fall in upon him, then explode outward as the wolf took control. Oz morphed, allowing the beast free rein.

The small vampire never knew what hit her. Within instants, the wolf attacked, gaping jaws striking out, rending limbs, going straight for the throat and heart. Blood sprayed everywhere, coating Giles so it looked like even his clothing had the chicken pox. The cries died when the wolf ripped through vocal cords. With her throat almost severed, Rebecca no longer fought back.

Throat clenched between powerful jaws, the wolf shook his prey from side to side, biting hard. Giles watched, horrified by the sight, nearly jumping out of his skin when a hand touched his shoulder.

“Don’t watch. You’ll have nightmares for weeks.” Anya stared down at him, and Giles pulled off his blood splattered glasses, squinting back up at her.

“Oz will never forgive himself.”

“Yes, he will. It’s either him or her and frankly, Oz is a much better person. He spends money regularly and. . . “ Anya’s voice trailed off and she changed the subject. “I hurt my arm. I don’t think it’s broken, but I can’t help you stand if you’re injured. Are you injured?”

“Drusilla bit me.” Giles looked away from her intense gaze, only to realize Oz and the vampire were both gone. “Do you suppose he’ll be uncontrollable for a bit?”

A huffed sigh escaped her. “I don’t know. I almost don’t care. I’m worried about you, Giles, you let an evil vampire get a hold of you.”

Despite her earlier words about her injured arm, Anya knelt down next to him, her left arm encircling his shoulder. “We need to clean the bite. Where is it?”

Without waiting for his answer, Anya pulled and prodded until she got him up on his feet. “C’mon, Rupert, I need to see that.”


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Willow’s chanting grew in tempo, the unknown words rolling faster and faster off her tongue, while the air lashing Faith and Connor increased.

Jenner drifted toward the others, his eyes fixed on Faith, his feet taking him to where he might possibly be able to help her. There was no fear on Faith’s face, only a grim sort of determination. He watched while she tightened her arms around whatever she had a hold of – and it wasn’t until he heard the girl standing next to him muttering about a baby that he understood what she held.

There was still fighting going on, notably Spike and Angel and part of Jenner felt he should at least be paying attention to them – since they were both Aurelians – but he couldn’t make himself move.

The words increased, the wind whipped harder, the dark witch raised both hands over her head and Faith plummeted to the ground.



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