[A/N: Pulling all this together is like . . . tying the ends of a really elaborate tapestry together and hoping the damn thing looks the way the weaver envisioned it – or like catering a huge event and hoping the appetizers and the desserts all work well and that the main course doesn’t get shortchanged either. Hopefully I won’t disappoint anyone in the process. I had to edit this, send it to Tam, re-edit it because neither of us was happy with certain parts, and well, scramble to get this ready for posting. . . which didn’t happen when I wanted it to anyway. I’m sorry for the delay. Title and quotes belong to those who first uttered them. Disclaimers in full force and effect.]

Previously: The fight’s raging on, on different fronts. Giles has been bitten by Drusilla, then rescued by Lawson; Oz killed Toussaint and was then attacked by Rebecca; Buffy, Faith and Willow were all up on the roof after Tara escaped; Wesley, Dawn and Tara are on the ground; Jenner is watching Faith; the hounds have arrived; and Spike is fighting Angel.

Book Two. Chapter 65. Wild Justice


Let’s kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;
Let’s carve him as a dish fit for the gods,
Not hew him as a carcase fit for hounds.
Julius Caesar, act II, sc. I


If you hit a snake and don’t kill it,
you’ll be sorry later on.
Chinese proverb.


Revenge is a kind of wild justice,
which the more a man’s nature runs to,
the more ought law to weed it out.
Francis Bacon, Of Revenge, Essays (1597-1625).


No more tears now; I will think upon revenge.
Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland


No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize;
Revenge should have no bounds.
Hamlet act IV, scene vii


Those wars are unjust
which are undertaken without provocation.
For only a war waged for revenge or defense can be just.
Marcus Tullius Cicero, De re publica, 35.





Somehow she managed to help him into the living room, telling him to sit still while she got the first aid kit. Neither of them were aware of Xander’s presence in the dining room, the noise from outside more of a distraction than his soft breathing. Anya cut Giles’ pants, ripping them all the way up his leg, exposing Drusilla’s bite mark. She clucked and tsked, turning her head sideways to get a better look at the damage. “Well, Rupert, it’s not as bad as I thought.”

“How so?” Giles tried peering down at his leg, but Anya’s head kept blocking him.

“I expected her to have bit deeper.” She gently touched it, trying not to inflict any more pain. “How come she didn’t bite harder?”

“I was hardly going to give her much of an opportunity to bite very hard.” Giles winced when Anya poured peroxide over his leg. “Besides, I had a rather tight grip on her at the time.”

“Not enough of one. Really, Rupert, you can’t keep taking chances like this. You aren’t superhuman.” She lifted tear-filled eyes to his. “I wouldn’t like it if something terrible happened to you.”

“Nor I you.” He smiled at her, which ended in a grimace.

“Do you mean that? Don’t say that unless you really mean it.” Anya stared at him, teary-eyed and trembly lips, and Giles was lost. He couldn’t help his next action.

With a gentle hand under her chin, Rupert lifted Anya’s head toward his and kissed her deeply.


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Angel looked up at Spike, anger flaring in his dark eyes and Spike grinned, nudging the older vampire with his foot. “Get on your feet.”

He started to rise, lunging upwards, preparing to rush back at Spike, but the younger vampire anticipated the movement and danced back out of his reach. Angel rushed forward anyway, arms windmilling.

His right fist caught Spike across his upper chest, which he pushed off easily. Neither vampire was using full strength, the blows and pushes barely glancing until Angel righted himself. Regaining his balance and finding his feet, Angel swung hard, catching Spike along his jaw line.

Blood spurted out, filling Spike’s mouth and the scent of it maddened him. Not this fuckin’ time, Peaches. ‘S not happenin’.

Reacting instantly, Spike arched back, then snapped a left hook at Angel, driving him backward. Taking advantage of Angel’s surprise, Spike stepped into a follow-up right cross, hitting him hard.

With both hands on Angel’s shoulders, Spike pulled him close, head-butting him then throwing him into the tree. Angel’s back hit hard, his head banging twice against the unforgiving trunk. The ferocity of Spike’s attack surprised Angel and he knew Spike wasn’t going to give up his momentary advantage. He tried fighting back, but his muscles were sluggish, his reflexes slow. He didn’t remember Spike being this strong or this fast. If he didn’t do something soon, Spike was going to win this fight.

“Not gonna beat me this time.” Spike stepped in close, hitting Angel twice. He grabbed him by the shoulders again, this time throwing him hard into the house. Spike grinned, then grabbed Angel’s head, snapping his neck.


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She was fighting against immobility. The air was so thick she couldn’t move, could barely breathe. Her fingers tightened around the infant in her arms. It was the only thing she thought was tangible in the whole world. The feel of soft shallow breathing across her chest, tiny fingers wrapped around her shirt and in her hair and the terrible softness of his skin. Nothing else existed, save those things.

Faith could see and breathe, could feel Connor in her arms, but everything else was separated from them by a huge plastic barrier that moved and swayed with them. Inside the barrier, wind roared and whipped, though the baby seemed untouched. Tiny stinging cuts opened on her skin and still the baby was safe. She stared down at the others, knowing they were trying to help her and yet unable to do so. Tara was chanting softly under her breath, desperate to counter-act whatever magics Willow was conjuring. Never thought geek girl would turn out to be so big and bad. . . . lotsa anger she’s got buried inside.

Oh shit. . . . what the fuck is that??? The hounds raced and milled about under her feet, some of them leaping up to try and get on the roof, though so far none of them had managed it. The distance to the ground increased, and Faith could feel her heart pounding with renewed fear. This is so not fucking good. . . . what the fuck. . . Not the dogs. Please. . . .

The soundless scream reverberated in her ears as whatever force was holding her in mid-air disappeared.



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Oh dear goddess, no. . . . Not this.

Tara stared up at the sight before her, unable to believe her eyes. Willow had Faith and Connor suspended in mid-air, an invisible wind lashing at the two. Every prayer, every supplication she’d ever heard was racing through her head at a breakneck pace. Please, great goddess, keep them safe.

She tried focusing, tried closing her mind to the gasps and worried mutterings of Dawn and Wesley beside her, to no avail. She couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t form any real true coherent thought because her eyes didn’t want to believe.

Didn’t want to see the truth of how far Willow had descended.

There was nothing left of the girl she’d once fallen in love with. Nothing. Not even her shell remained.

Willow was transformed, dark veins standing out on her pale pasty white skin,, bracketing her temples and her pale lips. Her dark hair crackled, writhing like snakes around her unnaturally pale face while darker incantations issued forth from her mouth.

Tara fisted her hands together, bringing them up to cover her mouth. Faith rose up higher in the air and an unearthly growl echoed down the otherwise strangely silent street. Tara half turned when the growls grew louder and the sound of heavy feet pounded up through the ground.

A gasp tore from her throat and she nearly ran screaming from the scene, the sight of slobbering, drooling hell hounds enough to stop her heart. An audible gulp sounded behind her and Dawn murmured in a shrill whisper, “What the hell?”

Wesley turned to face the oncoming threat, gallantly stepping in front of her as protection. He swept Dawn back, shielding her slight body with his. He could feel her pressed up against him, her slender hand wrapped around his upper arm. Dawn was trembling, the stress beginning to show. Wesley grabbed at her hand, lacing their fingers together. “I’ll do my best to protect you.”

Even he knew better than to promise her safety.

The hounds raced forward, howling and baying for blood, yet completely ignoring the vampires on the lawn. Sniffing at a huge male – Jenner, if Wesley’s muttering was to be believed, they stopped, milling around until they howled as one and headed straight for them.

One of them banged into Tara, nearly knocking her off her feet. It was poised to attack when a small brindled wolf landed between them. Teeth bared and threatening, warning growls emerged from the wolf’s throat and though smaller than the hell hound by almost half, the wolf staved off the other.

Blood and gore matted the wolf’s snout and a fine coating of ash covered his head and neck, but when it approached Tara, it was almost docile.

“Oz?” The wolf edged closer, snapping at another of the Cwn Annwn as it menaced the blonde. Tara knew it was him and she knelt down, threading her fingers into the hair just behind his ears. “It’s okay. You can . . . “

She never finished her sentence, because Dawn’s cry filled her head. Quickly Tara looked up again, in time to see two of the hounds leap for the roof, scrabbling for purchase.

Willow’s voice grew louder, and Tara found herself rising to her feet, whispering in counterpoint. Unfamiliar words filled her head, and though she was afraid, Tara didn’t fight them or question their source. Nor did she allow the fear to stop her this time.

A shadow blocked out the streetlight and she felt the big vampire stand at her side. Some part of her registered his words, but a bigger part of her ignored him, focusing inward, drawing on the well of strength she knew resided within her. A collective gasp rose up from everyone and Faith fell toward the ground, heading straight for the swirling mass of hell hounds – and at the same instant the vampire next to her streaked forward.

Tara had her eyes fixed on a different sight, though, the protection chants growing in intensity. Connor was wailing, crying, suspended alone above the hounds.

Willow raised her hands, pointing toward the crying baby and on the same indrawn breath, both witches clapped their hands together.

And Connor was gone.



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Helpless against whatever magic Willow was using to hold her in place, Buffy watched with horror-filled eyes the action transpiring in front of her. Faith nearly fell from the roof, Connor curled protectively in her arms, only to right herself before pitching head-first over the edge. A silent scream whistled from her lips and her muscles quivered, fighting against the spell, trying to break free to somehow help Faith.

Her feet were rooted, leg muscles frozen in place, unable to move. Her eyes tracked the movement in front of her, gasping between held breaths every time Willow increased her torment. The sight of the hounds racing toward the house froze her blood. She kept hoping for a moment – an instant – that never came. Instead of growing weaker by over-extending herself, keeping so many spells going at once, Willow seemed to gain in strength. Panic truly set in when the hounds disappeared from her vision and Buffy began to struggle more actively. She could hear the dogs, hear the pockets of fighting going on, but because of where she was standing, Buffy couldn’t see anything but Faith and Connor. And crazy wicked Willow.

Time seemed to slow down, the words spewing from Willow’s mouth exaggerated and unintelligible. Buffy fought harder against her invisible bonds, muscles straining and bulging with her efforts.

The moment Willow dropped whatever spell had been holding Faith suspended, Buffy broke free, finally able to move her arms. Seconds later, she lurched forward, trying desperate to get her feet free before Willow managed to destroy Connor. The baby hung there, his favorite blanket clutched in his hands, his tiny feet kicking in panic, while shrill wails filled the air.

Willow pointed with both hands at the baby, spoke something guttural and completely incomprehensible, clapped once and Connor disappeared.

A deep primal rage raced through Buffy, surging and rising, calling forth an aspect and emotions she’d never thought herself capable of. Using that rage, she freed herself, hurtling toward Willow, intent on inflicting severe damage.

She never got the chance.

An inhuman growl echoed through the night and every hair on her body rose, fear shivering down her spine.

Massive paws scraped across the metal gutter, scrabbling for purchase. A flash of darker than night fur appeared and in the next second, the hound lunged, leaping onto the roof.

Jaws gaping, drool dripping, and red eyes glittering, the huge black hound advanced padding softly toward Willow.

The witch arched a brow muttered a nonchalant ‘nice puppy,’ laughing when a low growl emerged from its throat. Ignoring the warning in the menacing growl, Willow snapped her fingers, a ball of fire forming in her open palm.

“Incendiere.”

It whizzed at the hound, only to splutter and die before it covered half the distance. Okay, so not supposed to happen. Willow frowned, her pale brow furrowing, humming softly to herself. Lemme try this. She tried the fireball again, only to have the second one suffer the same fate. The hound growled, and for the first time that night, Willow felt a frisson of fear.

The hound growled once more, springing for Willow.



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


Unable to gain the upper hand against Drusilla, her rage more than his strength could handle, Lawson repeatedly found himself on the defensive, fighting for his own survival. Drusilla was mad, insane with bloodlust and he was intent on just protecting his sire’s people. Although if she fought like this for longer it might come down to luck.

Lawson ducked underneath a wild punch, swinging his elbow hard into Drusilla’s side. He jerked back in surprise when he heard the crunch of her ribs, then faltered a bit when he stepped back, unexpectedly encountering the porch step instead of Giles. Relief flooded through him when he turned back to see him sitting inside the doorway, a young blond tugging him to his feet. Drusilla’s nails raking down his cheek refocused his attention on their fight.

“Bad boy. Daddy’s littlest baby has done a bad, bad thing.” She slapped him, the sound ringing in his ears, knocking him senseless for a moment. “Mustn’t do bad things, little brother, elsewise Daddy gets very cross.”

Returning the favor, Lawson backhanded her across the face the instant he recovered. Drusilla reeled, giggling madly as she cooed at him. “Oohhh, baby brother wants to play.“

She aimed a vicious blow at his torso, then hooked one of her deceptively frail legs around his, tripping him up. Drusilla stood over his prone form, her face a study in calm insanity. “Some little boys must learn their lessons with whips and chains. Isn’t nice to treat precious little girls so meanly.”

Lawson stared up at her, ignoring the luring lilt of her voice. He was waiting for her to pounce and she didn’t disappoint him. The moment she leaned down toward him, Sam brought up his foot, hitting her square in the belly, lifting her off her feet and propelling her back away from him.

She flew across the porch, landing in the bushes lining the front, squalling and caterwauling her angry displeasure with this turn of events. Drusilla struggled to her feet, hissing and snarling at him, all ridged brows and feral cat’s eyes gleaming. Lawson scrambled to his feet, warily watching her approach, carefully averting his eyes from hers. Sam knew how insidious her thrall was, having been a not-so unwilling victim earlier. Now, though, Sam was more than aware of his fate should she gain any advantage.

Drusilla would not hesitate.

Therefore, he couldn’t let her get any advantage.

Though the truth was, Sam was overmatched and he knew it. While he’d some fighting experience, he was nowhere near skilled enough to take on a master vampire. At least not another Aurelian. And while Drusilla wasn’t in the same class as Angel, she had the benefit of being insane. There was no way for Sam to begin to guess what her next move might be.

They circled each other, Sam watching Drusilla’s feet and hips, avoiding her hands as well as her eyes. She was rambling, spouting complete nonsense, which Sam blocked out by focusing instead on the sounds from the lawn, where Spike and Angel were fighting.

Sam stepped backward, his ankle wobbling a bit when his foot came down on something irregular. There was a crunch of plastic and his leg burned from the splashing liquid and he risked a glance down. Drusilla sprung at him, nails digging into his neck and Lawson brought up his hands, pushing her off. The scent of his blood sent her into a tizzy, because she shrieked, “No! My dark prince wouldn’t! Daddy will kill you both. Poor William. . . . No more tea and cakes.”

She began laughing, a morbid dark sound, and Sam slapped her once just to stop the noise.

Drusilla didn’t react, though. The laughter became more and more deranged until there was nothing but that sound filling his ears. Sam flinched away, watching in horror as Drusilla raked her own flesh, drawing blood. She doubled over, clutching her belly, then dropped to her knees.

“No! No. . . . no . . . Daddy, stay with your baby girl. NO!”

The sound died off, the echo reverberating into the darkness.

A deep baying howl broke the silence moments later.

The night grew still again, nothing moving except Drusilla, who rocked back and forth on her knees.

She turned her face up to the moon a half second before Sam felt a connection in his blood break.

Her keening wail broke the night’s silence once more and Sam could do nothing but stare.



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


There was no sound.

Nothing.

Just the soft breeze breaking through the leaves of the trees.

The street light buzzed, but the sound was distant, far away.

Hush filled the dark night, and every creature froze as if knowing something momentous had just occurred.

A sob, the soft echo of abysmal grief broke the silence and for the span of a few heartbeats there was no other answering sound.

Until the lead hound bayed, ululating his pleasure to the high moonlight, his quarry captured.

The witch cowered on her knees, hands covering her face, vainly trying to protect herself from the hound, who stood over her. His mouth closed on her shoulder, and he roughly tugged, dragging her to the edge. Willow screamed, slapping fruitlessly at the hound, twisting and turning in a futile effort to get away. In response, he battered her head with a huge paw, knocking her out and tightened his hold on her. Dropping down to the ground, Willow’s body hit the grass with a heavy thud, the hound poised with her shoulder in his huge mouth.

The rest of the pack circled round them, sniffing and nipping at the unprotected witch.

No one moved to help her.

No one dared.

The sound of heavy footsteps thudding against the ground shook the earth and as one, everyone turned to look. The Huntsman whistled once and the hounds settled, allowing the alpha pair to stand over the unconscious form of Willow.

He was just about to speak when an agonized wail broke through the night.



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Angel stared up at Spike, disbelief flooding his features as he changed into his human guise. He couldn’t move anything. There was no sensation in his legs, or arms or anything below his neck. Unable to take in air enough to allow him to speak, Angel was completely helpless. And Spike knew it.

“How’s it feel, wanker?” Spike grinned down at the helpless vampire, a grim look in his eyes. “Knowin’ you’re all helpless an’ unable to move?”

Spike dragged him up by his shoulders, holding Angel so he could stare him in the eye. “Afraid yet?”

Angel tried shaking his head no, and Spike just growled at him, pulling him in close. “You should be, ‘cause there isn’t anythin’ or anyone gonna save your ass this time.”

He head-butted Angel, opening up a thin cut across his forehead, and Spike chuckled, licking at the blood dripping down the other vampire’s face. “Not that you deserve this, but I’m not gonna torture you.” Angel’s eyes bulged while Spike’s grinned widened. “Jus’ gonna kill you.”

Turning away, Spike one-handedly swung Angel around toward the tree slamming his shoulder. Angel dropped like a sack, landing almost face down. Unable to push himself up or get to his feet he was forced to watch Spike stalk closer. “Now you know how Dawnie felt while you played your fuckin’ games with her.”

A look entered Angel’s eyes and a snarling sneer bloomed on his features. “You’re probably thinkin’ I don’t have the stones to do it. But see, you’re wrong.” He knelt down on one knee in front of him, pushing Angel over onto his back. “You hurt m’daughter, you fucker. An’ you don’t get away with that. Ever.”

Obviously he’d surprised the bigger vampire, because the look in Angel’s eyes changed. “Seems you’re not the only vamp capable of havin’ children. ‘Cause Dawn’s not the only one we’re ever gonna have. But, mate,” Spike stood again, staring down at the prone vampire. “You’ll never get the chance to even see them.”

On his last word, Spike drew back his foot and kicked Angel in the head. Blood and teeth splattered, darkening Spike’s boots and jeans. The second kick exploded Angel’s head, brains and bloody matter erupting all over. Spike smiled grimly, then leaned down, remarking, “Nasty bits there, Angelus. Good thing it’ll all disappear in a minute.”

Wrapping his hands around Angel’s neck, his fingers slipping in the gore, Spike wrenched Angel’s head from his shoulders.






to be continued. . .


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