Willow eyed the powerful sorcerer sitting calmly before her, nervous energy twitching through her body. They’d been seated for hours in silence. She’d tried talking to him only be ignored as he sat cross-legged before her. Occasionally his eyes would open and he would peer at her, but for the most part he was silent--which was a lot more threatening.
She didn’t know what to do with the choices presented to her. She was, in fact, still having trouble wrapping her mind around the entire situation. A simple rescue operation had gone completely awry, and it was her fault. She hadn’t been powerful, nor had she anticipated magic adversaries. Angel had been relying on her, and she had failed, allowing each of them to be captured and...
Willow shuddered, goose bumps peppering her flesh. She wouldn’t think of what might be happening to her friends right now.
One thing was certain, she couldn’t choose to work with the lawyer. She couldn’t. But the thought of losing her powers, just when she was getting a hold on them again... Her powers were a part of her, something special that was exclusively hers. She’d spent years developing her magics, and a summer getting them under control. She wasn’t ready to let them go, to lose such a large part of her identity.
So she would just have to wait until the moment was right...or until she was rescued.
It was too much to think about, and panic was quickly starting to replace her initial fear of her current situation. And she was pretty sure the sorcerer knew it too, but he said nothing, he did nothing. He just sat there, right in front of her on the cold floor, cross-legged and meditating.
She wondered briefly is she could faze him with her powers long enough to escape. With that thought one of his eyes slowly opened, peering at her, and she knew he was reading her mind.
“Why do you fight it?” he asked finally.
She blanched. “Why? Maybe because it’s totally evil and wrong? It’s against everything I’ve spent the last seven years fighting? And, hey, maybe it’s because the last time I went all dark and surly I tried killing my friends and ending the world. Not my most favorite period in history.”
“Your power is for a greater purpose. You are not fulfilling that purpose. Serving with us will give you this.”
“Serving with you will turn me into a bitchy witch,” she corrected him. They stared at each other momentarily before she dared to ask, “Why do you work with these guys? If you’re so powerful, don’t you know how much good you could be doing?”
He sighed and arched an eyebrow. “You have so much to learn.”
“So teach me,” she replied snottily.
He didn’t take well to her tone and with an angry wave of his hand, blasted her with power. Willow screamed as her body bowed backward and her head slammed against the tile floor, sparks of magic flying off of her. The surge was over quickly enough but Willow remain on her back, panting with pain. Blood trickled from her nose and stung her tongue where she’d bitten down hard in response to the attack.
“You see?” Karsis asked her, rising to his feet to stand over her. “You see what I can do with a mere wave of my hand?”
Willow looked up at him blearily, gasping and rolling to her side, clutching her body.
“I can teach you how to double, triple your power, to perform spells that not even a coven of witches could muster the strength for. And you turn up your nose without even knowing what it is you could have. You are stupid, you do not deserve such an offer. Yes, you have power. More so than many I have come across. But ultimately, there will be another stronger, more willing to meet their potential. And we will wait for that individual.”
He cast an angry glance once more at Willow as she lay on the floor, her eyes now closed. With a pitying look he swept past her and toward the door. As he turned his back and walked away Willow’s eyes opened and she raised her arm, extending her fingers in his direction. Mustering all she had she shot out a stream of magics, searing his body and slamming the wizard against the door. His body pinned, she slowly rose to her feet and angrily wiped the blood from her face, spitting it from her mouth.
With a flip of her hand she tossed him around to face her, then smirked. Twitching her nose she flung his arms and legs out, bound to the wall with power.
“Look what happens when I turn up my nose,” she seethed.
Karsis growled low at her. “Don’t be stupid, girl. This will bring you nothing but pain and the loss of your powers.”
“I don’t see how…seeing as you’re sorta stuck at the moment.” She sauntered toward him. “You know, the last time I had a man at my disposal like this, he wound up skinless. I wonder what you look like without that protective layer.”
Before she could make a move, Karsis hand reached out and grabbed hers. “As I said,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Nothing but pain.” With a snap he yanked her wrist back and it broke with an audible crunch. Willow cried out in pain and lost her hold on him.
As Karsis peeled himself from the wall he bombarded her with power, streaming from his hands and flashing in his eyes. She screamed, bucking wildly, until blissful unconsciousness found her.
*~*~*
The girl ran faster and faster, but the outcome was obvious. She wasn’t going to make it. She knew it, her adversaries knew it—they, in fact, had no doubt of it. At first she had smirked, believing herself capable of outrunning, outsmarting, outwitting the men in the black robes with the scarred faces.
She knew now she had been foolish. There was no time, there was no chance for survival. There was only the chase and her inevitable death. And yet she ran and would continue to run until they caught her, and then she would fight because it was the only thing inside her they still hadn’t taken—the fight.
She knew what she was. If she lived long enough, it was ever her turn, she would someday be a Slayer, just as her mother had been before her. Her Watcher had found her at the age of three and plucked her from the orphanage to begin her training, a lifestyle she had never regretted and would now put to use.
Except that the Harbingers had anticipated her and were waiting up ahead.
As they ambushed her, sliced her middle with their shiny blade, the last thought in her mind before the life fell from her eyes was that now she would see her mother at last.
*~*~*
“No!” Buffy shouted, eyes popping open. Panic had her heart pounding, racing as she’d watched another innocent girl die, helpless to do anything but let the dream play out. Her eyes closed in despair and her head hung. This was making her insane, being so useless to the girls who needed her, so completely helpless to stop the senseless carnage.
Hair fell in her eyes, tickling her brow and she moved to swipe at it when she realized her hands were bound. She blinked, glancing around the room. She was chained, shackled to the wall. Bound. Oh God, she thought groggily. Angel…where was Angel? Where was—
Her eyes lit on the vampire’s limp form, chained as hers on the wall across from her. She’d only missed him because of the panic, his body only a mere fifteen feet away from her own. He, too, had been rendered unconscious and had yet to come out of it, his head hanging down onto his chest, arms and legs shackled as hers were. Fear and anger filled her at the sight of her lover.
Her lover…
Buffy stared at Angel’s sleeping form on the other side of the room. They were bound to the stone walls in some sort of dungeon, not unlike the dungeon in an earlier dream…where she’d chosen from five different doors and five different fates. You chose yourself, and look where it got you. Not long after she’d been captured and kissing Angel as if the dream had been completely forgotten and all was well in her life.
“Stupid,” she muttered under her breath. Her wrists were killing her and her neck hurt from holding her head back against the musty walls. And Angel was snoring. How in the hell did the man sleep after being tazered and shackled?
She pulled half-heartedly on the cuffs again, rattling them in vain. It was no use, they were bound tight. Probably by magic as Angel had earlier suggested. Opening her mind she called to her friends, to Willow and Xander, to Giles and Dawn. No one answered her and her heart sunk in her chest. She chose to believe that’s because they were busy, or being blocked by dark magic, not because they were no longer alive. She had to believe that. The alternative was too unbearable to think.
“Fine mess,” she muttered out loud, then glanced at Angel’s unconscious form. “Wake up!” she shouted. “Angel! Angel!” With a grimace she muttered to herself, “Stupid vampires, you sleep like the dead!”
Even lame jokes weren’t going to make her feel better in her current situation—and then a horrible thought seized her mind. Angel didn’t breathe, therefore she couldn’t rely on that to make sure he was still with her. She peered at him closely, eyes narrowed.
“Angel?” she whispered, suddenly fearful. “Angel? ANGEL!”
Nothing. “Oh God,” she moaned. “No... Wait. He’d be dust or something, right? Right. Vampires, when they die. Dust. No matter what. So he’s...he’s fine. He is. Angel’s fine. And I’m fine,” she chattered on to herself. “We’re going to get out of here, and save the girl, and get Timmy out of the well, and... everything.”
If you stop talking to yourself, maybe.
She imagined herself glaring at her inner monologue. “Shut up,” she told it.
Luckily, it did as she ordered.
“Okay, Summers, you’re going crazy here. Angel’s fine. He’s not dusty. He’s...whole. All his dust in a row.”
An appreciative eye wandered over his large, hulking form. “Stop it!” she cried, suddenly, catching herself. “You’re here to find yourself, save the Potentials, stop the First...there’s a whole list of things to do before you give into lust and love and chemistry and destiny. Get. Back. On. Track.”
As an afterthought she added, “And stop talking to yourself. Only thoughts from now on.”
Okay.
I need a plan. Get myself free, then Angel. Find the guys, get them out. Figure out why Lilah and the rest of the law firm are involved in this anyway. Get a pedicure. A manicure. A massage. Do your roots.
Her gaze wandered to Angel once again and with a heavy sigh, she resigned herself. Her head was pounding, her wrists and arms were numb--except for the bits that were stinging with pain from being rubbed raw--and her back was about to fall apart, and it made not a whit of difference.
Why should anything change just because you’re chained to a wall, your friends are missing and held captive, girls are dying, and the world’s probably going to end? You, him. Near each other. Hence, Angely-train-of-thought.
Fleeting memories of kisses at the hotel, of being ground into the wall of the Hyperion hallways, of passion on her bed meandered their way through her mind and despite her current pain, she was comforted. The first time they’d laid eyes on each other he hadn’t remembered anything of the past few years, only that the last time they’d been together had been outside her dorm room, when she’d been involved with Riley, and that even then they’d loved each other. They’d fought in LA and he’d felt bad, coming back to Sunnydale to make amends...
Only she had known what the next few years had brought them, and little of it was good. Pain...more heartbreak... Death. Kisses in a graveyard, where so many of the kisses of their past had taken place. She’d known that their paths were different now, that they had walked away from each other too many times to go back there again. And yet she’d fallen into his arms again and again in the forty-eight hours they’d been together, without remorse or a glance backward at the safe, sound road. The road that led away from Angel and the only happiness she’d felt in so many years, since the last time they’d been together—she a high school Senior, he a vampire of two-hundred plus years, and in a time the world had been theirs and so much more simple.
Simple. When had things been that? It was fuzzy, hard to recall, but she knew that once, yes, once, it had been that way for her. She’d had a life. Morning OJ, school, training, patrol/homework/elicit smoochies, a little after-hours groovin’ at the Bronze, bed. Repeat. Throw in a little chaos or some end of the world nature now and then and yeah...that had been her life.
Simple--a word she hadn’t used to describe...well, anything in a long time.
Once high school had ended things tended to blur. It was hard to tell if that was because they had gotten a lot more hairy once college had started, or if it was because that was when Angel had left and a little bit of her world had fallen away. Maybe it was because of Angel leaving that things had become hectic and hard and mostly on the sucking side of life. Who knew?
As she retreated down memory lane the comfort of the kisses she and Angel had shared grew into agitation. Why could their worlds never mesh, never fit together the way they wanted them to? If after so many years they still loved each other, after death and pain and hurt and torture, after living separately and trying to move on, to find comfort and love with others... Why after all that was it still not possible?
Perhaps because in all that time he moved on? He had a child. With Darla. He was...he had feelings for...
Cordelia Chase.
God, help her.
With a mighty tug she wrenched her wrist, attempting to break free of the hold the chains had on her. They pulled, she strained, but nothing happened other than her anger nearly boiled over.
Angel and Cordelia?
It was too much. The thought of them was impossible to digest, too much for her brain and her heart to take. How could he...how could they? After all these years, how could he have feelings for her? For Spordelia, the bitch of Sunnydale High, the insufferable girl that Angel had once loathed to spend time with?
The same way you managed to become involved with Spike, you hypocrite, she chastised herself.
“That was different,” she whispered.
How?
“It just was.”
You have no defense, you know that, right?
“Angel’s been lusting after Cordelia!”
And the minute he got his memory back, you two were back with the lip-locks and the upstairs touchy-feely.
Buffy gave the room a sideways glance. “Why do you sound like Faith in my head?”
Inner-Buffy shrugged. Someone’s got to call it like they see it. You certainly don’t.
Frustrated that she couldn’t even win this argument with herself, she went back to pouting.
You love him, idiot.
“I can’t do this.”
You have to accept that.
“Angel and I don’t work.”
Make it work.
“I don’t know how.” Her eyes closed, weary of the familiar argument with herself.. “It’s not possible.”
You of all people should know that anything’s possible. A vampire in love with a Slayer, and vice-versa...coming back from the dead...magic...monsters...perfect happiness.... It’s all possible, it’s all real. That doesn’t jive anymore, ‘it’s not possible.’ Make it possible.
Tired eyes opened again and her body hung limply from the wall. “I don’t know if I can. I’m not that strong. I can’t get my heart broken again...and besides,” her voice dropped off until she whispered the last part of her forlorn speech in her mind. I don’t even know if that’s what he wants.
With a groan, Angel began to stir.
Well...what a perfect opportunity to find out.
*~*~*
Faith paced relentlessly up and down the white room as the rest of the gang looked on.
“You’re making me dizzy,” Gunn complained.
“Deal with it,” she shot back. “I’m going freakin’ batty in here.”
“Not much we can do since the big guns are elsewhere in the building,” Xander told her from his spot on the floor next to Dawn and Connor.
“If they’re still here,” Spike muttered.
“They’re here,” Connor told him with a grimace. “They’re going to use Angel to do the ritual.”
“He’ll never agree to that,” Cordelia said with certainty. “He’ll never work with them. He’s a Champion, people. The good guy in all this.”
“He may not have a choice,” Xander pointed out. “Right now we’re trapped in here, Willow’s trapped somewhere else...and Buffy and Angel are...”
“Don’t say it,” Dawn begged quietly.
“All I’m saying is, if these people are smart, and given our current situation I’m leaning in that direction,” he continued, “they’ll know how to get Angel to play ball.”
“And it will probably involve Buffy,” Giles murmured thoughtfully.
Xander nodded. “I can’t think of a better way to get to him.”
Cordelia glanced in his direction, then away, her eyes downcast to hide the slight hurt that haunted them.
“You think they’re going to hurt Buffy?” Dawn asked tearfully. Connor put an arm around her in comfort and she nestled into his hold.
Xander shrugged. “I’m hoping not, Dawnie. But I think that’s probably the best bet right now.”
“What about Willow?” Faith snapped. “She’s mega-Wicca. Where’s she in all this? Why isn’t she snapping her fingers, or wriggling her nose, or whatever body part makes the magic happen, and getting us the hell out of here?”
“I’m thinking she probably can’t,” said Fred quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone.
Xander stared at her for a moment, then hit the floor with his fist. “If they hurt her...”
“We need to think, people,” Connor said suddenly. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
Gunn gave him a wry glance. “You have a better idea? You see any walls? Windows? Doors? Even a cold-air return? This is the white room. No escaping, just boredom and occasionally the creepy pre-adolescent.”
“This is where they had me and B before,” Faith told him, halting the incessant pacing long enough to address the younger boy. “If two Slayers can’t get out of here, this group doesn’t have much of a chance.”
Connor glared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Hands on hips, Faith turned to face him. “It means that most of the big powers are elsewhere, boy-wonder. The witch, the vampire, the Primary Slayer... All missing in action. That leaves this motley crew to pretty much twiddling our thumbs until they come back, then we make our move.”
“You’re a Slayer,” he challenged, rising to his feet. Dawn looked on, worried, before standing at his side and placing a calmly hand on his arm.
“That’s right,” Faith told him, sauntering to within inches of his face. “I am. And I’m pretty bad. Tough as they come, and most certainly not a quitter. But I’m not all-mighty, despite what my reputation would have you believe. Don’t think I’m capable of breaking down walls of absolutely nothing.”
“So without Buffy, you’re pretty much useless,” he sneered.
She raised an eyebrow and gave a low chuckle. “Don’t push me.”
His chin came up. “Why? You can’t hurt me.”
She laughed now, cold and dry. “Bring it on, baby boy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“I’m could kill you,” he taunted, assuming a fighting stance.
Faith did likewise but before blows could be thrown, Giles pushed himself between them, throwing them backwards. “Enough!” he bellowed. With a glare he sent them retreating, reluctantly, then turned to address the entire group. “We will wait here, reserving our strength, and our solidity,” he spat, with glances at both Connor and Faith, “until our time. And then we will act. Until then, I want no more of this. Is that understood?” he snapped, glancing at Faith, then Connor, then the entire room. “Is that understood?!”
Slowly, they all nodded.
The group was silent after the outburst and Dawn hugged her knees to her chest as Xander embraced her tightly. “It’ll be okay,” he murmured. “I’m sure she’s fine. All of them. Everything will work out. Doesn’t it always?”
“You’re going to jinx us,” she told him unhappily.
The room was silent for a moment before Dawn turned to Xander again. “Where do you think Willow is?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. But Will’s strong. Stronger probably than any of us. She’ll be okay. She’s probably kicking major wizard butt right about now and any second she’s going to come stomping through that...invisible door,” he waved at the whiteness in the distance, “and rescue us all. Not unlike the ways of Xena, or She-Ra.”
“I loved She-Ra,” Dawn confided, feeling better.
“Just like She-Ra,” he nodded again. “Just like that.” If only he could convince himself of that, everything would be okay.
*~*~*
Willow’s eyes opened and for a moment she thought she was blind. Instead she realized that she could make out shadows and that the room was merely pitch black. Her eyesight remained intact. She tried to sit up but found herself strapped to some sort of bench, her arms and legs strapped down, her hands and feet tied, and an extremely uncomfortable strap over her throat, holding her head in place.
“He—hello?” she whispered fearfully. Oh Goddess, oh goddess, her brain ranted over and over in complete terror.
“Extracto,” she tried, expecting the bounds to loosen and fall away from her body. “Disente,” she tried again, to no avail.
Not good.
Her powers weren’t gone...she could feel a tingling of them left, but they were bound. Probably to keep her under control until they could be extracted for good.
Buffy...Xander...Angel...anyone?
No one answered her weak call.
Panic rising inside her, her chest thumped with the quickening beat of her heart and she heard her breathing start to become erratic. Calm down, she ordered herself. Relax. You’ll be okay. You’ll be fine. Someone will come. Someone will come get you.
In vain she strained her eyes trying to make out anything in the bleak darkness surrounding her. From what she could tell she was alone in the room, not that that was any comfort. Alone could be bad. Much more scary. Much more creepy.
Until the door opened and creepiness was redefined. As the door creaked open Willow blinked against the sudden burst of light being emitted from the being that walked…no, floated…inside and up to the table where Willow lie. The bright light seemed to come from within the figure and as she neared Willow’s eyes cleared and adjusted to the light and she was able to see that it was a woman in a dark purple hooded robe. Upon closer inspection, as the terrifying figure leaned over the table to which she was strapped, Willow was able to determine that the woman was faceless. There was a skull, hair...a neck and body, but absolutely no face, no eyes, no nose or lips.
Suppressing the desire to scream her head off, Willow stared in terror as the figure hovered over her as if the woman was peering through her non-existent eyes.
“Relax,” Karsis’s voice boomed from behind the floating demon. “It will all be over soon. Unless, of course, you’d like to change your mind.”
Willow’s eyes slammed shut. I will my powers back, I will my powers back, she chanted in her head. Her thoughts were followed by Karsis’ low chuckle.
“Begin,” he ordered.
There was a sudden rush of wind and Willow’s hair whipped around her. Her eyes opened as the woman in the purple robe suddenly grabbed hold of the red head’s arms and leaned in. Where no mouth had been on her rubbery face a small opening began to appear, cracking and twisting as a hole formed and opened, long and gaping, reminding Willow crazily of the guards in The Mummy.
Willow struggled mightily as the figure neared her face, clamping her mouth shut, instinctively knowing that’s what she was going for.
“Meet Janjer, Ms. Rosenberg,” Karsis introduced them as the girl continued to struggle, screaming muffled, closed-mouth screams as the demon closed in on her.
Despite her efforts, Willow did not succeed in keeping the demon from her. Without having opened her mouth her body suddenly became rigged as Janjer’s mouth opened and she sucked in a breath. Magic flew from Willow’s body down the throat of the demon. With every second that passed the little witch could feel herself being drained, growing weaker and less able to fight. The wind picked up terrible, blowing her hair around until the girl could no longer stand to even keep her eyes open. They fluttered shut as her body gave in and relaxed on the table, the power quickly being transferred from human to demon.
“What...YOU!” Karsis’ voice suddenly rang out as the door to the room flew opened, banging against the wall. There was a deep growl that Willow barely registered, so weak was she at this point.
“Get off her,” the newcomer growled and suddenly Janjer was thrown backwards. The demon screamed a horribly high-pitched cry as the connection between she and Willow was broken. From behind closed eyes Willow struggled to remain conscious. Her eyes fluttered slightly but it was no use. She was too far gone now to have the strength to even see her rescuer. Her brain registered the sounds of fighting, of snarls and growls from who she didn’t know. She didn’t care. She was floating now, within herself, hoping to go to a place where she could sleep and escape all of this. Before she could manage to sink into unconsciousness the straps holding her down were ripped from her body and thrown back.
“Help me,” someone ordered, and two sets of hands helped lift her up and off the table.
“She can’t walk,” another voice pointed out.
“I know. I’ll carry her.”
“They’ll be coming.”
“I know.”
She was lifted up into strong arms and felt herself being carried. “Easy now,” the soothing voice murmured in her ear. “I’ve got you.”
“Mmm...” she muttered, trying to form words or thoughts.
“Shh... Don’t. Just relax. I’ve got you....I’ve got you.”
The voice...it was familiar. Where...? Before she could open her eyes, force her body to acknowledge the person whose arms were around her, she was being bounced around as they headed quickly down the hall to freedom.
“Here,” the other voice called out in a stage whisper.
Her body jerked as they made a quick turn around a corner.
“Stay here until you hear the signal,” someone ordered. “I’ll be just a minute.”
“Hurry.”
A pause. “Who is she again?”
Another pause, a hand tenderly on her forehead. “Someone I used to know.”
“Old girlfriend?” came the reply, with a hint of smirk behind the tone.
“Something like that. Now, go. We have to get to the others. Especially Buffy and Angel.”
“On it.”
Footsteps hurried away as Willow lay on the floor, cradled in the arms of her unknown rescuer. Mustering her strength she felt her eyelids flutter and fail her. She tried again.
“Don’t strain yourself...” the voice whispered softly.
That voice. Willow stilled. It couldn’t be. How..? No...it wasn’t...
With whatever she had left, and that wasn’t much, she forced her eyes open for a split second and made them focus on the face looming above her. A male hand blocked her view as he gently smoothed the hair on her forehead, and her vision swam before her. When the hand moved, her eyes cleared momentarily and she saw.
“Oz?” she murmured wondrously, then fainted into the blackness that beckoned.
