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Title: In Sunlight or Shadow (14/18)
Author: chocgood84
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17 overall
Notes: Vamp!Xander series; the usual applies: blood play, smut, schmoop and man-luvin. Previous parts: here.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Spike, Xander, or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. If I did, this wouldn’t be fanfic, it’d be cannon. These belong to Mutant Enemy and its creator, Joss Whedon. No harm, no foul.
“They’re coming, they’re coming!” She screamed again, louder and screeching. “Don’t let them in, don’t let the dark in!”
Spike and Xander looked at each other, both feeling it coming. Neither was surprised by the next turn of events: the bedside lamps that were glowing brightly slowly dimmed and blinked out, allowing the shadows to seep into the room.
The darkness closed around them like wool drapes, close and suffocating. For a brief moment, nothing stirred, and the only sound that filled the piercing darkness was Buffy’s erratic breathing and the tremulous knocking of three mortal heartbeats. The darkness was surreal – not even Xander’s improved vision could cut through it; it was as if someone had blindfolded them all.
The moment didn’t last, however, and soon Buffy’s nightmare prophecy was confirmed. Elsewhere in the apartment, the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood pierced the unnatural darkness like a blade against slate. The creatures that had visited them with destruction the night before were here to haunt them once more; yet this time everyone in the room knew that they weren’t being haunted – they were being hunted.
Xander opened the drawer of the nightstand to the left of him, ripping through it and pulling out photos, memos, senseless scraps of paper. Finally, he found what he was searching for, and he gave an outward admonishment of self-congratulation. Like any self-respecting southern Californian resident, he was prepared for when San Andreas felt like shaking things up - he only prayed that the batteries were still charged.
A white beam of light sliced through the blackness, and they all gasped their relief as Xander wielded his tiny Gas-n-Save keychain flashlight. Beaming it on the other four occupants to check for their safety, he leapt from beside the bed, tossing the flashlight to Willow.
“Spike, quick – help me barricade the door! Willow, aim the light at the window!” Xander yelled as the noise in the other rooms grew louder.
Spike picked up the armchair in the corner and hauled it to where Xander was pushing the dresser against the bedroom door. The two of them slid the heavy piece of wood and brass in one smooth motion, stacking the chair on top of it. Spike grabbed one nightstand as Xander grabbed the other, placing those on top of the dresser as well.
They heard the last of the living room windows break as their phantom hunters rushed into the apartment. A loud explosion, and they knew the front door had been demolished as well.
A quick glance at each other, and Spike and Xander each took a side of the large armoire standing next to the window. Pushing and pulling, they managed to brace the formidable object against the glass – hopefully stalling their shadow-clad opponents.
“Spike, get the girls into the bathroom. There’s no windows, so it should be safe in there,” Xander yelled as he ran into the closet, shoving back sweaters and old work uniforms. Somewhere in the mess of polyester and wool was all his camping gear. As he was ransacking through the clutter, he heard the ear-shattering bang as the demons rushed the door. Again, and once more, and Xander heard a loud crack as the frame or the wall itself started to give.
“Xander, love, now is not the time to be making a wardrobe change!” Spike called nervously from the closet entrance.
“It’s gotta be here, somewhere, Spike!” Xander screamed back. There was another pounding and a louder crack. Only a few more blows and the demons would be in the room.
“Come on, Xander!” Spike yelled, grabbing Xander’s hand and trying to pull him out. Just then Xander noticed the green shade poking up through a puddle of terrycloth towels. He grabbed the flimsy handle, pulling it free as Spike practically picked him up, pushing and shoving him into the dark bathroom, slamming the door behind them. Spike flipped the lock and stood against the door, bracing it for the impact.
“Willow, where’s the flashlight?” Xander asked, wincing as he heard another severe crack. So much for a security deposit.
“The batteries died!” Willow yelped from the darkness.
“Figures,” Xander muttered, setting down the heavy object and patting his pants pockets for his Zippa and almost cheering when he found it. He flipped it open and thumbed the trigger, but not even a spark broke the darkness. He flicked it again and had the same result. “Son of a bitch!”
“Here, use mine,” Spike called, tossing his Zippo to Xander. It was sheer luck and vampire instincts that Xander actually caught it in the molasses-thick blackness.
One flick of Xander’s thumb, and the room was filled with the wavering orange glow from the Zippo’s chimney. He opened the glass casing of the green Coleman lantern he’d searched so diligently for and touched flame to wick. Closing the casing and turning the key, the room was flooded with blazing orange and yellow flickering light.
“Willow, Tara, can you put up a protective whatever?” Xander asked, his voice calm but demanding. Hey, look at that – still Soldier Boy.
Without a word, the two witches sat Indian-style on tile floor, their knees touching and their hands holding each others’. Their lips started to move and over the cacophony, Xander could hear hurried whispers as they induced the spell.
Another explosion of wood and plaster, and Xander knew the bedroom had been breeched – there were only seconds before the phantoms would enter the bathroom. He rushed to the door, shouldering all his weight against it. His eyes met Spike’s, and though neither said a word, he could feel the love and the trust in that gaze. Spike smiled that smile that Xander knew was only for him, and Xander returned his own. Love you so much, he thought.
Just then there was a rattling crash, and Xander and Spike were rocked with the impact. Each man planted his feet firmly on the floor, their shoulders burrowing against the wooden door. Another crash, and Xander knew they wouldn’t be able to hold their adversaries much longer. Sooner then the last, there was another wood-cracking thwack!, this time sending the two vampires flailing to the floor.
Before they could scramble back to their places, there was one more crash, this one being the finale as the door burst from its frame, splinters and slats of cheap wood raining down them.
Three, five, a dozen and more distinct faces appeared the blackness like a gruesome freak show flyer photo with ink spilt on it. Long, thin faces with points instead of chins and open slits where mouths should have been. There were noises coming from the being’s mouths that sounded like a cross between children crying and cats hissing. The eyes were large orbs of blazing coal, black that darker than midnight. No nose or hair, limbs or torso; it appeared as if the faces were floating in the swirling shadows, yet somehow Xander knew they were more powerful than he.
The demons tried to deluge into the room, but the one in front gave out a screech, its distorted voice raising several octaves and making both Spike and Xander cover their ears. Before their eyes, the shadow-face exploded into hundreds of pieces, shadows raining down and evaporating into thin air. Another demon tried to rush towards them, but the process was repeated.
Xander looked to Spike who in turn looked at him. Not exchanging a word, they both reached for the lantern, pulling it to them as they stood. Xander thrust the lamp towards the mass of limbless faces, pleased to find them either dissipate themselves or rush back from the light. Hissing and crying, it seemed as if hundreds of pairs of coal eyes glared at them from the teaming darkness and shadows that rocked throughout the room like a ship spinning in a tempest’s fury.
Xander felt the hair on his neck and arms shoot up and the demon within him rage against its mental cage as the sizzle and pop of magic filled the room. He glanced back at the girls to find them still facing each other, their words were more rapid and intense, their posture more rigid. All at once, their voices stopped completely, a momentary pause of stillness that seemed so unreal, so dreamlike, Xander wondered if all of this was real.
The moment quickly passed however, as there was an abrupt explosion of energy that found its crater within the witches. Like a tidal wave, the rolling expanse of static-charged atmosphere washed through them, that too fighting with the demon inside of Xander. Though it was invisible, he thought he could see the field of energy swiftly flowing outwards like an atomic bomb in a movie he’d once seen. He could feel it inside of him, passing through him, like a burning chilling sensation.
But before he could analyze the feeling more deeply, he noticed its effect on their foes – screeching and howling, many suffered the fate of their fallen comrades. But the others – the majority – fled like a swarm of angry gnats from the room. The shadows receded like released floodwater, leaving in their wake only calm and stillness. And as they retreated, light was reborn. Whatever mystical power they held over electric light was surrendered as they abandoned their assault.
Xander felt a hand on his shoulder and realized it was Spike. Turning, he pulled the blonde into a tight hug and a tender kiss. Not the first time their lives had been threatened, but for some reason, Xander felt it more this time. Felt his mortality, even with the knowledge that he was no longer mortal.
“Oh God, Spike,” Xander whispered. “We really need to get out of this line of work.”
“Tell me about it,” Spike snorted.
A rather loud throat clearing from one redhead behind them, and Xander was brought back to earth.
“Uh…thanks, Will. And Tara,” Xander mumbled.
Willow had her arms wrapped around her girl, brushing long blond hair of her eyes. She rolled her eyes and shrugged half-heartedly.
“It’s what we do,” she said pointedly.
“Wait, Buffy!” Tara exclaimed, scanning the room for the missing slayer.
“Shit! Where is she?” Xander squeaked. Instinct kicked in, and he allowed his senses to zero in the erratic heartbeat thundering away from behind the shower door. Crossing the large room, he popped the door open with a metallic clang. What he found inside made his chest feel like he’d just been sucker punched.
“Fuck,” Willow whispered from his side.
On the slick floor of the shower stall, curled up with her legs tucked tightly under her chin and rocking slowly back and forth, Buffy was mouthing the mantra that had greeted her in nightmares only minutes ago…”Don’t let them in…Don’t let the dark in…They’re coming…They’re coming…
”Spike, can you stop pacing for at least a few minutes?” Willow asked, glaring at the blonde vampire who had been marching back and forth through the apartment for the better part of an hour.
Spike paused mid-stride and threw her a puzzled look, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he’d almost worn a path in the thick shag rug. After rolling his eyes and sighing heavily, he threw himself gracelessly onto the couch and started clucking his tongue.
”Spike!” Willow screeched. “We’re trying to research, here.”
“Well, you won’t get much done if you keep nattering at me, now will you?” Spike snapped back. “Besides, what makes you think these shifty shadowy blowing-up demons are even in those old dust collectors, anyway?”
“I’m not natt-" Willow started to protest, but was shushed by a gentle nudge from Tara.
“It’s the only place we have to start, Spike,” Tara spoke, soft and confidant. “Unless you know of anything else we can do?”
“No, I suppose not. Carry on then, Glinda,” Spike conceded.
“Don’t worry, Spike. Buffy’ll be okay,” Willow said.
“Buffy? Who says I’m worried about Buffy?” Spike asked with another patented eye rolling. “I’m worried about my boy in there,” he said, gesturing to the bedroom where Xander was checking on the unconscious slayer.
After finding her in a not-quite-well mental state in the shower, Xander and Spike had carried her into the bedroom and put her back under the blankets. Seconds later, she was fast asleep and had been for a couple of hours now. Every once in a while, one of them would check on her to make sure she wasn’t having a nightmare or consorting with an evil spirit or talking to stars. No one had said anything about how frightened they had been at seeing her so crazy, but they all felt it; they all knew that everyone else felt it too. And they all knew they were even more afraid of what she’d be like when she woke up once more.
“He’ll be fine, Spike. We’ll all be…fine,” Tara said.
“How do you know? Those things got in here, into our home,” Spike explained. For the first time, he felt like he couldn’t protect what was his. He couldn’t promise that he’d be able to protect Xander. And that just felt…wrong. It left a sour taste in his mouth.
“I just know,” she said pointedly.
“Know what?” Xander asked, appearing in the hall and leaning against the doorway.
“That you make the prettiest face when you -“
“And that’s enough of that, blondie bear” Xander said, smirking and winking at Spike. Unphased by the growl that particular epithet earned him, he made his way to the couch and fell unceremoniously on top of the snarling he-beast from Uber-Hot Hell. While Willow blushed and Tara grinned, he proceeded to plant gentle kisses along Spike’s jaw and chin, nuzzling softly against the older vampire’s chest.
“Told you not to call me that,” Spike chided.
“And I told you not to hide my underwear,” Xander countered. What he didn’t mention, however, is that he really didn’t mind.
“Why, s’not like you need it. Not to mention, it’s easier to-“
“Oh! I found something!” Willow exclaimed, pointing to the book in front of her that was probably just a hair thicker than she was tall.
“What is it, Witchy Woman?” Xander asked, nipping at Spike’s cheek and escaping his arms. He went and stood behind her, trying to read the ancient text over her shoulder.
“Well, it’s kind of vague –“ She started.
“What else is new?” Spike quipped, recoiling somewhat from the glare that Willow sent his way.
“This passage makes a reference to…Tara, what does this say?” She asked, pushing the book over to the blonde girl. To Xander’s puzzled look, she replied, “Tara’s better at Latin than I am.”
Xander nodded and waited while Tara scanned the reference. Her already pale complexion seemed to fade completely. He had a hard time making her shape out up against the white wall of the kitchen. This can’t be good…
“It – it says,” Tara began, paused to clear her throat, and continued. “The reference here is to ‘faces in the shadows that haunt those in the light. Beasts of no form with eyes the color of darkness and intentions black as night. They will seep through the shadows and envelop light that runs stilly. They will hunt and kill whomever and whatever stands between them and the ultimate darkness. They are called Umbra Venator’…Shadow Hunters.”
“And I think I speak for all of us when I say Gulp” Xander quipped. He looked to Spike, who had taken a seat across the table from the witches. Spike peered back at him with a look of anger and possession tinged by fear and tiredness.
“Willow, hand me that book,” Tara said, her voice barely above a whisper. Willow complied, dropping the heavy leather-bound parchment on top of the other. Tara flipped through the pages, cautious of damage.
“What, you’ve read about these Uber Senators before?” Xander wondered, looking back and forth from Tara to the book she was rapidly paging through.
“Umbra Venator, Xander,” Willow said, stressing each syllable; ever the school teacher.
“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled, slipping around the table and sliding into the chair next to Spike. He smiled warmly at the hand that found its way to his thigh, gripping tenderly yet forcefully. “So you’ve read about them before?”
“No. Well, yes. I mean, maybe,” she mumbled, stopping on a page and running her index finger through several lines of text, wrinkling her brow, and paging further on.
Xander, Spike, and Willow all exchanged a glance, each of them knowing the others’ thoughts, the single most being that this is really not good. Xander’s own hand found it’s way to the top of Spike’s, turning it and entangling their fingers together. Somehow even that small contact was enough to make Xander’s near-present panic subside to less than surface level nausea.
“Aha!” Tara exclaimed proudly. “Here it is!”
The look of pride that had graced her lovely face slowly melted into something much worse, however, as she scanned the passage, her silent lips moving in time with the text. Her brow furrowed and her lips quivered softly, and Xander felt Spike’s grip tighten in his.
“What’s the matter, baby?” Willow asked tenderly, shyly.
“It – it says,” she mumbled, cleared her throat again and started again. “It says here, ‘And Shadows shall inherit the earth. As it was in the beginning, so it shall be in the end. The dark men of shadows shall expel Horus. Though unlikely, a savior can be found in the brother and lover of Phoenix. A child and enemy of Horus reborn to Set; a champion in the battle against Anubis for his fallen knight, Phoenix, shall be this mighty savior. His battle with Anubis won, the savior shall take the Phoenix as his lover and the two shall complete the essence of Shu.”
Tara paused in her reading, her gaze ping-ponging from the text to the two men across from her. When Xander met her gaze, she smiled nervously, and found the passage once more.
“’Only Shu can shield and guide them from the jealous wrath of Khepara to the sacred Grove of Shadows where Horus’ savior shall set him free by the strength of his bond with Phoenix and the sacrifice of Shu. Only then can the men of shadows be battled and conquered and only then can Horus return to his rightful place in the heavens, restoring balance between Set and Shu.’”
For a few minutes, no one said anything. Nothing in the room stirred as the four of them bounced gazes back and forth from each other. Willow draped her arm around Tara’s shoulders, pulling her close, and Spike did the same to Xander. Finally, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, Xander broke the silence.
“Well what the fuck does that mean?” He asked gruffly.
“It means it’s time we kick some shadowy ass,” a voice said from the hallway, causing them all to jump.
Buffy stood in the hallway, her hands at her side and clenched into fists. Her face was set in a rigid mask of anger and benevolence, her eyes narrowed and lips in a tight snarl. Gone was the fear that had made the apartment reek; gone was the sorrow that had draped her shoulders like great stone weights. Now there was only confidence, energy, vengeance.
“Finally!” Spike declared. “Someone’s saying something I like.”
They slowly filed their way out of the apartment with Willow and Buffy in the front, Tara in the middle, and Spike and Xander bringing up the tail. The hallway was thick with a claustrophobic darkness and wet with the scent of fear and decay. No air moved through the space and not a single element quivered in the darkness. This night-day, it seemed, had been paused.
No one spoke as they descended the stairs, their steps like the thrumming rain of a distant storm on the metal emergency staircase. Elsewhere in the building, there was no sound, no scent, no one alive, and Xander again wondered if they were the only ones left in Sunnydale.
Muted light, thick with fog and dense with wrongness, rolled into the chamber as Buffy kicked open the fire door. When nothing attacked, they ventured outside into the unnaturally overcast day.
“Quick, get to the truck before the bastards know we’re out,” Xander half-whispered, half-shouted. And all at once, they were rushing towards where they had last seen his truck. Instead, however, they found an empty space where only curb and concrete resided.
“Where’d it go?” Willow asked with panic flooding her voice.
“They did something with it,” Buffy explained. “Come on, we’ll have to get there on foot. Ready, Willow?”
“Y-yeah, just let me –“ Willow was abruptly cut off by the screeching chalkboard scream of the Umbra Venator as they descended on the troop, swiping and grabbing at hair, clothing, anything they could grasp with suddenly corporeal hands and claws.
“Now, Willow!” Buffy yelled, dodging an inky fist that flew at her face.
“Lux lucis via quod videlicet semita!” Willow called into the storm of shadows that wrapped themselves around the group like flames on lumber. Suddenly, the fog around them dissipated, creating a crater of clarity. Though sunlight could not penetrate through the clouds above them, the area around them was suddenly alive with a flood of light and wind, clearing the fog and forcing the shadow demons to recede from them.
“It worked!” Xander howled, grabbing Willow and pulling her into a tight hug.
“Was there any doubt?” The redhead asked, all innocence and smiles.
“Uh, no, course not, Wills,” Xander lied.
“Come on, then, let’s get a move on,” Spike scolded, pulling Xander away from the witch and wrapping an arm around his waist. “May not be all danger anymore, but we’re certainly not safe out here.”
“Spike’s right, we have to go,” Buffy said, not acknowledging what she just said. “Let’s get back to my house, grab whatever weapons we can, and find Giles.”
“Sounds good, Buff – but how do we find him again?” Xander asked, snaking his own arm across Spike’s waist and falling in step with him.
“They said something right before they knocked me out…something about the Sacred Grove-“
“of Darkness. Yeah, we know that much, but we don’t know where that’s at,” Xander interrupted.
“Before you interrupted me, I was going to say that earlier tonight, er, last night, Giles told me that the council had said it was south of Sunnydale – in Dark Creek Canyon. So, all we have to do is find that. I think an ex-librarian ex-watcher who still watches while wearing ugly tweed brit-clothes should be kinda hard to miss, don’t you?” Buffy quipped.
“Dark Creek Canyon? Why can’t these sacred things ever be someplace fun, or easily accessible, like say the parking lot at the mall, or the concession stand of the movie theater?” Xander wondered aloud.
“Because hellmouthy goodness doesn’t enjoy the matinee,” Tara deadpanned.
“Oh, baby, you’re the greatest,” Willow chimed, locking hands with the blonde.
The five of them walked in silence, guided through the ghost town that was covered in clouds and silenced with cotton by the use of a single flickering bead of light that Willow had summoned for them. No one in the town stirred. No vehicles passed them, no church bells rang, no espresso pumps espressoed. And traveling with them was the circle of clarity that Willow had managed to magick.
Halfway to 1630 Rovello Drive, the fog around the circle seemed to darken, and Xander watched as the faces of the demons emerged in shadows and darkness around them. A chorus of crying and hissing and screaming and moaning sang to them. Buffy halted momentarily, but decided to press further on. The closer they came to the Summers home, the louder the demons wailed, and the darker the fog seemed to get, until finally it appeared that outside of their circle of light and clarity darkness had fallen and was spinning and swirling like molten wax and ink.
They had just passed Buffy’s mailbox, which Spike half-attempted to kick over before Xander had pulled him back, when all of a sudden, the demons vanished. One moment it was pitch black around them, and the next the blackness was replaced with the fog.
“This can’t be good,” Spike said.
His admonishment was suddenly proven correct as the fog around them washed away like the morning tide, farther and farther back until they could all feel the warmth of the sun’s rays beating down on their heads, arms, hands. Xander sent a panic-stricken glance to Spike, finding the vampire’s demon had surfaced as he screamed and howled at the burning sunlight – moaning and hissing.
A blood-curdling scream pierced Xander’s ears and he realized it was his own voice, thundering and crashing through him as he felt the sunlight sear against his skin. As Spike rushed to cover Xander and shield him from the light, Xander saw the look on Buffy’s face – echoed in Willow’s and mirrored in Tara’s.
The jig is up, Xander half-realized as both Buffy and Willow took large steps away from them. The cat’s out of the bag. At least I don’t have to worry about Buffy staking me. Because Xander understood; he knew that his own demon had come tearing to the surface, that his skin was turning black and smoking. Knew he only had a few precious moments left on this earth.
Author: chocgood84
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17 overall
Notes: Vamp!Xander series; the usual applies: blood play, smut, schmoop and man-luvin. Previous parts: here.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Spike, Xander, or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. If I did, this wouldn’t be fanfic, it’d be cannon. These belong to Mutant Enemy and its creator, Joss Whedon. No harm, no foul.
“They’re coming, they’re coming!” She screamed again, louder and screeching. “Don’t let them in, don’t let the dark in!”
Spike and Xander looked at each other, both feeling it coming. Neither was surprised by the next turn of events: the bedside lamps that were glowing brightly slowly dimmed and blinked out, allowing the shadows to seep into the room.
The darkness closed around them like wool drapes, close and suffocating. For a brief moment, nothing stirred, and the only sound that filled the piercing darkness was Buffy’s erratic breathing and the tremulous knocking of three mortal heartbeats. The darkness was surreal – not even Xander’s improved vision could cut through it; it was as if someone had blindfolded them all.
The moment didn’t last, however, and soon Buffy’s nightmare prophecy was confirmed. Elsewhere in the apartment, the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood pierced the unnatural darkness like a blade against slate. The creatures that had visited them with destruction the night before were here to haunt them once more; yet this time everyone in the room knew that they weren’t being haunted – they were being hunted.
Xander opened the drawer of the nightstand to the left of him, ripping through it and pulling out photos, memos, senseless scraps of paper. Finally, he found what he was searching for, and he gave an outward admonishment of self-congratulation. Like any self-respecting southern Californian resident, he was prepared for when San Andreas felt like shaking things up - he only prayed that the batteries were still charged.
A white beam of light sliced through the blackness, and they all gasped their relief as Xander wielded his tiny Gas-n-Save keychain flashlight. Beaming it on the other four occupants to check for their safety, he leapt from beside the bed, tossing the flashlight to Willow.
“Spike, quick – help me barricade the door! Willow, aim the light at the window!” Xander yelled as the noise in the other rooms grew louder.
Spike picked up the armchair in the corner and hauled it to where Xander was pushing the dresser against the bedroom door. The two of them slid the heavy piece of wood and brass in one smooth motion, stacking the chair on top of it. Spike grabbed one nightstand as Xander grabbed the other, placing those on top of the dresser as well.
They heard the last of the living room windows break as their phantom hunters rushed into the apartment. A loud explosion, and they knew the front door had been demolished as well.
A quick glance at each other, and Spike and Xander each took a side of the large armoire standing next to the window. Pushing and pulling, they managed to brace the formidable object against the glass – hopefully stalling their shadow-clad opponents.
“Spike, get the girls into the bathroom. There’s no windows, so it should be safe in there,” Xander yelled as he ran into the closet, shoving back sweaters and old work uniforms. Somewhere in the mess of polyester and wool was all his camping gear. As he was ransacking through the clutter, he heard the ear-shattering bang as the demons rushed the door. Again, and once more, and Xander heard a loud crack as the frame or the wall itself started to give.
“Xander, love, now is not the time to be making a wardrobe change!” Spike called nervously from the closet entrance.
“It’s gotta be here, somewhere, Spike!” Xander screamed back. There was another pounding and a louder crack. Only a few more blows and the demons would be in the room.
“Come on, Xander!” Spike yelled, grabbing Xander’s hand and trying to pull him out. Just then Xander noticed the green shade poking up through a puddle of terrycloth towels. He grabbed the flimsy handle, pulling it free as Spike practically picked him up, pushing and shoving him into the dark bathroom, slamming the door behind them. Spike flipped the lock and stood against the door, bracing it for the impact.
“Willow, where’s the flashlight?” Xander asked, wincing as he heard another severe crack. So much for a security deposit.
“The batteries died!” Willow yelped from the darkness.
“Figures,” Xander muttered, setting down the heavy object and patting his pants pockets for his Zippa and almost cheering when he found it. He flipped it open and thumbed the trigger, but not even a spark broke the darkness. He flicked it again and had the same result. “Son of a bitch!”
“Here, use mine,” Spike called, tossing his Zippo to Xander. It was sheer luck and vampire instincts that Xander actually caught it in the molasses-thick blackness.
One flick of Xander’s thumb, and the room was filled with the wavering orange glow from the Zippo’s chimney. He opened the glass casing of the green Coleman lantern he’d searched so diligently for and touched flame to wick. Closing the casing and turning the key, the room was flooded with blazing orange and yellow flickering light.
“Willow, Tara, can you put up a protective whatever?” Xander asked, his voice calm but demanding. Hey, look at that – still Soldier Boy.
Without a word, the two witches sat Indian-style on tile floor, their knees touching and their hands holding each others’. Their lips started to move and over the cacophony, Xander could hear hurried whispers as they induced the spell.
Another explosion of wood and plaster, and Xander knew the bedroom had been breeched – there were only seconds before the phantoms would enter the bathroom. He rushed to the door, shouldering all his weight against it. His eyes met Spike’s, and though neither said a word, he could feel the love and the trust in that gaze. Spike smiled that smile that Xander knew was only for him, and Xander returned his own. Love you so much, he thought.
Just then there was a rattling crash, and Xander and Spike were rocked with the impact. Each man planted his feet firmly on the floor, their shoulders burrowing against the wooden door. Another crash, and Xander knew they wouldn’t be able to hold their adversaries much longer. Sooner then the last, there was another wood-cracking thwack!, this time sending the two vampires flailing to the floor.
Before they could scramble back to their places, there was one more crash, this one being the finale as the door burst from its frame, splinters and slats of cheap wood raining down them.
Three, five, a dozen and more distinct faces appeared the blackness like a gruesome freak show flyer photo with ink spilt on it. Long, thin faces with points instead of chins and open slits where mouths should have been. There were noises coming from the being’s mouths that sounded like a cross between children crying and cats hissing. The eyes were large orbs of blazing coal, black that darker than midnight. No nose or hair, limbs or torso; it appeared as if the faces were floating in the swirling shadows, yet somehow Xander knew they were more powerful than he.
The demons tried to deluge into the room, but the one in front gave out a screech, its distorted voice raising several octaves and making both Spike and Xander cover their ears. Before their eyes, the shadow-face exploded into hundreds of pieces, shadows raining down and evaporating into thin air. Another demon tried to rush towards them, but the process was repeated.
Xander looked to Spike who in turn looked at him. Not exchanging a word, they both reached for the lantern, pulling it to them as they stood. Xander thrust the lamp towards the mass of limbless faces, pleased to find them either dissipate themselves or rush back from the light. Hissing and crying, it seemed as if hundreds of pairs of coal eyes glared at them from the teaming darkness and shadows that rocked throughout the room like a ship spinning in a tempest’s fury.
Xander felt the hair on his neck and arms shoot up and the demon within him rage against its mental cage as the sizzle and pop of magic filled the room. He glanced back at the girls to find them still facing each other, their words were more rapid and intense, their posture more rigid. All at once, their voices stopped completely, a momentary pause of stillness that seemed so unreal, so dreamlike, Xander wondered if all of this was real.
The moment quickly passed however, as there was an abrupt explosion of energy that found its crater within the witches. Like a tidal wave, the rolling expanse of static-charged atmosphere washed through them, that too fighting with the demon inside of Xander. Though it was invisible, he thought he could see the field of energy swiftly flowing outwards like an atomic bomb in a movie he’d once seen. He could feel it inside of him, passing through him, like a burning chilling sensation.
But before he could analyze the feeling more deeply, he noticed its effect on their foes – screeching and howling, many suffered the fate of their fallen comrades. But the others – the majority – fled like a swarm of angry gnats from the room. The shadows receded like released floodwater, leaving in their wake only calm and stillness. And as they retreated, light was reborn. Whatever mystical power they held over electric light was surrendered as they abandoned their assault.
Xander felt a hand on his shoulder and realized it was Spike. Turning, he pulled the blonde into a tight hug and a tender kiss. Not the first time their lives had been threatened, but for some reason, Xander felt it more this time. Felt his mortality, even with the knowledge that he was no longer mortal.
“Oh God, Spike,” Xander whispered. “We really need to get out of this line of work.”
“Tell me about it,” Spike snorted.
A rather loud throat clearing from one redhead behind them, and Xander was brought back to earth.
“Uh…thanks, Will. And Tara,” Xander mumbled.
Willow had her arms wrapped around her girl, brushing long blond hair of her eyes. She rolled her eyes and shrugged half-heartedly.
“It’s what we do,” she said pointedly.
“Wait, Buffy!” Tara exclaimed, scanning the room for the missing slayer.
“Shit! Where is she?” Xander squeaked. Instinct kicked in, and he allowed his senses to zero in the erratic heartbeat thundering away from behind the shower door. Crossing the large room, he popped the door open with a metallic clang. What he found inside made his chest feel like he’d just been sucker punched.
“Fuck,” Willow whispered from his side.
On the slick floor of the shower stall, curled up with her legs tucked tightly under her chin and rocking slowly back and forth, Buffy was mouthing the mantra that had greeted her in nightmares only minutes ago…”Don’t let them in…Don’t let the dark in…They’re coming…They’re coming…
”Spike, can you stop pacing for at least a few minutes?” Willow asked, glaring at the blonde vampire who had been marching back and forth through the apartment for the better part of an hour.
Spike paused mid-stride and threw her a puzzled look, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he’d almost worn a path in the thick shag rug. After rolling his eyes and sighing heavily, he threw himself gracelessly onto the couch and started clucking his tongue.
”Spike!” Willow screeched. “We’re trying to research, here.”
“Well, you won’t get much done if you keep nattering at me, now will you?” Spike snapped back. “Besides, what makes you think these shifty shadowy blowing-up demons are even in those old dust collectors, anyway?”
“I’m not natt-" Willow started to protest, but was shushed by a gentle nudge from Tara.
“It’s the only place we have to start, Spike,” Tara spoke, soft and confidant. “Unless you know of anything else we can do?”
“No, I suppose not. Carry on then, Glinda,” Spike conceded.
“Don’t worry, Spike. Buffy’ll be okay,” Willow said.
“Buffy? Who says I’m worried about Buffy?” Spike asked with another patented eye rolling. “I’m worried about my boy in there,” he said, gesturing to the bedroom where Xander was checking on the unconscious slayer.
After finding her in a not-quite-well mental state in the shower, Xander and Spike had carried her into the bedroom and put her back under the blankets. Seconds later, she was fast asleep and had been for a couple of hours now. Every once in a while, one of them would check on her to make sure she wasn’t having a nightmare or consorting with an evil spirit or talking to stars. No one had said anything about how frightened they had been at seeing her so crazy, but they all felt it; they all knew that everyone else felt it too. And they all knew they were even more afraid of what she’d be like when she woke up once more.
“He’ll be fine, Spike. We’ll all be…fine,” Tara said.
“How do you know? Those things got in here, into our home,” Spike explained. For the first time, he felt like he couldn’t protect what was his. He couldn’t promise that he’d be able to protect Xander. And that just felt…wrong. It left a sour taste in his mouth.
“I just know,” she said pointedly.
“Know what?” Xander asked, appearing in the hall and leaning against the doorway.
“That you make the prettiest face when you -“
“And that’s enough of that, blondie bear” Xander said, smirking and winking at Spike. Unphased by the growl that particular epithet earned him, he made his way to the couch and fell unceremoniously on top of the snarling he-beast from Uber-Hot Hell. While Willow blushed and Tara grinned, he proceeded to plant gentle kisses along Spike’s jaw and chin, nuzzling softly against the older vampire’s chest.
“Told you not to call me that,” Spike chided.
“And I told you not to hide my underwear,” Xander countered. What he didn’t mention, however, is that he really didn’t mind.
“Why, s’not like you need it. Not to mention, it’s easier to-“
“Oh! I found something!” Willow exclaimed, pointing to the book in front of her that was probably just a hair thicker than she was tall.
“What is it, Witchy Woman?” Xander asked, nipping at Spike’s cheek and escaping his arms. He went and stood behind her, trying to read the ancient text over her shoulder.
“Well, it’s kind of vague –“ She started.
“What else is new?” Spike quipped, recoiling somewhat from the glare that Willow sent his way.
“This passage makes a reference to…Tara, what does this say?” She asked, pushing the book over to the blonde girl. To Xander’s puzzled look, she replied, “Tara’s better at Latin than I am.”
Xander nodded and waited while Tara scanned the reference. Her already pale complexion seemed to fade completely. He had a hard time making her shape out up against the white wall of the kitchen. This can’t be good…
“It – it says,” Tara began, paused to clear her throat, and continued. “The reference here is to ‘faces in the shadows that haunt those in the light. Beasts of no form with eyes the color of darkness and intentions black as night. They will seep through the shadows and envelop light that runs stilly. They will hunt and kill whomever and whatever stands between them and the ultimate darkness. They are called Umbra Venator’…Shadow Hunters.”
“And I think I speak for all of us when I say Gulp” Xander quipped. He looked to Spike, who had taken a seat across the table from the witches. Spike peered back at him with a look of anger and possession tinged by fear and tiredness.
“Willow, hand me that book,” Tara said, her voice barely above a whisper. Willow complied, dropping the heavy leather-bound parchment on top of the other. Tara flipped through the pages, cautious of damage.
“What, you’ve read about these Uber Senators before?” Xander wondered, looking back and forth from Tara to the book she was rapidly paging through.
“Umbra Venator, Xander,” Willow said, stressing each syllable; ever the school teacher.
“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled, slipping around the table and sliding into the chair next to Spike. He smiled warmly at the hand that found its way to his thigh, gripping tenderly yet forcefully. “So you’ve read about them before?”
“No. Well, yes. I mean, maybe,” she mumbled, stopping on a page and running her index finger through several lines of text, wrinkling her brow, and paging further on.
Xander, Spike, and Willow all exchanged a glance, each of them knowing the others’ thoughts, the single most being that this is really not good. Xander’s own hand found it’s way to the top of Spike’s, turning it and entangling their fingers together. Somehow even that small contact was enough to make Xander’s near-present panic subside to less than surface level nausea.
“Aha!” Tara exclaimed proudly. “Here it is!”
The look of pride that had graced her lovely face slowly melted into something much worse, however, as she scanned the passage, her silent lips moving in time with the text. Her brow furrowed and her lips quivered softly, and Xander felt Spike’s grip tighten in his.
“What’s the matter, baby?” Willow asked tenderly, shyly.
“It – it says,” she mumbled, cleared her throat again and started again. “It says here, ‘And Shadows shall inherit the earth. As it was in the beginning, so it shall be in the end. The dark men of shadows shall expel Horus. Though unlikely, a savior can be found in the brother and lover of Phoenix. A child and enemy of Horus reborn to Set; a champion in the battle against Anubis for his fallen knight, Phoenix, shall be this mighty savior. His battle with Anubis won, the savior shall take the Phoenix as his lover and the two shall complete the essence of Shu.”
Tara paused in her reading, her gaze ping-ponging from the text to the two men across from her. When Xander met her gaze, she smiled nervously, and found the passage once more.
“’Only Shu can shield and guide them from the jealous wrath of Khepara to the sacred Grove of Shadows where Horus’ savior shall set him free by the strength of his bond with Phoenix and the sacrifice of Shu. Only then can the men of shadows be battled and conquered and only then can Horus return to his rightful place in the heavens, restoring balance between Set and Shu.’”
For a few minutes, no one said anything. Nothing in the room stirred as the four of them bounced gazes back and forth from each other. Willow draped her arm around Tara’s shoulders, pulling her close, and Spike did the same to Xander. Finally, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, Xander broke the silence.
“Well what the fuck does that mean?” He asked gruffly.
“It means it’s time we kick some shadowy ass,” a voice said from the hallway, causing them all to jump.
Buffy stood in the hallway, her hands at her side and clenched into fists. Her face was set in a rigid mask of anger and benevolence, her eyes narrowed and lips in a tight snarl. Gone was the fear that had made the apartment reek; gone was the sorrow that had draped her shoulders like great stone weights. Now there was only confidence, energy, vengeance.
“Finally!” Spike declared. “Someone’s saying something I like.”
They slowly filed their way out of the apartment with Willow and Buffy in the front, Tara in the middle, and Spike and Xander bringing up the tail. The hallway was thick with a claustrophobic darkness and wet with the scent of fear and decay. No air moved through the space and not a single element quivered in the darkness. This night-day, it seemed, had been paused.
No one spoke as they descended the stairs, their steps like the thrumming rain of a distant storm on the metal emergency staircase. Elsewhere in the building, there was no sound, no scent, no one alive, and Xander again wondered if they were the only ones left in Sunnydale.
Muted light, thick with fog and dense with wrongness, rolled into the chamber as Buffy kicked open the fire door. When nothing attacked, they ventured outside into the unnaturally overcast day.
“Quick, get to the truck before the bastards know we’re out,” Xander half-whispered, half-shouted. And all at once, they were rushing towards where they had last seen his truck. Instead, however, they found an empty space where only curb and concrete resided.
“Where’d it go?” Willow asked with panic flooding her voice.
“They did something with it,” Buffy explained. “Come on, we’ll have to get there on foot. Ready, Willow?”
“Y-yeah, just let me –“ Willow was abruptly cut off by the screeching chalkboard scream of the Umbra Venator as they descended on the troop, swiping and grabbing at hair, clothing, anything they could grasp with suddenly corporeal hands and claws.
“Now, Willow!” Buffy yelled, dodging an inky fist that flew at her face.
“Lux lucis via quod videlicet semita!” Willow called into the storm of shadows that wrapped themselves around the group like flames on lumber. Suddenly, the fog around them dissipated, creating a crater of clarity. Though sunlight could not penetrate through the clouds above them, the area around them was suddenly alive with a flood of light and wind, clearing the fog and forcing the shadow demons to recede from them.
“It worked!” Xander howled, grabbing Willow and pulling her into a tight hug.
“Was there any doubt?” The redhead asked, all innocence and smiles.
“Uh, no, course not, Wills,” Xander lied.
“Come on, then, let’s get a move on,” Spike scolded, pulling Xander away from the witch and wrapping an arm around his waist. “May not be all danger anymore, but we’re certainly not safe out here.”
“Spike’s right, we have to go,” Buffy said, not acknowledging what she just said. “Let’s get back to my house, grab whatever weapons we can, and find Giles.”
“Sounds good, Buff – but how do we find him again?” Xander asked, snaking his own arm across Spike’s waist and falling in step with him.
“They said something right before they knocked me out…something about the Sacred Grove-“
“of Darkness. Yeah, we know that much, but we don’t know where that’s at,” Xander interrupted.
“Before you interrupted me, I was going to say that earlier tonight, er, last night, Giles told me that the council had said it was south of Sunnydale – in Dark Creek Canyon. So, all we have to do is find that. I think an ex-librarian ex-watcher who still watches while wearing ugly tweed brit-clothes should be kinda hard to miss, don’t you?” Buffy quipped.
“Dark Creek Canyon? Why can’t these sacred things ever be someplace fun, or easily accessible, like say the parking lot at the mall, or the concession stand of the movie theater?” Xander wondered aloud.
“Because hellmouthy goodness doesn’t enjoy the matinee,” Tara deadpanned.
“Oh, baby, you’re the greatest,” Willow chimed, locking hands with the blonde.
The five of them walked in silence, guided through the ghost town that was covered in clouds and silenced with cotton by the use of a single flickering bead of light that Willow had summoned for them. No one in the town stirred. No vehicles passed them, no church bells rang, no espresso pumps espressoed. And traveling with them was the circle of clarity that Willow had managed to magick.
Halfway to 1630 Rovello Drive, the fog around the circle seemed to darken, and Xander watched as the faces of the demons emerged in shadows and darkness around them. A chorus of crying and hissing and screaming and moaning sang to them. Buffy halted momentarily, but decided to press further on. The closer they came to the Summers home, the louder the demons wailed, and the darker the fog seemed to get, until finally it appeared that outside of their circle of light and clarity darkness had fallen and was spinning and swirling like molten wax and ink.
They had just passed Buffy’s mailbox, which Spike half-attempted to kick over before Xander had pulled him back, when all of a sudden, the demons vanished. One moment it was pitch black around them, and the next the blackness was replaced with the fog.
“This can’t be good,” Spike said.
His admonishment was suddenly proven correct as the fog around them washed away like the morning tide, farther and farther back until they could all feel the warmth of the sun’s rays beating down on their heads, arms, hands. Xander sent a panic-stricken glance to Spike, finding the vampire’s demon had surfaced as he screamed and howled at the burning sunlight – moaning and hissing.
A blood-curdling scream pierced Xander’s ears and he realized it was his own voice, thundering and crashing through him as he felt the sunlight sear against his skin. As Spike rushed to cover Xander and shield him from the light, Xander saw the look on Buffy’s face – echoed in Willow’s and mirrored in Tara’s.
The jig is up, Xander half-realized as both Buffy and Willow took large steps away from them. The cat’s out of the bag. At least I don’t have to worry about Buffy staking me. Because Xander understood; he knew that his own demon had come tearing to the surface, that his skin was turning black and smoking. Knew he only had a few precious moments left on this earth.
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The humor is a nice counterpoint to the suspense and the freaking scary shadow demons.
And you, dear are a meanie for this cliffie. I mean, I know you're not gonna dust our boy, but still. :)
From:
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The humor is a nice counterpoint to the suspense and the freaking scary shadow demons.
Why thunk ya!
And you, dear are a meanie for this cliffie. I mean, I know you're not gonna dust our boy, but still. :)
Oh, just you wait! *muah*
Hope it was worth the wait *g*
From:
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::grins::
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Thanks:)
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Danke!
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Of course, in time to see Xander and Spike burn from the sun. The evil shadows were bad enough, but now...now...*wails*
More soon? Please?
*snogs*
~Nebula
From:
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*snogs you back*
Thanks, darlin.