by Nancy Holder
Willy ticked his glance toward Xander as if to say, Let’s make sure they don’t find out.
Xander’s heart pounded. He blinked. Willy gave him an imperceptible nod.
Mark pressed his face into Xander’s side. He was trembling.
“If you’re going to do it, get it over with.” Xander’s voice was deadly calm.
And then rage took him over. Red-hot fury, indescribable anger. Kill the bastard. Kill him.
With a roar of fury, he charged Bitterman just as Willy shouted, “Hey, wait a minute!”
Bitterman shouted.
The gun went off.
Mark crumpled to the ground.
“We found it!” someone bellowed triumphantly.
In the arena, Giles sprawled in the sand, gasping. Willow lay on her back. Cordelia whimpered.
With a growl, Oz swiped at Buffy with his front paws. But he was limping badly from a wound she had delivered to his hindquarters. Grimacing, she grazed him on the forepaw, leaping backward as he howled with fury.
“You’d best simply attack,” Julian called to her. “You’re only succeeding in enraging him.”
He was right. She executed a halfhearted slash across his chest. He straightened, shrieked, whirled on her, and fell face-forward to the ground.
“Death!” the crowd yelled, as money changed hands. They made thumbs-down gestures. “Cut off their heads!”
Helen looked expectantly at Buffy. She didn’t even blink.
“Why should she? There’s no incentive,” Julian said. “If she knows she’s going to die anyway.”
Behind them, the statue of Meter moved. The mouth opened. A strange, echoey voice said, “I thirst.”
The ground rumbled beneath Buffy’s feet. She took a moment to look down. The audience gasped. Some murmured, “Venite, Meter.”
Helen said to Julian, “Where are the ashes? We can’t kill her until we have them.”
Julian called over the pretty girl in the guazy robe and asked angrily, "Has anyone gotten through to Willy?”
“He’s not answering his cell phone,” she said.
Buffy snickered to herself. Julian narrowed his eyes at her and said, "Don’t assume anything, Slayer.”
At that moment, a chubby man in a jacket appeared, standing between two sections of the top row of bleachers.
“I got it,” he announced.
“Excellent, Bitterman,” Julian said. “Let me see.”
As Buffy watched, the man walked down the aisle. He held the Urn of Caligula in both hands. Buffy tried very hard not to wig.
That’s the ballgame.
With an awkward bow, Bitterman handed the urn to Julian, who took it and said, “It has indeed been opened.” He walked to the statue. “Meter, darkest of mothers, is this what you require?”
The statue’s eyes glowed with an eerie blue light. Then fires erupted within them, burning brightly. “Yesssss. And the Slayer’s heart.”
Beating not stirred, Buffy thought anxiously.
Helen rose from her chair and pointed at Bitterman. “Kill him,” she ordered the guards.
“No. Halt!” Julian cried. He frowned at Helen. “My dear, he’s the one who activated the Madness Potion in the lake. If he dies, the potion will cease to work.” He studied Buffy. “Even if an antidote is created and used.”
Good guess, Buffy thought, revealing nothing.
“As will the potion we have been using here tonight, if you die, my queen,” Julian added, almost as an afterthought. “Since you mixed it.”
She paled.
Julian smiled.
“I know that you went to each one of the Slayer’s friends, and offered them their freedom if they would kill her in her chains.”
“No,” Helen began, but he silenced her by raising his hand.
“You underestimated their loyalty to her. These people would die for the Slayer, and for each other.”
“Lunacy,” Helen snapped.
“Perhaps. But I have arranged a more interesting test of loyalty and friendship,” Julian said. He clapped his hands. “Bring in the vampire.”
Naked to the waist, wearing a leather gauntlet that extended from his shoulder and was strapped over his chest, Angel was brought into the arena.
Helen cried, “No!” and leaped to her feet. Julian put a hand on her arm and held fast.
“If you kill him, Slayer, all your friends go free. If you refuse, they die. Horribly.”
“No,” Helen said. “I will not permit this.”
“You will watch,” Julian commanded. “Or I will have you walled up again, Helen. Don’t think I won’t.”
At his signal, the platform was surrounded by demon and vampire guards.
The amphitheater was abuzz. Boos and cheers mixed in a chorus of reaction to the scene played out in the arena. In the din, Buffy stared at Angel, able only to register that he was alive. She ran to him and put her arms around him, holding tight. “I thought you were dead. I heard you get staked.” “I got one of the guys Julian sent to get me,” he told her. “Then they knocked me out and dragged me away.”
She rested her head on his chest. “We won’t fight.”
Buffy, if you have to kill me, do it.”
“Part them,” Julian commanded in a ringing voice.
Two vampires roughly pulled them away from each other. Angel looked over the head of his handler and stared hard at Buffy.
Then he hefted his sword.
Chapter 19
AS ATTENTION FOCUSED ELSEWHERE, JAKE BITTERMAN took the opportunity to get the hell out of the underground sports arena, or whatever it was. He jumped in his car with every notion of leaving Sunnydale as fast as possible, and never coming back.
This is way, way more than I bargained for.
He headed for Route 17, which would take him past the reservoir, and every vestige of his life. Including the body of his wife, submerged in the water.
Angel and Buffy circled each other, silently concocting a plan. She knew they were on the same page, and he knew it, too.
So this is the actual Greek tragedy I’m starring in, she thought, remembering that long-ago talent show where they accidentally upstaged themselves.
“Stop this, Julian,” Helen said fiercely.
“You unfaithful bitch,” the blond vampire flung at her. “I know you went to him. I know you planned to have him take my place. I have eyes and ears everywhere.”
“No,” Helen said, looking guilty as hell.
That’s my cue, Buffy thought. She stared at Angel. Her face hardened. “You’ve been with her?”
Angel laughed low in his throat and morphed into vamp face. “You’re just a Slayer, Buffy. Helen’s the queen of my kind.”
“Angelus,” Helen breathed. “I thought —”
“You bastard!” Buffy shrieked, laying it on thick. “I’ll kill you for that!”
She went on the offensive. Pulling no punches — in case Julian needs convincing — she rammed her fist into Angel’s face. She thrust her sword directly at his chest. He parried it, with difficulty, and aimed his sword for her neck. Nicked her.
Hey, she protested silently.
“We’ve done this before,” he said, panting.
“And I won,” she retorted.
Then she extended the weapon directly in front of herself, charged him, and ran him through.
He cried out, caught at the gushing wound, and fell to his knees.
“A stake!” Buffy shouted, holding out her hand.
Julian prepared to toss her a sharpened wooden spear.
“No!” Helen shouted.
She grabbed the spear and leaped off the platform.
“Slayer, I knew it would come to this,” she said, morphing into vamp face. “I would be the one to kill you.”
The ground rumbled.
“Make haste,” the voice of Meter insisted. “The time grows short.”
As vampires swarmed all over the reservoir, Xander and Willy carried the limp, bloody form o
f Mark Dellasandro back to the Trans Am and got the hell out of there.
“Call nine-one-one,” Xander said.
Willy sat in the back with Mark’s feet in his lap. “My cell phone isn’t working. I think I forgot to recharge.”
“We’ll go to the hospital,” Xander said.
“Did you hear what that vamp said? You’re supposed to be sacrificed tonight. Maybe if you don’t show, everything will be okay.”
Xander gave him a look. “You know, I would love to harbor delusions of grandeur, but hey, I’m donut guy. I’m sure if I don’t show, they’ll just sacrifice someone else.”
Willy shrugged. “Yeah, I s’pose you’re right.”
“Anyway, Bitterman got away,” Xander added as the car fishtailed around a bend in the road as they headed for Route 17. “So Sunnydale is going to be cursed forever.”
“So they win,” Willy said nervously.
“We’ll see.”
Xander kept driving.
Buffy slashed at Helen with her sword, and Helen blocked it again. The arena was crazed with frenzied onlookers, some begging Julian to stop the fight, others urging the combatants on. Buffy had no idea how long they had fought. But neither could seem to gain the upper hand.
“Isn’t this getting boring?” Buffy said. “Want to try Rock, Scissors, Paper?”
Helen grunted and came after her again, hacking and slashing. Her face was streaked with blood. Buffy’s was, too. Blood had pooled in the sand, and Buffy started to feel a little woozy.
Okay, maybe I was a little cocky, she thought. Maybe it’s time to pump it up.
The fires in Meter’s eyes flared as the statue heaved and shifted. The ground beneath their feet shook, and everybody got all excited and wiggy about it.
Buffy turned and saw that Angel had revived somewhat. He was looking hard at her. Then he shifted his line of vision. He was staring at the Urn of Caligula, which Julian had set down beside his feet. His attention was riveted on Helen.
Buffy nodded at Angel.
He leaped toward the platform, lunged for the urn, and grabbed it just as Julian realized what was happening.
“Buffy!” he shouted, tossing it to her.
She caught it.
“Tag, I’m it,” she said to Helen.
Helen shrieked and charged her. On the defensive, Buffy backed up, until Helen slowed and cried, “Not the fire!”
Buffy blinked. She looked at Angel. Then she smiled at Helen. She walked backward to the statue. Its mouth opened and it clacked its fangs at her.
Buffy dodged them, murmuring, “Oh, my, what big teeth you have.”
Then she climbed onto the statue and held the urn directly in front of the fire in the statue’s right eye.
Julian and Helen held their breath.
Buffy looked at Angel, who moved his shoulders. “Go for it,” he said.
Buffy threw the urn into the eye.
At once the entire room began to shake. The statue writhed and shouted, “Who dares?”
In a fury, Helen attacked, showing Buffy no quarter. Then she whirled on Angel, jabbing at him With her spear.
“Keep back, assassin,” she said to him. “This fight is between us.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore if you kill her,” Julian said to Helen, glowering. “So you might as well.”
Helen went berserk. She hacked and slashed, completely losing track of what she was doing.
Buffy whistled. “And you were the baddest of the bad? Hard to believe.”
But then, suddenly, Buffy found herself on her back, and Helen straddling her. She didn’t know how it had happened. But it looked like she was going to die.
“I’ve killed better Slayers than you,” Helen hissed at her. “Nobler. More dedicated.”
The words shouldn’t have distracted Buffy, but they did. As the killing blow descended, she thought, Darn it. She’s going to kill me after all.
A sharp, hot wind whistled through the arena. Buffy smelled somethng very sweet, very nice. Her vision clouded for a moment, and everything appeared to be golden.
And then her muscles were filled with fresh power. Energy surged through her. She didn’t even know what she was doing; she couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. She was no longer sure where she was.
Then, as if from a very long distance away, she heard Helen scream, "Diana!”
Buffy’s arms jerked forward.
The sound of a dusting vibrated around her.
When she blinked her eyes open, a pile of dust lay on the sand, and Helen was gone.
Julian morphed into full vamp face.
He came at Buffy. In Meter’s voice he said, “You are the destroyer. You must die.”
The arena went silent.
Then, like a single entity, everyone rose and came for Buffy and the others.
The arena came alive.
The curse of Helen’s madness potion was lifted, and Willow knew who she was.
Settling deep within herself, finding a place of calm inside her terror, Willow whispered:
“By the light and the heart of the earth,
“I forbid all evil spirits my bedstead and couch;
“I forbid you my house and my home;
“I forbid you my flesh and blood and body and soul.
“I irrevocably forbid you entrance to my mind and my thoughts;
“My fears and my strengths;
“Until you have traveled over every single hill and vale;
“Forged every stream and river;
“Counted all the grains of sands on all the shores;
“And every star in the sky.
“I forbid you.”
Then a voice shattered her calm, booming throughout the arena as she staggered from the impact:
“Who dares to challenge Meter?”
Willow caught her breath. She went deeper and repeated her incantation.
“Enough! Stop or you will be destroyed.”
Willow took a breath, and dove straight down into her own soul.
The earth beneath her feet shook violently.
Willow found other words inside her, words in languages she did not know.
They were weapons of the light, handed down through the ages in places and dimensions she had never been. But as she let the confusion and chaos swirl outside herself, she allowed the spells and wards to come into being through her being.
Evil is forbidden.
Evil is denied.
The earth shook.
The voice of Meter shouted, “Stop or you die!”
All over Sunnydale, the earth shook. Accustomed to earthquakes, the townsfolk darted under the transoms of their houses and watched their light fixtures shake. Pictures dropped from walls and mirrors shattered.
At the Sunnydale Reservoir, more leaks sprang in the badly constructed dam.
Willow knew what was happening.
She kept chanting.
She knew Buffy was fighting off demons and vampires while the others tried to get free of the chains.
She knew Oz was severely Wounded.
But she kept herself open to the words of light.
I forbid you, I forbid you, I forbid you.
Something listened.
Something gathered.
It grew. It drew strength from her.
The arena began to crack apart.
As Xander drove, the ground rolled like an ocean. Huge slabs of earth and rock jutted up. There was a deafening, thunderous crack, and then water was rushing everywhere beneath the moonlight.
“The dam’s broke!” Willy shouted.
The water rushed down the valley. It took with it avocado and citrus groves, hundreds of heads of cattle, several vampires, and poured onto Route 17. It completely engulfed Jake Bitterman, the necessary sacrifice to end Sunnydale’s nightmare.
It spilled onto the highway, causing numerous accidents, and splashing through a power substation, shutting down a third of the town’s power.
And Xander lost control o
f the car as it was swept along. His head slammed against the steering wheel, and as he lost consciousness, he thought he was starring in a movie about the parting of the Red Sea.
Buffy shouted, “Willow, wake up! Move!”
Willow opened her eyes and looked around.
It was like a scene in a horror movie. As the amphitheater shook to pieces, a full-scale battle raged. All around Willow, vampires exploded and demons bled. There was a long, stringy arm on the floor, its fingers flexing spastically. A head at her feet, the eyes gouged out.
Cordelia, returned to sanity, was fighting beside Giles. Both were armed with stakes, and they were both in the process of taking out vampires. Oz lay in a heap, bleeding badly, but Angel had staggered to his feet and was protecting him.
It was only a matter of time before the demons and vampires overwhelmed them.
Buffy was fighting one on one with Julian. They appeared to be evenly matched, but Buffy was obviously tired. With a cry, Willow moved to help her.
Then she heard Cordelia scream.
The vampire she was battling had just pushed her onto her back, and he had raised a sword over his head. Willow dashed up behind him and drove her stake into his back.
He exploded into dust.
Cordelia said, “Thanks,” and got to her feet.
Another vampire attacked. Together, Willow and Cordelia dusted that one, too.
Then Willow realized that Giles was in trouble. An enormous demon with leathery wings was swooping at him, taloned claws ripping at his arms and chest. Giles was a mess of blood and cuts.
Willow looked down at the little pile of dust, grabbed up the sword that lay in it, and ran to help Giles. She slashed at the wings of the monster; it renewed its attack, cutting a deep gash in Willow’s arm.
“Willow!” Cordelia screamed again.
A hulking, hideous monster stepped over Oz.
A vampire managed to land a rough body blow on Angel.
Julian cut Buffy’s arm, and she almost dropped her sword.
Too many, Willow thought. Which one do I help?
“Willow,” Buffy bellowed. “Move your butt?”
And Willow did. She stopped thinking, stopped assessing, and moved into full battle mode. Her body did what her mind had done, seeking the light, filling with determination. It didn’t matter how many there were. What mattered was the one in front of her.
