by Mel Odom
“Do you still have those high hopes, Miss Summers?” Zhiyong taunted.
When she finished the chant, Willow felt the power of the spell surge from her. As strong as it was, she didn’t doubt that there had been help along the way. Dizzy and nauseous, she watched as Shing smashed against the stack of cars to her right. The thunderous boom echoed over the clearing, through the ragged alleys of the salvage yard.
“They’re going to fall,” Oz said. Then he kicked one of the demons climbing up at them in the face just as the creature tried to fire his tongue. The demon fell back from the stack just as the smashed vehicles tumbled and dropped onto Shing, driving her into the ground.
“No,” Willow breathed weakly, knowing nothing human could have survived.
Then she heard Xander’s anguished shout from somewhere below. “Nooooooo!”
A sudden flare of bright white light ignited inside the whirling tornado of souls. The flare expanded, filling the tornado, then blowing it into individual wisps again. All of the wisps returned to the corpses of the miners.
“The spell worked, Will,” Oz commented, relaxing a bit because the Black Wind demons seemed less interested in scaling the stack after them.
“I know,” Willow said. She looked down, watching as Xander ran to the pile of metal that had crushed Shing. “But it didn’t work in time to save everyone.”
Xander stared in hurt and disbelief at the smashed vehicles that had buried Shing. He was battered and bloody from fighting the demons. Together, they’d managed to smash the last of the glowing stone demon statues.
But now there was no together.
Strength left his legs as he stood there. The ax dropped through his fingers. Agony squeezed his chest. He hadn’t known her for long, but what he’d known he’d liked, and there had been the promise of so much more. Tears ran down his cheeks. Except for the pain, he felt completely empty—alone again. He closed his eyes and his chin hit his chest.
Buffy watched the tornado disperse, watching the individual wisps track back to the corpses. She looked at Zhiyong coldly. “Oooops. Looks like maybe things aren’t going to work out the way you thought they were.”
“No,” Zhiyong breathed hoarsely, looking out over the corpses.
“My guess?” Buffy said. “Sharmma’s not going to be very happy with you after this. You’re his last chance to come back to this world.” She paused. “And guess what? You tanked it.”
Giles and Cordelia came forward and cut Jia Li and Lok free. Lok was still out and Giles had to carry him, but Willow’s friend could walk on her own. The Watcher and Cordelia escorted the pair away from Zhiyong.
The Black Wind gang members backed away uncertainly.
Zhiyong turned to Buffy. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
“Beaten you,” Buffy answered. “Ruled out having Stepford Kids in Sunnydale. Pretty much tore down your playhouse. Actually, I feel pretty good about that, if you want to know.”
Suddenly, more smoke swirled up from the black altar. It formed a cloud around Zhiyong’s head, slipping into the man through his nose and mouth. Zhiyong went into convulsions at once, dropping into a fetal position. Then his body started growing, expanding as flesh ripped and bled, then healed only to rip and bleed again.
Buffy stepped back, not sure what was going on. She looked at Giles, who only shrugged. Oh, now that’s what every Slayer lives to see their Watcher do.
Zhiyong uncurled from the fetal position, only Buffy knew at once it wasn’t Zhiyong anymore. The creature was a fifteen-foot long and less than half that high Eastern dragon.
“Sssslayer,” the dragon said in a deep basso voice. “Know me. I am Sharmma, called the Dread Dreaming by those who learned to fear me.” He padded forward, light glistened from the five toe talons. “All learned to fear me, as you will now learn to fear me.”
“Nope,” Buffy said. “All out of fear.” She moved the halberd in front of her, keeping it loose and ready in her hands.
“You have destroyed my avatar,” Sharmma growled.
“And your chance of getting back to this world,” Buffy agreed. “Bet I get bonus points for that.”
Sharmma unleashed an angry growl, spewing flames in a cloud nearly twenty feet long. Buffy left the ground as soon as the massive jaws opened, throwing herself up and to the right. As soon as she hit the ground, she started forward.
The demon-dragon turned toward her, mouth opening again.
Buffy swung the halberd, burying the ax head deeply into the side of Sharmma’s head. The sharp blade grated on bone, cutting a large flap of skin free but not doing any serious damage because the skull was so thick.
Sharmma breathed flame again, and this time Buffy narrowly avoided being cooked.
Angel came up from the other side, still not up to full speed, but moving very fast. He swung the first ax and buried it deeply into Sharmma’s right eye. The demondragon whipped around immediately, screaming in rage, blood trickling from the ruined socket. Lashing out with a clawed foot, Sharmma raked Angel across the midsection, knocking him back through the air. He flew nearly thirty feet.
Shelving her concern for Angel for the moment, Buffy sprinted forward. She carried the halberd in one hand, reaching up with her left hand to grab the dragon’s shoulder.
Buffy pulled herself up, feeling the demon-dragon’s muscle twist and writhe under the rough scales. She kicked her feet against Sharmma’s side and straddled her opponent.
Sharmma twisted his head and breathed fire.
Buffy ducked low, becoming a layer of skin over the scales. The demon-dragon’s wings beat at her with bruising force. The Slayer slid slightly to the right, trying to stay on the creature’s blind side. Sharmma bucked and writhed under her, trying to dislodge her.
The Black Wind demons stayed back, obviously afraid of getting caught by a flame-blast or being stomped underfoot.
Buffy slid forward, having to duck under another blast of flame-breath. Then she was at the base of the dragon’s skull. Sharmma swung his head rapidly, shaking it like a wet dog. Buffy locked her legs around the dragon’s neck and held on. She gripped the halberd in both hands, then drove the spear point into the demon-dragon’s neck.
The point dug deeply down into the demon-dragon’s spinal column. Buffy sawed frantically, trying to cut through the thick bone and muscle.
Sharmma reared up suddenly, standing on his two back legs. Then he came crashing back down on his front two feet.
Unable to hang on, Buffy flew off. She slammed into the ground, stunned. She looked up, trying to get her feet under her, watching Sharmma bear down on her, blood weeping from the eye Angel had destroyed.
“No mercy, Sssslayer,” Sharmma promised.
“Xander.”
Surprise filled Xander when he heard Shing’s voice. He opened his eyes, thinking he was imagining things. Then he watched Shing step through the flattened car hulks. He looked at her, not understanding. “I saw you die,” he whispered hoarsely.
She knelt beside him, reaching out to cup his chin in her palm. Her skin was cool to the touch. “No, Xander,” she said softly. “You didn’t see me die. You can’t kill someone who is already dead. That’s what Buffy wanted to tell you about me. That’s why she wanted to keep me away from you.”
“Dead?” Xander felt like he was hanging onto comprehension with his fingernails.
“I died,” Shing whispered, “a long time ago. Hundreds of years ago. I wanted to tell you, too, but I couldn’t. I’ve never felt with anyone the way I’ve felt about you in these past two nights. Forgive me, but for the time it lasted, I wanted that. I wanted you. Please don’t hate me.” Tears shone in her eyes.
“I . . . I could never hate you.” Xander’s voice was strained.
“Hate to break this little Kodak moment up,” Oz said, climbing down a nearby stack of cars, “but we’ve got problems.” He reached up and helped Willow down. “The dragon has Buffy on the run, and the Black Wind demons are kind of regrouping.”
Xander glanced over his shoulder and saw Giles and Cordelia battling the Black Wind demons, definitely in danger of being routed. Angel was down, struggling to get up.
And Buffy was on the run, scrambling for her life with one badass dragon on her trail.
Xander looked up at Shing as he grabbed his battleax. “When we get through with this, we gotta talk.”
“Okay,” she said. Then she led them into battle.
Okay, Buffy thought, running out of places to hide. She ached all over as she ran, part of it from the injuries she’d experienced and part of it from the sheer, driving pace Sharmma maintained. And hiding from a demon is not exactly what a Slayer is supposed to do.
But even Giles didn’t expect her to beat every demon she encountered. Did he? Sometimes, the Watcher seemed genuinely surprised.
She ran toward the narrow alley between stacks of dead cars ahead. It looked too narrow for the dragon.
The rasping breath warned her about the next coming furnace blast. She flipped to the left, landing on her feet, watching as flames licked the ground, so hot they glazed chunks of glass out of the dirt.
With the sudden change in her direction, Buffy barely made the mouth of the alley. She caught the edge in her hands and pulled herself through, collecting a few more small cuts. Then she was running down the alley between the stacks of cars.
Sharmma came after her, sending vibrations through the ground with his immense weight, staying close to Buffy. His gait made him bounce from side to side in the alley, slowing him a little and collapsing stacks of wrecked cars in his wake.
Buffy glanced over her shoulder, knowing she wasn’t gaining any ground on the dragon. And the way her lungs and legs were feeling, she couldn’t run much longer.
Once Shing was back in pure battle mode, the surviving Black Wind demon numbers dropped in a hurry. Xander couldn’t help looking at her, wondering why he hadn’t known she was a ghost like everyone else had. He felt kind of stupid about it, but actually it was a good kind of stupid. The attraction was there, and it was real, but the whole ghost/human dynamic was a little weird.
Still, Oz and Willow seemed to be working through it. Then there was Buffy and Angel. Probably, he told himself, the weirdest relationship any of us have been through has been Cordy’s and mine.
He chopped the head from another demon, glancing in Buffy’s direction as she disappeared into an alley running through the junkyard. She can’t keep running forever. Then he spotted the truck Giles had driven at Zhiyong.
And in the bed of the truck he spotted the propane tank.
“Shing,” he called.
She looked at him, sword dripping blood. “What?”
“Cover for me. I gotta go get Buffy.”
“Of course.”
“Xander,” Angel called. He lay on the ground, barely able to move, defended by Oz and Willow. He tried to get up but couldn’t. Xander knew what the vampire wanted him to do.
“I’m working on it,” Xander promised. “Hell, I’ve almost got a plan.” Seeing that there was no key in the ignition, he touched the wires hanging below the dashboard, surprised and relieved when the engine started. He brought the truck around, mowing down another demon as he sped toward the other side of the junkyard where Buffy had disappeared.
Buffy ran, driving her feet hard into the packed earth. Her breath burned her lungs and the back of her throat now. Spots swam in her vision. The shadows in the alley made it hard for her to see. And she kept thinking she heard—
A horn?
She ran through the next intersection, and the honking horn sounded louder. She glanced through the crossalley on the right.
The pickup Giles had driven flashed by with Xander at the wheel. “Buffy!” Xander yelled, waving.
Buffy turned, her feet sliding out from under her for a moment, catching herself on one hand. She almost dropped the halberd, but managed to hang onto it as she lurched back to her feet.
Sharmma blew a fiery blast at her that missed by inches. The flames coiled on the metal, staying for a moment. The demon-dragon tried to turn as well, but the alley was too tight. Still, the creature was large enough and strong enough to knock the stacks out of the way.
Sharmma crashed into the left row of mashed vehicles, starting a chain reaction that chased Buffy. Cars and trucks dropped from the row, slowly catching up with her even though she was running as fast as she could.
Then she reached the next alley where Xander was waiting with the four-wheel-drive truck.
“Passenger seat,” Xander yelled, pointing.
Unable to take the halberd into the truck, Buffy placed it into the bed, then scrambled into the passenger seat.
Xander put the truck into reverse, placing a hand along the back of the seat and peering through the back. “Shing is a ghost.”
Glancing through the empty front windshield, Buffy saw Sharmma crash through the last intersection, knocking wrecked cars ahead of him. He glanced around balefully with his remaining eye, then spotted the pickup. He took up pursuit immediately.
“I knew that,” Buffy said.
“You should have told me.”
Buffy looked at him in disbelief. “I should have told you?”
“Yeah.”
She held up her hands, angry now. “This is not going to be my fault, Xander Harris.”
“What’s not?” Xander stayed focused on his driving.
“You and Shing. Getting kind of involved these past couple days.”
“I didn’t say that was your fault.”
Buffy faced him, her arms crossed over her breasts. Despite the fear she felt at Sharmma chasing them, maybe even actually gaining on them, she felt mildly irritated. “Then what are you saying?”
“What I’m saying,” Xander said, “is that you should be able to tell me the girl I’m kind of interested in is dead. I mean, that’s like one of the top items on a Must Tell list.”
“I agree,” Buffy agreed. “So you’re okay with this? You and Shing, I mean?”
Xander shrugged, then slammed into one side of the alley, screeching for a little while before he pulled back into the center of the alley. “I know that I like her, and she likes me. Don’t know what that makes it, but it does make it nice.”
“That’s good.” Buffy returned her attention to the demon-dragon. “Are we clear?”
“Not quite,” Xander replied.
“The dragon is catching up.”
Xander started to turn his head.
“Don’t look!” Buffy yelled.
“I’m not done yet,” Xander said. “I wanted to apologize for blowing up at you.”
“No, I should apologize to you. I should have told you your girlfriend was dead.”
“You didn’t know you could tell me then,” Xander pointed out. “I probably wouldn’t have listened. So I should apologize to you.”
“I could have been more tactful,” Buffy said.
“Hey look,” Xander said, “you’re messing up my apology. Don’t make me turn this car around!”
Buffy smiled, feeling good again now that the tension between her and Xander was better, and that no one had died who wasn’t already dead. “Okay, we need a plan for how to handle the demon-dragon. The Wacky Races approach isn’t working for me.”
“Actually,” Xander said, “I do have a plan.”
“I apologize for not telling you your girlfriend was dead,” Buffy said. “Now what’s your plan?”
“And I apologize for getting cheesed off at you for wanting to protect Willow,” Xander said. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the big tank in the back. “That’s propane. Highly combustible.”
“We’re driving around in a bomb, and you’re bouncing off the sides of the alley?”
Xander paled a little. “Okay, so maybe I didn’t think about that part too well. What I did think about was luring the demon-dragon to the propane tank, then blowing it up.”
“Suppose the demon-dragon likes propane explosio
ns? It does have fiery breath.”
“Then we’re screwed,” Xander said. “Because that’s as good as I’ve got.”
“It’s not bad,” Buffy admitted. “I like it.”
“Good. Then when you’re ready, we’ll bail.”
“Ready,” Buffy said.
Xander jammed the brakes on. The four-wheel-drive shut down immediately, shuddering as it bounced across the uneven ground. The truck turned partially sideways, skidding, then rocked to a stop.
They bailed out the doors, watching Sharmma closing on them. Buffy grabbed the halberd. The demon-dragon blew fiery breath at them, peeling the paint from the truck and setting the cab’s interior on fire.
Buffy ran, staying with Xander instead of maxing out. She kept an eye on Sharmma. When the demon-dragon reached the front of the truck, gathering his legs to make the jump over the vehicle, Buffy turned and set herself, drawing the halberd back. She threw the halberd with everything she had. The blade twirled as it shot through the air.
Sharmma leaped, clearing the truck easily. Then, when the demon-dragon was in midleap over the truck, the halberd struck home, piercing the propane tank and throwing off sparks from the metal on metal contact.
The propane caught, roiling up in a super-hot fireball that caught the demon-dragon squarely in its grasp. Shrapnel from the propane tank ripped into Sharmma and reached whatever fuel the demon-dragon used to supply his fiery breath. There must have been pockets of the fuel inside the demon-dragon, because at least a halfdozen explosions followed on the heels of the first.
The concussion knocked Xander and Buffy to the ground. Then it rained flaming bits and pieces of Sharmma for a minute or so.
Xander raised his head tentatively. “Wow,” he said. “Poof! The massacred dragon!”
“Good plan,” Buffy said.
“Good throw,” he replied.
Without a word, they hugged each other.
