A Hole In the World

A Hole In The World

Downstairs, in the kitchen again, everyone gathered around Willow, who was too
weak to stand. Giles passed a glass of water to her.

“Give yourself time,” he said. “You don’t have to speak until you’re ready.”

Willow drained the glass, swallowing hard. Buffy stood beside her, a steady hand
on her shoulder.

Xander stalked under the kitchen archway, wanting to smack something but seeing
as there was no target, he settled for glaring emphatically. Willow wiped her mouth
with the heel of her hand.

“I have to speak now,” Willow said. “It’s bad, Giles. It’s...” Her eyes welled with
tears again, but she bit them back.

“Just get your breath, Sweetie,” Kennedy said.

“No. No. There’s a hole in the world,” Willow said.

“Yeah there is,” William said.

Everyone turned to look at him.

“You knew?” Buffy said. “But you didn’t tell anyone.”

“Not something you can work into conversation, is it? ‘Bit of trivia.
There’s this hole. Goes all the way through the earth to the other side,’” William said.

Giles took Willow’s water glass. “The entrance is in the Cotswolds,” he added.

“You knew too?” Buffy said. She paused, figuring things. “Cotswolds. The Watcher
retreat. Connection?”

“It’s the sacred resting place of the Old Ones – demigods who inhabited this plane
before demonkind. Naturally it is the seat of immense mystical energy,” Giles said.

“But,” Willow said. “What about volcanoes, plate tectonics, sea floor spreading?
I’m Science Girl 101, remember? What about the upper crust, the mantle and the
molten core made of nickel?”

“Demonic activity covered by modern scientific chicanery and government conspiracies,” Giles said simply.

“Fictions!” Kennedy protested.

Andrew clasped his hands in prayer. “God bless you, Mulder,” he said.

“But it’s impossible,” Willow went on. “A hole that goes all the way through?”

“To New Zealand,” William said. “Apparently.”

Buffy was shaking her head. “It doesn’t add. Giles, what is it? Other than the burial ground for ancient dead
gods? What’s in it?”

“After what it did to Willow, I think it’s safe to rule out a fluffy cream-filled center,” Xander said.
“It contains sarcophagus... es. Sarcophagi?” William said. He started over: “There were tombs. Lots and lots of
tombs.”

“There were voices,” Willow said, remembering.

“Chanting,” Kennedy added. “It was a spell.”

“But not directed at us. I saw it by accident. A random spell sighting. Any Wicca this side of the world could
have, if they’d been tuned in,” Willow looked up, eyes wide. “Giles, the Coven. If they were meditating, they
could have...”

Giles strode from the room, leaving silence in his wake. Seconds later, they heard him speaking over the phone
to someone in Westbury.

Buffy turned to William. “You’ve been, haven’t you? You...”

William dropped his gaze. “There was a girl named Fred. Got hijacked by one of the Old Ones. Illyria...”

“The one who fought with you and...”

“Angel. That’s right. We tried to stop it – her – from overtaking the little bit,” William said. He looked back at
Buffy. “We failed.”

Giles came back in. “Ariadne did say they sensed a disturbance...”

Andrew looked eager to chip in, but Giles shut him down with a scathing glare.

“However,” Giles continued, “they saw nothing like what you described.”

“Which means...” Dawn said.

“Whoever did this. Whatever they are. They meant for Willow to see it,” Buffy said, picking up the thread.

“It may give us insight into what we’re dealing with,” Giles finished.

Willow tried to stand. Several pairs of hands pushed her back into the chair.

“Guys, enough with the infirm old auntie treatment, okay?” Willow said. “The sooner I get to
Westbury, the better to get the mystical whips a-crackin’. So far, we’ve got nothing, as in goose
egg. As in hole-in-the-earth nothing. I don’t wanna get caught with our pointy hats down.”

“We won’t,” Buffy said. “We’ll all get our various whips a-crackin’. Dawn, you guys dig up all you
can from that archive. If this Damas guy believed it was a key to the End of Days, we’ve got to
unlock its secrets. Quicker equals better. Something out there is both searching and acting. We’ve
got to find out the why and the who. Giles, do you think any of your Watcher trainees might have
turned up anything?”

Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them. “It’s worth a try. They are very inexperienced,
apocalyptically speaking. Most of them wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Give them a starting place,” Buffy said. “And have the Slayers hit the streets, check the local
demon haunts...”

“Nuzzle up to the vamp population,” Kennedy quipped.

“Not helping,” Dawn said.

“We have a network,” Buffy said. “Our strength is our connection. It’s time to put that to the test.”

Giles replaced his glasses. “Good then. Andrew, Dawn... let’s get on the road to Amesbury by 9 a.m.
We will beat the tourist rush if we can arrive before lunch.”

“Can I...?” Andrew said.

“No, Andrew. You may not drive,” Giles said.

Before leaving the room, Giles squeezed Willow’s shoulder. “You sure you’ll be all right?

Willow pressed her pale lips into a thin smile. “Of course I will. I’m a Sunnydale girl,” she said.

Xander felt better with a plan of action. Problem was, he had no part in said plan.

As Dawn was leaving, he caught her elbow.

“Hey Dawnie,” he said. “About that spell book you used. You know? With the speaking-in-tongues
chant and the whole Willow-Kennedy rescue thing. Good job on that, by the way...”

“Oh,” Dawn said, turning pink. “Thanks. The Vendregills. I didn’t steal it. I mean, it’s not mine. It
belongs to Giles. I borrowed it. He doesn’t know I borrowed it, but it wasn’t off limits or anything.
He just had it in with the books from the archive. I picked it up...”

“It’s okay. I’m not Accusation Guy. I’m Overdue Book Guy,” Xander said.

“It’s a library book?” Dawn said doubtfully. “I’m pretty sure they don’t have these kinds of books in
vanilla libraries.”

“No,” Xander said. “I borrowed it from a shop...”

“Xander!”

“Not that kind of ‘borrow’. Look, it belongs to a girl named Maya and I promised to bring it back,
but Giles had it, then you had it. Now I’d like to have it, so I can give it back,” Xander explained.

“Oh,” Dawn said. Then, “Oh! Better ask Giles. He uses it in the archive sometimes. He may need it
today.”

“Right,” Xander said, not hiding his disappointment.

“Or, you know, you could recheck it,” Dawn said.

“Right!” Xander said.

“So, Maya huh?”

“It’s not like that. With the moonish eyes and the... I know what you’re thinking. It’s just about the
book. And my sense of overwhelming guilt at having never returned Watership Down to the Sunnydale
High library, ” Xander said.

Maya dusted on Saturdays. Not that there was any point to it. Go Ask Alice was practically made of dust, but
that was how exciting her life was. She moved dust from one place to another.

After dusting, Maya typically blogged for a few hours, then catnapped by the sink in the utility closet so that
she could hear if random customers wandered in off the street. It did happen. Once in a while, she did get
actual customers. Sometimes, they even bought books.

It was still mid-morning when Xander found the shop, now purporting itself as The Water Hole on the easel sign
outside.

Maya looked up from her computer screen. She wished desperately that she had thought to remove the
magenta polka dot scarf from her head. She minimized the windows on her desktop and tried to look industrious.

Xander held out a brown paper bag in his hands like an offering. “I have no book,” he said. “Giles begs to keep
it, or recheck it. Do you recheck?”

“Um, sure...” Maya said, grinning.

“Instead, I bring food,” Xander said, crossing the store quickly as if she might throw him out for suggesting
such a thing. “I know you said – with the tea and the bad break up and all. But here.” He placed the bag on the
counter. “It’s a lahvash roll.”

Maya, still smiling, unrolled the top of the bag and looked in.

“Lahvash? Like the French word for cow?” she said.

“Sure. But no cow,” Xander said. When he started explaining, he found he couldn’t shut himself up. “It’s
vegetarian lahvash. My roommate Willow made it. She’s not vegetarian. She’s Wiccan. And also, lesbian.”

Maya took out the lahvash and sampled, trying to hide what she thought must be a baffled expression. But
Xander caught it.

“It’s vegetarian for Dawn,” he explained. “She’s no go for carnivore fare.”

“Dawn?” Maya asked.

“Another roommate,” Xander said, wishing he hadn’t. He could feel his skin going prickly on the back of his
neck. “Or flat mate, I should say. We all share a house. We’re like the Brady Bunch. Except instead of Alice, we
have Andrew. And instead of the gay dad, we have Giles, who isn’t gay but British. He sort of took us all in when
our hometown fell of the face of the earth. So I should probably stop talking now. Yet, somehow I can’t. Maybe
you should take the wheel and drive this conversation back onto the regularly paved highway.”

“Have some lahvash?” Maya offered.

Xander looked relieved. “Yes, have some,” he said.

They ate quietly, not looking directly at each other. Maya was busy trying not to make a mess of herself with
the cream cheese that kept sliding out of its lahvash confines.

“Well,” Maya said. “Your flat seems...”

“Crowded?”

“I was going for nice,” she said. “Drink?”

“Sure.”

“I only have tap water. And I only have luke warm,” she said.

“My favorite. The perfect complement to day-old refrigerated lahvash rolls,” Xander said.

Maya left. She returned with Dixie cups filled to brimming.

Xander looked from the paper cups to Maya’s face. She was smiling, but it seemed forced, like it was a put-on
for someone else. He looked again at the blurred holiday photos on her countertop. All the colors fuzzed and
bled together around her while she remained in focus. Peculiar...

“You should come for dinner,” Xander said, taking a gigantic swerving leap from what he intended to say,
which was ‘thanks for the water.’

“I don’t get out much,” Maya said simply.

“I get that. You should,” Xander said.

Maya seemed to curl in on herself like the leaves of a touch-me-not. “I... shouldn’t.” Then, recovering like a
pro, she added, “Besides, you haven’t returned the Vendregills so how do I know you’re the upright sort of
man.”

“Oh. I’m upright. Wait.” Xander coughed.

Maya ignored him. “Mr. Giles having trouble unsticking some mystical pickle jar?” Maya asked.

“What?” Off guard now, Xander thought. Shot down and spiraling. May Day, May Day!

“It’s my lame attempt at a joke. Vendregills was a Celtic portal mage. He also wrote clever crosswords. But his
true gift was writing sealing spells and opening portals,” Maya said.

“Oh, well... I guess,” Xander floundered.

“Thanks for the lahvash,” Maya said. “I was hungry. Variety is not something I get a lot of here.”

Xander got a glimpse of that face facade again. She was either hiding something or afraid. Maybe both.

“You believe things happen for a reason?” he said, venturing again into Boldland.

“Hmm,” Maya said. She considered for a while. “Yes,” she said, finally. “Yeah, I do.”

“That’s something,” Xander said. He backed away from the counter. “I’ll be back.”

He nodded, firmly, then turned to leave.

“Wait,” Maya called out. Xander paused but didn’t turn.

She went cold and shaky. She knew it meant trouble, what she was about to say...
“I’m o-open. On weeknights,” Maya said. She couldn’t believe herself. “You should see my specials. Book
specials. That is.”

Xander’s face stretched into a wide smile. “Hey, I’d like that,” he said.
He walked out feeling taller and stronger than he had in weeks. He felt awake. And so what if there was a hole
in the world. He was thinking he knew of ways to fill it.

“God damn, but New Orleans is a filthy city. I thought New York was bad, but this place is trash. Am I right?”
Faith sat astride a Berithi demon. She struck a match on her boot heel.

“Wood, am I right?” she asked.

Wood trained the double barrels of his shotgun at the Berithi’s throat. “You got it,” he said, deadpan.
The Berithi had given up the struggle. Goopy yellow fluid oozed from its many wounds and orifices.

“I’ve had my fill of filth,” Faith said. She took a long drag, blew it out. “Catch me? Just nod if you catch me.”
The Berithi nodded. Its folded neck flesh waggled and flopped.

“So you gonna give me what I want?” Faith asked. She raised the cherry of the cigarette to the demon’s flabby
face, almost touching its reddish scaly skin. “You gonna give me what I want, Sugar?”

The Berithi nodded some more. Wood risked a glance over his shoulder. Jacque’s Roadhouse had cleared out
when they took on the Berithi and dusted three of his vampire henchmen. The bartender, a swine-faced human
proprietor, hid out behind the blasted jukebox, whimpering occasionally.

“The priestesssssth you thseek,” the Berithi hissed. “Thshee no longer rethsides on thisss continent.”

“Stop with the sibilants, will ya? I’m getting soaked,” Faith said. “The priestess, yeah? Where’d she go?” The
cigarette at the demon’s cheek slowly turned to ash.

The Berithi quivered all the way to its tri-pronged toes. “If I tell you, thhhey will kill me.”

“Who’s they? You tell us. We kill them. We kill evil things, remember?” Faith said.

“I’m not evil. I’m juthsssed confuthsssed,” the Berithi said.

“Enough,” Faith said, raising her voice. She pressed the cigarette to his skin. It sizzled, then smoked. The
Berithi bucked and rolled, thrashing its legs. Faith held him. She wiped sweat from her widely broadcast
cleavage. “It’s hot. We’re all tired. Quit with the stalling game, or I’m gonna get friendly with Mr. Zippo. Got
me?”

The Berithi stilled. Its three bulbous eyes scanned the room. Seeing only Wood, he raised his head a few inches
from the floor.

“The Triumvirate,” he said.

“The what-irate?” Faith said. “Boy, you best not be telling lies. My man here has a shotgun, and he hates it
when a creature lies.”

The Berithi shook its head. “The Triumvirate called the priestesssth. Thssssent her to the islandsth.”

Faith held up her cigarette again, aiming for the demon’s eye. “Be more specific. There are lots of islands.”

“Haiti, I thhhink. Thhhey may have thsaid Haiti,” the Berithi said, quivering. “Fire. Fire bad. Pleasssthe.”

Faith tossed her hair. “Fire is bad, baby. You’ve just had the little taste. Now. Tell me about her followers.”

The sound of breaking glass outside gathered their collective attentions.

“Faith,” Wood said. “Time to close up shop.”

Faith cinched the Berithi’s throat in its shirt collar. She heaved him up so that they were face to face. “Looks
like your lucky day. But if you’re lying, my girl Shannon’ll finish the job. New Orleans is her city. Got that?”

The Berithi’s eyes rolled in their sockets. “Okay okay okay,” he blubbered.

Faith got up. She kicked the Berithi while it was down.

“Haiti?” she said to Wood.

“Good a place to look as any,” he answered. “Let’s get outta here.”

As they crossed the glass-strewn floor, Wood heard something. It started out soft, like the steady purr of
waves.

“Do you hear that?”

“Sounds like... water?”

“Getting louder,” Wood said.

“By the second. Hang on.” Faith opened the door. Twilight fanned out over the treeless delta where the
roadhouse crouched like a wart on a bayou toad. But what used to be a waterfront deck was now six feet deep
in black gumbo sludge. Fish stranded by the sudden change of tide flopped helplessly on the shining mud.

“What the...?” Faith said. “Where’d the bayou go?”

Wood searched the horizon. Then he spotted it.

“Faith, look,” he said. His throat went dry. “There’s a hole.”

The Berithi joined them on the porch. “Ithhh’s a thsssalt dome, geniusth,” the demon said, looking smug.

“Looksth like my thssecret diesth withh you, ThSlayer. I have gillsssth.”

“What the hella good will gills do?” Faith said, advancing on the Berithi.

“Oh,” Wood said. The shotgun fell with a clatter to the split-wood planks. The hole spread rapidly in their
direction, great sodden chunks caving wetly in.

“Faith. Run,” Wood said.

They leapt the porch rail. The mud sucked at their legs, dragging them down.

“We can’t outrun it!” Faith yelled. She turned back just as Jacque’s Roadhouse went sliding down.

The ground under her feet shuddered. They were going down. When the earth opened up, she looked down into
its throat. It was black and full of filth.

“Oh f....” she said, and she was gone.