Time Is Running Out
Willow was distracted. She needed to get upstairs, to help with her part in Dawn’s ritual, and then to cast the inter-
dimensional location spell, of which she was very proud.
The battle with the Super Uglies was not going well. Connor held all of Faith’s attention. Faith seemed to have the upper
hand because of the Scythe, but it was still anybody’s fight. Morna darted and flew with the grace and speed of a
hummingbird – not a surprise, seeing how Morna’s mom had been a Slayer, and her surrogate father was Thellian.
The thought of Thellian caused Willow’s heart to skip a beat. She could feel him near, but it was an unsettling nearness, like
an approaching thunderstorm after a period of draught. Sure, they needed the rain, but how bad would the storm be?
One of the demons ran at Willow, startling her from her temporary insanity. She sent an energy burst at his head, which
repelled the beast, but didn’t stop it. In fact, thus far, their little band had done nothing to take down any of the Big Bads.
Oz and Lorne were fighting them hand to hand. Willow wondered why Oz hadn’t wolfed out. Werewolf skills: a definite plus in
a battle of this magnitude. Then there was Xander, not too shabby with his two-handed sword.
And she was distracted again. Xander was handy with a blade, so they needed him here in the battle, but Thellian… Thellian
might need him, too.
Willow swallowed hard. Three of the demons had hemmed in Xander and Oz. Willow scattered the demons with some flashy
fireballs to their heads. Stinky purplish smoke filled the air. The fireballs were more of a nuisance to the demons, but Xander
tipped a salute of thanks Willow’s way before leaping back into battle.
Maybe Thellian could use someone else. Maybe Rachel. She wasn’t necessary to the spell casting, nor did she seem the
weapon’s master type. She was perfect!
And she was Giles’ long-lost daughter! Willow thought, feeling her face flush with guilt.
Connor kicked Faith’s legs out from under her. She landed with a crunch on her back, did a handspring, and spun on him, the
Scythe wailing furiously.
If only, Willow thought, if only she had been more certain about Connor. He could be fighting on their side right now, and
Xander…
Willow caught herself. What was she thinking? Was she really going to sacrifice her lifelong best friend so that Thellian
could have enough blood to embrace Dawn?
Xander would die.
But without blood from Thellian, Dawn would die.
Willow ran through her mental list of candidates again. She and Maya were necessary for the spell. Faith was necessary to
the battle. Designate Connor unlikely, due to status as a wild card. Draining him of blood might counteract the effects of
him defecting to the enemy, but he was still too freakin’ strong to be contained. That left Xander, Giles, and Rachel among
the healthy human contestants on Who Wants To Be a Blood Donor? And Giles was iffy on the healthy part.
Deep down, Willow resented Thellian for putting this task on her. She knew why he did it, though, and it was why Xander was
at the top of the list.
Thellian would give Willow what she wanted, but he demanded a price in equal proportion to the greatness of his gift. He
never came out and said it, but she knew him.
She knew.
So when the tremor shook Triumvirate, bowling them all to the ground, Willow knew her choice was already made. Dawn had
started the ritual. Their time was running out.
As soon as the air cleared, Willow scrambled forward through the plowed earth and debris to find Xander getting slowly to
his knees.
“Willow…” he said, sputtering, coughing out clouds of dirt. “What happened?”
“Dawn needs us,” she said. Before he could protest, she hauled him to the stairs and they ascended together, leaving the
battle behind them.
Maya had moved to stand beside Dawn, and together, their arms linked, they peered over the brim of the circle. Ropy bands
of blue-white plasma licked around its edges like living lightning, and fetid burning wind whipped up at them. Far below, they
beheld a scarred landscape writhing with what appeared to be filthy crabs or lobsters, only huge as Volkswagons or Dallas
Cowboy linebackers.
“I think it’s time to stop,” Maya suggested, her voice flat and serious.
Dawn let the droplets of blood drip from the tip of her knife. With each drop, the hole rippled outward and away from them.
“Too late,” Dawn responded tonelessly. She broke free from Maya, taking a staggering step backward, toward the balcony.
She drew another deep furrow down the inside of her left forearm. This time, the blood ribboned out across the expanse.
Tendrils of energy shot up and across the balcony with the ferocity of a lightning strike.
The building shuddered. Rachel, who was on the other side of the hole, stumbled and crawled toward the stairs before the
rest of the balcony was swallowed up by the growing maw.
Maya could hear nothing now except the deafening, grinding crush of destruction. She was numbed by it, and could feel the
panic like ice in her blood rushing through her.
But Dawn gripped Maya’s arm with her free hand.
“Keep all of the ritual things together,” Dawn said, pointing to the spell books and the messenger bag with her knife. “When
the time comes, I’ll need you.”
“M-me?” Maya stammered. “I c-can’t. Not me, Dawn. You asked Willow. Willow’s the one for the cutting…”
“She’s not here,” Dawn said. “And when I lose strength, you’ll have to continue.”
Maya sank to her knees. Robotically, she gathered the texts and the bag into her arms. On the surface, her brain was
screaming that she should just run while the way to the stairs was still clear, and then she should keep on running until…
well, Paris seemed a fine destination.
Deeper, though, was the calmer Maya that noted how pale Dawn looked already, who knew how soon that grace and
strength would leave this girl who was going to give everything she had in the hope that they could save this world and
others, too. And it wasn’t like Dawn chose any of this. She couldn’t help what she was. Dawn was just a girl…
Maya opened the text Willow had found on ritual bloodletting, and had to struggle to quell her gag reflex when she noted the
diagram that detailed what organs she would have to stab, and how deep, and in what order.
She was staring thus transfixed when Willow and Xander appeared beside them.
“Maya, Rachel: start the location spell,” Willow ordered breathlessly. “Xander, stand guard with Thellian and Giles.”
“Aye, aye, cap’n!” Xander shouted back, and Maya was sure she saw Willow wince.
Maya stared up at Willow and Dawn, who stood face to face before the crackling, gaping pit. Dawn turned the knife to
Willow, who accepted it without hesitation. She took Dawn’s right arm in her left hand. She made a series of quick, shallow
cuts and let the blood flow into the circle.
Maya heard Xander shout, “Take cover!” as the first of the flying monsters swept in on them. A squadron of them, scaly and
screeching, swarmed overhead and ripped through the roof, raining plaster and masonry down on them. A chunk of it
narrowly missed Giles and Rachel, who slammed against the wall to avoid it. They scrambled backward, but were stopped by
the howling pit and could do nothing but huddle together behind Thellian’s feet.
In the chaos, Maya remained focused only by keeping to the task before her. The ground shook and trembled. The air felt
electric and smelled of smoke and blood. She arranged bones and crystals in a pentagram and spoke the chants, though they
were drowned by the sounds of her friend’s cries and demon’s howls. But the creatures that erupted from the hole veered
clear of them, as if even they feared Dawn’s power.
And Maya continued to work, whispering to herself a tiny prayer: It would all be over soon.
“She left us,” Clem wheezed. “Great mighty Ba’al, she left us!”
Oz and Lorne crouched beside him behind a toppled column. Oz had a sinking feeling that they were right back in the fire in
which they’d been so uncomfortably roasting before Willow and company arrived.
“There must be a reason,” Oz leveled with them. “She’d never abandon us without one. Give her the benefit.”
The three ducked as one of the demons chucked a chunk of stone at Faith, who spectacularly leapt over it, dived, and came
up to kick Connor in the jaw. That was all of the fight they got to see, though, as they tumbled into what remained of the
recessed dance floor and out of sight.
Lorne hunkered down beside Oz. “All the same,” he said. “Looks like we’re back in our previous predicament: Us against
Sabnock and the boys. I’m disliking our odds.”
Oz could see the Industrial Light and Magic show going on in the balcony from where they crouched. He could account for
seven of the demons, as they were busy attempting to destroy Faith and not succeeding. Oz had to smile at that, but only
briefly, because that left five demons out of his range of perception.
Had he still been a werewolf, he could have been able to smell them. Or rather, he could single out their particular stench
above all of the other stenches. But Oz wasn’t the type to get tangled up in a net of regrets.
He was a man of action.
“Look,” Oz said. “You guys make a run for it. Get out, get safe. Find the Slayers if you can.”
“What about you?” Clem moaned. He was nibbling on a fold of finger flesh and looked very much like the Cowardly Lion.
Oz picked up a hunk of wood and wielded it like a baseball bat.
“I intend to fight,” Oz said. He climbed over the toppled column and vanished in the din.
“Look at him go,” Lorne muttered. “Little Tiger…”
“Can’t,” Clem said. “Too paralyzed.”
Just then, three Sulksquelawtna appeared above them, and Lorne was certain he could see humor in their rotten-egg-
colored eyes.
“Run!” Lorne shouted.
They bolted toward what was left of the door in time to see a pair of headlights growing steadily larger in the splintered
glass. Lorne caught Clem by the shirtfront and together, they leapt clear of the doors as an ambulance burst through and
plowed into the last remaining stone column between the main ballroom and the foyer.
The siren sputtered comically before whimpering to silence, but the red and blue flashing claxons continued to bathe the
foyer with dizzying swathes of light.
Lorne started forward, but Clem stopped him as the passenger-side door popped open like the hatch of a space craft. A
shadow grew large across the door, and then William emerged, massaging the already closing wound on his forehead.
He dropped down from the ambulance just as a chunk of the roof sheered off, tumbling an avalanche of stones down the
stairs and across the foyer.
“Well,” William said, when the dust had sufficiently cleared. “Looks like we’re right on time.”
Willow was distracted. She needed to get upstairs, to help with her part in Dawn’s ritual, and then to cast the inter-
dimensional location spell, of which she was very proud.
The battle with the Super Uglies was not going well. Connor held all of Faith’s attention. Faith seemed to have the upper
hand because of the Scythe, but it was still anybody’s fight. Morna darted and flew with the grace and speed of a
hummingbird – not a surprise, seeing how Morna’s mom had been a Slayer, and her surrogate father was Thellian.
The thought of Thellian caused Willow’s heart to skip a beat. She could feel him near, but it was an unsettling nearness, like
an approaching thunderstorm after a period of draught. Sure, they needed the rain, but how bad would the storm be?
One of the demons ran at Willow, startling her from her temporary insanity. She sent an energy burst at his head, which
repelled the beast, but didn’t stop it. In fact, thus far, their little band had done nothing to take down any of the Big Bads.
Oz and Lorne were fighting them hand to hand. Willow wondered why Oz hadn’t wolfed out. Werewolf skills: a definite plus in
a battle of this magnitude. Then there was Xander, not too shabby with his two-handed sword.
And she was distracted again. Xander was handy with a blade, so they needed him here in the battle, but Thellian… Thellian
might need him, too.
Willow swallowed hard. Three of the demons had hemmed in Xander and Oz. Willow scattered the demons with some flashy
fireballs to their heads. Stinky purplish smoke filled the air. The fireballs were more of a nuisance to the demons, but Xander
tipped a salute of thanks Willow’s way before leaping back into battle.
Maybe Thellian could use someone else. Maybe Rachel. She wasn’t necessary to the spell casting, nor did she seem the
weapon’s master type. She was perfect!
And she was Giles’ long-lost daughter! Willow thought, feeling her face flush with guilt.
Connor kicked Faith’s legs out from under her. She landed with a crunch on her back, did a handspring, and spun on him, the
Scythe wailing furiously.
If only, Willow thought, if only she had been more certain about Connor. He could be fighting on their side right now, and
Xander…
Willow caught herself. What was she thinking? Was she really going to sacrifice her lifelong best friend so that Thellian
could have enough blood to embrace Dawn?
Xander would die.
But without blood from Thellian, Dawn would die.
Willow ran through her mental list of candidates again. She and Maya were necessary for the spell. Faith was necessary to
the battle. Designate Connor unlikely, due to status as a wild card. Draining him of blood might counteract the effects of
him defecting to the enemy, but he was still too freakin’ strong to be contained. That left Xander, Giles, and Rachel among
the healthy human contestants on Who Wants To Be a Blood Donor? And Giles was iffy on the healthy part.
Deep down, Willow resented Thellian for putting this task on her. She knew why he did it, though, and it was why Xander was
at the top of the list.
Thellian would give Willow what she wanted, but he demanded a price in equal proportion to the greatness of his gift. He
never came out and said it, but she knew him.
She knew.
So when the tremor shook Triumvirate, bowling them all to the ground, Willow knew her choice was already made. Dawn had
started the ritual. Their time was running out.
As soon as the air cleared, Willow scrambled forward through the plowed earth and debris to find Xander getting slowly to
his knees.
“Willow…” he said, sputtering, coughing out clouds of dirt. “What happened?”
“Dawn needs us,” she said. Before he could protest, she hauled him to the stairs and they ascended together, leaving the
battle behind them.
Maya had moved to stand beside Dawn, and together, their arms linked, they peered over the brim of the circle. Ropy bands
of blue-white plasma licked around its edges like living lightning, and fetid burning wind whipped up at them. Far below, they
beheld a scarred landscape writhing with what appeared to be filthy crabs or lobsters, only huge as Volkswagons or Dallas
Cowboy linebackers.
“I think it’s time to stop,” Maya suggested, her voice flat and serious.
Dawn let the droplets of blood drip from the tip of her knife. With each drop, the hole rippled outward and away from them.
“Too late,” Dawn responded tonelessly. She broke free from Maya, taking a staggering step backward, toward the balcony.
She drew another deep furrow down the inside of her left forearm. This time, the blood ribboned out across the expanse.
Tendrils of energy shot up and across the balcony with the ferocity of a lightning strike.
The building shuddered. Rachel, who was on the other side of the hole, stumbled and crawled toward the stairs before the
rest of the balcony was swallowed up by the growing maw.
Maya could hear nothing now except the deafening, grinding crush of destruction. She was numbed by it, and could feel the
panic like ice in her blood rushing through her.
But Dawn gripped Maya’s arm with her free hand.
“Keep all of the ritual things together,” Dawn said, pointing to the spell books and the messenger bag with her knife. “When
the time comes, I’ll need you.”
“M-me?” Maya stammered. “I c-can’t. Not me, Dawn. You asked Willow. Willow’s the one for the cutting…”
“She’s not here,” Dawn said. “And when I lose strength, you’ll have to continue.”
Maya sank to her knees. Robotically, she gathered the texts and the bag into her arms. On the surface, her brain was
screaming that she should just run while the way to the stairs was still clear, and then she should keep on running until…
well, Paris seemed a fine destination.
Deeper, though, was the calmer Maya that noted how pale Dawn looked already, who knew how soon that grace and
strength would leave this girl who was going to give everything she had in the hope that they could save this world and
others, too. And it wasn’t like Dawn chose any of this. She couldn’t help what she was. Dawn was just a girl…
Maya opened the text Willow had found on ritual bloodletting, and had to struggle to quell her gag reflex when she noted the
diagram that detailed what organs she would have to stab, and how deep, and in what order.
She was staring thus transfixed when Willow and Xander appeared beside them.
“Maya, Rachel: start the location spell,” Willow ordered breathlessly. “Xander, stand guard with Thellian and Giles.”
“Aye, aye, cap’n!” Xander shouted back, and Maya was sure she saw Willow wince.
Maya stared up at Willow and Dawn, who stood face to face before the crackling, gaping pit. Dawn turned the knife to
Willow, who accepted it without hesitation. She took Dawn’s right arm in her left hand. She made a series of quick, shallow
cuts and let the blood flow into the circle.
Maya heard Xander shout, “Take cover!” as the first of the flying monsters swept in on them. A squadron of them, scaly and
screeching, swarmed overhead and ripped through the roof, raining plaster and masonry down on them. A chunk of it
narrowly missed Giles and Rachel, who slammed against the wall to avoid it. They scrambled backward, but were stopped by
the howling pit and could do nothing but huddle together behind Thellian’s feet.
In the chaos, Maya remained focused only by keeping to the task before her. The ground shook and trembled. The air felt
electric and smelled of smoke and blood. She arranged bones and crystals in a pentagram and spoke the chants, though they
were drowned by the sounds of her friend’s cries and demon’s howls. But the creatures that erupted from the hole veered
clear of them, as if even they feared Dawn’s power.
And Maya continued to work, whispering to herself a tiny prayer: It would all be over soon.
“She left us,” Clem wheezed. “Great mighty Ba’al, she left us!”
Oz and Lorne crouched beside him behind a toppled column. Oz had a sinking feeling that they were right back in the fire in
which they’d been so uncomfortably roasting before Willow and company arrived.
“There must be a reason,” Oz leveled with them. “She’d never abandon us without one. Give her the benefit.”
The three ducked as one of the demons chucked a chunk of stone at Faith, who spectacularly leapt over it, dived, and came
up to kick Connor in the jaw. That was all of the fight they got to see, though, as they tumbled into what remained of the
recessed dance floor and out of sight.
Lorne hunkered down beside Oz. “All the same,” he said. “Looks like we’re back in our previous predicament: Us against
Sabnock and the boys. I’m disliking our odds.”
Oz could see the Industrial Light and Magic show going on in the balcony from where they crouched. He could account for
seven of the demons, as they were busy attempting to destroy Faith and not succeeding. Oz had to smile at that, but only
briefly, because that left five demons out of his range of perception.
Had he still been a werewolf, he could have been able to smell them. Or rather, he could single out their particular stench
above all of the other stenches. But Oz wasn’t the type to get tangled up in a net of regrets.
He was a man of action.
“Look,” Oz said. “You guys make a run for it. Get out, get safe. Find the Slayers if you can.”
“What about you?” Clem moaned. He was nibbling on a fold of finger flesh and looked very much like the Cowardly Lion.
Oz picked up a hunk of wood and wielded it like a baseball bat.
“I intend to fight,” Oz said. He climbed over the toppled column and vanished in the din.
“Look at him go,” Lorne muttered. “Little Tiger…”
“Can’t,” Clem said. “Too paralyzed.”
Just then, three Sulksquelawtna appeared above them, and Lorne was certain he could see humor in their rotten-egg-
colored eyes.
“Run!” Lorne shouted.
They bolted toward what was left of the door in time to see a pair of headlights growing steadily larger in the splintered
glass. Lorne caught Clem by the shirtfront and together, they leapt clear of the doors as an ambulance burst through and
plowed into the last remaining stone column between the main ballroom and the foyer.
The siren sputtered comically before whimpering to silence, but the red and blue flashing claxons continued to bathe the
foyer with dizzying swathes of light.
Lorne started forward, but Clem stopped him as the passenger-side door popped open like the hatch of a space craft. A
shadow grew large across the door, and then William emerged, massaging the already closing wound on his forehead.
He dropped down from the ambulance just as a chunk of the roof sheered off, tumbling an avalanche of stones down the
stairs and across the foyer.
“Well,” William said, when the dust had sufficiently cleared. “Looks like we’re right on time.”
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
.Chapter Index.
Anywhere Out
of This World
Blood, Pressure
The Drawing Board
All's Well
Anywhere Out of
This World
Mourning Sickness
Welcome to Hell
Relative
Matters of Time
& Fishes
International Calls
Empty as Houses
Lusty Wrong Feelings
Enthralled
Thanksgiving
Seduced
Innocents Lost
Burn
Flashback
Not A Chance In Hell
Empty Rooms
Two Roads Diverged
Starfall
Blindsided
Not Her Own
Outta Here
The Valley of the
Shadow of Death
Comes the Rain
Smoke and Mirrors
Drawn to You
Team Angel
By Fire Reborn
Salvage
Ashes to Ashes
Life Is...
With A Little Help
Appearances Deceiving
Familiarity
Sweetness
Not All Who Wander
That Old Black Magic
For Lorne
Drawn Together
Lost to Sand
Fall of Triumvirate
Parallel Lives
The Lovers
Avenger
Double Cross
Pursuit
Ripper's Girl
Pandemonium
Negative Space
Raveled Threads
Asunder
Human Hands
Singular
Fragmented
Symmetry
Plans
Rogue Squadron
Legends
Mea Culpa
Things Unsaid
Home Sweet Gone
Eleventh Hour
Last Call
Time Is Running Out
Primal
Anywhere Out
of This World
Blood, Pressure
The Drawing Board
All's Well
Anywhere Out of
This World
Mourning Sickness
Welcome to Hell
Relative
Matters of Time
& Fishes
International Calls
Empty as Houses
Lusty Wrong Feelings
Enthralled
Thanksgiving
Seduced
Innocents Lost
Burn
Flashback
Not A Chance In Hell
Empty Rooms
Two Roads Diverged
Starfall
Blindsided
Not Her Own
Outta Here
The Valley of the
Shadow of Death
Comes the Rain
Smoke and Mirrors
Drawn to You
Team Angel
By Fire Reborn
Salvage
Ashes to Ashes
Life Is...
With A Little Help
Appearances Deceiving
Familiarity
Sweetness
Not All Who Wander
That Old Black Magic
For Lorne
Drawn Together
Lost to Sand
Fall of Triumvirate
Parallel Lives
The Lovers
Avenger
Double Cross
Pursuit
Ripper's Girl
Pandemonium
Negative Space
Raveled Threads
Asunder
Human Hands
Singular
Fragmented
Symmetry
Plans
Rogue Squadron
Legends
Mea Culpa
Things Unsaid
Home Sweet Gone
Eleventh Hour
Last Call
Time Is Running Out
Primal