Primal
The moment William hit the ground, he knew things had gone full screw. And then the ceiling caved, cutting off the main
means of escape behind them.
Not that it mattered. He didn’t plan to vacate till he made certain the Bit was safe and un-pin-cushioned, sod the rest.
Problem was he could see nothing of the girl, just massive destruction and loads of demons, Clem and Lorne included.
His heart trembled when he surveyed the damage of Triumvirate’s foyer. Wrecking balls could not have administered a more
complete ruination. He could only hope that destruction was limited to private property, and not people near and dear. He
could hear a crunching-grinding-scraping noise from a roofward direction, and had to guess that Dawn and Willow had begun
their spell-craft upstairs in the balcony.
Pulling his dagger from his belt, William returned to the driver’s side of the ambulance and leaned across the seat.
“Doc?” he called.
Dr. Chapman had climbed in back to check on Andrew, but peeked out, his face looking blank with disbelief and shock, but
slightly less green now that they had safely crash-landed.
William said, “Keep inside.”
“Gotcher,” the doctor answered.
“I find the girl, bring her to you. Be ready. Got it?”
Dr. Chapman nodded, and William shut the ambulance door.
Lorne appeared beside him.
“You!” he gasped. And then, Lorne bear-hugged him.
William, impatient though he was, allowed the moment’s closeness, for Lorne’s sake if not his own. The moment was
shattered when Morna inadvertently herded a trio of Sulksquelawtna demons into their path. For all her agility and celerity,
they were goading her as much as anything, and that truly pissed William off.
“’Scuse me,” William said, ducking past Lorne to join Morna. This seemed to amuse the demons, who playfully batted aside
William’s and Morna’s matching thorn-shaped daggers. Until William’s made contact with a demon foreleg…
The incision bubbled a thick, putrescent black that smelled of burning insects and raw sewage. The Sulksquelawtna looked
first at the wound, then at William, and then howled a surprised cry. Several demons popped up to the jagged stone ledge
that once bordered the dance floor, each face set in similar scowls of hatred. William smiled crookedly.
“Got your attention, did it?” he asked. He glanced at Morna, who shared his smile. “And judging by your reactions, this isn’t
something that often occurs. Now, all we need do is plunge this blade someplace lethal…”
“I shall destroy you,” the demon growled, clamping a gauntleted fist over the gash to staunch the flow. The others charged
forward, and in a flash, William and Morna disappeared under a corpulent wave of demon foulness.
When the ambulance burst through the doors, Connor turned a half-second’s distraction against Faith. He caught her wrist
and flung her twenty feet into the air and across the ball room. She slammed into the stone balcony, clocking her head so
hard her teeth rattled, but she held tight to the Scythe, even when she fell and lay still on the ballroom floor.
She lay spread-eagle, her left leg twisted beneath her. A thread of blood trailed from the corner of her mouth. The room
seemed to undulate around her, a dizzy spinning that worsened when she opened her eyes.
Connor walked forward with care, fully expecting a horror movie fake-out.
He stood over her body, and she watched him shift in and out of focus, a looming, ominous shadow.
“I don’t know why you even fight,” he said, barely audible over the fierce shriek of the wind and the violent crushing noise
of the portal. “It’s over.”
Faith felt her anger well inside her, molten rock in a forge. If she could find her strength, she could wield that rage, but she
was hurt and she knew it. The question was, did he know it?
She tightened her fingers on the haft of the Scythe and waited.
“Dawn’s opened the portal. Luxe and all the legions of Hell have just been waiting for this moment. And I’ve done my job so
well, there’s nothing but a handful of girls to stand in his way,” Connor said. “And really, after Willow’s spell spilled the
bloodline across this dimension, the name Slayer just doesn’t mean what it used to.”
Faith let her eyes roll back. “You’re not Connor,” she said. Her voice fractured on his name, making her sound fragile and
broken.
“Took you long enough to figure it out. You and Willow both. Though I think Thellian knows,” he said. He crouched beside
her. With the middle finger of his right hand, he stroked a curl of her dark hair from her forehead and tucked it behind her
ear. “I am The Destroyer of Worlds, Faith. I have infinities within me, and I have waited millennia for this.
“Little Dawnie is so special because she can open doors?” he asked, his tone mocking, his lips curled into a cruel smile. “I
was here first. Before demons. Before Slayers. Before the glowy green energy that made Dawn the Key. I’m Primal.”
Faith’s eyes widened with understanding. That was why he could feel the Scythe’s power. And if that was true, then…
Springing sideways, Faith rolled with the Scythe and vaulted upright. Nausea bloomed in her gut, but she choked it down.
She shifted her weight to her right leg, trying to hide the pain. She held the Scythe in front of her, full-on defense now. She
had two hopes now: one, that he would buy the charade and believe she was more hurt than she really was and two, that she
could also believe that charade.
Connor leered at her, and his eerie green eyes glinted. “You could always side with me,” he said.
“You could always kiss my ass,” she bit out.
He reached for her. She backed away. Overhead, what remained of the ceiling and the skylight disappeared in a blue-white
flash of plasma.
She blinked against the searing glare, but when her eyes readjusted, she found Connor had breached her personal space, his
boyish grinning face inches from hers.
“C’mon, Faith,” he whispered gruffly. “You must have wondered what it would be like. We’re so evenly matched.”
Faith shoved him hard. He held firm, then stepped closer. She could smell the sweetness of his breath, and the weight of him
against her body. She thought better of head-butting him, remembering how that maneuver had failed in Japan. The memory
evoked a swirling confliction of emotions that made her skin prickle. Her mouth betrayed her desire with a smile.
Connor put his arm around her waist and drew her against him. “See?” he said. “It’s easy.”
It was easy. It did feel right. All the fighting, her pursuing him through Tokyo, her waiting at his side, fearful that he would
die: it made sense. Finally.
She let her body slacken within the cage of his arms. For a moment, she leaned on his strength, and when he brought his lips
to hers, she let him kiss her.
There was just one problem.
Faith broke their embrace. She stared up into the luminescent green-tinged eyes.
“You’re not him,” she said again. And she kneed him in the groin.
Willow’s hands were slick with Dawn’s blood. So much so that the hilt slipped in her trembling hands, but she forced herself
to grip it tighter. And with each cut she made, now starting on Dawn’s upper thighs, she recalled the memory of the fawn
she had killed for the ritual to bring Buffy back from the dead.
It had been a sweet, innocent little thing with soft eyes and flecks of white in its downy pelt. Willow remembered how she’d
lured it with a simple charm, and how the stupid animal had walked willingly to its death.
Willow remembered slitting its throat. She remembered the soft sucking sound it had made. She remembered the gratifying
spurt of warm blood on her fingers.
Dawn groaned slightly, waking Willow from her perverse reverie. Willow schooled her features and hoped that Dawn had not
glimpsed the sickening satisfaction in her features.
“I can’t stand,” Dawn said, swaying slightly. Her eyes rolled back, but Willow braced her upright.
“I know, Dawnie,” Willow soothed. “But you can’t sit now. The blood won’t flow.”
Dawn nodded. Over the wail of the growing portal, Xander shouted, “Let me!”
Willow snapped her attention to Xander. “No! Stay there with Thellian,” she snapped. “Stand guard…”
Xander glanced at the vampire and sneered. “He doesn’t need my help,” Xander called back. “She does!”
Willow looked down at Maya, who had managed to prepare the entire location spell and dutifully awaited Willow’s next order.
Maya was a tiny thing, much smaller than Dawn, but she could hold her up while Willow prepared the next phase of the ritual.
Hopefully she could, anyway.
Soon, it wouldn’t matter, thought Willow. Soon, the portal would engulf all but their small part of the balcony, and Xander,
Giles, and Rachel would be cut off from them until the spell was finished and the portal was closed again.
Most likely, those were exactly Xander’s thoughts.
Willow’s attention flickered to Thellian’s. In the moment their eyes met, she understood that he would be ready.
This strengthened Willow’s resolve. With her free hand, she pulled Maya to her feet.
“I need you to hold her!” Willow shouted. Maya’s brow crinkled. “Hold her!” Willow repeated, feeling impatient at Maya’s
doe-eyed slowness.
Maya looped Dawn’s limp and bleeding arm over her shoulders and braced her while Willow completed the series of shallow
horizontal slashes from Dawn’s thighs to her knees.
The next cuts marked the point of no return for Dawn. According to the ritual, the next would slowly and painfully kill her.
“Be ready,” Willow said to Maya, and though the words were ripped away by the keening wail of the portal, this time the girl
understood. Willow raised the knife and plunged down into Dawn’s left femoral artery.
A star appeared in the East, over the Lake of Fire beside which gathered Legion, and at its fore, Luxe, astride an immense
steel-gray wolf, beheld the omen and knew it was good.
A ripple of bloodlust passed over the congregated mass of demons, palpable as a blast of heat. Luxe inhaled it, savored it. It
was the purest force of destruction the world above would ever know.
The star grew larger and more brilliant. In moments it devoured a quarter of the sky, and Luxe beheld a glimpse of the world
beyond. The torn edges of reality unraveled before their eager eyes.
The star blazed, plasma-hot and all-consuming. Luxe drew his scimitar and held it aloft. Behind him, the demons sent up an
obliteration cry of triumph.
“Behold,” Luxe said to himself. “And be ready. We are about the Lord’s work now.”
The scream that rose up filled the husk that had been Triumvirate, and every creature within its shambling walls was
momentarily paralyzed by the intensity of its sorrow.
William, knowing it was Dawn, broke free of the Sulksquelawtna and bolted for the stairs. He leapt one of the fallen columns
and staggered to a stop at the base of the stairs, where he found Oz, wielding a makeshift wooden club, battling against a
demon. Surprised though he was at seeing Oz, William knew an opportune moment when he saw one. William darted full-
speed, leapt onto the demon’s back, and neatly sliced its throat.
The demon went down in a stinking, bubbling mass of gray sludge.
Oz, bewildered, stood with his club still raised while the demon shriveled and squelched into a greasy black stain on the floor.
When it was gone, he looked at William and said, “Thanks.”
“Dawn?” William asked.
“Upstairs,” Oz said. “Hurry.”
William sprinted toward the broad staircase, and Oz returned his attention to the battle.
At the top of the wide stone steps that led to the balcony loft above the dance floor, Thellian stood guard, flanked by
Xander, who looked grim, Rachel, who looked starkers, and Giles, who looked pale and frankly, quite useless. William had
three full seconds to consider whether Thellian would try to block his ascent, but decided that it didn’t matter.
Thellian could try. Hell, they could all try together, but fact was, no one could stand between him and Dawn.
Add to that their obvious surprise at seeing him, and William figured he would simply bowl them aside.
“You can’t go up there!” Xander called down the steps.
“Stop me,” William answered, pretending that Xander was the 10-pin.
When he crested the top stair, Thellian and Xander unexpectedly parted and William skidded to a halt inches from the
crackling serrated edge of the portal. Thellian caught William’s arm from behind and dragged him backward.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, the five of them equally stupefied by the roiling, shimmering chaos before them. Glaring
beams of wavering energy like a heat mirage bent and refracted the air above the portal, contorting the image of Dawn,
Willow, and Maya into funhouse mirror shapes.
“It is too late,” Thellian soothed.
“No,” William said, his jaw clenching as he battled with the truth spread out at their feet.
Even as he spoke, another tremor shook the earth and the portal grew wider. The north-facing wall disintegrated. Whiplike
tendrils of energy transformed the dripping ferns into writhing masses of black snakes. The up-righted tables and chairs
stacked against the far wall warped into bloody severed limbs that attempted to scramble away from the portal’s edge
before getting sucked in by its terrible gravity.
“We can’t escape it,” Rachel cried, a reedy note of terror in her voice.
“All of the Hellmouths are opening,” Giles said. “This is it. What we feared most has come to pass.”
The portal widened further still, forcing them to give ground. They backed down first one step, and then another.
“It will consume us all,” Thellian said, with a strangely soothing authority in his voice.
They retreated further from the widening arc of the portal as it devoured step after step. Soon they found themselves
looking down on a desolate, sand-scoured plane and an endless caldera that spewed lava into a bleak night sky. Beyond that
surged an army of malformed atrocities clad in iron black armor and bristling with swords and spears.
At the head of the column rode a dark figure astride a dire wolf the size of Hummer…
“Hellmouths opening is not what we feared most,” William said, readying his weapon. “It’s what comes out of them…”
The demon burst forth from the portal. And all of Hell followed with him.
Lorne and Clem rejoiced at seeing one of the Sulksquelawtna go down like the Wicked Witch of the West. It was short-lived,
for their whooping attracted the attention of several of the fallen demon’s surviving kin. Four broke away from the group
that had been fighting against William and Morna.
Clem and Lorne split up, scrambling in opposite directions. Lorne fled across the shattered remains of the front doors and
disappeared into the street outside. Clem, however, raced toward the dance floor, where Connor and Faith still fought. Two
of the Sulksquelawtna caught up with Clem, and though he bolted, he wasn’t fast enough. One demon seized him and dragged
a flailing Clem toward the dance floor.
“Look-eth what I hath found, Master!” the demon shouted to Connor. Lorne froze within feet of the door and turned to see
the demon dangling a terrified Clem like a marionette.
Connor had just blocked Faith’s Scythe slash, and did not look pleased with the interruption.
“That’s fantastic,” Connor called back, through gritted teeth.
“Master, may we kill-eth him?” the demon called.
Faith swung the Scythe over-handed. Connor caught it by the haft, the blade mere inches from his face. He pulled Faith
closer, toying with her balance.
“Sure. Why not?” Connor said.
“No!” Faith cried, but she was powerless. The demon twisted Clem’s neck and dropped his body to the floor.
“Oh come on, Faith,” Connor said. “They’re demons…”
Faith saw Oz one second before he brought the club down on Connor’s head. It wasn’t enough to knock Connor out, but the
surprise of it gave her the moment she needed.
He lay sprawled and dazed on the marble floor. Faith raised the Scythe above her head just as he opened his eyes and…
The green fire was gone. Connor was in there, she knew it. And still she brought the Scythe down.
The moment William hit the ground, he knew things had gone full screw. And then the ceiling caved, cutting off the main
means of escape behind them.
Not that it mattered. He didn’t plan to vacate till he made certain the Bit was safe and un-pin-cushioned, sod the rest.
Problem was he could see nothing of the girl, just massive destruction and loads of demons, Clem and Lorne included.
His heart trembled when he surveyed the damage of Triumvirate’s foyer. Wrecking balls could not have administered a more
complete ruination. He could only hope that destruction was limited to private property, and not people near and dear. He
could hear a crunching-grinding-scraping noise from a roofward direction, and had to guess that Dawn and Willow had begun
their spell-craft upstairs in the balcony.
Pulling his dagger from his belt, William returned to the driver’s side of the ambulance and leaned across the seat.
“Doc?” he called.
Dr. Chapman had climbed in back to check on Andrew, but peeked out, his face looking blank with disbelief and shock, but
slightly less green now that they had safely crash-landed.
William said, “Keep inside.”
“Gotcher,” the doctor answered.
“I find the girl, bring her to you. Be ready. Got it?”
Dr. Chapman nodded, and William shut the ambulance door.
Lorne appeared beside him.
“You!” he gasped. And then, Lorne bear-hugged him.
William, impatient though he was, allowed the moment’s closeness, for Lorne’s sake if not his own. The moment was
shattered when Morna inadvertently herded a trio of Sulksquelawtna demons into their path. For all her agility and celerity,
they were goading her as much as anything, and that truly pissed William off.
“’Scuse me,” William said, ducking past Lorne to join Morna. This seemed to amuse the demons, who playfully batted aside
William’s and Morna’s matching thorn-shaped daggers. Until William’s made contact with a demon foreleg…
The incision bubbled a thick, putrescent black that smelled of burning insects and raw sewage. The Sulksquelawtna looked
first at the wound, then at William, and then howled a surprised cry. Several demons popped up to the jagged stone ledge
that once bordered the dance floor, each face set in similar scowls of hatred. William smiled crookedly.
“Got your attention, did it?” he asked. He glanced at Morna, who shared his smile. “And judging by your reactions, this isn’t
something that often occurs. Now, all we need do is plunge this blade someplace lethal…”
“I shall destroy you,” the demon growled, clamping a gauntleted fist over the gash to staunch the flow. The others charged
forward, and in a flash, William and Morna disappeared under a corpulent wave of demon foulness.
When the ambulance burst through the doors, Connor turned a half-second’s distraction against Faith. He caught her wrist
and flung her twenty feet into the air and across the ball room. She slammed into the stone balcony, clocking her head so
hard her teeth rattled, but she held tight to the Scythe, even when she fell and lay still on the ballroom floor.
She lay spread-eagle, her left leg twisted beneath her. A thread of blood trailed from the corner of her mouth. The room
seemed to undulate around her, a dizzy spinning that worsened when she opened her eyes.
Connor walked forward with care, fully expecting a horror movie fake-out.
He stood over her body, and she watched him shift in and out of focus, a looming, ominous shadow.
“I don’t know why you even fight,” he said, barely audible over the fierce shriek of the wind and the violent crushing noise
of the portal. “It’s over.”
Faith felt her anger well inside her, molten rock in a forge. If she could find her strength, she could wield that rage, but she
was hurt and she knew it. The question was, did he know it?
She tightened her fingers on the haft of the Scythe and waited.
“Dawn’s opened the portal. Luxe and all the legions of Hell have just been waiting for this moment. And I’ve done my job so
well, there’s nothing but a handful of girls to stand in his way,” Connor said. “And really, after Willow’s spell spilled the
bloodline across this dimension, the name Slayer just doesn’t mean what it used to.”
Faith let her eyes roll back. “You’re not Connor,” she said. Her voice fractured on his name, making her sound fragile and
broken.
“Took you long enough to figure it out. You and Willow both. Though I think Thellian knows,” he said. He crouched beside
her. With the middle finger of his right hand, he stroked a curl of her dark hair from her forehead and tucked it behind her
ear. “I am The Destroyer of Worlds, Faith. I have infinities within me, and I have waited millennia for this.
“Little Dawnie is so special because she can open doors?” he asked, his tone mocking, his lips curled into a cruel smile. “I
was here first. Before demons. Before Slayers. Before the glowy green energy that made Dawn the Key. I’m Primal.”
Faith’s eyes widened with understanding. That was why he could feel the Scythe’s power. And if that was true, then…
Springing sideways, Faith rolled with the Scythe and vaulted upright. Nausea bloomed in her gut, but she choked it down.
She shifted her weight to her right leg, trying to hide the pain. She held the Scythe in front of her, full-on defense now. She
had two hopes now: one, that he would buy the charade and believe she was more hurt than she really was and two, that she
could also believe that charade.
Connor leered at her, and his eerie green eyes glinted. “You could always side with me,” he said.
“You could always kiss my ass,” she bit out.
He reached for her. She backed away. Overhead, what remained of the ceiling and the skylight disappeared in a blue-white
flash of plasma.
She blinked against the searing glare, but when her eyes readjusted, she found Connor had breached her personal space, his
boyish grinning face inches from hers.
“C’mon, Faith,” he whispered gruffly. “You must have wondered what it would be like. We’re so evenly matched.”
Faith shoved him hard. He held firm, then stepped closer. She could smell the sweetness of his breath, and the weight of him
against her body. She thought better of head-butting him, remembering how that maneuver had failed in Japan. The memory
evoked a swirling confliction of emotions that made her skin prickle. Her mouth betrayed her desire with a smile.
Connor put his arm around her waist and drew her against him. “See?” he said. “It’s easy.”
It was easy. It did feel right. All the fighting, her pursuing him through Tokyo, her waiting at his side, fearful that he would
die: it made sense. Finally.
She let her body slacken within the cage of his arms. For a moment, she leaned on his strength, and when he brought his lips
to hers, she let him kiss her.
There was just one problem.
Faith broke their embrace. She stared up into the luminescent green-tinged eyes.
“You’re not him,” she said again. And she kneed him in the groin.
Willow’s hands were slick with Dawn’s blood. So much so that the hilt slipped in her trembling hands, but she forced herself
to grip it tighter. And with each cut she made, now starting on Dawn’s upper thighs, she recalled the memory of the fawn
she had killed for the ritual to bring Buffy back from the dead.
It had been a sweet, innocent little thing with soft eyes and flecks of white in its downy pelt. Willow remembered how she’d
lured it with a simple charm, and how the stupid animal had walked willingly to its death.
Willow remembered slitting its throat. She remembered the soft sucking sound it had made. She remembered the gratifying
spurt of warm blood on her fingers.
Dawn groaned slightly, waking Willow from her perverse reverie. Willow schooled her features and hoped that Dawn had not
glimpsed the sickening satisfaction in her features.
“I can’t stand,” Dawn said, swaying slightly. Her eyes rolled back, but Willow braced her upright.
“I know, Dawnie,” Willow soothed. “But you can’t sit now. The blood won’t flow.”
Dawn nodded. Over the wail of the growing portal, Xander shouted, “Let me!”
Willow snapped her attention to Xander. “No! Stay there with Thellian,” she snapped. “Stand guard…”
Xander glanced at the vampire and sneered. “He doesn’t need my help,” Xander called back. “She does!”
Willow looked down at Maya, who had managed to prepare the entire location spell and dutifully awaited Willow’s next order.
Maya was a tiny thing, much smaller than Dawn, but she could hold her up while Willow prepared the next phase of the ritual.
Hopefully she could, anyway.
Soon, it wouldn’t matter, thought Willow. Soon, the portal would engulf all but their small part of the balcony, and Xander,
Giles, and Rachel would be cut off from them until the spell was finished and the portal was closed again.
Most likely, those were exactly Xander’s thoughts.
Willow’s attention flickered to Thellian’s. In the moment their eyes met, she understood that he would be ready.
This strengthened Willow’s resolve. With her free hand, she pulled Maya to her feet.
“I need you to hold her!” Willow shouted. Maya’s brow crinkled. “Hold her!” Willow repeated, feeling impatient at Maya’s
doe-eyed slowness.
Maya looped Dawn’s limp and bleeding arm over her shoulders and braced her while Willow completed the series of shallow
horizontal slashes from Dawn’s thighs to her knees.
The next cuts marked the point of no return for Dawn. According to the ritual, the next would slowly and painfully kill her.
“Be ready,” Willow said to Maya, and though the words were ripped away by the keening wail of the portal, this time the girl
understood. Willow raised the knife and plunged down into Dawn’s left femoral artery.
A star appeared in the East, over the Lake of Fire beside which gathered Legion, and at its fore, Luxe, astride an immense
steel-gray wolf, beheld the omen and knew it was good.
A ripple of bloodlust passed over the congregated mass of demons, palpable as a blast of heat. Luxe inhaled it, savored it. It
was the purest force of destruction the world above would ever know.
The star grew larger and more brilliant. In moments it devoured a quarter of the sky, and Luxe beheld a glimpse of the world
beyond. The torn edges of reality unraveled before their eager eyes.
The star blazed, plasma-hot and all-consuming. Luxe drew his scimitar and held it aloft. Behind him, the demons sent up an
obliteration cry of triumph.
“Behold,” Luxe said to himself. “And be ready. We are about the Lord’s work now.”
The scream that rose up filled the husk that had been Triumvirate, and every creature within its shambling walls was
momentarily paralyzed by the intensity of its sorrow.
William, knowing it was Dawn, broke free of the Sulksquelawtna and bolted for the stairs. He leapt one of the fallen columns
and staggered to a stop at the base of the stairs, where he found Oz, wielding a makeshift wooden club, battling against a
demon. Surprised though he was at seeing Oz, William knew an opportune moment when he saw one. William darted full-
speed, leapt onto the demon’s back, and neatly sliced its throat.
The demon went down in a stinking, bubbling mass of gray sludge.
Oz, bewildered, stood with his club still raised while the demon shriveled and squelched into a greasy black stain on the floor.
When it was gone, he looked at William and said, “Thanks.”
“Dawn?” William asked.
“Upstairs,” Oz said. “Hurry.”
William sprinted toward the broad staircase, and Oz returned his attention to the battle.
At the top of the wide stone steps that led to the balcony loft above the dance floor, Thellian stood guard, flanked by
Xander, who looked grim, Rachel, who looked starkers, and Giles, who looked pale and frankly, quite useless. William had
three full seconds to consider whether Thellian would try to block his ascent, but decided that it didn’t matter.
Thellian could try. Hell, they could all try together, but fact was, no one could stand between him and Dawn.
Add to that their obvious surprise at seeing him, and William figured he would simply bowl them aside.
“You can’t go up there!” Xander called down the steps.
“Stop me,” William answered, pretending that Xander was the 10-pin.
When he crested the top stair, Thellian and Xander unexpectedly parted and William skidded to a halt inches from the
crackling serrated edge of the portal. Thellian caught William’s arm from behind and dragged him backward.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, the five of them equally stupefied by the roiling, shimmering chaos before them. Glaring
beams of wavering energy like a heat mirage bent and refracted the air above the portal, contorting the image of Dawn,
Willow, and Maya into funhouse mirror shapes.
“It is too late,” Thellian soothed.
“No,” William said, his jaw clenching as he battled with the truth spread out at their feet.
Even as he spoke, another tremor shook the earth and the portal grew wider. The north-facing wall disintegrated. Whiplike
tendrils of energy transformed the dripping ferns into writhing masses of black snakes. The up-righted tables and chairs
stacked against the far wall warped into bloody severed limbs that attempted to scramble away from the portal’s edge
before getting sucked in by its terrible gravity.
“We can’t escape it,” Rachel cried, a reedy note of terror in her voice.
“All of the Hellmouths are opening,” Giles said. “This is it. What we feared most has come to pass.”
The portal widened further still, forcing them to give ground. They backed down first one step, and then another.
“It will consume us all,” Thellian said, with a strangely soothing authority in his voice.
They retreated further from the widening arc of the portal as it devoured step after step. Soon they found themselves
looking down on a desolate, sand-scoured plane and an endless caldera that spewed lava into a bleak night sky. Beyond that
surged an army of malformed atrocities clad in iron black armor and bristling with swords and spears.
At the head of the column rode a dark figure astride a dire wolf the size of Hummer…
“Hellmouths opening is not what we feared most,” William said, readying his weapon. “It’s what comes out of them…”
The demon burst forth from the portal. And all of Hell followed with him.
Lorne and Clem rejoiced at seeing one of the Sulksquelawtna go down like the Wicked Witch of the West. It was short-lived,
for their whooping attracted the attention of several of the fallen demon’s surviving kin. Four broke away from the group
that had been fighting against William and Morna.
Clem and Lorne split up, scrambling in opposite directions. Lorne fled across the shattered remains of the front doors and
disappeared into the street outside. Clem, however, raced toward the dance floor, where Connor and Faith still fought. Two
of the Sulksquelawtna caught up with Clem, and though he bolted, he wasn’t fast enough. One demon seized him and dragged
a flailing Clem toward the dance floor.
“Look-eth what I hath found, Master!” the demon shouted to Connor. Lorne froze within feet of the door and turned to see
the demon dangling a terrified Clem like a marionette.
Connor had just blocked Faith’s Scythe slash, and did not look pleased with the interruption.
“That’s fantastic,” Connor called back, through gritted teeth.
“Master, may we kill-eth him?” the demon called.
Faith swung the Scythe over-handed. Connor caught it by the haft, the blade mere inches from his face. He pulled Faith
closer, toying with her balance.
“Sure. Why not?” Connor said.
“No!” Faith cried, but she was powerless. The demon twisted Clem’s neck and dropped his body to the floor.
“Oh come on, Faith,” Connor said. “They’re demons…”
Faith saw Oz one second before he brought the club down on Connor’s head. It wasn’t enough to knock Connor out, but the
surprise of it gave her the moment she needed.
He lay sprawled and dazed on the marble floor. Faith raised the Scythe above her head just as he opened his eyes and…
The green fire was gone. Connor was in there, she knew it. And still she brought the Scythe down.
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.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