Brave New World

Bleak desolation,
In a beam of Sun.

Scraping as I crawl
(Your heart can't hear me)
Tearing bruising fall
(Your hands can't hear me)
Thirsting raging blind
(Your eyes can't hear me)
Racing against time
(Your arms can't hear me)

Like an angel you'll come
In a dream, precious one
(And) Make me beautifully numb

Desperate panicked calls
(The wind can't hear me)
Muffled weak and small
(The sand can't hear me)
Pleading groping hands
(The truth can\ear ear me)
Bleeding in the sand
(Your heart can't hear me)

Bleak desolation,
In a beam of Sun

Like an angel you'll come,
In a dream, blessed one,
(And) Make me joyfully numb.

Razor fingers cling
(The wind can't hear me)
Piercing demons sing
(The sand can't hear me)
Twisting hollow Hell
(The truth can't hear me)
Burning blisters swell
(Your heart can't hear me)

Sharp cut aching breath
(Your arms can't hear me)
Choking scent of death
(Your hands can't hear me)
Grueling jaw-bone grind
(Your eyes can't hear me)
Cursed by my own mind
(Your heart can't hear me)

****
Duende
by Delirium

############

Deep beneath the rubble of the destroyed house, a body floated in a pool. There was no life. No pulse.

Only darkness.

Abruptly, the body's fingers begin to twitch. Then the hands clenched. Muscle spasms shot through the body.

Suddenly, the eyes snapped opened, but they could see nothing in the pitch-black darkness. Buffy was in a tremendous amount of pain and confusion as she awoke, and she tried to remember what had happened. She was submerged in water. Foul, sooty tasting water. She turned herself about and tried looking for any light.

Snarling in frustration, she clutched at her head. Memories began to slowly return. She had been in the workout room waiting for Spike to join her when the first explosion had occurred upstairs. She remembered running towards the stairs when a second explosion had gone off and a great, billowing wave of fire had poured down the stairway. Skidding to a halt, she had spun about and slipped to her hands and knees before diving forward into the basement's swimming pool. Just as she had entered the water, she had felt a third concussion from an explosion directly above her before blacking out.

She closed her eyes.

**This isn't happening,** she thought to herself. **I'm having... it's one of my nightmares.** The fire. The water. The feeling of drowning. She'd been having them for weeks. She simply needed to wake up to end it.

Only it wasn't working.

**Dammit this can't be happening to me.** But the pain throughout her body was more than she had ever felt in her dreams. Her back was blistered, her head ached, her left foot felt odd, her whole body felt as though two giant hands had crushed her between them, and her lungs burned from the scrapings of particulates in the water which had entered them. She began to thrash about in the dark and felt her hands scrape against something. She clutched at the object and pulled herself forward, only to suddenly reel back in pain as she slammed her forehead into something hard and unyielding.

She clutched at her head, the fresh pain giving her something to focus on. She was not waking up because she was not dreaming. She was buried under the remains of the house. She would have to dig her way up and out of here. What had happened?

**We were attacked,** she blinked as the realization came to her. The explosions had been missiles launched at the house. A lot of them. At the upstairs. Where Spike had been.

Buffy stilled again as the realization that Spike had been upstairs, and there had been no handy pool for him to seek shelter in.

Upstairs was gone.

Slowly she raised her fists to the sides of her head.

Spike was gone.

A cold ball of rage began to rapidly grow deep inside the pit of her stomach. Her fists clenched and her fingers extended into claws that pierced the palms of her hands. The realization began to sink in, that all that she had valued and loved had once again been taken from her.

The scream that burst forth expelled the last of the air from her lungs as her demon and soul cried out silently in anguish and fury. She began to lash out in a rage in all directions with her hands and feet. Her demon rose up with unrestrained wrath at this sudden and sick twist of fate that had robbed her of her friend. Her lover. Her subject. HER MATE!

In a blind frenzy, she began to claw upwards and tear through the debris that had settled upon her in the pool. Furiously, she began digging her way upward as she swore revenge on those who had taken Spike from her.

*******

Giles was frustrated. The book was teasing him. It was rife with passages that began promisingly enough, but then they inevitably ended up countering themselves by the end of the paragraph. Not to mention the outright misinformation he had to wade through. Events that had never occurred like the accounts of the Master opening the Hellmouth and unleashing the Old Ones upon the world in 1937.

It was a strange mishmash of prophecy and nonsense:

'The fallen one shall arise in place of the Angelic one. The departure disrupts the devil's plans. The hollow demon shall seek vengeance, but instead find the salvation of the world. The tiger will hunt the hunters.'

'The Queen of Blood shall betray her master and submit to the dark Queen of Diamonds.'

'The Anointed one shall deliver the Slayer into darkness. Salvation shall come only if aid arrives for the One who seeks the light, if the sacrifices of the Three are accepted and the Heir chooses to help.'

'The Anointed shall flee the wrath of the errant Childe. Out of the shadows of fear, up from the ashes of destruction, shall the Warrior of Rings arise, and the sword of death shall be turned against its creator - In the year of our Lord, 9999.'


The book contained almost 3000 predictions. By steadily eliminating those that referred to events in the past that had not happened or people who no longer existed, Giles had pared them down until he had less than fifty that might be relevant to the current crisis.

The last one in particular had left fee feeling frustrated. Once again there was a mention of this mysterious 'Warrior of Rings' and Giles still had no idea who it was referring to. Then there was the date that referred to 9999. Instead of considering the whole number to refer to the year, he had looked at it as a month day and year.

September 9th 1999.

*Tomorrow,* thought a tired Giles. He looked up at the clock on the dinning room mantel. The clock showed it to be 2:38 am. *Scratch that. Now it's today.* He sighed in frustration and dropped the book to the table. *I need some coffee.*

He got up, went into the kitchen, and found Christopher fixing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Christopher Pike was one of the orphaned children living in the house. Eight years old, he could not sleep at night anymore due to worries and nightmares, and would instead sleep during the day. Rather than force the issue, the adults had decided to let him stay awake at night since the watcher stayed awake all night as well. The boy fastidiously spread the grape jelly across the bread making sure to cover the entire surface before carefully setting it over the peanut butter covered slice. As Giles began to set up the coffee machine, Christopher took his sandwich out to the dining room table to eat.

Giles had just started the coffee when Christopher returned for the jug of fruit punch. As Giles waited he suddenly heard a clatter and splash from the dining room. He hurried out to find a worried Christopher attempting to clean up the glass of fruit punch that had spilled all over the table when Christopher's glass had toppled over.

"I'm-I'm sorry M-M-Mr. Giles," he stammered in a worried voice. "It just fell over when I-"

"It's alright," Giles said calmly as he picked up the remaining napkin. "Let's just clean it up. Go get me some paper towels," he said abruptly as he quickly moved to stop the line red fruit punch heading towards the edge of the table and the white carpet below.

Then he saw the book and groaned. Reaching , he, he lifted the book up and saw the red stain penetrating the pages. He heard a gasp and looked up to see Christopher standing in the doorway with the towels, looking even more frightened and verging on tears.

"I-I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"It's alright, Christopher," Giles told him patiently.

"Here let me help." Giles sighed in relief as Jenny entered the room. She took the towels from the upset child and handed them to Giles. "It's alright, Christopher. It was an accident. Here, go sit on the couch and finish your sandwich." She gave the child a smile and a squeeze on his shoulder to reassure him.

Giles had placed several towels about the table to blot up the liquid and went to get the garbage pail from the kitchen. Jenny moved to clean the book, grabbing a few towels to blot up the excess, when she looked at the open page and hesitated.

"Rupert?"

"Yes, love?" he asked as he came back with the trash can.

"Look," she indicated the stained page of the book.

The top half of the page was stained a bright cherry red from the fruit punch. The black lettering seemed blurred and faded. However, that was not what had caught Jenny's attention. For on the now stained page in thin silvery letters was a new message and it was addressed to him.

Rupert Giles,
If yea readith thees wordes, then danger doth approacheth thyne abode. Vampyres come wyth fire and cannon. The Slayer be prisoner to the foul Beast wythin the City of Angels. Save thee thy demon warrior to save her. Else ye will loose the Worlde to the ravenous Beast.
Agnus Nitt


Giles looked up to meet Jenny's eyes. "I believe we had better evacuate the house."

******

The Master looked on peevishly as the truck was loaded. Lesser ranking vampires moved about performing their duties quickly to avoid his scrutiny for very long. They could sense his irritation and desperately wished to avoid his attention.

The Master was still greatly irritated over the betrayal by Spike. But even more so was the assertion by the Annointed that Spike had been working with the 'White Hats'. Humans! It was intolerable. For three years he had put up with their activities because it had suited him to do so, but now they had gone too far. It was past time to exterminate them.

"Wilson, I have one more thing for you to do before you leave tonight," the Master said extending his hand.

"Yes, My Lord," Wilson said submissively as he knelt down and grasped the outstretched hand.

"Eliminate the White Hats. However you wish," the Master commanded.

"Thy will shall be done," said Wilson before kissing the Master's hand.

"Of course it shall. Meet us in LA," the Master said with a wave of his hand, dismissing Wilson.

*****

Amy waited patiently and tried very hard not to nod off as she watched over her mother's body. Catherine Madison was spirit walking or, in her own words, 'Communing with the Goddess.' Amy was a little questioning of who or what exactly her mother's spirit was communing with. Mom tended to exaggerate things sometimes as Amy often discovered. Still, no harm, no foul. Her mother's skill at this aspect of 'The Craft' was, if not consistent, especially helpful at the few times when it succeeded in granting her a future vision.

She noted the increased breathing rate indicating a return of her mother's spirit and her imminent awakening. Abruptly, Catherine sat up and looked around in confusion.

"Amy?"

"Right here, mom," Amy said calmly giving her mother a point to focus on as she pulled herself together. She handed her mom a large glass of water. These sessions usually left Catherine dehydrated and starving. She finished the first glass and handed it back for a refill.

"How long?" she asked as Amy poured the water.

"Thirty seven hours. I was beginning to get worried," Amy said quietly.

Catherine looked at her daughter and smiled gently, "I'm sorry dear, but it was worth the trip."

Amy waited for her mother to tell what she had learned. Over the past year, she had found that asking questions at this point would only result in her mom not telling her anything. When she remain quiet, her mother was usually more forthcoming with the details. Usually.

"Come here, Amy," Catherine said softly. When Amy came to stand in front of her mother, Catherine looked at her long and hard. Amy at first began to fidget, puzzled and a little worried by her mother's behavior. When Catherine locked eyes with her however she became calm and stood up straighter, returning the gaze and awaiting her mother's explanation. Unexpectedly, when Catherine finally nodded her head, the next thing she did took Amy completely by surprise.

Catherine reached out and pulled her daughter into her arms in a tight embrace. Amy was so startled that for a few seconds she froze in surprise. Then she began to return the hug, and for several minutes they just stood there in silence. After a while, Catherine pulled away to look Amy in the face again.

"You are going to have to be strong, very soon. I had hoped I would have more time to train you. I just pray that it is enough." She reached out to gently stroke the side of Amy's face.

Amy swallowed nervously and licked her lips. "Mom, I... I won't let you down," she said, hesitant at first but ending in a firmer tone of voice.

"I'm so proud to have you for my daughter," Catherine whispered. "I do love you, Amy. I just want you to know that."

"Mom? I... I love you too," Amy replied a lump forming in her chest.

"Get the Red List supplies, dear," Catherine finally said. "We have to go see Jenny."

"Is something wrong? Is it the baby?" Amy asked as her alarm overrode other concerns.

"No. The baby is fine. Now go, get the supplies. Shoo," Catherine said with a wave of her hand.

When Amy had left, Catherine's face took on a hard, grim expression. She could never share completely with Amy about some of her spirit walks. Some of the first trips had shown her many ugly truths and possibilities about herself. Truths that she had worked hard and long to change and improve. She knew herself well enough now to accept the limits of her own accomplishments. However, that did not prevent her from manipulating others to advance her goals. To push others into the spotlight, so to speak, and let them carry forth and complete what needed to be done.

This last trip had shown her that events were reaching a major turning point. It was time to put everything on the line if she was to succeed. People would be upset, but there would be no way around that. There were a limited number of choices, and that number was rapidly dwindling down.

"Whatever it takes," Catherine muttered in the darkness.

Then she rose and strode off to her room to prepare, dowsing the candles with a wave of her hand as she left the room.

*****

It took less than ten minutes, but Giles did not begin to calm the rising tide of panic inside himself until he saw the cars leaving the Johnson estate. The children were bundled up in the first two minivans driven by Jenny and Mrs. Johnson with Jimmy and Peter Hawk riding 'shotgun' with crossbows. The next five vehicles held the remaining nine elderly residents, and seven of the teens. The vehicles had been pre-packed with clothing and non-perishables for just such an emergency evacuation.

Leaving Giles, Oz, Mitch, Glenn, Derrick, Chris and Henry Stevens to stuff the three remaining Vehicles with all of the perishables, books, weapons and any other items which they could quickly grab. The last dozen boxes were being loaded when Henry called on the radio, "Rupert, there are five cars coming down the street."

Giles looked out the garage window to see the vehicle come to a stop just outside the gate blocking it.

"Henry, stay where you are," Giles called back on his walkie-talkie. "Oz, get to the security system. The rest of you get the weapons and to your posts."

The teens hurried to arm themselves as Giles looked out the window to see how many vamps they would be facing.

"Rupert! Those are rocket launchers!" Henry yelled over the radio.

"Oz are you ready?" Giles called on his radio. Mitch moved up to hand him a crossbow before leaving the gate.


*****

His whole body ached as he awoke. Heavy manacles held his arms up over his head. He could sense that he was moving. As the noise of what he was hearing resolved itself in his mind, he suddenly realized he was inside a large cargo transport trailer. Opening his eyes, he flinched from the brightness of the lights facing him. Squinting, he could barely make out the figure approaching him.

"Ooh goody, my new puppy's awake," purred Willow as she stepped towards him. "Hello. So glad you could join us back amongst the unliving."

Memory returned, and with it came rage, despair and depression.

Willow watched with amusement as he thrashed about in a futile effort to free himself from his bonds. When he finally quieted down, she strolled over to him and stroked her hand through his hair.

"There, there," she said with false comfort. "Did you really think you would get away with challenging the Master like that? How deliciously horrible this little turn of events must be for you."

"S-S-Sod off you skank," Spike hissed softly. It wasn't much of a retort and Willow was more disappointed than offended.

"Oh come on, Spike," she cooed as she cupped his face and leaned in close to stare into his half-lidded eyes. "You can do so much better that that. No need to hide behind lies and half-truths any longer. Go on. Lash me with that clever little tongue of yours."

"Go to hell, you bitch," Spike snarled weakly.

"Ooh Spike, come on. Don't tease me," Willow groaned as she slid her hands back along the sides of his head until her fingers were laced in his hair and the palms of her hands rested upon the sides of his jaw bone just below his ears. "You know, the Master was so disappointed and angry when he heard about your betrayal that he didn't even care if you suffered. He just wanted you dust. But don't worry. I talked him out of it. Yes Spike, I saved you. Um-huh. And you should thank me now. Because after I remove your tongue... You won't be able to anymore."

Willow pressed inwards with the palms of her hand, crushing down on Spike's jawbone joint with ever increasing pressure. Spike shifted and allowed his demonic face to surface, but Willow simply continued to apply pressure, slowly forcing his jaw down and his mouth open. Two large vampires on either side moved in and slipped four large, steel fishhooks into his mouth, two just behind his fangs and two immediately below. The hooks were attached to thick wires, which were, in turn, attached to screws in a hood that had been placed around his head.

Willow slowly tightened the screws, pulling the wires taunt, embedding the hooks into Spike's gums, and gradually parting his jaws until his mouth was forced open as far as physically possible.

Willow leaned forward, pressed her mouth to his and began to probe his mouth with her tongue. Suddenly, he felt Willow's face shift beneath his lips and he braced himself for what he knew was coming. With a low throaty growl, Willow force her mouth further between Spike's parted jaws and captured his tongue between her razor sharp teeth.

The guards on either side listened as the muffled scream of the traitor bubbled forth from beneath their Mistress's lips for many long minutes, until finally, all that could be heard were the deep swallowing noises as Willow devoured the blood pouring forth from his mouth.

As the sun began to rise on the new day, the truck continued to rumble on towards LA.

*******

A hand burst forth from beneath the still smoldering ashes and rubble. It scrabbled around, pushing away debris and was soon joined by a second. Together they widened the hole from which they had emerged and began to lengthen as arms followed. Then a head emerged, followed by a torso and body and she dragged herself out of the grimy hole. Gagging on her hands and knees, Buffy convulsed as she vomited up the brackish water that had collected in her lungs.

Slowly she rose up on her knees and looked with grim determination at the lighting sky as dawn approached. She tried to stand and found that her left foot would not support her. When she looked down at it, she found the reason it had felt strange was that it was twisted at an odd angle.

She was exhausted, but it slowly dawned upon her that the ankle had to be shattered in order to be bent at that angle. As she stared, she realized that there were a couple of shards of bone emerging from the skin. Finally, a grim acceptance fell over to her as the rage, which had sustained her while clawing to the surface, passed and left her with only sorrow.

They had won.

There was no way she could reach shelter in time. No way she could defeat them in her condition.

She had lost.

The Master and Willow would continue on, feasting on the world and all upon it; while she would finally leave this wretched existence. She wondered if she would end up in hell with Spike, and then she wondered if Spike would even be there. Do demons and vampires go back to hell when they die, or do they simply cease to exist? Not having souls and all that. Her dark thoughts overwhelmed her as she contemplated an eternity of torment alone. "I'm sorry," she whispered with a sob. "I failed... everyone."

"Go ahead!" she suddenly screamed out to the sky in a hoarse, defiant voice. "Do it! Finish the job!" On her knees, she stretched out her arms wide, closed her eyes and tilted her head back in anticipation of the deadly sunlight soon to rise over the hill. "Go ahead," she said again with a sob, "please, God, just end it..."

Hesitantly, Giles approached her through the rubble.

"Buffy," he said gently. "It's Rupert Giles."

With agonizing slowness she turned her head to look towards Giles and took a moment to focus on him. A brief, slightly hysterical laugh escaped from her as she took in the Sunnydale Watcher.

"Jeeves. Good ol' Jeeves. You were wrong, you know, when you said there wasn't a 'No Happiness' curse on me. I've had one for years, and now Spike is gone," she said in a desolate voice. Another hysterical giggle escaped from her lips as she added, "I was wondering about ending up in Hell. But I guess I'm already here, right?" And then, she simply folded up and slumped forward on the ground in exhaustion.

Giles looked on with sadness at the filthy and battered girl before him, wondering if possibly it wouldn't be a greater kindness to let her perish in the beams of the soon to be rising sun. She was covered in blood and grime, the shredded flesh of her body barely covered by her shredded clothing. Hesitantly, he moved forward and reached out to touch her shoulder. There was something about her back that was bothering him.

"Rupert?" Jenny called in concern as he knelt beside the vampire.

"It's OK, Jenny. I-" his voice caught as he suddenly realized what had caught his attention. He eased her body forward to lay her out flat upon her stomach and then reached out to move her shirt up and expose her lower back.

Hundreds of blood covered rings gleamed up at him in the early morning light.

"Oz, Mitch! Get the van up here and get me something to cover her with. Quickly! Jenny give me your shawl," he ordered as he quickly stripped of his own jacket to cover the vampire from the coming sunlight.

"Rupert, what is it?" Jenny asked as she stepped forward to hand him her shawl. Then she saw the girl's back and gasped. "Goddess!"

"It's her, Jenny," Giles said in a voice full of worry. Jenny nodded her own agreement that they had indeed found the Warrior of Rings. The question was, of course, whether or not they had found her in time.

*****