OoSooM-Ch.12

Dawn and Spike clung to one another, weaving along the hallway toward the doorway and what they hoped would be a quick death by sunlight.

A roar of pure, unadulterated rage echoed from behind them, and Dawn whimpered as they tried to go faster, despite the fact that they were barely able to stay on their feet as it was.

“Find them! Now,” Angelus' voice boomed furiously, making the two escapees cringe even as they reached the door.

Glancing behind them to ensure that they had a few seconds to spare, Spike turned to Dawn, cupping her cheek with a badly shaking hand. He gave her a weak smile, which she returned, sliding her hand to the back of his neck and pulling him down into a kiss.

When they parted, she licked her lips. “Love you, Spike.”

“Love you too, Nibblet,” he murmured, absently tucking a stray tress of hair away from her face. Looking up at the window and the golden light that filtered harmlessly through the glass above their heads, he took a deep, unneeded breath. “You ready?”

Dawn nodded, clasping his hand as he opened the door and they stepped into the light.

Buffy and Methos exchanged a glance as Cordelia opened a portal back to their world, nodding silently to each other as they tightened their grip on one another's hand.

“I have to stay here and watch what's going on,” Cordelia told them. “If I'm on the other side and some demon gets ahold of me, I might not be able to open the portal to bring you back here.”

Buffy nodded. “Gotcha,” she said, then looked at Legolas, who stood silently, his bow slung nonchalantly over one shoulder, a quiver of elven-made arrows strapped securely to his back. “Ready?”

Legolas gave a slight nod, his face calm despite what he'd been told to expect of their world.

Buffy turned to Cordelia, pulling her katana from its sheath. “You said you had a vision…What was it?”

The ex-cheerleader looked like she didn't want to answer, but she wilted under Buffy's stern gaze. “Dawn and Spike tried to escape,” she said quietly. “Angelus tortured them both to death.”

Buffy's mouth tightened into a grim line and she looked at Methos, her eyes hard. “Let's go.”

The three warriors stepped through the portal into Sunnydale, staggering slightly as they emerged.

Buffy gasped as she looked around at the barren wasteland that she used to call home, tears springing to her eyes. “Oh, God,” she murmured, staring at the human corpses that littered the charred ground, her stomach roiling at the stench of death.

The air was filled with the sounds of screams and demonic growls of triumph, and the trio moved cautiously, stepping over the dead, trying not to step on pieces that weren't attached to a body.

“How are we supposed to find them in this?” Methos muttered, shielding his eyes from the bright glare as he looked around, his sword held ready in his hand.

Buffy looked at Methos, the young woman disappearing as the Slayer came to the fore, ready to fight. “The monks made Dawn out of me, from my blood. I'll find her,” she said, then let her gaze roam over a pile of cadavers with a scaled bird easily the size of a man eating pieces of the corpses.

The Slayer led the way, senses humming as she focused on finding her sister, Methos at her side.

Legolas followed them grimly, heart twisting in sympathy for the denizens of this fallen world. Middle Earth had come too close to the same fate, and he shuddered at the thought that his beautiful home might've become this razed war zone.

Legolas slung his bow over his shoulder, watching as Methos dispatched the last of the demons that had attacked them, the Immortal's face utterly expressionless, eyes hard and cold, and completely empty.

Looking at Methos now, he could easily see the man he'd been millennia before when he rode with the Horsemen, striking terror into their known world. Legolas could see Death in his eyes, and knew without a doubt that he would be a formidable opponent in any incarnation.

Another demon approached them, an evil grin spreading over its strangely lupine features as it spotted Buffy.

“A Slayer,” it growled, its voice harsh and discordant, grating on their ears.

“No,” Buffy said darkly, falling into a fighting stance, her teeth drawing back from her lips in a feral, predatory grin. “The Slayer,” she corrected, then leapt at the demon, her sword flashing in the light as the demon screamed and tried to escape, its blood glittering on the ground.

Within seconds, the demon lay dead and Buffy loped onward, katana held loosely in her hand as she led them into the heart of the town, her instincts screaming as she drew closer to the presence of vampires, adrenaline surging in her veins as she anticipated the coming battle.

She would personally kill every single demon in the world if she needed to. She almost pitied any demon stupid enough to stand between her and her sister. Almost.


	Sunnydale, California 121 years after the End of Days (Sunnydale time) Dawn and Spike clung to one another, weaving along the hallway toward the doorway and what they hoped would be a quick death by sunlight. A roar of pure, unadulterated rage echoed from behind them, and Dawn whimpered as they tried to go faster, despite the fact that they were barely able to stay on their feet as it was. “Find them! Now,” Angelus' voice boomed furiously, making the two escapees cringe even as they reached the door. Glancing behind them to ensure that they had a few seconds to spare, Spike turned to Dawn, cupping her cheek with a badly shaking hand. He gave her a weak smile, which she returned, sliding her hand to the back of his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. When they parted, she licked her lips. “Love you, Spike.” “Love you too, Nibblet,” he murmured, absently tucking a stray tress of hair away from her face. Looking up at the window and the golden light that filtered harmlessly through the glass above their heads, he took a deep, unneeded breath. “You ready?” Dawn nodded, clasping his hand as he opened the door and they stepped into the light. Middle Earth One year after the End of Days (Middle Earth time) Buffy and Methos exchanged a glance as Cordelia opened a portal back to their world, nodding silently to each other as they tightened their grip on one another's hand. “I have to stay here and watch what's going on,” Cordelia told them. “If I'm on the other side and some demon gets ahold of me, I might not be able to open the portal to bring you back here.” Buffy nodded. “Gotcha,” she said, then looked at Legolas, who stood silently, his bow slung nonchalantly over one shoulder, a quiver of elven-made arrows strapped securely to his back. “Ready?” Legolas gave a slight nod, his face calm despite what he'd been told to expect of their world. Buffy turned to Cordelia, pulling her katana from its sheath. “You said you had a vision…What was it?” The ex-cheerleader looked like she didn't want to answer, but she wilted under Buffy's stern gaze. “Dawn and Spike tried to escape,” she said quietly. “Angelus tortured them both to death.” Buffy's mouth tightened into a grim line and she looked at Methos, her eyes hard. “Let's go.” The three warriors stepped through the portal into Sunnydale, staggering slightly as they emerged. Buffy gasped as she looked around at the barren wasteland that she used to call home, tears springing to her eyes. “Oh, God,” she murmured, staring at the human corpses that littered the charred ground, her stomach roiling at the stench of death. The air was filled with the sounds of screams and demonic growls of triumph, and the trio moved cautiously, stepping over the dead, trying not to step on pieces that weren't attached to a body. “How are we supposed to find them in this?” Methos muttered, shielding his eyes from the bright glare as he looked around, his sword held ready in his hand. Buffy looked at Methos, the young woman disappearing as the Slayer came to the fore, ready to fight. “The monks made Dawn out of me, from my blood. I'll find her,” she said, then let her gaze roam over a pile of cadavers with a scaled bird easily the size of a man eating pieces of the corpses. The Slayer led the way, senses humming as she focused on finding her sister, Methos at her side. Legolas followed them grimly, heart twisting in sympathy for the denizens of this fallen world. Middle Earth had come too close to the same fate, and he shuddered at the thought that his beautiful home might've become this razed war zone. Sunnydale, California 121 years after the End of Days (Sunnydale time) Legolas slung his bow over his shoulder, watching as Methos dispatched the last of the demons that had attacked them, the Immortal's face utterly expressionless, eyes hard and cold, and completely empty. Looking at Methos now, he could easily see the man he'd been millennia before when he rode with the Horsemen, striking terror into their known world. Legolas could see Death in his eyes, and knew without a doubt that he would be a formidable opponent in any incarnation. Another demon approached them, an evil grin spreading over its strangely lupine features as it spotted Buffy. “A Slayer,” it growled, its voice harsh and discordant, grating on their ears. “No,” Buffy said darkly, falling into a fighting stance, her teeth drawing back from her lips in a feral, predatory grin. “The Slayer,” she corrected, then leapt at the demon, her sword flashing in the light as the demon screamed and tried to escape, its blood glittering on the ground. Within seconds, the demon lay dead and Buffy loped onward, katana held loosely in her hand as she led them into the heart of the town, her instincts screaming as she drew closer to the presence of vampires, adrenaline surging in her veins as she anticipated the coming battle. She would personally kill every single demon in the world if she needed to. She almost pitied any demon stupid enough to stand between her and her sister. Almost.