Egyptian Rhapsody
Part Two
ZZZZZ
The darkness
surrounded Imhotep as did the army he’d called forth from the skeletal remains
of the royal guards who’d been buried with him all those centuries ago, fleshed
out with sand and the ancient earth that he controlled. He himself was nothing more than putrefied
flesh hanging from bones and crawling with the sacred scarabs that had been the
cause of his mortal death and eternal life.
Eternal life that he
had once welcomed when there was the possibility of having his beloved
Anck-Su-Namun by his side, sharing with him the love that would overcome death.
And for a while they had waked together, dreamt of conquering and ruling the
world together. But she had betrayed
him, fled when he needed her help and he’d fallen into purgatory ~ his past
sins that he’d committed for her had ensured that he would never make the
sacred journey to the Underworld.
Imhotep raised his
eyes to the night sky, seeking guidance from the gods and he found it in the
Orion, the star cluster of Osiris, God of the Underworld. The putrid flesh on his face stretched into
a heinous smile. The sand beneath his feet trembled, lifting up and wrapping
about the creature and his army, disbanding the conjured flesh and carrying
them on the wind to the one place where he needed to be.
A place where the
world was starting to spin out of control and the heavens were opening in a
fierce display of nature.
“What was that?” asked
Willow, frowning as the lights flickered, distracting her from the journal
she’d immersed herself in. The thunder
crashed a moment later with enough force to rattle the windows in their panes
and she jumped.
“Sounds like a storm
is brewing,” Spike stated, standing in one of the sarcophagi he’d open, his
arms crossed, eyes closed, mocking the very thing he was. “What do you think, Red, does it suit me?”
“I thought I told you
not to touch anything else,” Willow spared him a quick glance, but the ironic
pose he was striking made her look again and she shook her head in mild
amusement. “Put a lid on that thing,
seal it tight and it would be perfect for you. Anyway, I thought vampires
sleeping in coffins was a great urban myth.”
“It is,” Spike shot
one eye open and grinned. “But this
would look wicked in my crypt.”
“Yeah, you could get
one of those mini bars installed in it,” Willow said sarcastically and the
lights went out with another rumble of thunder. “Oh, crap…okay,” she glanced about in the darkness that
surrounded her, even if she was holding her hand in front of her face she
wouldn’t have been able to see it. “Why
are the lights not coming back on?”
Her question was met
with silence and Willow stood up, holding the journal she’d been reading tight
to her chest. Another perusal of the
pitch black room proved fruitless, then the lightning flashed and the room was
illuminated for a brief second, only to show the sarcophagus that Spike had
been in was empty. Clutching the
journal even tighter, she swallowed back the lump of fear and hesitatingly took
a step forward into the all-consuming darkness.
“Hello?”
There was no answer,
not even a sound until the thunder roared, vibrating through the floor and
seemingly wrapping itself around her.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she stood stock
still, rooted to the floor in fear.
There was nothing, no sound, no light, just complete and utter darkness,
wrapping itself mercilessly about her, surrounding her.
“Boo!” Spike yelled in
her face and flicked on his lighter. The reaction was exactly what he’d been
expecting. A scream that would wake the dead echoed through the overcrowded
room and she stumbled backwards. She
would have fallen if Spike hadn’t wrapped an arm about her waist and pulled her
in close. “That was just too easy.”
“You bastard!” Willow
spat, striking out at him with the journal and his lighter went out, plunging
the room back into darkness. Trying to desperately regain her footing in the
too tight boots, she struggled in his confining embrace and somehow ended up
with her legs tangled with his. “Let go
of me!”
“Now, now, Harem,”
Spike laughed at her, perfectly able to see her flustered face in the darkness
and insinuating one of his legs between hers so that she was straddling his
thigh. “I’m not letting you go, I’m
just getting comfy…go on, wiggle a bit more.”
“Cheap thrill for you,
or what?”
“Just like old times,”
Spike chuckled and tightened his hold, pressing her hard against him. “Girl in
my arms, heart pounding, hot, panting breath…”
“I’m about to throw up
from repulsion.”
“Well, I could let you
go and you’d immediately take a step backwards, trip over and break that pretty
little neck of yours,” Spike shrugged and grinned. “Might raise a laugh, but not worth it.”
“I’m shocked you
care,” Willow stated sarcastically.
“Absolutely,” insisted
Spike, taking the opportunity of the cover of darkness to grin down at the girl
in his arms and make a thorough perusal of her silkily clad form. “Slayer’ll find out, blame me and I can look
forward to an intimate relationship with a dust buster. So, if you don’t mind…”
“I do mind,” there was
a hint of venom to her words and she shoved at him, but it was useless, his
hold never lessened. “How about if I
promise not to stake you with a floating piece of wood if you let me go?”
“Fine,” was the gruff
reply and suddenly she was left alone again in the darkness. This time she lingered, gaining her bearings
and keeping in mind what Spike had said about taking a step back while she
waited for the lightning to flash so she could make out a path to get out of
the cluttered room. She knew the
vampire was still there, even though he was silent, there was that strange
feeling of simply knowing. Undoubtedly
he was waiting for her to make a move so he could pounce again and get yet
another cheap thrill.
“Not this time,
Mister,” Willow muttered to herself as the lightning flashed and the room was
briefly illuminated. As the darkness
settled about her again, she took a step forward and slightly to the right,
slipped on the photos that she’d been so involved with and immediately
overbalanced. Again, Spike was her
saving grace, catching her about the waist and pulling her flush back against
him, his laughter rumbling in her ear as the thunder roared.
“Come on, Harem,” he
murmured against her ear, moving her legs with his as he walked them through
the mess. “I’ll walk you home. I just love helpless women, they’re such a
turn on.”
Willow’s fingers dug
into the leather bound journal she still held and she ground the heel of her
boot down on Spike’s foot. It didn’t
seem to have any affect as he kept them moving through the room and she
silently cursed the protective qualities of steel cap boots. They were walking through the back door
before she could think of anything else that might induce the vampire to
release her.
“Thank you,” Willow
ground out through clenched teeth as Spike finally let her go so that he could
pull the back door of the shop closed behind them, the locking mechanism
automatically sliding into place. “But
I can get home perfectly well by myself.”
“At four in the
morning dressed like that?” Spike asked, attempting to light up a cigarette and
failing as the wind kept extinguishing his flame, and he tossed the unlit
cigarette away in disgust. “Not bloody
likely. Too many vamps walking around
at this time looking for a late night snack or play toy for the daylight hours,
not to mention the various keg dregs that’ll be staggering home, horny and
drunk. Come on.”
He grabbed her free
hand and started to lead her off into the darkened streets, but Willow had
other plans. She dug her heels into the
ground and yanked her hand free of his.
“No! If you’re trying
to get brownie points with Buffy, get them somewhere else. I don’t need you to walk me home ~ you
forget that I grew up in Sunnydale, I can handle anything this town has to
throw at me!”
It started to hail and
Willow screamed as a large, jagged ball of ice slammed into her temple,
splitting the delicate skin and drawing blood.
Her hand immediately flew up to cradle her throbbing head and the world
started to spin as even bigger hailstones fell rapidly. Then she was moving, her hand torn away from
her face as Spike dragged her through the vicious storm and she nearly lost her
hold on the journal. The journal? Willow screamed for Spike and he stopped
their frantic dash.
“What?”
“The journal,” Willow
hollered over the racket of the storm as blood poured down her face and she
waved the book in front of her. “It’s
getting wet, it’s getting wet ~ it’ll be ruined!”
“Bloody hell, Red,
this isn’t the time for fanciful dramatics over some blithering woman’s soppy
diary,” he yelled, snatching it from her hands and stuffing it under the
protection of his duster.
Willow wasn’t certain
what happened next, her vision was blurred from the constant battering of ice
or maybe by the fact that Spike had once more grabbed her hand, dragging her
with him in some sort of frenzied race against the storm. Of course, being human and wearing boots
that were far too tight didn’t exactly allow for Willow to keep up with the
blond, and she tripped, stumbling and twisting her ankle. It was in that brief moment, when she simply
knew she was going to collide with the ground, that the world spun and she
found herself thrown over Spike’s shoulder, being carried through the maze of
graves that made up one of Sunnydale’s many cemeteries. Or rather, Willow realized as Spike put her
down and roughly pushed her through an all too familiar door, the cemetery that
housed his crypt.
“You’ve got to be
joking,” muttered Willow, stumbling blindly in the murky depths of the crypt as
the door was slammed shut behind her and her clothes, saturated from the storm,
hung heavily, clinging to her as the water ran off to form a puddle at her
feet.
“Welcome to my humble
abode,” Spike laughed, tossing the journal onto one of his lounge chairs and
shrugging out of his drenched duster, letting it fall to a sodden heap on the
floor. Shaking his hair free of the water, causing the usual slicked back style
to twist and curl about, he wiped down his hands on his jeans and picked up a
box of matches. Striking one, he lit
the first of the many candles he had strewn about the crypt and glanced at the
dripping wet redhead. “Come on, Red, I know it’s not a palace but any port in a
storm, right?
“Not this port,” she
said, half-heartedly as her teeth began to chatter from the cold and the
interior of his crypt leapt to life under the flickering flames. Willow frowned, immediately gasping at the
pain from her temple and the room seemed to go on some psychedelic trip in a
blur of pain and colors, making her feel quite sick. Before she even had the chance to raise her hand to the bloody
gash or attempt to steady herself, Spike was standing in front of her, far too
close for her comfort, steadying her with one hand while the other cupped her
chin and tilted her head back so he could examine the wound.
“Nasty cut,” Spike
murmured, sending shivers down her spine as he leant in impossibly closer and
she closed her eyes. His thumb brushed
across her lips as he maneuvered her head to the side and Willow inhaled sharply,
something that was surprisingly warm swept along her cheek and up to her
temple. As Spike’s lips closed about
the wound and he sucked lightly, Willow realized that he’d just licked her face
clean of the blood, so she did the only thing she could think of in her frozen
and numbed state of mind ~ she bit his thumb.
“You bloody little bitch.”
Spike hollered,
releasing her and yanking his thumb from between her startlingly sharp
teeth. They both took two steps back
from each other, Willow stumbling slightly and gagging on the mouthful of blood
that she’d inadvertently swallowed from her over zealous act of retaliation,
while Spike sucked his damaged thumb, flabbergasted by her viciousness. Pulling his thumb from his mouth and holding
it firmly in his other hand, Spike examined the bite mark closely, his thick,
rich blood still oozed freely from the puncture wounds and he glanced up at the
redhead, about to give her a piece of his mind.
But what he saw…well,
it left him speechless and all thoughts of a little bite mark were completely
forgotten.
“What?” demanded
Willow, fervently wiping at the blood that still marred her face
“Oh, Harem,” Spike
drawled lasciviously, tilting his head and licking his lips at the sight of her
in the saturated outfit that was practically transparent, hiding nothing from
the vampire who was more than happy to take it all in. He waggled his eyebrows at her and Willow’s
frown deepened. “Nice view.”
“What?” it was more of
a puzzled question this time as she followed the vampire’s gaze and held her
arms out wide to look down at herself.
“Oh, God!” She glanced back up the blond, only to find him thoroughly
fixated on her practically naked frame and repeated her cry to a god she didn’t
believe in as her arms flew to cover herself from the vampire’s gaze. It wasn’t enough and she took flight to the
other side of the tomb in the center of the room, ducking down behind it to
hide her nudity from the vampire.
“Spike, will you quite staring and get me a towel…or something…or
anything…PLEASE?!?”
“You know, you really
should get out of those wet clothes…” he strolled towards her, the lascivious
smirk firmly in place.
“Don’t you dare come
any closer,” Willow spat at him, standing up straight for a brief moment before
remembering her near nude experience and dropping back down behind the
tomb. Spike merely laughed, turning
away and fetching a towel.
“Keep your knickers
on, Red,” he threw the towel down on top of the tomb and she snatched it away
as his smirk grew. “Of course might be
a bit late for that piece of advice.”
Spike chuckled again,
turning his back to her and strolling away.
Willow wasn’t the only one who was thoroughly saturated from the storm,
he was eager to shed his wet clothes and he quickly divested himself of his
boots and sodden t-shirt.
“What are you doing?”
the panic screech of the redhead demanded and Spike turned about to face
her.
“What does it look
like I’m doing?” asked Spike, smirking and strolling towards her, his fingers straying
down to the buckle of his belt, easily freeing the slimy leather from its hold.
For Willow there was
something intimidating about being confined in a freezing, although well
soundproofed, crypt with a semi naked and thoroughly deviant vampire, especially
when he was strolling towards her. Even though the tomb stood between them she
still felt she had to take a few steps back as he leisurely undid his fly,
pulling the heavy material apart and exposing his…she spun before she had a
chance to see exactly what those wet jeans held and behind her Spike laughed.
“And the view gets
better and better,” he stated, reminding her of her own near nude experience
and Willow blushed, cautiously glancing over her shoulder as she backed up to
the tomb again. It was at that precise moment of time when Spike decided to
drop his jeans, letting them fall to a sodden heap about his feet, smirking he
held his hands out wide, giving her a clear view of his naked body. “See anything you like, Red?”
“Gosh,” Willow said as
innocently as she could, still looking at him over her shoulder and dropping
her eyes down his flaccid but no less impressive cock. Had he pulled this stunt a few years ago she
would have been blushing furiously, maybe even fainting, but after Oz and endless
years of surfing the net she’d had more than her fair share of exposure to the
male anatomy. However, by doing such an
egotistical thing to her after the day or rather night she’d had just wasn’t a
smart move and she was more than ready to knock him down a few pegs. “What a pleasant reminder that I’m not
missing anything in my conversion to lesbianism.”
“You need to get out
of those wet clothes,” Spike snarled, the smirk had fallen even before the word
‘lesbianism’ had formed on her pouty lips and he took a step forward, his hands
on his hips almost in a defiant act of emphasizing his nudity. The result was exactly what he expected, she
spun to face him as her eyes widened.
“I am not getting
naked with you!” she hissed and his smirk returned, his eyes dropping down to
stare at the hard nipples that were clearly evident through the clinging, wet,
gauzy material. She blushed furiously and brought the towel up to cover herself
as she dropped back down behind the tomb so that only her face was visible. “The day I willingly get naked with you is
the day the world comes to an end.”
“I’ll hold you to
that,” Spike chuckled, turning away and wandering back to where he kept his
meager rations of clothes. “And trust
me, if you don’t get out of those wet things then the world will end quicker
than you think.”
“Trust you?” Willow
asked, rolling her eyes and making some bizarre mocking sound in the back of
her throat. Still shaking her head, she
turned her back to the vampire and glanced about the crypt in the strange
flickering light that the few lit candles created. She was cold and wet, her head was throbbing and she was trapped
until the storm blew itself out with some wannabe shock-jock vampire. Could the night possibly get any more
bizarre? Something soft and supple hit
the back of her head with enough force to make her wince and she twisted
around, ready to give Spike a good tongue lashing about his behavior in general
when he cut her off.
“Get out of those
clothes before you catch your death, I don’t want a rotting corpse stinking up
this place,” Spike stated, already clad in a pair of old faded black jeans,
coupled with yet another black t-shirt, and Willow glanced down at the top of
the tomb to find the black silk shirt he generally wore lying where it had
fallen. Snatching it up, she spared the
clothed blond one more venomous glare before doubling over and throwing up. Spike stared at the tomb that hid her
retching form and grimaced. “Hey,
rotting corpse would have been preferred to vomit!”
Hours later found
Willow dressed in Spike’s shirt, curled up under the warmth of his quilt in one
of the armchairs. There was only the
faint aroma of vomit lingering to remind her of her previous embarrassment and
the wet clothes that had been spread out to dry, of course that had been done
after he’d helped her undress. The
world, Willow decided risking a quick glance up at the blond seated opposite
her sound asleep in the other chair, as she knew it was definitely coming to an
end. Although she had to admit he’d
been the perfect gentleman the whole time, which could’ve had something to do
with the snide remark about his naked body being the cause of her nausea. Gingerly she raised a hand to the cut that
was still throbbing at her temple, at least it had stopped bleeding and the
blinding pain had lessened to a dull ache.
Sighing, she returned her attention to the diary, pulling the quilt a
little tighter about herself.
The tiny elaborate
handwriting was hard to read by the weak light of the candles, but it was
interesting. She’d already read of
Evie’s first meeting of Rick and her less than favorable impression of him was
amusing to Willow, since it was obvious that the two ended up together. Still, Willow couldn’t help but fall a
little bit in love with her great-whatever grandparents, it was a tale that
would rival any of the classic love stories and there was that wonderful sense
of adventure thrown in as well. Of
course that was until she got to the horror part, involving the reading of a
book that woke the creature. Her face
paled as she reread the words, the description of the dreadful monster and the
tremendous battle that had ensued to overcome it. Willow swallowed, surely Spike hadn’t…Sitting up straight, she
reread the first few lines of Evie’s description of what had happened when the
creature had first risen, of the bugs, the savage storm…the storm in Sunnydale
that had seemingly blown up from nowhere.
“Oh no,” Willow
muttered to herself, tossing the quilt aside and getting to her feet. She reread the passage again and sat back
down. “Oh no, this is not good.”
Her first thought was
to kill Spike, after all, the book would never had been read if he hadn’t shown
up and picked the stupid lock on a chest that was obviously not meant to be
open. But senseless violence wouldn’t
solve anything and if she killed him then she wouldn’t have proof that she was
not to blame for the mess. What the
mess was exactly, she wasn’t sure ~ after all, the creature, if it had indeed
risen when Spike had read from the book, would surely be in Egypt. Wouldn’t it?
The crypt suddenly
felt too crowded, too restricted and she was starting to hyperventilate. Forcing herself to take a few deep breaths,
Willow glanced up at the still sleeping vampire, maybe killing him would
relieve some of the tension she was feeling.
Shaking her head, she stood up once more and tiptoed over to her
clothes, the vast swathe of gauzy material had dried out quicker than Spike’s
clothes, which were still damp. It was surprisingly easier to get dressed in
the outfit this time, she had developed a knowledge of how it all worked
together and was fixing the heavy silver cincher when she turned about to find
her boots.
“What are you doing?”
Spike asked, he was practically standing on top of her and it was enough of a
shock to send her reeling back, screaming like a banshee.
“Will you not do
that?” Willow demanded, her heart pounding beneath her hand on her chest.
“You know I just love
to hear you scream,” he purred at her, smirking and she punched him in the
chest. “Now, now, don’t tease, Harem,
specially wearing that outfit…”
“Oh please,” Willow
stated, rolling her eyes and pushing him out of the way so she could grab the
too tight boots. “There are more
important things happening, you may have released some sort of walking plague.”
“What?” he asked and
shook his head. “I think that hail
stone gave you more than a slight concussion.”
Willow picked up the
journal and threw it at him. “1926,
Evie read from the book, the same book that you read last night, the book of
the dead, and wackiness ensued. A
creature, a walking plague arose, one that couldn’t be destroyed by any mortal
weapon…”
“Yeah, yeah,” Spike
yawned flipping through the pages.
“We’ve heard it all before. So
what? We’ve got the Slayer…anyway, that
was then, this is now and I certainly don’t see any creature wandering
around. Maybe they killed it off back
then.”
“Oh please,” she stated
again, hopping about as she struggled to pull on the boots. “It’s eternal…”
“I’m eternal too…until
someone cuts off my head or drives a stake through my heart…”
“Oh for the want of a
sturdy stake,” muttered Willow, finally pulling the boot on and once more
wincing as it pinched her toes. Spike
tossed aside the journal and nonchalantly wandered over to the tellie.
“I’m just saying that
once this ‘thing’ was taken down it was probably out for the count. Anyway, you can’t go anywhere yet, it’s still
dark out,” he switched on the set, only to have the mid morning news blare out
at him. “Even though it’s the middle of
the morning…”
“See, this is not
good,” Willow stated, storming over to accompany the vampire to the door of the
crypt.
Carefully, Spike eased
it open a fraction and stared out into the gray darkness. It was as dark as night, although
illuminated as if by a full moon and he cautiously opened the door wider and
stuck out his hand. There was no
agonizing pain as the light fell across it and no singed flesh. Hesitantly, he stepped outside and stared up
into the clear sky where the sun should have been, it was there but fully
eclipsed by the moon. Behind him in the
crypt the television still blared, announcing the news that in Egypt the river
Nile had inexplicably flooded its banks, while closer to home the coast line of
Southern California was experiencing some strange phenomena with the tides
being held back, leaving vast areas of the sea beds dry.
“Oh, this is just
great,” Willow turned away from the vampire and stumbled back into the crypt,
wildly throwing her hands about. “This
is it, you’ve woken the creature, how the hell are we going to explain this to
Giles, they’re going to blame me, I just know it…and it’s going to rain down
frogs…I’m sure that’s in the ten plagues somewhere…”
“Willow,” Spike called
to her, watching as she paced and ranted.
“Willow…”
“And why are we still
here?” she stopped in front of him, practically screaming in his face. “We have to tell Giles what you did.”
“Hey,” Spike
admonished as she turned away again and picked up the journal. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Did too,” Willow
hissed at him over her shoulder as she walked out of the crypt.
“Did not,” yelled
Spike before following her.
“Oh you so did,” she
insisted as he fell into step beside her.
“Did not,” came the
childish retort and Willow stopped walking, turning to face him.
“You did too,” she
slapped him hard against the chest with the journal. “You read the book, I told you to leave things alone, but oh no,
Mr Attention-Deficiency-Disorder just had to go and release the big bad…”
“What big bad?” asked
an ever-familiar voice and both the vampire and the witch turned to stare at
the Slayer.
“Oh Buffy, thank god,”
Willow sighed in relief and then pointed the proverbial finger at Spike. “It’s all his fault, I didn’t do anything.”
“Okay, Willow, what’s
his fault and where have you been anyway?
Tara’s frantic,” Buffy stated, closing the distance between them. “When you didn’t show up after the big storm
she tried calling the Magic Box and there was no answer, so she came straight
over to my place and why on earth are you dressed like that?”
“Actually, I didn’t do
anything,” Spike reassured the Slayer, totally dismissing the panicking girl he
was standing next to with a wave of his hand.
“Read a book aloud and Red here seems to think it’s the end of the
world.”
“You actually read a
book?" Buffy asked sarcastically.
"Gee, that must be a first.”
“Hey…” Spike snarled,
but was cut off by Willow.
“Excuse me? Catastrophe happening, permanent solar
eclipse, wild storms that come from nowhere, floods in Egypt, deserts where
seas once were and..." Willow turned to face Spike, her mouth dropping
open and her eyes widening in fear. "And...and, oh my god, walking,
rotting corpse coming directly at us…”
“Okay, that’s it. I don’t have to take this from you two,”
spat Spike angrily. “I’ve got thousands
of people dying to insult me and you certainly don’t have to get personal, I’ll
have you know that I’m in no way rotting.”
“I don’t think she
means you, Spike,” Buffy said quietly, staring over the blond's shoulder.
“Huh?” he asked and
turned to follow the two girls line of vision. His mouth fell open and his
scarred eyebrow arched up at the sight of the rotting tower of flesh that was
striding towards them through the graves.
“Oh.”
“Okay, so how do we
kill this thing?” demanded Buffy, moving forward, readying herself for a fight.
Willow, meanwhile, was
petrified and unable to move “What?”
“How do I kill
it? You know is a stake going to work?
Decapitation? What?”
“Oh,” Willow frowned
and glanced down at the journal she held.
Something clicked and she held out the leather bound diary. “A book…the
book of the living.”
“A book?” Buffy risked
a quick glance at her friend and the book that was held out in front of
her. Shrugging slightly, she grabbed
the diary and flung it at the creature in a move that would have made Xena and
her chakram jealous. The book bounced
off the putrid flesh and fell to the ground.
Buffy spun to face the redhead. “You said a book!”
“Obviously not that
book!” Willow screamed.
“Okay,” Buffy stated,
grimacing and charging forward to attack the creature. She went for her classic moves, a hook kick
to the back of the knee, dragging the rotting flesh forward as her open palm
slammed up into his nose. Well, where
the nose would have been if it existed.
Instead her hand smashed into its face, making the creature stumble
slightly. Her other hand struck out at
his chest, the rancid flesh split and her fist disappeared into the
creature. Shocked, Buffy stared at her
hand that was tangled in what little flesh that existed.
“Eww…” the sound of
disgust didn’t just come from Buffy, behind her both Spike and Willow joined in
her repulsion as she tried to shake her hand free of the decomposing
muscles. They watched as the monster
wrapped its fingers about her wrist and pulled her hand free, lifted her
effortlessly and tossed her over their heads.
They turned in time to see her crash into the side of a mausoleum and
she was unconscious before she hit the ground.
“Buffy,” Willow cried
out as Spike dashed to the fallen Slayer’s side. She was fully intending to follow the vampire only a voice
stopped her. A voice that was dark and
preternatural, speaking in an ancient language that she didn’t understand, but
it was still enough to make her stop and turn to face the inhuman thing that
was standing in front of her. It bowed
down before her on one knee, a fetid hand reaching up to her as it continued to
speak words that she couldn’t understand.
Willow scowled down at the creature and took a step back. “Err, okay, you know I don’t have the
faintest idea what you’re saying…since I don’t speak ancient, well whatever it
is you’re speaking…”
“You are the one,” the
creature spoke slowly, hesitantly, stumbling over the strange language that it
had become acquainted with in the last century.
“Huh?”
“The true blood of the
royal line…” it murmured and Willow took another step back from it, wildly
shaking her head.
“Oh no, mister, you’ve
got it wrong,” Willow stated and the creature once more rose to its feet,
following her. “I’m not an Egyptian
Royal, I’m a Californian college kid. Oh, oh and I’m Jewish ~ there you go, I’m
a descendant of the slaves. See, no
Royal blood in this body…you’re mistaken…”
There was a rumble of
laughter and the foul stench of death hit her full force in the face as the
walking plague towered over her. For
some reason Willow couldn’t move, trapped by the strange eyes that bore into
her very being. One skeletal hand
reached out and wrapped the copper strands of her hair about the remains of a
finger.
“I don’t think he’s
buying it, Red,” Spike’s voice was distant, lost in the sound of a sand storm
that only Willow could hear as the creature continued to fondle her hair.
“Fire,” it whispered,
raising the lock of hair to its mouth in a mockery of a kiss. “Elemental being…imperial and scared, you
shall be restored to rule again…”
“Willow,” Spike’s
voice wrapped about her dreamscape of an ancient world. Deserts and an endless blue sky surrounded
her, broken only by the bright gold of the sun that burnt like fire, seemed to
be made of fire itself and warmed the air that enclosed her while her feet
cooled in a flowing river.
“Elemental,” Willow
whispered and the word jerked her from the dreamscape, made the elements
collapse and fall into each other until they no longer existed and the world
was once more shrouded in darkness. Jolting
from her stupor, she took a step back and raised her hands. “Disperse.”
The sand storm that
she’d heard whipped up, the hot wind bellowing about her. As the wind tore at the creature, it stepped
back and raised its hands to the heavens, threw its head back and laughed, a
cold, malevolent sound that roared about the cemetery.
“A true daughter,” it
grinned manically, the sand already shredding it to pieces and the whirlwind of
sand danced about Willow, the creature’s words echoing about. “Of Isis.”
“Disperse,” Spike
hollered from behind her as the sand storm died off. “Disperse is all you had to say and you didn’t think to try it
out sooner rather than later?”
“Spike,” Buffy
muttered as he helped her up, her head still throbbing from the heavy blow and
her body screaming in agony. “Shut up.”
“We have to go,”
Willow stated, glancing up at the eclipsed sun.
“There’s no rush,”
said Buffy. “After all, you vanquished
it…right?”
“Then how come
everything’s still the same?” asked Spike, glancing about the darkened cemetery
as Willow retrieved Evie’s journal from where it had fallen.
“Okay,” agreed
Buffy. “We have to go.”
The relatively short
trip was made in silence, although once the threshold of the Magic Box was
crossed the threesome became a bundle of noise, all talking at once. But amongst all the chatter, one detail
stood out.
“It’s all his fault,”
Willow stated clearly, pointing her finger at Spike as they stood in the center
of the floor of the store. “I didn’t do
anything…”
“You started reading
the bloody book in the first place,” Spike snarled.
“Only because you
picked the lock on the chest.”
“See,” Anya declared
triumphantly from behind the counter.
“I knew that this was going to be trouble…”
“Willow,” Xander
interrupted. “What are you wearing?”
“Does it matter what
she’s wearing? You should have seen
this thing, Giles,” Buffy stated turning from Xander to the harassed Watcher,
who was resting back against the research table. Any further discussion was cut short by the sound of a crash in
the training room.
“What was that?”
demanded Giles, glancing towards the door that hid the room and pushing himself
off the table.
The question was soon
answered as the wall next to the door exploded in a fury of plaster and two militia
creatures bounded through the wall, a small Egyptian chest held firmly in their
grasp. One bound saw them crush the
counter and sent them hurtling towards the group. As Willow, Anya and Xander screamed, the creatures opened their
mouths and emitted the most ear splitting screech imaginable, swinging about
with their ill-gotten gains and the chest collided with Giles head, knocking
him unconscious. As he fell, the
creatures bounced off the wall and jumped through the storefront’s window,
shattering the glass before disappearing from view. Even as the glass settled and the Scoobies gathered about the
fallen Watcher, the shop door swung open.
“It is as I feared,” a
heavily accented voice behind them stated, making the occupants of the small
shop turn and stare in wonder at the embodiment of tall, dark and handsome that
stood before them, clad in flowing black robes. Dark eyes stared at them from a handsome but decisively somber
face that featured a number of sacred tattoos.
“I am too late, the creature has risen.”
ZZZZZ
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