Copyright E. Marney 2001

Part 4 (Chapters 12-13)

"Wow, it sure is bright."

"Not for long. In about an hour, the sun will be completely covered over. Take a good look – you won’t see another one of these for about, oh, another couple of thousand years. Cool, huh?"

Anya and Dawn stood on the pavement outside the door of the shop, wearing sunglasses, peering skyward. Dawn gazed at the spectacle of the black disc of the moon beginning to shadow it’s opposite, and the glowing brilliance of the sun as it prepared to wink out. Other people were standing out in the street, some of them talking together and looking at the impending eclipse. All Dawn could think about was that, if Buffy couldn’t get there in time, a friend of hers was going to be winking out as well. She began to get fidgetty, and scratched at her still-sore throat.

"Maybe we should go inside and check on Buffy’s progress."

"Okay. You wanna try the spell thing again too?"

Dawn frowned and removed her glasses. "Maybe. But I still think it was a no-goer."

Anya turned towards the shop. "Well, I’ll get the mirror anyway. At least I get to see Xander."

Watching Anya head back inside, Dawn was thinking about other things. Like the fact that it was a total bummer that the spell hadn’t worked. It would have been great to be able to help Buffy and the others; it was frustrating, just watching from a distance and being powerless to do anything. She’d had her hopes up during the spell, looking at all the herbs and candles, listening to the words, thinking about getting Spike out of that damn tower –

Wait.

Wait just a goddamn second, and back up right there. She’d been thinking about Spike during the spell, and then she’d felt that funny tingle in her gut, when Anya had said the incantation. Then they’d tried it out, and nothing had happened…

Dawn suddenly got a terrible suspicion. She turned and headed back into the shop, meeting Anya halfway as she came towards the steps.

"Anya! Anya, have you got the mirror?"

The ex-demon looked confused. "Well, yes – you just said you wanted…"

"Sure, and I do. But I just thought of something. What if the spell did work?"

Now Anya looked both surprised and pleased at the same time, chuffing Dawn on the shoulder cheerily. "See, that’s the spirit! I told you to think positive –"

Dawn shook her head impatiently. "No, it’s not that. I mean what if my voice is going into someone else’s ear, not Buffy’s."

Anya shrugged it off. "But...no, that couldn’t be it. I mean, we said the right words, and you were there, I told you to concentrate and then I touched you with the ash…"

"And I was concentrating - just not on Buffy." Dawn looked gracefully embarrassed.

Anya put her hands on her hips. "Well, then who exactly were you –"

"Spike. I was thinking about Spike."

Anya’s shoulders slumped, and her face registered vexation. "Well - duh! I told you to concentrate on your sister! Then we definitely have a problem - which is in no way my fault, I want to add."

"Whatever," Dawn said. "but I think we better check it out and see first. Let’s try the mirror again." She took the proffered object from Anya, and pulled up a chair at the research table, laying the mirror down flat. Through the mists around the edges, Dawn could see the figures of the Scoobies standing in the same hallway as before. She squinted at the image.

"Geez, what are they doing, having a bake-sale? And where’s Giles?" She looked at Anya, who’d settled herself leaning over the table, propped up on her elbows. "Okay, I’m gonna try this one more time with Buffy, just for the record. Here’s goes."

Dawn tilted towards the mirror face. "Buffy, can you hear me? Buffy, I need you to make a sign that you can hear me." Once again, her voice’s breath was sucked down into the mirror, the mist seemingly absorbed right through the silver surface. She and Anya peered at the figures in the mirror. Buffy looked to be involved in some deep discussion with Tara, Willow and Xander. She didn’t look around, nod, or do anything at all to suggest that some weird voice had just echoed straight in her ear.

Dawn looked at Anya again. "I think that settles it. The Buffy Radio is definitely not receiving any of this. I think it’s time to try Spike."

Anya nodded, finally acknowledging the truth. "I guess so." She was looking at the moving pictures of the Scoobies in the mirror, her eyes becoming gooey. "Oh, look at my darling Xander! Isn’t he handsome? Oh, I wish he was back here right now. This whole boyfriend-constantly-in-mortal-danger thing is getting kind of tired, you know?"

Dawn just raised her eyebrows. "Yeah. Okay. So…issue at hand, you know – spell-thing, Spike, yada yada. Um, how do we tune this thing in? Do we have to go through the whole activation rigmarole again?"

Anya drooped a little at having to return to reality, rather than contemplate her boyfriend; she grimaced, trying to remember what she knew about the mirror’s workings. "You might need that book of Giles’ again, I don’t recall the ritual exactly. But I don’t think it’s as involved." She tilted her head, deep in thought. "No – it’s not too complicated. You get the book and I’ll get the crystal."

"The crystal?"

"Of Phygiria. It’s just a plain-looking crystal, but you need it to tune the mirror."

Dawn’s eyebrows raised again. "And…Giles’ just happens to have one of these lying around out the back somewhere?"

Anya looked at her, innocent of the sarcasm. "Oh yes. It’s pointless to have Vulcan’s Mirror if you don’t have a crystal of Phygiria."

"Right. Of course it is." Dawn just gave a lopsided ‘ye-gods’ grin, then went for the book, as Anya went off towards a display case, rattling her keys.

The ritual for re-tuning the mirror turned out to be pretty easy, involving Dawn holding the crystal over the mirror and thinking of the person she wanted to see, while Anya recited the usual mystical incantation. Anya finished the words, and dropped the large vellum book down, to peer over the top.

"Anything? I’m almost afraid to ask, after the last spell we did."

Dawn examined the mirror. "It’s misty, there’s nothing yet. I know what you mean, though – this spell stuff is harder than it looks. And the incantations are all so corny – I’ve written better poetry myself, for school…oh, wait a sec. Oh, oh, I see something!"

Anya leaned in, and they bumped heads over the mirror’s surface.

"Ow. I can’t see – oh, yes, there he is."

"That’s Spike, alright. What’s he on, an operating table? Kinky Egyptians, huh? Oh god, he looks terrible…"

Anya examined the picture. "Hm, he looks even paler than he usually does. And he has those funny dark circles around his eyes, Xander calls them raccoon eyes. Which I didn’t understand at all until I saw a picture of a raccoon. Oh, look – it looks like they’re preparing him for the renewal ritual. See the tray? There’s a puseshkuf knife, and a disembowelling hook, and…oh, I can’t make out that other thing."

Dawn looked sickened. Then she squared herself at the mirror, edging Anya aside.

"Alright, let’s see if this works. Keep your fingers crossed." She leaned towards the mirror - Anya quickly crossed her fingers and held them up in front of her face, like she was warding off a demon. Dawn took a breath, and spoke into the mirror, willing the connection to be true, to be real.

"Spike? Can you hear me, Spike – it’s Dawn"

And on the plinth, in the image, Spike’s eyes winced open. Dawn grabbed Anya’s hand excitedly, and spoke again.

"Spike, if you can hear me, nod once."

And Spike nodded.

"It works!" Dawn and Anya bounced up and down, thrilled at their own cleverness. Then Dawn turned back to the mirror. "Oh, poor Spike, he’s got no idea what’s going on. Better fill him in." She spoke to the image again. " Spike, it’s a spell, Anya and me did it. We have a mirror thing, we can see you but we can’t hear you, okay?"

Spike nodded in response. He mouthed a word soundlessly.

Anya frowned. "What was that?"

Dawn was smiling, but her eyes were edged with tears as she looked at the mirror. She was no lip-reader, but she’d heard that alright.

"He’s talking to me," she said softly. "He said ‘Niblet’"

***

Buffy pressed her ear against the door, trying to get a faint clue as to what might be inside. Pulling away, she cast a hopeful glance back at Willow and Tara.

"Don’t guess that you guys could, maybe, do a little spell, tell me what’s in here or something, huh?"

Tara could only shake her head regretfully. "I wish we could, but there’s some kind of block on all these doors. We can use magic to fight, but that’s about it. Sorry, Buffy."

Xander stepped forward. "You want me to open the door? You three can do the Charlie’s Angels face-off thing."

Buffy considered carefully, then nodded and moved away, letting Xander take her place. "Just make sure you step aside quickly," she reminded him.

"No problem. Okay – ready?" He looked at the three women standing in preparedness, then turned the handle. "Open sesame."

With a soft click of the lock, the door swung open and Xander jumped neatly to one side. Beyond the lintel there was, again, only a seemingly impenetrable darkness. Nothing jumped out to face them. The Scoobies peered inside.

"Ah, hello?"

"Remember, Buffy – there’s no such thing as an empty room."

"Right." Buffy shifted uneasily, her crossbow propped along one arm. She stepped forward and used the edge of the crossbow to push the door a little wider. The blackness inside was complete. Whatever was in there, it was good at concealing itself.

"Geez, these things are never straightforward, are they?" she muttered. She turned her head to look back at Willow, Tara and Xander. "Looks like another sneaky one, guys. I’m gonna try going inside…"

The sound of Willow’s sudden gasp reverberated in the silence of the hall. Buffy flinched, and raised her bow into the doorway.

"What? Where is it?"

Behind her, Xander’s voice was quiet, and gently quavering.

"Buffy – you need to stay really still."

Buffy stiffened, and turned her head around slowly to see the others. They were all standing frozen, their eyes angled downwards, ghastly expressions on their faces. And that was when she felt the soft touch on her ankle. Very slowly, she tilted her head to see around the crossbow, looked down – and saw the glistening black thinness twining itself around her feet. The snake was slim but long, and as she watched, it’s head, a flat black diamond, appeared from behind her ankle and settled itself on the top of her boot. Over the edge of the doorway another snake emerged, seemingly composed of the inkiness from which it had come, and oozed out into the hallway.

"Uh…guys? Guys, I can’t move here." Buffy’s voice was barely above a whisper, and the carefully checked fear in her voice roused the others from their inaction.

"Ah, Buf? Just stand very still, and we’ll try and work something out, okay?" Xander tried to sound reassuring, held out a hand towards her.

There was a sudden pounding to their right. Everyone jumped, the snake on Buffy’s boot reared up at the movement, baring it’s fangs, and her breath hitched in her throat.

An indistinct voice penetrated the quiet in the hall. "Buffy? Xander? What’s going on out there?"

"Giles," Willow breathed. She raised her voice, tried to project through the other door from where she was standing. "Um, Giles, it’s a little hairy out here – give us a minute, okay?"

It wasn’t exactly hairy – more like ‘slithery’. Two more snakes had slid out of the doorway, and there was now a dangerous little nest of intertwining bodies wrapped around Buffy’s feet. She was standing as motionless as possible, even her breath dropped to a shallow gasping. She closed her eyes tightly, then opened them again with alarm as she felt the muscular coils tightening around her legs.

"Like I said, I think I need a little help here," she said evenly, her glance darting over towards the other Scoobies.

It was Tara who spoke up in reply. "Okay, Buffy – I’m going to try something. Just stay there and don’t move."

"’Kay."

Tara nodded, then in a smooth movement she sidestepped away from Willow’s left. The snakes responded to the motion, one of them nosing towards the vibrations.

"Tara!" Willow’s voice was trembling.

"Tara, I hope you know what you’re doing," Xander warned softly.

She kept her eyes firmly on the serpents, and spoke in low, even tones. "It’s okay. I’ve had a little experience. My brother used to keep snakes, in a fishtank."

"As you do," Xander muttered.

"I think you ought to know that snakes are deaf, so they can’t hear your voices. But their senses of smell and vision are both good, and they respond to movement." Tara looked up at the Slayer briefly. "Buffy, you holding up okay?"

"Sure," Buffy replied stiffly. She licked her lips. "I don’t know if I ever told you this, but I really hate snakes."

Tara grinned faintly, her eyes down. "Yeah – you, me, and Indiana Jones."

Willow eeped as a snake slithered in her direction. She flapped a hand towards it. "Shoo! Go away!"

"Honey, remember what I said – movement and visuals. You wave at it like that and you’re just gonna attract it’s attention."

"Oh." Willow stopped waving abruptly. "So…now what do we do?"

Tara took a breath. "Okay. Well, there’s only four, that’s one each. There’s one heading my way, and Willow, you’ve got one in front of you. Xander, I want you to move a few steps to the right. Just go slow – you want to draw one away from Buffy."

Xander released a quavering breath. "I don’t know if I can do this."

Tara gave him an encouraging glance. "It’s okay, just take your time."

"Okay. Manly strength, manly strength," he muttered. Then he took two rapid steps over to the other side. The sudden movement drew one of the serpents towards him – it moved alarmingly quickly, an undulating whip of motion, and reared up in front of him. He got a nasty glimpse of the red inside of it’s mouth as it hissed at him.

"Xander, slowly!" Tara gestured him to stop moving. "Just stay still. Don’t aggravate it any further."

"Aggravate it!" he shot back out of the side of his mouth. "What about how it’s aggravating me?"

"Xander, you need to relax. Snakes are very sensitive to vibes."

He gave a pitiful bark of desperate laughter. "Oh, I’m totally relaxed. Standing in front of a venomous reptile always relaxes me."

"Then how do you think I feel?" Buffy snapped. The serpent around her ankle was weaving hypnotic patterns in and out between her legs. She didn’t want to look down, and she was starting to feel a cramp in her calf from the effort of standing so completely motionless. She looked over at Tara. "Now what? We’re all paired up, do we start tangoing or something?"

Tara was watching each serpent carefully. "Now, I want to do a spell. It should get rid of the snakes, but you’re all going to have to trust me because I need you to let me take control of your eyes for a little while."

"What?" Xander looked up at the blonde witch.

Willow turned her head to face Tara. "The ‘eyes-bright’ spell? Are you sure about this?"

Tara nodded. "I really have a handle on it now, and it’s the best spell for what I have in mind. If I get a little fuzzy afterwards, you’ll have to cover for me until I recuperate."

"What do you mean ‘a little fuzzy’?" Buffy asked, trying to keep her mind off the feeling of the tightening around her ankle.

"It’s nothing."

"It means," Willow glared at Tara, then looked at Buffy. "that she’ll be temporarily blinded. The last time we did this she was seeing three of me for four hours afterwards."

"But, hey, that was fun." Tara tried to make light of it. "And I’m much better at it now." She appealed to Buffy. "Really, I think this could work."

Buffy shook her head, reluctant to get involved in a spat between the two witches. "It’s up to you, guys. But, um, I think we better move on this. Giles is waiting, too. Remember. And my legs are seizing up here."

Willow grimaced, then looked at the serpent weaving slowly in front of her feet, and nodded at Tara.

"Okay, great. Now, I want you all to close your eyes."

"You’re putting me in a very nervous-making-type situation here," Xander warned. His snake had started sniffing around his shoes, it’s tongue flicking out at intervals for a quick taste.

"It’s okay. Just relax, and close ‘em."

They all complied. Willow whispered towards Tara, her eyes shut tightly. "Good luck. Hey, you need candles for this."

"No problem." Tara extended one open palm in front of her, and blew on it gently. A small handfire ignited, flickering eerily over her skin. Then she took a relaxing breath and began speaking soft words, in Latin. The murmur slid on the air between the Scoobies, a living thing that penetrated each mind sinuously, coaxed calm and relinquishment. Buffy felt a tingling sensation behind her eyelids, and found that she couldn’t open her eyes.

"Hey, what’s going on?"

Willow whispered a soothing reply. "It’s okay, Buffy. Just let Tara take over, she knows what she’s doing."

Tara’s voice dipped to a deep lulling sigh. Then she paused, and uttered a final, commanding word – and everyone’s eyes snapped open. It was weird, Buffy decided. Like being drunk, seeing double – or in this case, quadruple. In each facet of their vision there was a snake on the floor, each one in a different position, some darting their tongues out, some just curling around langorously. Buffy was tempted to blink and clear her head, but she didn’t want to interfere with the spell.

Tara’s voice sounded quiet and dispassionate. "I know that your eyes feel strange, but just go with it. I can see everything that you see. The next part of the spell will be a bit uncomfortable, I want you all to relax and let me handle it."

She held her handfire out in front of her face, while keeping focused on controlling the separate visions of the snakes. Little beads of sweat began forming on her forehead, and she began intoning the next spell with an effort of will. "Mafdet, Goddess protector, your servant calls. With trusting mind, I open to your will. Feline predator, aid me now in confrontation with this old enemy. Use my eyes to wreak your vengeance…"

There was a slow burn building behind Buffy’s eyes. If she wasn’t so scared of moving, she’d have rubbed her hand against them. Then the heat ignited – she felt like her eyes were on fire, and realised that there were tears streaming down her cheeks. But even as she prepared to cry out in pain, she saw the multi-facetted views of the snakes ripple, as the serpents rose in unison and spat towards each person. They looked incredibly pissed-off, but the aggression wasn’t the attacking kind – it was like they were facing off against an adversary. Their hoods and mouths were open, and they moved fast, weaving high and lashing their tails.

Then Tara took a single step towards the snakes, and spoke a stream of words in a language that Buffy didn’t recognise. The serpents suddenly sprang together, and wove themselves into a thick, pulsating mass of blackness. There was a high keening noise, which Buffy realised was Tara, and the writhing serpents rose in a four-strand plait, a bizarre uraeus of living creatures - and then just as suddenly, they dissolved, skin, then flesh, falling away, until only a twisted skeleton of snakes remained. The collection of thin bones hung upright in the air for a brief moment, before collapsing onto the ground, smashing and sending needles of delicate bone to all corners of the hall. With a creak, the door to the snake-room flew shut and banged into place.

And it was over – there was a searing sensation and then Xander, Buffy and Willow looked around, their eyes once again their own. They glanced over just in time to see Tara, head lolling, take a toppling fall onto the carpet.

"Tara!" Willow jumped forward, and managed to grab Tara’s waist and arm and prevent a painful bump. She lowered her onto the floor. Buffy and Xander closed the gap and tried to help Willow. As they propped Tara against Willow’s chest, the blonde witch’s eyes rolled open. Xander gasped. There was no white, no colour, but a glowing yellow and a black slit-like pupil - a cat’s eyes in a girl’s face.

Willow spoke hurriedly. "It’s okay – it’s the residue of the spell. Give her a minute." She looked down at her lover’s slick face with a frightened expression. "I think she’ll recover soon. I mean, I hope so."

"Will, what did she do? I heard her call on a goddess…" Buffy put a hand on Willow’s shoulder comfortingly. Willow nodded.

"She asked Mafdet to take over her eyes – our eyes. Mafdet is an old Egyptian goddess, who takes on badduns and protects the weak. She also has a reputation for fighting off snakes."

"So, Tara just channelled a goddess?" Xander seemed a bit bothered – either by the fact that his eyes had just been possessed, or that he fell into the ‘weak’ category.

"Yeah," Willow admitted. "Sorry about the burning – I knew that would happen but I couldn’t really tell you, she needed you to be relaxed."

"Well, it did the trick, either way," Buffy said, looking around at the snake-debris. Then she gazed down at Tara with concern. "Will she be okay?"

Willow nodded. "I think so. She just needs to rest for a second." She rubbed one of Tara’s cold hands in her own, and muttered. "Come on, baby. Come back to me, that’s it."

Tara coughed weakly and her eyes opened again – they were back to their usual brown. But she still looked very pale, and her voice was thready. "Are they all gone?"

"Yeah, honey, they’re gone now." Willow kept chafing her lover’s hand. "Just take it easy, you did good."

Buffy straightened and rose. "I hate to break this to you all, but we haven’t got time for this. The snakes are gone, and we’re one door down, but we still need a weapon. and Giles is…"

Giles was banging on the door again. Buffy hurried over and called out to him. "Hey, Giles, you okay in there?"

"That could be a subject for debate." His voice came from behind the door with an edge of testiness. "What are you lot doing out there?"

"It’s alright, Giles – we had a run-in with a few more of Satis’ nasties, but it’s over. What’s the sand situation?"

Giles contemplated his reply, but not for too long. The sand was now up to his waist, or would have been if he was standing in it. He’d taken up position by the edge of the door, sitting on the mound, and was eyeing off the rapidly dwindling space between sand and ceiling.

"Er, not good. Did you find anything in the room?"

Buffy grimaced, wishing that she could see her Watcher, or at least see inside the room to make a judgment call. "No, Giles, we didn’t – I’m sorry. The last room had snakes, not weapons." She sucked on her lip, worried about what she should do. "Do you want us to keep going?"

"I don’t think we have any other options. You can’t force the door, and we can’t open it with magic. You’ll have to try the next door, Buffy."

"Okay." She leaned her head tiredly against the wood of the door. "Are you okay, Giles? Is there anything we can do?"

He could hear the anxiety in her voice, and the frustration. He swallowed his own discomfort and unease, and tried to sound reassuring. "No, Buffy, I’m fine. Just keep going. And, Buffy…"

"Yeah?"

"I really think you should hurry, at this point."

There was a trace of fear now in his voice, and Buffy didn’t like it. It hardened her resolve, and she straightened. "Okay, Giles, we’re on it. Don’t worry – we’ll get you out."

She turned to the others. Tara was still looking woozy in Willow’s arms, and Xander and Willow both had a touch of battle-fatigue about them. Unfortunately, they had no time to rest.

"Sorry, guys, but we need to move."

Willow nodded. "Yeah, we heard. Tara, are you okay to stand?"

Tara began pushing herself up groggily. "I’m fine. Really. Where’s the next door?"

"Hold it, there, SuperWiccan." Buffy went to her and helped her to stand, but steadied her attempt to move towards the next challenge. "I think we can try and handle this one – you go sit over near the door with Giles."

"But I’m fine!" Tara protested, swaying on her feet.

"Yeah, right." Buffy cocked an eyebrow at her. "That’s why you look like a big wobbly piece of jello. Take a rest, girl."

Tara started to retort, but Willow distracted her with a hand around her waist and a shoulder to lean on, and began leading her towards the door. "Buffy’s right, hon. Come here and sit down. You can talk to Giles and keep us updated."

Tara gave in. "Oh, okay." She leaned weakly against the door, tried a limp grin on Willow. "And I can watch your backs from here. Knock ‘em dead."

"That’s the spirit, "said Xander. He rapped loosely on the door. "Hey Giles, you’ve got company." Then he and the others walked back down the hallway to face the seventh door.

"Yes?" Giles’ voice sounded out into the hall.

"It’s me – Tara," she called back. "I’m here to keep you in the loop. Buffy and Willow and Xander have gone to open the next door."

"Why aren’t you with them?"

"I’m on sick leave," she answered glumly.

"You weren’t injured?"

"No – well, kind of." She sighed. "The last spell sort of wasted me."

"Oh." Giles’ voice held concern, then the faint colour of a smile. "Well, it’s nice to have company."

Tara smiled in return. "Thanks, Giles."

***

Everything was in readiness.

After the bustle of the technicians, the antechamber was silent – the staff had withdrawn at her command, leaving the trays of ceremonial implements standing to one side of the bed, in preparation. The sun was waning now – she could feel it – and she wanted to spend these last few moments alone with her husband, renewing her sense of him, renewing her promises.

She lay full length on the bed, the swathes of cool pale linen adorning her a counterpoint to the dark blue satin of the bedspread. The gold and jet at her neck crunched lightly between her skin and the sheets. She trailed one soft hand down the line of her husband’s face, felt the thinness of the skin, and the line of bone beneath. Felt the heartbeat – slowed now almost to inconsequence – and the breathing, the rise and fall of his chest barely peceptible.

With a sadness born of centuries of love, Satis allowed herself to mourn.

She cried for the passing of the old man, the life they’d shared together, the knowledge that her turn was to come. Years from now, she too would grey, would age – and for her there would be no returning. Not in this body, not with this mind. Her soul would be alone again – until he found her, reclaimed her. But he would be a different man, a new man, a new essence. With each renewal, he altered slightly. He was like a jewel, with a multitude of facets through which the same soul burned. Their spirits were joined eternally, but each life, each aspect, was different. So, she shed tears for the passing of the old man, the old ways, the old love. It was only fitting.

It was time. She wiped a hand across her cheek, rubbed the wetness across the bedsheets, leaving the old life behind. Then she rose, and parted the curtains around each side of the bed, the muslin hissing as it followed the rails above. Satis turned to look around at the antechamber, the soft golden glow of lamps rendering the sand-coloured walls and hieroglyphs in funerary shades. It was time to let the light in.

She stood in front of the bed, and gazed regally down the hall. Her voice rang out imperiously.

"It is time!" She marked the command with one resounding clap of her hands. Immediately, torches in sconces along the walls sprang into furious, flaming life. The sight buoyed her, and she smiled. She looked up at the ceiling far above, and flung one hand towards it.

"It is the time, the hour – I mark the first moment of Amduat! The end of the saros begins!"

And with a low rumble, the ceiling parted. A round gap in the roof began emerging, and with it, the extraordinary sight of the moments before a total solar eclipse. The sun, still blazing, was shadowed almost by half by the black umbra of the moon; brilliant beads of light jumped around the outer edges of the concealed part. It was a glorious moment, the energy of sun and moon vying for possession of the earth, for possession of each other, like the struggle between two bodies at the height of passion. The power in the air was a sizzling, living thing.

Satis drank in the sight, allowed herself to revel for a brief moment, with the awareness that this would never be repeated in her mortal lifetime, in a hundred future mortal lifetimes. Then she looked at the room, half in light, half shadowed, and clapped her hands for the technicians.

"It is beginning. Bring the creature."

***

Buffy stood in front of the seventh door, gritted her teeth, then tried to relax her shoulders. She looked back at Xander and Willow, standing ready. Her face drew them with it’s seriousness.

"You know this is it. This is our last chance to get Giles out of there. And we only have forty-five minutes on the clock. So let’s make this short and sweet. No screwing around. No chit-chat. I need your help, both of you. Are you ready?"

There was an exchange of glances. Willow firmed her stance, and nodded; Xander gripped Tara’s mace and the broken knife in his hands, and tilted his head in acknowledgement.

"Okay – let’s do it."

Buffy wasted no time with courtesy, raising her foot and battering the door inwards. And the creature inside returned the favour – it jumped forward from the doorway, released from it’s imprisonment, and roared a challenge.

"Oh boy," Buffy gulped.

It stood about seven feet high – had to be, because it’s head was almost grazing the ceiling. Or rather, it’s mane. Buffy heard Willow and Xander as they let out gasps of fright in the background. Atop a muscular torso and a body like a treetrunk, the creature in front of them had the shaggy head of a lion. Buffy took in the golden fur, sweat-stained, and the yellow eyes. And the teeth. And the claws. And the battle-axe.

She took in the axe just in time to avoid a walloping slice, as the thing slammed it’s weapon towards her. The huge double-headed axe lodged in the wall, and wood and plaster crumbled onto the carpet. From her position on the floor, Buffy could see the effects extremely well.

She barely had time to think about what one blow could potentially do to her, before she had to scurry out of the way again, as the creature stamped towards her with one hairy, taloned foot. She rolled into Xander, who was standing, open-mouthed.

"It’s a lion? We have to fight a lion?"

Buffy pushed him away from her, trying to get a bit of room to manouever.

"Yes, Xander, a lion! Are you just gonna stand there, or do I have to fight this thing mys-" And she whooped as the axe came whirring in her direction again. She felt her hair lift in the backwash – there really wasn’t enough room in the hall to swing a cat, let alone fight a lion.

Shaking off her shock, Willow was hefting Buffy’s crossbow, and fumbling for the trigger mechanism. She had to look down to find it, and heard Tara’s voice yell out a warning just in time. The axe was suddenly uppermost in her vision, and she fell over backwards to avoid it as the crossbow bolt released.

There was a yowl of pain – the bolt had lodged in the creature’s shoulder. Willow was about to grin, until she saw the thing reach up with one furred hand and swipe the annoyance away. Her grin immediately disappeared before it emerged.

"Buffy - ah, that would be a big ‘no’ for the crossbow." She looked over at the Slayer, who was recovering her balance and her breath. "Hey - look out!"

Buffy ducked to avoid the creature’s sideswipe, but was clobbered by a follow-on backhand. She fell hard against the wall, and the creature was suddenly roaring above her, battle-axe raised. She put up both hands in a futile effort to ward off the blow – but it never came. Xander had jumped on the thing’s back, one hand around the furry neck for purchase, and the other thumping with the mace.

"Xander, what are you doing?" Buffy yelled as she scrambled to her feet.

"Trying… to… help. What does it… look like." He managed to land a couple more blows, until the lion-thing reached up with one arm and grabbed him by the hair.

"Owwww! Not the hair!"

The lion-demon twisted around, lifted it’s axe in preparation for a beheading. Buffy had no weapons, but no choice except to barrel into it’s chest, pushing away it’s axe-arm. She could smell acrid feline sweat, and was suddenly face to face with the creature. It opened it’s enormous mouth, all red cat’s tongue, saliva and sharp canines, and roared at her. Reacting on instinct, Buffy let her own breath out in a screeching yell.

"YAAAHHH!!!"

Maybe not the most appropriate response – she thought better of it, and let fly with a ferocious punch to the thing’s chest. Whatever this lion-thing was, unlike some of the other challenges it was still solid, you could hit it. She pummelled it with blows, and somersaulted back in a blur of black leather to deliver a roundhouse kick.

"Buffy – your left!"

Xander’s voice registered, and she jumped back as the weapon swung in her direction. Not quite fast enough – she felt something brush against her exposed left arm, and when she looked down, realised that the edge of the axe had opened a neat slice in her forearm. It was deep - she knew from experience that when there was little pain a wound was bad. Dammit. She saw the blood welling out of the corner of her eye, her focus now returned to the demon, and she realised that this contest needed evening-up.

"Somebody get that goddamn axe! Willow, Xander – work on getting the weapon, let me deal with the rest."

She rushed in again to throw a punch at the thing’s abdomen, figuring that it’s human part might be more responsive to punishment.

The sounds of battle reached through the door that confined Giles to what was about to become a sandy death. He hammered on the door with one fist.

"Tara? What in hell’s name is going on out there?"

Tara was plastered to the side of the wall near the door, her face livid with anxiety as she watched Buffy, Xander, and the person she loved most in the world slug it out with the lion-thing.

"Oh god – Giles, it’s some kind of demon, I think. A man’s body, with the head of a lion."

"A lion..." He thought furiously. "It’s a temple guard, it’s protecting the inner sanctum of the tomb. What’s happening?"

Tara licked her lips – her mouth had gone dry after seeing Willow’s near miss. "Ah, they’re trying hard, but it’s really strong. Buffy’s hitting it with all she’s got, but they haven’t got any weapons to speak of…" Her voice went low, and Giles had to strain to hear. "They look tired, Giles. Is there anything we can do? Can I help?"

Giles rubbed sand out of his eyes, and replaced his glasses. "Tara, if you’re still weak, I think it’s best if you leave the fighting to the others."

"What about spells?"

"Oh dear…" He sighed with frustration and worry, trying to think. There was sand down his shirt, and in his hair, and the sounds of the fighting outside had reached a grating, desperate pitch. "Spells, spells… ah, the lion is associated with Re, fire and flame…you could try a fire-spell. Or maybe not. Oh - I remember that the lion is deified through Sekhmet, a war goddess."

Tara shook her head. "No, this one is definitely male."

Giles scrunched his eyes closed, then opened them with inspiration. "Aker – the lion demon at the door of the netherworld was called Aker. You could try a revoking spell, to return it to it’s point of origin."

Tara flattened her hand against the door in unseen thanks. "Okay – Giles that’s something." With an effort, she pushed herself to standing, and called out. "Willow! Willow, there’s a spell!"

Willow was, at that point, ducking under the axe blade to try and round on the creature from behind. The distraction of Tara’s call grabbed her attention, so when the thing lashed out with a back-kick in her direction, she was caught square in the midriff, and flattened straight to the floor. She rolled to sit up, coughing sickly and clutching her ribs.

"Ah, honey – a little busy right now…"

Tara winced, but threw the idea in anyway. "Willow, the demon is called Aker, it guards the temple gate. Use a revoking spell…"

She had her mouth open to say more, but the creature suddenly turned her way and roared straight towards her, then took a menacing step in her direction. Tara’s breath felt like it had been sucked away, and she cowered against the wall.

"Tara!" Willow looked anguished, from her curled up seat on the floor, at the sight of Tara’s horrified face.

Then the demon stiffened, and it’s body jolted with the force of impact. When it moved to straighten and turn, Tara and Willow saw Buffy standing behind it, crossbow raised, one bloody hand on the trigger, and the fletching of four bolts jutting from the demon’s back.

"Gotcha," Buffy murmured with a half-grin.

Xander, who’d been waiting on the sidelines to dash in and do occasional damage, now took his opportunity. He leapt forward, and hacked down on the creature’s arm with what was left of his knife. The blade, even without the tip, sliced through the tendons of the demon’s wrist, and lodged in bone. And with a grab and a quick roll out of the way, Xander realised that he’d managed to get a hold of a totally wicked-looking axe. He pushed off one knee, and hefted the axe in the air, looking particularly pleased with himself.

"Hey, Buffy – check it out. Mission accomplished!"

He was so busy looking pleased with himself, in fact, that he completely forgot to duck when the lion-creature smashed a hand straight into his face. He dropped like a stone, and the axe went spinning along the floor. The blade came to rest with perfect serendipity right in front of Tara’s feet.

"Xander!" Buffy saw Xander crumple backwards, and saw the demon lean over him and give an ear-splitting roar. The crossbow bolts in the thing’s back didn’t seem to do much except slow it down a little, and when it raised a hand to swipe the puny human at it’s feet, it’s curved blackish talons glinted. She had to act fast. With a primal yell, she threw the empty crossbow at the demon’s head with all the force she could muster, then made a mad rush as it turned, hoping to at least provide a distraction.

The lion-demon changed it’s focus from Xander’s prone form to Buffy’s attack, and parried it’s swipe into her shoulder. She felt herself fly against the wall with great force, and cracked her head sharply against the edge of a door. Stars whirled in her vision for a few moments – it was enough time to give the demon the advantage. She felt the wind whoosh from her lungs as the thing gave her a solid kick in the stomach, the momentum of the blow rolling her across the floor. Fighting nausea and breathlessness, she pushed herself onto her hands and knees, then cried out as the demon used it’s joined fists to pummel into her back, tv-wrestling-style.

Oh god, that really hurt. Her bones had crunched audibly as she’d gone down, and it felt like her back was breaking in two. The muscles down each side of her spine squealed in protest as she tried to right herself and avoid another blow. She opened her eyes, gasping for breath, and realised that the blur in her vision was from blood streaming from her forehead. Hey, this definitely wasn’t the way this fight was supposed to turn out.

She felt a roughness under her chin, raising her head, and opened her eyes to see the demon’s leonine face square in front of her. It was breathing heavily - the hot, sour, catty smell made her wrinkle her nose – and the unmistakable gleam of triumph in it’s eyes was ominous. It fixed her gaze and it’s face contorted – Buffy bleerily wondered what it was doing. Then, to her surprise, it spoke. With a tongue and mouth long unused to forming words, and with a distinct expression of effort, harshly accented speech emerged from it’s maw.

"Madam says – death comes to us all."

And Buffy could only stare in fascinated horror as it raised a hand, talons extended, and prepared to separate her head from her body.

***

Movement. And changes in the light. They were moving him.

What’s going on? Spike opened his eyes, tried to look around. He’d phased out there for a second, and now the world was shifting around him. He realised that he was off the marble plinth, and strapped on a gurney. There were grooves in the metal under his body, long runnels criss-crossing behind his back, but he had no time to think about it. Wheels below him turned, and he felt a jolt as the gurney travelled over bumps in the floor. Labcoats flanked each side of him, and he registered faces, and the spin of the ceiling as he was pulled through a translucent plastic door. He was dizzy – the gut-wrenching hunger and nausea overwhelmed him again, and he swallowed around the gorge rising in his throat.

The strange taste of Dawn’s whispering echoed in his mind again. He closed his eyes, feeling a secret sense of relief that someone knew where he was, knew what was happening. Since the Niblet had begun speaking to him, he’d felt oddly calm, in spite of the physical discomfort. She’d been a lifeline, talking quietly in the background, reassuring him that Buffy was on the way, that everything would be alright. The communication might be basically all one way, but at least now he didn’t feel like he was going crazy. He mentally shook his head. Him. A vampire. Awaiting rescue by a Vampire Slayer. Life was bloody sad.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in another room – his vision was hazy, but he got impressions of high ceilings, a chill in the air, shades of tan and black, pillars. Shadows flickered off weird shapes along the walls.

Yeah, got that.

Great. Here he was, getting a full tour of the pyramids, and he was too strung out to enjoy it. He closed his eyes again, feeling rather faint.

Dawn’s berating voice pierced through his half-swoon, and he made an effort to stay compos. If only he wasn’t so bloody tired… Dawn spoke again, and this time her voice held a weight of cajoling compassion.

But he was so tired…just a little sleep, and then he would -

There was an edge of anxiety to her voice now. Then it changed – a low, charged whisper of warning.

Then there was a familiar scent in the air, and the Egyptian woman’s face resolved in his vision. She was elaborately made-up, lips and eyes gleaming from the torch light, and wearing a torc head-dress. The gentle tinkling of her jewellry sounded in the air between them as she leaned over him.

"You are the witness," she said softly. " – the witness and the sacrifice. As a result of your generosity, my lord will be renewed, and the life of his sun will go on."

Generosity – yeah, right. Spike wished she’d stop yabbering mumbo-jumbo and get to the point. He wasn’t feeling particularly generous, or patient, right at the moment. He curled his lip in the first act of rebelliousness he’d tried since they’d started sucking out his blood. He felt a smug crowing in his mind.

Now don’t get too excited luv, that’s all I can manage at the moment, he thought – a bit pointlessly, given that Dawn couldn’t hear him.

Satis took in his bitter expression and gave an odd smile, her head tilted. "Your defiance is of no concern. You see? – the ritual is beginning." And she gestured to the roof. That was when Spike realized that he was under an open ceiling, in the middle of the day… He gasped, and then noticed that the gurney, situated near the bed, was in shadow. The sun was almost three quarters covered over by the moon’s black bulk, and there was only a faint patch of sunlight to his right. Outside, the sky was darkening, to the level of bright moonlight. When the emmersion was complete, and the sun returned from behind it’s cover of darkness, the room would be lit up brightly, but until then he was in a safe position.

"I have marked the beginning of Amduat," Satis continued, "and the saros is about to end. In a few moments, I will perform the Opening of the Mouth, and your essence will wash my lord into new life. Do you not feel privileged," she went on, her voice heavy with irony, " that such a creature of death as yourself should be the means for the creation of a new life?"

Spike could only clench his hands into fists under the straps.

Then Satis leaned closer, and her expression was almost sorrowful. "I am – we are both – aware of the meaning of your sacrifice. And we are not ungrateful." With a strange look of tenderness, she suddenly moved in to close the gap between their faces, and Spike felt a searing softness as she kissed his dry lips. His eyes widened in surprise. Then he felt her cheek against his, her breath on his ear, as she whispered with relish: "Remember, William – death comes to us all."

And as Spike stared into the priestess’ eyes, it suddenly came to him – the grooves in the metal beneath his skin. He’d seen them before, on swords, and knives, and operating tables. He remembered too, what they were called: blood gutters. And he felt a sudden chill.

End of Part Four

Continue to Part Five (Chapters 14-17)

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