The Mysidian Legend: Part Six
by Winter
All Buffy related things are owned by Joss Whedon, etc, etc. All things related to Final Fantasy are owned by SquareSoft, etc, etc. In short, I own nothing except the idea for this story.



***

"Oh my gosh," Willow breathed as she stared at the sight before her. Angel and Angelus in the same room, about to fight it out. For all the confidence she had in Angel's abilities, she had no idea how this would play out. All she could do was stand back like everyone else and watch.

"Well," Angelus spoke, circling Angel, "if it isn't the little wimp. You do know you're gonna lose, don't you?" he asked, right before he lunged at Angel.

Angel threw up his arms in a successful effort to block the blow. He countered with two solid punches to Angelus' stomach. Angelus grunted and stepped back a moment, but returned full force. He faked an attack to Angel's head, but then went in low and landed a solid punch to Angel's chest, following up with an uppercut to his chin, then finishing with a hook kick to his head.

Angel was thrown back into one of the tables, and he felt the anger build up inside of him. There was no way he was going to lose to this demon that had caused him so much agony. He lunged at Angelus, but was too slow. Angelus smoothly stepped out of the way, grabbed Angel from behind as he flew by, and threw him roughly into a bookcase which toppled on top of him.

"Give it up, Angel," he taunted, "you're no match for me. You should know by now that you'll never win. You're weak. And the Light you fight for doesn't even exist. There is only Darkness."

Angelus' statement had the desired effect as it threw Angel into a rage. He felt the desire within him to tear Angelus limb from limb, and he knew he would enjoy doing it, too. Once more, Angel went on the offensive. He began with a sidekick that landed nicely across the side of Angelus' head, but when he tried to follow with a reverse punch to his nose, Angelus grabbed his hand and roughly pulled on it, causing Angel to lose his balance and stumble forward. As Angel flailed to regain his balance, Angelus delivered a powerful blow to a spot underneath Angel's arm, causing him to grimace in pain.

Morgan watched on in concentration as she saw what was happening. She wanted to interfere, but knew she was forbidden from doing so. He must discover the key for himself.

"What's the matter, Angel?" Angelus goaded, "tiring already? I'm just getting warmed up." He rushed in suddenly and delivered a series of lightening-quick punches to Angel's face, then a roundhouse to his chest, and ending with a spinning back kick to his jaw. "Had enough already?"

Angel didn't know what was going on. He stepped back to catch his breath and waited a while for the pain to numb. Angel wondered to himself what was happening. His attacks weren't working and he was being beaten into a bloody pulp. He felt his hatred flare again, and prepared to lunge when Angelus spoke, "That's it, Angel. Feel the hate. Feel the anger. Feel the guilt. And die."

Suddenly it hit Angel. His anger. His hatred. His guilt. It was feeding the demon, making it strong. Making him weak. He had to let it go. He had to fight without it if he wanted to win. He had to replace it with something else. But what?

Angel looked over at the concerned faces of his friends, the people who were counting on him to win. The people who needed him. His eyes finally met those of Willow, the woman he loved with a passion, but was too afraid to admit it. If he lost, he would never get the chance, and the demon would destroy her, too. He thought of the world losing such innocence and purity, he thought of him losing her, he thought of his love for her, and it made him strong. His love for Willow made him strong.

Angel grasped that love like a lifeline. He needed it to survive. He let the love for Willow and his friends wash over him, through him, fill him. He let the love drive out all of the hatred, the anger, and the guilt. He looked at Angelus, staring smugly at him, arms crossed over his chest, and he felt nothing. The demon was not him. The demon would control him no longer. He didn't need the guilt. He had found a weapon that was much stronger. And, wielding this weapon, this love, for all it was worth, Angel entered once more into the battle.

Angelus was completely unprepared for the serenity in Angel's soul. It caught him off guard as Angel pummeled into him, punching and kicking, biting and slashing, winning. Angelus howled in hatred, letting it wash over him, and returned the blows. He lashed out with a sidekick, only to have Angel duck and return with a backfist strike to his nose. Angelus reeled back from the pain, but tried again with an uppercut to Angel's chin.

Once again, Angel dodged and caught his arm, twisting it so that it broke. He then dropped the arm and flew in with three successive punches to the demon's gut, one to the face, a roundhouse to his chest, a hook kick to the side of his head, a spinning back kick which landed in the exact same spot, and finally a knife-hand blow to the pressure point just below the neck.

Angelus couldn't believe he had lost. He growled one final time before his mind entered oblivion.

Angel stood panting, still feeling the love, but this time mixed with the joy of victory. He felt Morgan step next to him, and he could see the smile that sparkled in her eyes. She was proud. He looked down and Morgan's outstretched hand and saw the stake that lay there.

"You said…" Angel began in confusion.

"He will not die in the sense of being gone from your soul, but you can't very well leave his body lying around, now can you?" Morgan chided, "it will be symbolic of your final binding of the demon."

Angel nodded his head, grasped the stake, and with a great effort, plunged it into the heart of the demon, watching as it turned to dust. He was finally free.

Morgan smiled in relief, and turned Angel around to face her. "You have done well, Paladin. You have discovered the key of the Light. And with it, the Goddess bestows her blessings." Morgan again placed her hand over the collarbone of the Paladin, and in it's place lay the crescent moon, shinning along with the other five that were just like it in the room.

"I have a gift to present to you, Paladin," Morgan said, extending her hand to begin another conjuring spell. Only this time, there appeared in her hand the most beautiful sword Angel had ever seen. It shone with a light he could not identify, perhaps it came from within itself, and the blade gleamed with a deadly brilliance. The hilt was made of gold, and encrusted with the most beautiful jewels: a mixture of diamond, emerald, and ruby.

"I present to you," Morgan stated with a new authority in her voice, "the legendary sword, Excalibur."

Angel was speechless. Excalibur. His. He looked up into the eyes of the woman before him, but was unable to ask the question on his mind. He didn't have to. "Yes," Morgan spoke, "it is yours, ready to fight alongside you in your battle. Use it well, and I will return to claim it after your victory."

With tentative fingers, Angel reached out to grasp the magnificent sword, and as he held it in his hands, he felt a presence, almost as if the sword has a spirit of its own. He spoke, "Thank you, Lady. It does me great honor to serve the Light, and I will not fail." He bowed low for a moment, then raised himself up to meet Morgan's gaze. He would be ready.

"You all must now train for the mission which lies ahead," Morgan spoke, addressing everyone in the room, "it will not be easy, and it will take time and determination. But it can be done. I leave you now in the hands of your guide."

"Will we ever see you again?" Willow asked.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Only time will tell," Morgan answered, being intentionally vague, "Now, go ye forth into battle, my children, and emerge victorious!" And in a blinding flash of light, Morgan le Fay was gone.


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