The Wolf, the Ram and the Hart: Nietzsche
by redmoon
Nietzsche

Against boredom, even the gods themselves struggle in vain.

Spike twisted in the blinding red light. If this was torture, why didn’t it hurt more? If this was death, why the hell wasn’t it over yet? The red light pressed hard against his chest, against his neck. If he had needed to breathe, this might be really inconvenient.

Buffy mentally staggered, her eyes squinting as she tried to draw breath. Her blood thundered in her ears, her head spun. Her arms were immobile at her sides. With an annoyed expression darting across her face, she saw her rucksack laying on the ground below her. All the tools inside, everything she had brought for this purpose, laying below her.

Willow groaned, thrashing back and forth as the grip tightened. She figured she had about a minute left before she lost consciousness. She stopped moving and focused her mind, beginning the recitation of the repulsion spell. She had only forced out the first word when the thin stabbing pain flared across her neck. It burned like a hot needle, scoring her flesh, blackening her skin. Emanating from the spot on the far distant wall, it carved out a symbol. kk, tilted backward, joined at the leg. Just when the stabbing pain ceased, it began again, tighter, hitting her below the left eye. kk, joined at the leg. Willow tried to tilt her head away from the lancing pain, but couldn’t even blink. Just as suddenly, it was over and Willow found herself able to draw breath and cry out in pain.

Buffy saw Willow drop from beside her, landing somehow on the ground, on her feet. With no time to consider this, a stabbing fiery pain took her neck. The burning beam cut a spiral into her flesh, she heard the sizzling of her skin burning. The beam then moved to her face, leaving the same mark on the soft skin below her left eye. She tried to clench her jaw, but her face was frozen by the red light. Soon, however, she felt herself being lowered to the ground beside Willow. Her hand immediately went to her eye, the sore mark brittle under her fingers. It stung badly.

Spike was nearly able to wince under the surgical precision laser which cut two slanted eyes into his dead flesh. It burned the same two marks under his right eye, lingering a few agonizing moments to burn the mark through his flesh to his cheek bone. Then it was done and he was floating down the floor, the burning dissipating quickly.

After a few moments during which the red light peeled back into the far wall, Buffy approached Willow, examining her marks. She grimaced. “Oh, these look permanent.”

“I think that’s the idea,” Spike muttered, delicately turning Buffy’s head to examine her neck. “Your’s ain’t the same as her’s.” He touched his face, feeling the individual burn marks. “Mine’s different too.”

“What are they?” Willow asked, wincing as she touched her neck.

“A warning of some kind?” Spike wondered. “Though I’m not particularly inclined to turn back now.”

“Me neither,” Buffy started towards door again. “But I certainly don’t want to do that again.”

As they reached the doorway, the red spot continued to glow. The three adventurers approached with caution this time, Buffy’s rucksack gripped firmly in her one hand, her retrieved green flare in the other. Spike was the first to reach the door. With a tentative hand he reached for the spot. Before he could reach it, however, the stone filling the door dissolved with a blast of heat.

All three recoiled several steps. With a pop that made them all jump, the flare went out. Beyond the door was a roiling furnace of wavering heat. There was a frenzy of activity beyond it, figures moving back and forth in the yellow, fiery blaze.

“Any volunteers?” Buffy raised an eyebrow, glancing at the other two. When neither budged, the Slayer sighed and started forward. Spike and Willow followed, albeit reluctantly. The three marched into the inferno.

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