The Wolf, the Ram and the Hart: The Master's Hall
by redmoon
The Master’s Hall

You must stay here for eternity,
In sorrow and despair,
For beyond me is the Master’s Hall
And you are not welcome there.

Spike and Willow passed through the doorway off the plateau. The stink of burnt goblin was fading as they entered the new tunnel. It was short, but the glow seen from the plateau was already brightening into a glare. Spike, at least, was relieved that the light did not burn him, as he walked ahead of Willow, his sword at the ready.

They emerged into a small cavern. There were signs of activity, cloaks and unlit torches lying about the floor. This was obviously from whence the goblins had emerged. The far end of the room was dominated by a high arched door set into the wall.

“Imagine that,” Spike said dryly, “another door.” He stepped over the cloaks and various weapons, kicking aside the cadavers which had been the goblins’ pre-battle snack. “Another door, another monster to slay,” he muttered as the huge thing stood up.

It stood near the door, just close enough to make slipping by it impossible, not that such a thought crossed Spike’s mind as he readied his sword for battle.

Willow looked up to the source of the glare. A large hole in the ceiling let a pillar of light down into the chamber, surrounding the two of them as they prepared for battle. In fact, Willow frowned, it seemed to have followed them from the entrance. Indeed, as she took a step away from Spike, the circle of light widened to extend around her. She finally shrugged, no harm, she supposed.

“Come on, flabby-face,” Spike goaded, waving his sword suggestively before him, “let’s get this thing done.”

The monster, indeed there was no more specific term in either Willow or Spike’s experience, was fourteen feet tall, it’s head nearly reaching the ceiling of the chamber. It was thick about the limbs and midsection and jiggled as it moved. Its mouth, however, wrapped around its head such that when it roared at Spike, only its exposed spine connected its skull to its jaw.

Spike was a little taken aback by the creature’s roar. Its breath smelled like it had been eating uncooked goblin for far too long. It vaguely waved its thick arms, but made no move attack. After a moment, during which Spike glanced from it to Willow and back, it yawned a great wide-mouthed yawn and sat down against the doorway, its enormous buttocks effectively blocking the great door.

“Well that was disappointing,” Spike said bluntly, lowering his sword. “Could we provoke it any more, do you think?” He asked the witch.

Willow shrugged. “I could shine some light in its eyes,” she suggested, but this did not seem to be enough for the vampire.

He looked about him to the bits and pieces of goblin-living around him. “I’ve got it!” He dashed out of the room, leaving Willow alone with the monster. It eyed her with disinterest. Slowly, it reached out a meaty paw and made a grab for her, but she easily stepped back out of its reach, the light following only her, now that Spike was gone. The monster made a noise like a sneeze and gave up, settling against the wall.

Spike emerged from the tunnel, dragging a decapitated goblin behind him. “Feeding time,” he shouted to the great blobby mass. He dropped the corpse just out of reach of the thing-that-wouldn’t. It made a more interested swipe for the dead goblin, and when it couldn’t quite reach the meal, it leaned forward to stand up on thick, tree trunk-like legs. It took two thundering steps forward, Willow and Spike dashing around either side of it towards the door. In doing this, the circle of light from the ceiling expanded and encompassed the fat monster.

Just as Willow reached the door, she heard the ear-splitting howl from flabby. It had one hand over its beady little eyes and it raised the other like a thick fly-swatter. “Spike, look out!” she shouted from just inside the doorway.

The blonde haired vampire had time in his mad dash to look up and see the crushing blow from above. It came down like a falling building, crushing him flat into the stone of the floor. He heard Willow cry out then he smelled the ash.

The monster pulled its paw back with a jerk, wringing it in pain from the sword prick it had received. Angel stood up from the floor, unsure of his new surroundings, but upon seeing the fat thing waddling towards him, he quickly joined Willow inside the relative safety of the doorway.

“Willow,” Angel said as a greeting. He looked back out to see the fat thing look around itself in general confusion, then sit back down against the wall, massaging its injured hand. Angel then calmly turned back to the red-haired witch. “Willow,” he said again. “You wouldn’t happen to know exactly why...” He struggled for words.

“...You’re not dead?” Willow offered, “or you’re not Spike?” She added. “Either way I have no idea, but I would say in either case that drinking that Cup thing wasn’t the smartest move you’ve ever made.”

“Hindsight...”Angel retorted. “But where are we now?” He asked, then quickly amended, “Uh, relative to where I- kind of- died last time?”

“Well Spike wandered through the tunnels a bit further,” Willow explained, as impossible as this entire situation was to comprehend, “then I saw you fighting those goblin-things,” she continued, as if this were all very ordinary; a fact that was very close to the truth, “then they dusted you and you became Spike,” she continued.

“Wait, I became Spike?” He asked, perplexed. “How did that happen?”

Willow considered this rationally. “Might have had something to do with him drinking your ashes after you died that first time,” she said absently, “or maybe there’s the whole prophecy angle to consider.” She shrugged and turned back to him. “Either way, just now he got squashed by the fat-guy and you pop up.”

“This is giving me a headache,” Angel said, finding a moment to brush the remains of Spike from his jacket. He looked around. “Are we in the right end of the tunnel?” He asked, eyeing the monster who still partially covered the entrance.

“Yeah, we got by him just before you got here,” she made an odd face, “or before Spike got squashed,” she shrugged again, “if you’ve been here the whole time.”

“Let’s-“ he began, taking a deep breath, “let’s just get to where we’re going and get out of here.” He turned to the other end of the tunnel and stopped. “Where’s Buffy?”

A shout rang out from past the flabby creature blocking the tunnel entrance.

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