Buffy groaned and tried to shake away the darkness that seemed to fill her head. A numbing cold was seeping through her limbs. She wondered if she had tossed her covers off in her sleep.
Fear pricked her heart as she realized that she was not in her bed. Buffy sat up and glanced around. The darkness lay like a veil over everything. Beneath her hands she felt cold wet grass and earth. Damp air chilled her lungs with every breath.
"Bobby? Nibbles?" Buffy called hesitantly out into the darkness. Only the beating of her own heart disturbed the silence around her. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Buffy thought she could make out the shapes of trees around her.
"Where am I?" Buffy wondered aloud and climbed to her feet.
"Do not move!" a voice commanded.
The darkness was suddenly lit by flashes of light all around Buffy. She raised a hand to protect her eyes from the strange blaze.
"Who's there?" Buffy asked, waiting for the after image of lights to stop dancing in front of her eyes. She realized she was standing in some sort of misty glade. The fog around her now seemed to be glowing with its own light.
"Why are you Large Ones trespassing on our land?" the same voice demanded. Through the dim light Buffy caught glimpses of figures moving into a circle around her, though their features were still obscured by the fog.
"Large Ones?" Buffy asked. "Look, I really don't know who you are or how I got here. Why don't you show yourself so we can talk about this?"
"She's one of the Witch's spies. I say we kill her now," a new voice sounded. There were murmurs of agreement from around her.
"She could have useful information," another voice, this time female, suggested.
"Enough," the first voice cut through the talking that erupted around Buffy. "We take her back to the Queen and interrogate her."
"Thanks for the invitation, but I really have to find my friends," Buffy said. She suddenly sprang forward through the mist, hoping to dodge through her captors before they could react.
There were exclamations and shouts from the surrounding figures. She heard the sound of bowstrings being released and saw tiny darts of light hiss through air around her. A shadow suddenly loomed directly in front of her. Unable to stop, Buffy barreled into a tiny man.
"Let go of me!" the man shouted as they rolled to the ground.
Buffy jumped away from him in sheer terror. He was only about three feet tall and appeared as delicate as a porcelain doll. The man wore a loose tunic tied at the waist with a leather belt, and carried a bow in his right hand. What made Buffy lose all ability to speak, however, was the fact that four translucent wings, like those of a dragonfly, protruded from the man's back out to either side of him.
Buffy heard the twang of a bow. A dart of light burned into her side. The force of the impact carried her body a few feet away from the little man with wings and sent a shocking numbness up and down her legs.
"Quickly, before she recovers," the little man yelled jumping into the air on his silver wings and aiming his bow at her. Even as he pulled back on the drawstring, a golden dart flashed into existence between his fingertips.
"This isn't happening," Buffy managed to whisper before the world exploded into fireworks of light and searing pain.
* * *
Angel looked down at himself in bewilderment. He was standing in a rocky wasteland, wearing black iron armor. The heavy breastplate was inlaid with gold designs. Underneath it he felt the itch of the rough clothing that separated him from his chainmail shirt and leggings.
"Angelus," a woman said as she tugged at his arm. "We have to go now, before the sun rises."
Angel glanced over at the woman. She wore a red velvet gown embroidered with flowery designs along the lower tresses. A diamond crown graced her head.
"Drucillia?" Angel asked. "What are we doing here? And why did you call me --"
"I don't know, but we have to leave here, now!" Dru replied.
Already the purple sky above was fading to pale blue. Angel looked around at the bleak surroundings. In the distance, a square stone structure jutted from the surrounding teeth of jagged rocks.
"That castle is the only place we're going to find cover from the daylight," Angel said finally.
They hiked along a narrow pathway in silence towards the gloomy fortification, Angel's sword scabbard clinking against his thigh with every step. The sky begin to glow in the east and the shadows fled around them.
"Quickly," Angel said, grabbing Dru by the arm and dragging her forward as they broke into a run. The pathway joined a hardened dirt turnpike that led directly to the castle gates.
"Look," Dru pointed at the castle and skid to a halt. The iron portcullis of the gates screeched as it lifted into the air. Armored men mounted on horses thundered out of the gate towards them.
"We can't fight them all," Dru said as Angel drew his sword.
"It's too late anyway," Angel answered bitterly. The first rays of sunlight gleamed off the steel of the sword blade.
Dru shrieked and threw her hands over eyes, collapsing to the ground. Angel tried to growl, but for some reason wound up bent over coughing. The horsemen galloped up and surrounded the pair.
"My Lord and Mistress, we have searched for you all night -- what is wrong?" a tall bearded man asked as he dismounted from his steed.
Angel and Dru looked at each other in astonishment as each was bathed in the light of the morning sun. Dru ran a hand over her smooth skin. Angel scratched his chin and was astonished to feel rough stubble growing there. Deep in his chest he felt a repetitive throb that jogged memories of an age long past. Dru stared at him in awe, placing a hand over her own chest.
"We're human again," Angel whispered.
* * *
Giles placed his untouched tea down on the table next to his reading chair. He sighed and continued to stare at the picture frame he held in his left hand. His chest constricted in pain as his right hand stroked the face of the woman in the picture.
"God I miss you, Jenny," Giles sighed and removed his glasses, trying to hold back the tears. When the pounding started on the front door, he barely heard it over his own sobs.
"Giles! Open up, this is important!" Xander's muffled voice came from the doorway. Giles put the picture face down on the table next to his tea and fished a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. The pounding continued as he wiped away his tears and headed for the door.
"You were supposed to be at school," Xander said accusingly and pushed his way into the house before Giles had fully opened the front door. Cordelia followed close behind, flashing an apologetic smile at Giles.
"Why don't you come in and make yourselves at home?" Giles said dryly as Xander and Cordelia sat down on his living room sofa.
"You'd better take a look at this," Xander said, pulling what appeared to be a long thin children's book from underneath his jacket.
"You came over here to show me a picture book?" Giles asked.
"Just look at the book Giles!" Xander exploded, standing and holding it out towards the librarian.
Giles stood for a moment speechless. He caught a pleading look from the unusually silent Cordelia. Reaching out he took the book from Xander's hands and put on his glasses, idly flipping to the first page.
"Good lord!" he exclaimed, nearly dropping the book.
There on the page was a picture of Buffy, lying on the ground as what appeared to be an army of faeries trained their bows on her.
Buffy groaned and opened her eyes. Her whole body felt as if it were one gigantic bruise. She tried to roll over, but found her hands tied behind her back and her legs fastened together.
"The more you struggle, the tighter the bonds will constrict," a voice said off to her left.
Buffy managed to turn her neck and look at the little man. It was the same one she had tackled from the night before. Daylight streamed through an open window behind him, burning his blonde hair gold and causing his pointed ears to glow faint pink color. His wings sent rainbows spiraling across the floor with every flutter.
"I'm alive," Buffy managed to croak.
"Of course you are," the man replied bemused. "You will be questioned by the Queen."
"But what about the arrows?" Buffy asked. As far as she could tell, her shirt and jeans along with her body were still intact.
"Have you never heard of Faerie magic?" the man asked astonished. "I thought all the Witch's henchmen would be familiar with it by now."
"I'm not a ‘Witch's henchman,' whatever that means," Buffy replied and tried to relax. Her hands and feet felt as if they were filled with needles. "Where am I anyway?"
"You are outside the waiting chambers of the Queen of the Faeries. Be sure you show some respect when you greet her. Though as a rule we loathe killing, any aggressive act on your part will be met with swift and terrible justice."
The man fell silent and Buffy took the opportunity to survey her surroundings. After a moment it dawned on her that the floor she was lying on was made of some strange spongy material. Craning her neck, she realized the whole waiting room looked rather odd. It was somewhat rounded, as if carved and not built.
A trumpet sounded from behind two mahogany doors directly in front of her.
"The Queen will see you now," the blonde haired faerie stated. He pulled a small silver dagger from his belt and cut the cords that bound Buffy's arms and legs. Buffy grit her teeth and tried to stand, hobbling towards the now open double doors. Two faerie archers kept their bows aimed at her as she was escorted into the room.
Buffy gazed at the scene in front of her. On either side of her were rows of benches, packed with fairies who strained to get a look at her as she entered. Directly ahead was a wooden gate that separated the audience from a raised platform. A red-cushioned throne, shaped from quartz, glittered from the top of the dais. A fairy wearing a shining chain mail shirt stood next to the podium, gently caressing the hilt of the curved sword he wore at his belt.
"What is going on here?" Buffy asked herself softly, trying to understand the absurd things she was seeing. Some movement to her right caught her eye. Glancing into the corner of the room, she saw a figure suspended by a chain from the ceiling. He was bound and gagged but was struggling to get Buffy's attention.
"Bobby!" Buffy said and took a step towards the boy. Two fairies immediately flew in front of her and drew back their bowstrings. Arrows of light leapt to life between their fingers.
"You have been warned," the man escorting her said coolly. "There will not be a warning next time." He led her by the elbow through the wooden gate to stand in front of the platform. Buffy waited tensely.
"All rise for the Queen!" the faerie next to her commanded. The assembled faeries stood and looked expectantly up at the throne. "Bow!"
Buffy bowed low from the waist as did the rest of group. When she looked up again she gasped at the figure sitting on top of throne, legs dangling over the edge.
"Off with her head!" Nibbles shouted gleefully from above Buffy.
Before she could speak, Buffy was grabbed by numerous faeries and forced to her knees. Beating their wings against the air to press her down, they waited for the bailiff. The armored faerie eagerly drew his falchion and approached Buffy.
"Nibbles! Stop this at once!" Buffy yelled. Bobby was struggling wildly with his bonds, and yelling incoherently against his gag. Nibbles ignored them both and sat examining the edges of her pearl embroidered gown.
"Your mother is going to be VERY upset with you if the baby-sitter dies, young lady," Buffy called to her desperately. The bailiff stood grinning above Buffy as he raised his sword high. Buffy pushed against her captors but could gain no leverage from the kneeling position.
"Nibbles, who's going to tell you bed time stories if you behead me?" Buffy yelled, trying to still her wildly beating heart.
"Wait!" Nibbles commanded suddenly. The bailiff paused and turned to look up at his queen. "You'll read me more stories?" Nibbles asked Buffy.
Buffy nodded in reply, her eyes glued to the bailiff's sword. Nibbles tapped a finger against her chin as she thought.
"Okay, let her go," Nibbles said. The faeries obediently released Buffy and flew back to their positions. Murmurs filled the room from the watching faeries behind them.
"Nibbles, would you please let your little brother go too?" Buffy asked, pointing at the tiny bound figure in the corner. Bobby had exhausted himself and now swung slightly from side to side with a forlorn look on his face.
"He's mean," Nibbles shook her head and crossed her arms.
"I know, but I think Bobby's learned his lesson," Buffy coaxed. "You'll behave, won't you Bobby?"
The little boy nodded solemnly.
"Oh all right," Nibbles sighed. The crowd behind Buffy grew restless again. Buffy saw some dark looks and the shaking of heads.
"I know, let's have a party!" Nibbles said once her brother had been released. She turned to address all the faeries. "We are going to have a tea party in the park. Go make the preparations.
"But Your Majesty," the faerie that had escorted Buffy protested. "What about the Witch's minions? And questioning this one about why she is here?"
"Are you disobeying my orders Caelin?" Nibbles puffed her cheeks and glared at the faerie.
A dead silence fell over the room.
"No, of course not," Caelin replied, turning pale. He turned to rest of the faeries. "You heard the queen, make preparations for a tea party!"
The assembled faeries rose and began talking amongst themselves as they filed out of the hall. The bailiff was the last to leave, turning up his nose at Buffy before flying past her.
Bobby ran up and grabbed Buffy about the waist. He cowered behind her as he stared up at his sister's strange throne in terror. Nibbles suddenly jumped off the throne, diving gracefully headfirst into the air.
Buffy ran forward to catch her, then stopped in wonder. Nibbles floated easily in the air upon four translucent wings.
"Shall we go have some cake?" she asked pleasantly.
* * *
Angel shifted uneasily as he sat in front of the hearth. A blazing fire barely forced warmth into the drafty castle library. His fingers plucked idly at the black tunic with ruffled sleeves that he had found in "his" room. At least the guard had told him it was his room. Angel had never seen the place before in either his life or his after-life.
"I've forgotten how annoying it is to be human." Dru said shivering and pulled a white fur robe tightly about her body. She sat at a plain looking table, flipping quickly through the piles of books stacked about her. "Pathetically weak creatures. I can't wait to get back my demon body."
Angel remained silent and stared into the flames.
"What's wrong, Angelus?" Dru asked, putting the books aside and sliding up to Angel. "You know, if we're here, the Slayer must be here too. And with these spellbooks lying about we'll make short work of her."
Angel shifted his body away from her caress.
"Why would Buffy be here?" Angel asked. "And where is here anyway?"
"Don't you remember the spell Angelus? You gave me the book and I --" she stopped suddenly, as if a sudden thought crossed her mind. "What exactly do you remember?"
"Not much," Angel said, standing abruptly and pacing to a window. For the first time in more than 200 years he let the sunlight wash over and warm his skin. "It's all a blur."
"Tell me, Angelus," Dru said, her eyes boring into him, "what you think of --"
The thick double doors at the end of the room opened suddenly, creaking on their hinges. A pair of guards entered the room, their breastplates clinking against their chain mail shirts with every step. They dragged a third person between them.
"We found this wandering around outside the castle," the first guard announced with a grin gap-toothed grin.
Angel took one look at the captive and then crossed the room in three great strides. She stood before him, her head bowed low and a tangled mass of red hair hiding her face.
Angel was aware of Dru walking up behind him. He could feel her waiting, expectantly.
"Well look what we have here," Angel declared in a loud voice, grabbing the prisoner's face and lifting it up.
"Angel!" Willow Rosenberg exclaimed as she stared into his eyes, her face draining of color. She struggled to free herself from his touch, but the two guards laughed and held her in place.
"Looks like we've caught a mouse," Dru said, a crooked smile creasing her face. "Let's make her squeak."
"Wait," Angel said, interposing himself between the two women. "I have a better idea."
He turned to the guards.
"Take her to the dungeons and lock her up. No one is to touch her or to talk to her besides myself. I will interrogate her personally, understood?"
The two guards nodded.
"Just in case you don't, let me make myself clear. Any person that touches her unnecessarily will have the offending appendage cut off."
Satisfied with guards' ashen faces, Angel dismissed them and turned back to Dru.
"We should have killed her," she said, regarding him coldly.
"There are some fates worse than death," Angel replied with a charming smile. "Especially when they occur at a former lover's hands."
"What did you have in mind?" Dru asked, taken aback by the look of cunning in his eyes.
"Oh, a little of this a little of that," Angel shrugged. "More importantly, though, we no longer have to worry about finding the Slayer. Once she knows where her friend is, she will come to us."
"So we use the mouse to catch a cat," Dru smiled and walked seductively up to Angel and stroked his face. "I'm glad to see you're beginning to feel more like yourself, Angelus. You had me worried."
Angel smiled then strode around her back to his seat by the fire. With his back turned to her he hoped she couldn't see how badly his hands were shaking.
"That was close," Xander said as he watched the picture in the children's book dissolve into a new view. Faeries were dancing in a circle around Buffy in front of what looked like a gigantic mushroom house.
Turning the page, he frowned as he watched Willow being dragged in front of Angel and Drucilla.
"Giles, there has to be something we can do," Xander said.
"I'm looking through all my old texts on spellcraft, but this is a very unusual case," Giles said as his finger ran down the page of a dust grey book. "It is also very dangerous. There's no telling what spell Angel used or how the disruption of the spell has affected it. If only Jenny were here --"
Giles cut himself off and read silently for a time, then slammed the book shut and hurled it away from him.
"Useless," he muttered. "If we had the original spell book there might be a chance...."
"What about that book I found a book by the house?" Cordelia said. "It was in a strange language and had funny scribbles for pictures."
"You found another book? And you didn't bring it with you?" Giles strode towards her.
"We kind of forgot about it after finding the picture book," Xander said. "It's not everyday your friends are swallowed by a magical spell and dropped into a Dr. Suess nightmare."
"We need that spellbook," Giles said, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door.
"I wonder what Mrs. Thrumman is going to do when she gets home and finds her kids missing," Cordelia mentioned casually as they left Giles’ house. Giles and Xander stared at her in horror.
"Good God!" Giles said. "She'll have the police knocking on every door. Xander, do you know how late she'll return?"
"I think Willow mentioned she was coming back at midnight," Xander said.
Giles checked his watch.
"That only gives us two hours," he said grimly.
"What about Buffy and the rest of them?" Cordelia asked as they squeezed into Giles’ car.
"The story time schedule is apparently different from real time. There's no telling how long two hours will be in the book. Hopefully Buffy and Willow will be able to protect the children until we can undo the magic," Giles said backing the car out of the driveway.
* * *
Spike held the silver bowl of blood aloft and placed a finger on the page of the magical tome. He began to read the lines of the spell, clumsily stumbling over the foreign syllables.
"Damn, how does Dru read this stuff!" Spike gave up and tossed the bowl of silver away from him. It clinked against the cement floor of the old factory and rolled away. He tried to decipher once again the strange script on the page but found he could only read about half the symbols.
"Give me the other book," he demanded. His vampire servant handed him the Medieval Times paperback. Spike flipped through the book until he came to where the pages were blank. Even as he watched, typing slowly faded into existence on the surface of the page. Spike read eagerly, his eyes darting over every line.
"You should have killed the red-head, Dru," he shook his head sadly. "Angel's up to his old tricks again." He sat silently for a moment pondering, then looked up at his servant.
"I need someone who can read this," he said gesturing at the magical tome. "That librarian chap will do. Find him and bring him here, unharmed."
The servant hesitated a moment,shifting his weight from foot to foot.
"What is it?" Spike asked with annoyance.
"Sir, the librarian has fought us before and survived," the servant said simply as if that explained everything.
"Then I suggest you be very careful," Spike replied, leaning forward as he spoke.
The servant wavered under Spike's gaze, and nodding, hurried from the factory. Spike watched him leave, then turned back to the book, waiting patiently for the next page of text to appear.
* * *
“So we’re going to attack a kingdom of faeries at nightfall?” Angel asked the captain of the guard.
“Yes sir,” the captain replied, looking perplexed. “It was your plan after all, sir.”
“Of course it was my plan,” Angel snapped, glaring at the man. “I want to see if you know it by heart yet. Nothing must go wrong.”
“Right sir.” The captain swallowed hard before continuing. “Lady Drucilla will cast the spell that will make our troops immune to the faerie magic. We will attack at nightfall to gain a tactical advantage and wipe out the enemy. Then the secrets of faerie magic will be ours to control.”
Angel stared at the man for a minute, pacing slowly around him.
“Good,” he said finally. “You are dismissed.”
The captain of the guard breathed a sigh of relief and bowed before leaving Angel’s quarters. Angel paced around his room, his feet sinking deeply into the embroidered carpet with every step. A knock came at his door.
“What is it?” Angel yelled, stopping abruptly. His gold hinged door swung slowly open and a dirt smeared face cautiously peeked into the room.
“It is time for me to change the bedding, milord,” the teenage girl said meekly.
“Come in,” Angel said. He strode to the door and looked both ways down the hallway after she had entered, then shut the door and looked the girl up and down. She was clothed in a ragged brown dress and overcoat. Her brown hair lay matted in long strands about her shoulders. The girl trembled under his gaze and would not meet his eyes.
“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” Angel said. He strode over to the hearth and buckled his sword to his waist. “What’s your name?”
“Belinda,” the girl answered with a short curtsey.
“Do you know where the dungeons are, Belinda?”
The girl nodded, looking fearfully at the sword.
“Good,” Angel said. “First I need you to show me where the stables are. Then we will stop by the kitchen to grab a tray of food. Understood?”
“But sire, I have other chores to do still,” the girl protested, meeting his gaze for the first time.
“You’re excused from your duties for today,” Angel said, heading for the door. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Angel held a torch aloft as he descended the worn spiral staircase to the dungeon. Belinda followed close behind him, the hood of her coat pulled low over her face. She carried a wooden tray with a stale piece of bread and a lead cup filled with water.
“Which way?” Angel whispered as they stepped off into a long hallway.
“Left,” Belinda said quietly. “To the right are the torture rooms.”
Angel gagged on the damp smell of death and fungus. Up ahead he could make out the light of torches set in scones along the stone walls. Beneath the torches stood two guards dressed in chain mail suits. Each held a spear in his right hand.
“Do not say a word,” Angel warned Belinda as they approached the guards.
“Sire,” the first guard saluted by touching his hand to his heart. “The girl is in the first room on the right, unharmed as you ordered.”
“Good,” Angel said. “Give me the keys to the room.”
“Sir?” the guard asked, his jaw dropping.
“I will question this prisoner myself. I believe she is in league with the faeries. You two will go to the staircase and wait for further instructions,” Angel said.
The two guards exchanged looks, but handed over they keys as Angel commanded. Glancing curiously at the rag shrouded servant they each grabbed a torch and proceeded back down the hallway, talking in low nervous voices.
Angel breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the first door. It was a heavy wooden door set with iron bands. A small iron grate at about head level allowed him to peer in, but he could make out little other than a shapeless mass huddled in the back corner of the cell. Angel slipped the key into the look and entered the dank cell.
“Willow,” he hissed as he entered the room. “Are you all right?”
“Stay away from me,” the red haired girl said, standing up and pressing herself against the wall.
“Willow, do you have any idea where Buffy is? Or how we got here?” Angel said, taking a step towards her.
Willow suddenly jumped forward and smashed a kick to Angel’s groin in reply. Angel gasped and fell to the ground. The torch dropped into the filth next to him, sending shadows raging across the room.
“You think I’d tell you even if I knew? After what you did to Ms. Calendar?” Willow burst into tears and ran for the open door. She collided with what appeared to be a bundle of rags and fell back into the cell. A wooden tray and a cup clattered to the floor along with a piece of bread.
“Willow, it’s me Angel,” Angel managed to gasp. “Not Angelus -- Angel!”
“Get away!,” Willow screamed, scrambling away from him.
“Dammit Willow,” Angel said and drew his sword from its scabbard. Willow froze and watched the slender blade. Instead of ending her life, however, Angel slid the razor edge across the palm of his own hand. “Look!”
Blood welled from the fresh cut, tracing the creases of his hand and dripping down to form a crimson puddle on the floor. Willow watched for a moment baffled.
“It’s not healing,” Willow said, suddenly realizing what Angel was trying to show her. Angel nodded.
“I’m human again,” he said simply.
“The guards are coming back,” Belinda whispered into the room anxiously.
“Belinda, get in here and do exactly as I say. There’s no time to explain,” Angel said. Moments later he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door most of the way.
“I thought I told you to guard the stairs,” Angel said coldly to the guards as they approached. They looked at each other uncomfortably.
“We heard a noise and thought you might need assistence,” one of the guards said.
“Sometimes asking questions alone is not persuasive enough,” Angel said, cracking his knuckles with a chuckle. Blood seeped over his fingers. “I think I hit her a little to hard though.”
The heavy door opened and a hooded figure bent low to the ground came out carrying a wooden tray.
“Did you leave the food as I ordered?” Angel asked, glaring down at the servant.
The servant gave a slight nod in reply.
“Good,” Angel smiled and returned the keys to the guards. One of them looked into the cell and squinted at the shadowy figure that lay draped across the floor.
“Remember my orders,” Angel said as he turned to go, pushing the servant along in front of him. “No one is to touch or talk to the prisoner in my absence.”
Buffy sat in the shade of a willow tree, its thin branches sweeping the ground around her. As she munched absently on a honey coated muffin, she stared at the faeries bobbing and dancing through the air in the open field of the park. A fast paced tune was being played on harps and lutes by a group of five faeries sitting off to one side. Nibbles spun herself around with a laugh in the center of the ring of faeries, holding her crown to her head with a free hand.
Buffy glanced around the faerie village. The entire town was composed of mushroom structures that had been hollowed away to form rooms and furniture. Buffy wondered how the faeries had managed to perfectly fit windows and wooden ornaments into the living structures. She stood up to go examine one of the buildings and was startled to find Caelin hovering beside her.
“Have you found my friend yet?” Buffy asked hopefully.
The faerie shook his head, sending gold locks of hair to dance across his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “There’s been no word of a red-headed girl from any of the sentries.”
Buffy’s head fell to her chest as she heaved a deep sigh.
“Why do you post sentries around the borders of the village?” she asked.
“We are besieged by the evil witch Drucilla,” Caelin answered.
“Drucilla’s here?!?” Buffy gasped.
“So you do know her,” Caelin said, his voice turning cold.
“Believe me, she’s no friend of mine,” Buffy said, beginning to pace slowly back and forth.
“That is good, then,” Caelin said, uneasy at Buffy’s sudden change of mood.
“No, it’s not,” Buffy said. “If Drucilla is here then it is very very bad. What does she want with this village?”
“The secrets of faerie magic,” Caelin said.
“If faerie magic is so strong, how could she stand a chance against you?”
“It is not so simple,” Caelin said. “Perhaps a demonstration will make it clearer.”
Caelin pulled his bow from over his shoulder.
“Magic surrounds us all at every moment, but is very hard to control without the proper knowledge,” Caelin explained. “Faerie magic uses the natural life force within each of us as a sort of pathway for the magic to follow.”
He pulled back on his bowstring and a faint glimmer appeared nocked between his fingers.
“This arrow is a combination of both my own life force and the magic that surrounds us. The more I concentrate, the more powerful it becomes.”
His eyebrows knit together as he stared at the magical arrow. It’s color deepened to a reddish hue and it began to pulse with a life of its own.
“If I released this arrow,” Caelin spoke with obvious effort, beads of sweat glistening on his brow, “the magical drain would surely kill me. The arrow, however, would strike my opponent with enough force to shatter a castle wall.”
He let the bow string relax. The dart of light faded into nothingness.
“The Witch wants our power for herself. She is already an accomplished magician, but she must rely upon the ancient texts in order for her to cast spells. She has not yet learned how to use the magic to shape reality as we have,” Caelin concluded, gesturing at the mushroom buildings.
“How long has this been going on?” Buffy asked.
“Many months now,” Caelin replied.
“But that’s impossible,” Buffy said, shaking her head. “I saw Drucilla in Sunnydale not two weeks ago.”
“Perhaps it is not the same person we speak of,” Caelin suggested.
“I wish I could be certain of that,” Buffy sighed. Two faerie guards approached, clad in ring mail armor. Between their hovering forms they carried Bobby.
“We caught him throwing rocks at the windows of the general store,” the first faerie explained as he dropped the boy to the ground.
“Bobby, you promised to be good,” Buffy said, casting her eyes down at the little boy.
“This isn’t real!” Bobby said. “It’s only a dream. Who ever heard of real faeries?”
“Bobby,” Buffy knelt down next to the boy.
“I just wanna go home,” the boy complained, sniffing slightly. Buffy reached an arm around him and patted his back.
“It’s going to be okay. I’ll figure out a way to get us home, don’t worry,” Buffy said.
“Liar!” Bobby yelled and jumped away from her. “You have no idea how to get home, do you? Do you!”
Buffy’s mouth fell open but no sound came out. Bobby’s eyes narrowed for a moment, then he turned an stomped away from her. The two faerie guards began to hover after him.
“No, don’t,” Buffy said, motioning the guards back to her. “He’s right. I don’t know what to do.”
She watched as the boy sulked away, kicking pebbles as he went.
“He can’t wander out of the village, can he?” Buffy asked Caelin.
“The village sentries would stop him,” Caelin nodded.
“What are your plans then?” Buffy asked. “Will the faeries just wait around until Drucilla attacks?”
“I had hoped the Queen would discuss such matters at court, this morning,” Caelin said with a sigh and watched as Nibbles squealed and chased the other faeries in a game of tag. “The faeries will not act without her command.”
Buffy pursed her lips and said nothing, watching along with Caelin as the Queen rose up into the air on translucent wings and performed a back flip.
* * *
Angel grabbed a black polished leather saddle from the stable wall and threw it over “his” jet black horse. The figure dressed in the grey cloak and tattered dress hunched close by, waiting patiently.
“Where are we going?” Willow asked, peeking out from underneath her grey hood.
Angel hushed her with a glare.
“Any place but here,” Angel said when he was satisfied no one had heard Willow speak.
Stepping into the stirrup with a light jump, Angel swung his way into the saddle.
“Give me your hand,” Angel said, extending an arm. “On the count of three, jump.”
On the third count Angel heaved Willow up into the saddle behind him. Willow wrapped her arms around his stomach.
“Keep your head close to my back and make sure the hood stays tucked around you tight,” Angel said and urged the horse out of the wooden stable.
The horse trotted through the stone cobbled courtyard, carrying them towards the iron portcullis of the front gates. All around them, the castle prepared for war. Young pages scurried about, carrying pieces of armor to their respective knights. Some men were fencing outside the barracks while other lounged about, sharpening their weapons with whetstones. Angel rode straight through the commotion to the gate guard, a portly man with a large red nose.
“Milord?” the guard asked hesitantly, trying to suck in the belly that bulged from underneath his breastplate.
“I’m going for a ride before the battle,” Angel said, glowering at the man. “This servant will attend to me. Open the gates.”
“Beg your pardon, sir, but Lady Drucilla forbids anyone leaving before the battle,” the guard said, wiping a handkerchief across his jowls.
“Have you forgotten who I am?” Angel asked, leaning into the gate guard’s face. “Perhaps a trip to the torture room will refresh your memory.”
“No -- I mean yes -- I mean, I’m sure Lady Drucilla was not referring to you when she gave her order,” the guard said, wiping frantically at the sweat on his face. “Open the gates!” he yelled to the men inside the guard tower.
With a horrible screech of grinding metal, the iron grate inched its way into the air. As soon as the gate was high enough for him to pass Angel dug his spurs into the horse’s flanks and set off at a gallop down the dusty road. He kept one hand pressed against Willow’s arms, securing them to his stomach, and the other on the reins urging the horse to charge even faster away from the dark walls of the castle.
* * *
Drucilla sat in the library, poring over another of the vast tomes that filled the shelves. She mouthed the words as she read them, feeling the magic run through each sentence. There was a knock on the door.
“Angelus, come in and take a look at this,” Dru called.
“Lord Angelus has just gone riding, milady,” a voice answered. Dru’s head snapped up and she gazed at the captain of the guard. He stood stiffly at attention before her, his newly polished armor glowing in the light of the fire.
“I thought I gave orders that no one was to leave the castle,” Drucilla said, her eyebrows contracting sharply.
“You did, milady. Only no thought you actually meant Lord Angelus --” the captain began.
Drucilla leapt from her chair and stormed at the guard so quickly that he nearly drew his sword in fright. Drucilla ignored him, however, sweeping around him and out into the hallway. The captain hurried after her, jogging to catch up.
“Was he alone?” she asked in a cold tone.
“No, milady, he took a servant --” the guard began.
“Take me to the dungeons, now!” Drucilla said, breaking into a run down the hallway.
In moments, Drucilla was running down the damp spiral staircase that led to the dungeons. Huffing for breath behind her, the captain of the guard pointed in the direction of the prisoner cells. Dru swept down the hallway towards the dungeon guards. They stepped in front of her and barred her path.
“I’m sorry, Lady Drucilla, but Lord Angelus left strict orders --” the first guard said.
Dru reached out and touched the man’s chest, speaking a word of magic. The guard burst into flames as if doused with hot oil. Screaming, the human torch fled down the hallway, forcing the captain of the guard to throw himself against the wall to avoid being run down.
The remaining guard backed away from Drucilla, cowering before her. She ignored him, however and proceeded to the cell door. Tracing a symbol with her index finger on the door, she recited a brief spell.
A chill wind blew suddenly down the hallway, extinguishing the still burning corpse of dungeon guard. Spidery fingers of ice collected on the hinges and frame of the doorway. Drucilla hiked up her long dress and gave the door a hard kick. The door fell inwards with a boom that echoed down the stone corridor. Grabbing a torch from a nearby scone, Drucilla entered the cell.
A teenager dressed in jeans and a blue sweater sat shivering in the corner of the room, her eyes wide with terror. Leaning in closer, Dru could plainly see the girl had brown hair.
“Please, milady, Lord Angelus said he’d kill me if I spoke a word,” Belinda cried.
Drucilla ignored the girl and let the torch fall from her fingers. She stared at the stone ceiling for a moment, then breathed in a deep breath.
“Angelus!” she screamed, her voice piercing the stone walls of the castle and sending the crows in the guard tower wheeling into the air.
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