Willow: The Onslaught of Asylum (Post-season 7; contains spoilers)

These last three parts were great😀!.I love Andrew🙂.(Sorry I couldn't log last night😛).
Post more!😀...and when is 'you know who' part coming?
 
Part 13 - It's Safer Here

She lay on the bed, eyes wide, staring blankly. The young slayer hadn't stirred at all. Her wounds had been bandaged. The bandages covered almost ninety percent of her body. They had dressed her in Buffy's cow pajamas. Xander watched her intently, hoping that she would move even an inch. For the last hour he kept vigil over her, praying for a change. A twitch, a groan; anything would be better than this. Outside the room, he heard Willow sniffling. She had cried for a while. Kennedy stepped into the room.
"How is she doing?" he asked her.
"Well, she's had quite a scare. I wish I could tell her that it was all just a dream, but"¦" she raised her hand and pointed towards the catatonic slayer eyeing the ceiling. "Now, I don't know what to think." Xander looked at her shoulder. It had been burned badly, but he had bandaged it. Besides, slayers heal really fast. In a week, you wouldn't even know what had happened.
"Anything?" she asked.
"Not a peep. Nothing but a staring contest with the ceiling. And I think she's winning," he said. Kennedy walked around to the other side of the bed, and placed her hand on the woman's shoulder. She was very cold, but she was still breathing; shallow breaths, but breath none the less. Kennedy pulled Dawn's comforter up to the woman's neck, and tucked it under gently. The slayer's eyes were blank; no fear, no anger, no sadness.
"Where do you think she came from?" Xander asked. "How do you, you know, think she got here?"
"Well, Red said she came with her from that hell dimension. She swears that she left the apartment, and flew to hell. But"¦"
"But that's impossible," Xander finished for her, "because Will never left the bed. Then how did she get here, and where has she been? Has she been there the whole time since we did the spell?" Xander did not need to clarify what spell he was discussing; He was, of course, referring to how Willow used the scythe of the slayer to unlock the slayer line, at the battle of Sunnydale. All potential slayers, those waiting in line for the current slayer to pass on, had been infused with the full power of the slayer. They had altered the fates of the slayer line forever.
"She hasn't moved at all, has she?" Willow said, entering the room, having composed herself.
"No, she hasn't," Xander said, "I am just waiting for her to snap out of this." He put his hand on her shoulder, comforting, as she stood next to him. She smiled at Xander as warmly as she could. Willow stood over the unconscious slayer.
"I don't think this is something she can just snap out of, Xand," Willow said with concern. "You should have seen that, that place. It was icky and wrong, in every way it could be wrong. I don't know how long she was there, but I was only there for a little while, and it traumatized me a bit. I don't see how she could be after weeks," she became flustered, "or months. Oh my goddess, you don't think she was there for months, do you?"
"She might have been," Kennedy said distantly, snapping her fingers over the woman's head.
"Kennedy," Willow said angrily.
"Whoa, back down Willow, "I am only saying that we won't know until we ask her. Any ideas on how to do that?"
"Without hurting her, that is," Xander finished. "You have any ideas?" he asked.
"Well, I might have one, but I, uh, I am not sure we should do it," said Willow
"What's that?" asked Kennedy. Willow turned to Xander.
"You remember when Buffy went all coma-ey on us, and I went into her mind?" she asked him. Xander nodded.
"Well, I COULD do the same thing, but I am a bit afraid," she said as she peered out the window looking at the breaking dawn
"Why's that?" Xander questioned.
"Well, first, it could hurt us both. And second," she turned to face him, "I don't know if I want to see what I'm going to see."
"What could it hurt?" interrupted Kennedy. "If you can help get her out of this, then you should do it."
"It's not that simple," Willow retorted, "There's repeating scenes and bad memories, and, and, I could do a lot more damage than help. What if I say the wrong thing to her mind self? Can I even talk to her? She wasn't even speaking English when I saw her on the table. If I say, or, or if I do the wrong thing, she may never come out."
"How are you going to know until you try?" Xander interjected calmly, with a disheartening smile, "If anyone can do it, you can, Will. I know it. I mean look what you have already done. I mean, I believe you can do it."
"But"¦" she began. Kennedy put her hands on Willow's shoulders, wincing at the effort.
"But we will stop it if things look sour," Kennedy reassured.
"Darn tootin' you'd better," was Willow's unsure response. "I am going to need some things, then."
-
Close to an hour later, the slayer had been propped against the headboard of Dawn's bed. Across from her sat Willow, finishing the final preparations for the spell. Candles lit around the room, Willow looked straight into the eyes of the woman. She held the gaze for a moment. Bright light flashed before Willow's eyes.
-
Willow stood in a dank, long chamber. In front of her stood a tall banquet table with a single chair; on the other side, a gigantic throne of human of human bones and sinew rested. Both chairs were unoccupied. Willow jumped as a large door, thirty feet tall, slammed open with great force. The demon that had attempted to assault her in her dream ducked under the slightly too small entryway. In its oversized arms, the young slayer was carried, severely bruised and torn. She was dressed in a surprisingly elegant, black evening dress. Her forehead had deep cuts in it. The demon unceremoniously dumped her in the smaller chair.
"S'asseoir!" it demanded. The demon spoke a few words in an unknown language, and several large, dirty, silver, platters appeared on the table. The slayer tried to buttress her weary head up with her bruised arm. Her glance shifted to Willow. Everything but two women slowed to a crawl.
"You don't want to be here," she said in English.
"You speak English?" Willow asked.
"Oh yes," the woman replied, her voice still heavy with a French accent and quivering with several agonies, "I, I, I do. He," she indicated the demon, "He always, he always said he wanted me to, to be able to scream in all languages." Willow shuttered at the thought. The demon, still moving very slowly, lifted the lid of the platter to reveal the sickening sight of a human hand, aged and ridden with maggots. Willow wanted to wretch, her reaction quite visible. The slayer just scoffed at her.
"I, I told you, you don't want to be here," she avowed flatly, frowning pitifully, she turned her head back to the demon and the horrors before her. The scene shifted back to real time. The demon took a seat in its throne.
"Manger jusqu'à  la dernière miette, Mon ravissant," it said, hands sweeping in display across the table.
"Wait," Willow pleaded with the woman, "Please"¦ stop." Time slowed again, and the slayer looked at her.
"You can't save me, but you can join me if you really want," she declared.
"What? No," Willow said, "Please, just"¦ j,just tell me your name."
"The young woman thought for a few moments and then said, her eyes widening, "It, it is"¦was R, Rene." She began to weep deeply; sorrow flowed out of her like a waterfall. Rene buried her head in her folded arms on the table." Willow was silent, herself beginning to cry from sympathy.
"Don't you dare pity me!" Rene screamed at Willow. She hid her head again and continued to cry.
"Rene, you aren't here anymore. Do you know that?" Willow asked.
"Yes," Rene said, without looking up.
"Why are you staying in"¦ in this place," Willow stretched her hands out to indicate the nightmarish dimension. You are safe now."
"Am I?"
"You are already safe," Willow said trying to cheer both Rene and herself up, "I mean"¦ we, my friends are watching over us."
"It is a sweet thought," Rene said, lifting her head lightly to regard the witch.
"It is true, Rene. You are torturing yourself here. The demon's gone." Rene looked up at the hellish beast, her face soaked in tears.
"I, I know."
"Why are you staying here?" Willow was flustered. She couldn't understand how anyone could subject themselves to this, especially any more than they would have to.
"I"¦It, It's safe here," she said. Willow's eyes lit with confusion. Rene continued, "It is all I know."
"B, but, you can come home; you don't have to be afraid any more. You have been made a warrior, like an Amazon. You have so much to look forward to now," Willow announced, trying to comfort her, "You can come home. You are a slayer now."
"I know," said Rene. She though hard, like there was something she was trying to remember. "My watcher's name was De'Claud." "Was", Willow thought to herselfdeeply puzzled look crossed her face.
"Did... did Andrew find you?" Willow tried to reason with herself as much as Rene. She had not heard of a slayer that had disappeared recently. "How long have you BEEN here?" Willow inquired, knowing that it would have been longer for the slayer, than it had been on Earth. Time in hell dimensions usually ran at a much faster pace.
"E"¦every year since I, I was brought here, he," she pointed to the demon, "he"¦ celebrated my anniversary. O...only way to know how, how long I have b...been here. The"¦the last time"¦ he, he said it was my thirty-two thousand and fourth anniversary."
 
Wow,is that girl old?!lol😛....I like Buffy's cow pijamas😀,don't ask😛.
Keep posting😀...can't wait to read more🙂
 
cool!!

Very nicely done!!!...Faith a blonde?...lol...i kinda like that....ya,& the cow pajamas was cute....& we got cliffhangers,nice!!!....Anyways, more, please!,soon!
 
Part 14 - Sunday Drivers

Giles carried Jenny's and his bags out to his silver Mini-Cooper. Her bags were filled with what women's clothing he could find in the mansion. Most of it was either too prudish or not conservative enough for Jenny's tastes, but that was a moot problem. Several watchers and their charges had shown up in the last few minutes, but Giles offered little explanation for his sudden departure. The two got in the car and Giles hit the gas. As Giles' car sped away, one of the new slayers stood out on the foyer wondering what the rush was all about.
"So, let me get this straight, Willow's been tracking a slayer for the last few days with magic, and today she dreamed her and pulled her out?" Jenny asked. "No wonder she was able to pull off the curse."
Yes, her power has grown exponentially. She was able to bring Buffy back from the dead, and she nearly burned the world like a flare."
"I just, well, I can't believe that sweet little Willow has become so"¦ so"¦"
"Well," Giles said, "As Andrew put it; she has become a regular Gandalf."
"Who?" Jenny inquired, quite confused.
"The fictitious wizard from"¦" he cut himself off, realizing that she had been dead when those movies had come to the cinema, and he became mortified at the revelation that he was beginning to understand so many of the younger member's pop culture references. He shook his head and said, "Bollocks, Never mind"¦ I have been spending too much time around those kids."
"But they do need your guidance, Rupert," she reassured him.
"That is the problem. Buffy," he began, "really all of them haven't needed me for a few years now. Buffy has become in incredible young woman, a leader"¦ a general really. My presence only seems to undermine her plans anymore. Besides, I am quite needed in my new station in helping to run the council."
"Can I join your little pity-party?" she lightheartedly asked him
"Oh, uh, no I don't mean that in a self pity way. I am very pleased that Buffy has managed to surpass the need for my council. I just, sometimes, um, miss the way things once were." He began to stare intently at the rear-view mirror as he spoke, becoming increasingly distracted.
"If it's any consolation"¦ I uh, well I"¦"
"Hold on to something!" he interrupted. A black van sped up from behind them and slammed into the back of Giles' car. It didn't back off, only kept applying pressure to the now crumpled bumper. Jenny let out a scream. The van backed off slightly and sped into another collision. The Mini- Cooper barely held its track; Giles slammed on the gas petal and shifted to a higher gear. The two vehicles raced along the highway, both accelerating to lethal speeds.
"Who the hell is that, Rupert?" Giles looked into his side mirror, but couldn't make out the forms inside the van through the darkly tinted Windshield.
"If I had to guess, Wolfram & Hart have discovered where you went," he said breathlessly. Jenny turned to look back, just as the van collided again. The rear bumper fell off and was ground underneath the weight of the pursuing van. The van pulled alongside the smaller car in the oncoming lane, slamming into the passenger side of the Mini-Cooper. Jenny let out a hurt yelp as the car recoiled from the sideward charge. Giles whipped the steering wheel to the right and then to the left. The van pulled back to the rear and charged forward again. Giles glanced at Jenny, who was now facing him. Blood began to poor from a large gash in her right temple.
"Bloody damn you!" he spat.
Determination and desperation to protect Jenny drove him to new depths of bravery. Slowing down a little, he veered to the right lane as the van moved to the car's former location. He cranked the wheel to the left, his car catching the van by the front fender, sending it off of the road and into the ditch. The van's speed sent it into the forested regions near the road. It slammed, hard, into a tree, demolishing the front.
Looking back, Jenny and Giles breathed a sigh of relief. The Mini-Cooper clunked unhappily down the road towards Liverpool.
-
The five men inside the van all let out groans of pain. The three in the back were actually seriously injured, one of which was mere minutes from death, while the two in the front only suffered soreness and superficial injury.
"Ouch," said the driver, "where's the sodding radio?"
"I have it," said the man in the passenger seat, quite pleased with himself. He clicked the device on. Static crackle"Olympus, this is Cupid," his voice had a thick British accent.
"Yes Cupid, this is Olympus, over."
"Let your bosses know that the arrow has been delivered," said Ethan Rayne.
 
Well, wasn't quite expecting that....well, not Ethan Raine anyways, at least not yet....but, i enjoyed none the less!!...Keep up the splendid writing,& now all i can say is,,,,MORE,MORE!!!!
 
It's really getting boring..me saying every time that the parts rocks..
Well this one was no exception..Ethan Rayne-a very good idea...MORE!
 
Part 15 - Black Ships

It was still in the dark hours of morning in Berdyans'k, Ukraine. The city was covered in a thick blanket of mist. It was an unusually cool morning for spring, and the seagulls voiced their protests and desires at regular intervals. Two large sea vessels had pulled into docks of the Sea of Azov an hour prior. Their massive, black metal structure and solemn visage cast an eerie contrast to the rest of the ships in the harbor. Many rough, but weary looking men and woman continued to unload the ship of large machines, equipment, and tents. Others had begun to set up tents and placed the vehicles in their appropriate places. Many set up the colorful mechanisms in preparation for the fun they were meant for. Their demeanor was quiet. Not a single conversation was carried on between them; they merely worked as though they hadn't a second to loose.
Two men exited from one of the first established tents, carrying on a conversation in Italian. One was finely dressed in an expensive suit; a red silk scarf wrapped around his neck was tucked into his dress coat. He had slicked back salt and pepper hair and wore expensive spectacles. In his hand, he carried an intricately decorated pocket watch. The other wore dirt stained jeans and T-shirt and a thick flannel coat.
"Look at them. You would think that they were afraid of me"¦ working like busy little ants, preparing for harvest," said the poshly dressed man with sick satisfaction. The other looked around, finding no humor in his companion's last comment.
"So, tell me Stalvos, why'd you pick this place? I mean, wouldn't America be a better spot for your needs?" said the dirty one of the pair.
"Why?" said Stalvos, amused, "Benny, this place is a convergence point for great violence and disaster in the last century. Hitler, Lenin, Stalin, all gave their very best to the cause of hatred and violence. The conflicts in the Balkans have nurtured it; Chernobyl added seasoning. So many factors in recent years have germinated the seeds for something great. And now, my friend, it is ripened. Man doesn't seem to realize that so much destruction and slaughter and despair can create pockets of hellish delight right here on Earth. Now, my employer wants to cash in on the loan, paid in blood, man has granted him. He leaned against the railing in the front of the tent. "If you listen carefully"¦ you can still hear the echoes of now silenced screams. My god, it is a beautiful sound."
"So, we're really going to create a new Hell Mouth?" asked Benny.
"All in due time, Benny. All in due time. For now, we shall have a carnival," said Stalvos, with a hearty laugh. In the fields in front of them, the many workers prepared the various rides and booths.
-
He was still having some difficulty with the new guitar riff. For some reason, his heart wasn't into the music. Instead, he had spent the better part of the last few days in reflection over the last few years of his life. Always the philosopher, Oz was frequently cursed with long periods of introspective reflection. He just wished that he could get back in touch with reality, if only for the music.
He had realized, four years ago, that six months in a Tibetan monastery would not cure him fully of his unusual condition or his many woes; seclusion simply wasn't the answer. He had traveled for some time, touring through much of Africa, Asia and, in the last year, Europe. He had gained a new level of control on his transformations he had never before possessed. The meditations he had been taught were a true boon. Then the unusual had struck.
One night, and only once, he had suffered from the worst migraine of his life; however this monster headache was accompanied by many sight, smells and sounds; all of which had driven him here to the Ukraine. These "visions" had forewarned him of real danger here in the Ukraine. He had some suspicions as to their cause; he had once met an Irishman who had described having a similar condition. Of course, the man went on to quote Angela's Ashes. Well, that or the Flintstones, Oz couldn't be sure; but an old acquaintance, Cordelia Chase, has confirmed that what he said was true. He remembered that the man had told him that the Powers That Be, the universal spirits that bound and animated all things, sent him these visions to prevent tragedy. Well, if this was the case for himself, who was he to argue.
Oz had spent the better part of the last year waiting for those things which were pumped into his head to come to pass. Black skies, a towering spire, countless screams, rivers of blood, and the stench of death; all these things still lingered in his thoughts and dreams.
"I thought you'd like a beer," said Natalie, the young woman he had been seeing for a few months now, as she entered the door to the shabby apartment he had been living in. She was from Russia, and though she spoke decent English, she still carried the strong accent. They had met when he played in with a band at a local club in Mariupol, a city less than a hundred miles away. They had met when he sat in with a band at a local club. Natalie was kind, intelligent, and had lush red hair. Her visage reminded him of mistakes of the past, but he did not mind, he loved her for the person that she was. He had moved on with his life. He caught himself staring at her with a crooked half smile; he was always calmed by her presence.
"What is it, Oz?" she asked, a little flustered.
"Nothing," he said disarmingly. She handed him the bottle of Russian lager. He sipped on it for a moment and then set it down. He readied his guitar, and began to finger the frets in practice. Natalie sat down backwards in a metal chair, took a drink of beer, and rested her chin on her hands on the back of the chair. She loved to listen to him play. His fingers ran effortlessly acrss the strings as he finally got the riff correct.
"What do ya know," he said to himself.
 
Part 16 - Self Destructive

"What?!" Willow asked, almost in denial of what she had heard. It couldn't be possible; how could she have survived for so long. She peered into Rene's aura. It was not fully human anymore, but it contained none of the telltale signs of death. Buffy's soul had been altered, if only cosmetically, by crossing the breach twice, Rene's had no such signs. It, however, contained the taint of dark alterations, darker than any human or slayer's soul should ever be. It held no evil intent, only immeasurable sadness. Still, if what Rene said was true, then new questions remained. How had the slayer line been passed along if she hadn't died? As well, how had Rene found her way to the horrible torture dimension Willow had found her in, the one reflected in Rene's mind now?
The world around Willow flashed brightly. They now stood in an old cottage. Moonlight shone through the windows. Flames crackled in the fireplace, old volumes lined wooden shelves built into the walls. Willow took a moment to adjust to the surroundings of this new memory. Rene looked confused, like she should remember this place, yet couldn't. Taking gasping breaths from fear, she walked over to the shelves and pulled a leather-bound book from it. She skimmed the pages, stopping on one and flipped the book around in her hands for willow to see. On the page, was a hand drawn picture of a vampire, the text was handwritten in French.
"I, I, I was suppose to, to fight the demons, I, I was a, a, a fighter," she said.
"Yes, Rene, you ARE a slayer. You fight the monster and vampires. Do you remember? Your life?" Willow responded. Rene dropped the book and began to weep. She dropped hard to her knees.
"L"¦leave, me, alone," she begged through her gasps, "Go a, away. Y, y, you are not r, real. I, I remember, you have done this to me so many times before." She began to mutter incoherently in French.
"What? No! I am real. Rene," Willow continued, putting her hand on Rene's shoulder, eliciting a sever jump from the timid woman, "I am here to help you." Rene brushed her hand off and ran to the bed in the corner. Huddled, she began to sob again.
"I, It is a trick," she repeated to herself, over and over again, rocking back and forth on the bed. Willow didn't know what say, what to do. She had hit the proverbial dead end with Rene; no matter what she said, Rene ignored her and held herself, crying and rambling. Willow sat down on the edge of the bed. The slayer edged closer to the wall, eying her suspiciously. Willow heard her rattle on about how HE did this to her over and over again. She would escape or be rescued from her awful torment. Making it safely home only to have it soon revealed that her "saviors" were only demons and her home a mere illusion. Willow's heart sank at what she was hearing. She didn't know how she could convince her that she was now actually safe; her rescuer real. Long moment passed, Willow looked at Rene with tearful concern.
Then the world flashed again. Willow watched as Rene stood before a stone mausoleum, stake in hand and broad sword in sheath on her back, fighting two vamps. Both seemed to realize that they faced the slayer, as worry was etched into their otherwise grim demeanor. One leapt at her. She caught it in midair and, rolling with its weight, pinning it to the ground with her weight. The slayer quickly delivered the killing blow. It turned to ash in a second. She turned her head, seeing that the second vampire was intent on taking advantage of her supposed lack of attention. Still on all fours, her right foot shot straight out, catching it in the gut. It reeled back, clutching its stomach, and then came back in. She spun around on the ground and knocked it on its back with a sweep kick.
She jumped to her feet and came down at its heart with the stake. It blocked her attack with both hands, the stake piercing the vampire's hands. It brought its arms above its head, stripping her of her weapon. The remaining vamp kicked its feet up, catching her in the chin, knocking her to the dirt. It used the motion to bring itself to its feet. The vamp pulled the stake from its hand. Rene tried the same, to kick herself to her feet, but the vampire ran forward and caught her full in the face with its bare foot. Her lip began to bleed, sending the monster into a blood frenzy. The vampire brought the wooden spike above its head and tried to impale it in her face. Rene kicked it hard in the knee, breaking the joint to the side. It howled in pain, dropping the stake, and collapsed to the ground. She quickly took to her feet, and drawing the sword from its scabbard, brought the sword down to sever its head.
The world flashed again, and Willow stood with a much younger Rene in the cottage again. Rene trained hard, punching a wooden post wrapped in silk rope. She brought two quick jabs out from the right and then struck again with left hook. Outside, a horse neighed and Rene smiled enthusiastically. She ran to the door, Willow followed. As she opened the door, the white light poured through, and she was again standing the personal chamber of the great demon that kept her prisoner for so long. Muffled screams came from many bizarre devices designed for extreme cruelty.
"I, I've had my turn in a, all of these more times than I ch, chose t, to remember. Th, that's o, one of the g, great things a, a, about being"¦ a slayer. Y, you can live through so much m, more than o, other p, people," Rene said to Willow, not looking at her. Another flash came and Rene was wired into the table Willow had first seen her on. An invisible entity slowly delivered lashes to her back, drawing screams and blood from her. She writhed in place. Willow could not take anymore; more tears welled up in her own eyes. She waved her hands over the wires, but they wouldn't budge. This place operated under Rene's rules, Willow realized, not the real world's.
"Please Rene," she pleaded with the slayer weakly, "please. You don't have to be here anymore. PLEASE come back with me."
"I, I, I'd rather stay here," Rene said flatly, taking another strike. She yelped, and for all her power, Willow had never felt more helpless. How could she make this stop? She had to find a way to convince her she was safe, to stop torturing herself.
 
I've been slowly keeping along with this story, but I finally got a chance to stop and post. I really love this story. It's very well written. I can't wait until you release the next part. Keep up the good work.
 
WHOA... thats good...... CMON PLZ HURRY UP THE CONTIUATION................................

done yet?

how bout now...

GAH!!!!!! CANT WAIT!!!!!!!!!
 
I've to say that I think this part was the best of all🙂 I absolutely love it,please hurry up with next part🙂
 
NOOOOO!

ur didnt post yet........
PLZ HURRY!!!!!!........ i got no life........ waiting 4 this............ so bored............. plz hurry............ GAH!............ 🙁
 
Part 17 - Exasperation

Xander sat in Dawn's room, hands folded, diligently watching the two women locked in the thrall of the spell. Kennedy was in the bathroom, cleaning up her burn. He had seen and experienced so much since the day he met Buffy Summers. Mostly the times were good, sometimes they were bad, and occasionally things became peppered with the worst. It had been close to a year now since Anya had died, and Xander was beginning to pick his life up, to deal with the last few emotional gremlins. He just made sure to keep himself busy with some independent contracting work. Nothing gets your mind off bad times like hard work. And besides, he thought while eying the badly charred wall in Dawn's room, why shouldn't the tradition of him fixing Buffy's place continue.
The phone on the bedside table rang. Xander hurried to pick it up, as not to disturb the spell.
"Hello, Summer's residence," answered Xander.
"Xander," said Buffy warmly, "Hi. How're things."
Looking at the scorch marks, he said, "Uuum"¦Not too bad."
"I trust that there have been no demon attacks since I left," she said, jokingly.
"Nope. Uh, no demon attacks. We've been one hundred percent demon free," he said, not planning on lying, just hoping she wouldn't ask the wrong questions. Behind him, several objects began to lift off of the dresser, floating slowly, in the same formation that they sat on the dresser, towards the bed.
"So, um, is Will up? I kind of needed to talk to her?" Buffy asked.
"No. no. no she, uh isn't," he said as he noticed the objects in midair, a flabbergasted look nesting in the middle of his face, "Uh, Iaaahh. No. She is still, um, out of it, at, the, moment."
"Alright, Xander," she said slowly, incredulous to the claim that all was fine, "Well, I am going to be gone longer than a couple of weeks. Dawn and I are going to be gone for a month, maybe two." More objects, pictures and stuffed animals began to dance through the air. Xander was trying futilely to get them to stay on the ground. "See, the Immortal has a cabin," she continued, "we kind of need a break from things, thought we could get some R & R time, a little mountainy air, and Dawn and I can vent for a little while."
"Absolutely," he said as he used a foot to hold down a large white stuffed animal, "I, uh, couldn't agree more."
"OK, now I know that something isn't right'" Buffy's tone changed from puzzled to worried, "You are being Jerry Lewis Xander, and you're only Jerry Lewis Xander when something bad has happened"¦ Oh my god. There wasn't a robbery, was there? Maybe we should come back."
"No, no robbery. No just, you don't need to come back. We can handle things here. Just...uh, make sure to have some fun for me, Buffy."
Not quite convinced, but willing to let it go, she said, "Well, Alright, um, just remember that the police and fire numbers are next to the phone in the kitchen. And, um, the fire extinguisher is"¦" The bed rose, very slowly; its two occupants oblivious.
"Well, Buffy," he cut her off, "Tell Mr. Swarthy-pants I said hello. You, uh, have fun on that trip. Got everthing, know where the"¦" The bed began to shake violently. "Buffy, I have to go."
"Well, Ok, uh, bye Xander, oh and make sure that Willow doesn't do any magic until"¦"
"Yes, until tomorrow, I will make sure to tell her that, when she is up. OK, bye Buffy," he said abruptly.
", bye Xander," she said, a little worried still.
"Bye Buff," he hung up the phone. Looking around the room at the floating bedroom set, said to himself, "No magic"¦ a little late for that!"
 
Part 18 - The Veil

It was about three in the afternoon, and Faith, Wood, and Andrew had already met for conference with Nigel to get on the demon's track, but they refused additional slayer backup.
Faith told him candidly, "Too many feet pitter-pattering around will only make it harder to find this thing." They had just left the private medical facility on the grounds of the American Watcher's council. All three young slayers had one hell of a night. One was in a coma, her body was broken, but she would live. The second was in surgery; her knee had been destroyed, even beyond a slayer's ability to regenerate fully on its own. The third one, Ann, had told them all she knew of the events that evening. Then, she began to cry a bit, she had received the scare of her young life as a slayer. Faith had comforted her with her preplanned speech.
Now, Faith and Wood waited in a café, eating lunch, and watching the news update on the events that had happened last night. The telecaster was now saying that the reported cause of the devastation had been a small earthquake. Wood shook his head; he knew how the veil worked. Ordinary people frequently would not, could not, believe that the world of the supernatural existed; even when faced with indisputable proof. Usually they will convince themselves that the most implausible lie based in the real world is more likely than the simplest truth based in the supernatural.
"You'll never believe what I just found," Andrew said, far too excited for his own good, as he came up behind them. Both lovers jumped a bit.
What is it, Andrew?" Faith asked as she turned around, expecting evidence of the demon's whereabouts.
"The entire collection of Dr. Who. I mean ALL of it."¦ you can't even find it all in one spot in England!" he said, again with far too much enthusiasm.
"You were supposed to be checking out the scene," Wood impatiently interjected.
"Relax; don't go all Piccolo on me. I already checked out the spot. The FBI left after they, uh, decided it was an earthquake. AND, I found its trail. Now, can I eat? Cuz' I am starving."
"Sorry kid," Faith stated, enjoying herself a little much, "we've gotta get on the trail before it gets cold." She and Wood grabbed up their belongings and walked out. Andrew tried to stuff as many of their French fries in his mouth as he could.
-
They found the gaping hole Asylum had punched into the Earth, about twelve miles outside of the city limits. The sheer size of the crater was imposing; ten feet in diameter, and going down seemingly forever. Every square inch if the soil and rock moved had been flung out from the hole and now rested up to three hundred feet away. They now realized that they were going to need rappelling equipment to continue their search.
"Someone's been busy," said Wood, stating the obvious.
"Thing's got to be real strong," said Faith.
"I'll bet this thing couldn't beat Goku" said Andrew, eliciting sour looks for his two companions.
-
They had returned some time later with the equipment. Wood, Andrew and Faith noticed the crystals as they descended into the dank darkness of the cavern. They reached the bottom, the same place Asylum had discovered his fear of the dark, and clearly saw his trail leading down one of the dark tunnels. The three turned on halogen flashlights, and proceeded to follow.
"It doesn't SOUND like it is nearby," Andrew stated loudly.
"Shhhh!" came from both Faith and Wood. They continued for some time, the trail rarely getting to difficult to follow.
"Whatever this thing is," Wood whispered, "It doesn't know how to cover its tracks."
"Or it just doesn't care," quietly interjected Faith.
"It could be a master plan to lead the vampyre slayer extraordinaire into a trap," theorized Andrew, equally quietly. Faith stopped and snapped to face him.
"Alright!" she said loudly, throwing away the edge of stealth. "First of all, it is vampire; not vampyre, you little toad sucker," she said mocking his accent and way of speaking. "And second; the nasties out there have a lot more to worry about than just me and B, anymore. There is a whole world of slayers out there just looking to kick demon ass." She turned around, her peace spoken, and began to walk forward. Wood stood there as equally stunned by her little outburst as Andrew was.
They all continued down the tunnel, but lost the trail at a three way fork in the road.
"What?!" Faith became frustrated. "Awe man, you have got to be kidding me."
"Well dear, it is a cave, after all," said Wood.
"So what do we do now?" asked Andrew. "Wait! I know. We can each go down a cave until we find tracks, another split, or hear noises," he offered out. Wood and Faith, both, agreed that it wasn't a d idea under the circumstances.
"Alright, but no heroes here," said Faith, "come back immediately if you see or hear anything "
"Will do," said Andrew, with an unnecessary salute.
 
Part 19 - Decisions

Most of the memories that Rene had taken Willow through were choppy and incomplete, as though she only could remember fragments of things. She seemed to, to Willow at least, not remember what her watcher De'Claude's, the only name she had produced besides her own, face looked like. Mostly, her memories were muddled together. Some parts were from the real world, some from the hell dimension, and some cast Willow as random people from the past. Willow understood that she must have been the only face she had seen, besides the demon's. This was a promising sign. It meant that Rene was beginning to associate with her, even if she didn't trust her. But these were the seeds for trust, and this was the only way she would get her to come out of her impenetrable shell.
After all this time, they were back to the torture chamber again, and Rene had latched herself to the table yet again. Willow was about ready to leave the slayer's mind, to return and rest; to consult Giles when he arrived. Then, Willow had an idea, something that might spur the slayer to return to the real world.
"You know what Rene?" she said, throwing her hands up, "I give up. I give up. If you want to stay here in this little icky, Hannibal Lecter zone, go right on ahead. But I am done with this place. Have fun." She turned a walked to the large doors, trying to ignore the building screams of the imaginary people bound in the metal devices.
"W, wait," Rene said to herself. Willow continued to walk. "W, w, wait," she cried a little louder, but still nearly inaudibly to Willow. The doors slammed shut with intense force. "W, wait"¦ wait, please!" she screamed out, piteous fear carried in her voice. Willow stopped and turned around, inside smiling that she had bet on a winning horse.
"Yes," Willow said, "did you need something before I go?"
"P, please? Please don't leave me here. Please stay?" Rene asked.
"I can't," said Willow, "but you can come with me, Rene. If you want, you can come with me."
"I, I, I, I can't."
"Why not?"
"I, I don't want to, to know that it is a, a, a bad dream. I, I am a, afraid. What if you, what if you are a demon? And, and this i, is a sick joke? I, I am s, scared," said Rene.
"You have to have the bravery to take that chance. What's the worst that could happen, you will wind up in the same place you were before. Things can only get better, not worse," said Willow, slowly back to her, holding out her hand for Rene to take. The slayer's bindings loosened, and then disappeared. Slowly, she got up to her knees. Her bloody hand reached out, shaking horribly and clasped Willow's. Willow smiled warmly at her. Then the world flashed before both of their eyes.
-
Xander did not know what to do; everything in the room had begun to float. Kennedy had just returned, and was trying to figure out what was going on. Then, far more quickly than it had risen, everything crashed to the floor. Both Willow and the slayer started to blink their eyes. The slayer looked around in fright at the two other unfamiliar faces around her; Willow breathed a sigh of relief. After a moment, Rene's mouth bunched up, and hot tears welled up in her eyes and she curled up into a ball. She began to purge herself of all the pent up sorrow of thirty-two thousand years. Willow gently stroked her hair and encouraged her to let it all out.
-
"That is impossible," said Xander, out in the living room. It was close to noon now. They left Rene in the room to vent. "I mean," He continued, "how could anyone endure that kind of existence? It is just, just too horrible to describe."
"How did she get there?" Kennedy asked. Willow just shook her head.
"I don't know, but, she didn't die. She was sent there. Someone or something took her there," she replied. Xander shook his head as though he were trying to shake away bad thoughts.
"Well, I will make us all something to eat," said Kennedy, though Willow and Xander knew that probably meant peanut butter and jelly. "She must be starving, I know I am." She went into the kitchen of the apartment. Moments later, pans could be heard clattering.
"I better make sure she doesn't burn the place down," said Willow, following her into the kitchen. This had been a very difficult morning for her and she needed to be close to Kennedy. The two hugged for some time and shared a sweet kiss.
Out in the living room, Xander moved to the door to Dawn's room to check on the slayer. She would need friends to help her cope, if she would ever be able to cope. A knocking came at the front door
"Xander? Will you get that?" asked Kennedy, while still holding Willow.
"Ya, sure," he said. As he walked to the door, he thought more about Rene. She was a very beautiful woman. He wondered what the world from when she came from was like. Many questions filled his head as he answered the door, but they were quickly replaced by a new comment.
"Will?" he yelled out, "Come here, please"
"What is it," she asked as she ran to the door.
"Remember how I said that the Rene thing was impossible, wl scratch that"¦ this is impossible," he said staring deadpan out the door.
"What?" she asked as she came around to face the door. Giles was standing outside the door, smiling. Next to him stood Ms. Calendar.
 
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