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Summary:
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by
Angel had been forced down to his knees, a demonically strong and scaley hand gripping the back of his neck painfully. Controlled violence, tinged slightly by his ever- present bloodlust, radiated from every line and muscle of his body. He could almost *taste* his enemy's death in the air when an amused…and dearly loved voice brought him up short in delighted shock.
"Oooohhh boys!"
From his crouched position, Angel glanced up…and immediately felt his jaw drop and his cock go rock hard.
There, up on a highly decorated dais and seated ever so daintily on a red and gold throne, was his best friend in the entire world. The one he had come close to losing *far* too many times, both through potentially fatal violence…and his own stupidity. His friend, his Seer, his beloved Cordelia.
And then his mind finally registered what his dick had noticed immediately. She was barely dressed in what appeared to be little more than sheer veils and jewels. Angel decided that it was a good look for her. A little voice in his head wondered if she would be willing to dress like that at the office, but he was able to push aside his desire and lust for her easily now, just as she always pushed aside hers for him. They both feared Angelus' return more than they wanted to bed the other. Ogling each other was all that they allowed themselves…and so they both remained celibate.
Wes's "Cordelia *please*!" yanked Angel out of his shock and he realized that he had missed part of the conversation. Looking back up at the raven haired beauty ensconced on her throne, he watched her give a small dramatic sigh, pause…and then grin.
"Oh, okay. Fine. Let them go. I pardon them from all crimes."
The hand holding Angel's neck squeezed down painfully.
"But your Highness! These are dangerous criminals and we should…"
"Enough!"
Cordelia stood up, affording everyone in the room with an excellent view of her stunning body full of lush curves and waved her hand in an imperious gesture of command. Some remote part of Angel's mind that wasn't fascinated with the Seer's glittery bikini top recognized the gesture as one he made quite often.
"I said that they were pardoned for all crimes. Leave us. Now!"
A chorus of voices echoed "Yes Princess." and then the hand holding onto Angel pulled away. With a clattering of armor and weapons, the guards marched out of the Throne Room and shut the gilded doors behind them.
Squealing with happiness, Cordelia rushed at them. She was passed from person to person until she reached him. Angel gathered her into his arms, buried his face into her hair and breathed in deeply. Her soft scent filled his dead lungs, soothing and calming him for the first time since she had disappeared. After a long moment he reluctantly let her go.
Angel wanted to just look at her and get lost in her big beautiful eyes, but The Host…Lorne, broke the moment by asking something that he hadn't even considered in his relief at finding her.
"Princess? I must admit…I *am* rather surprised that they made you a Princess. After all, humans aren't exactly treated well here. In fact, they're usually enslaved. What gives?"
Cordelia shrugged, walking back up to her throne with a forced air of unconcern, but Angel knew better. He could see the tense lines of her back and when he turned back to sit down, he noticed that her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I'm not sure really. I mean, I was sold. As a *cow*, mind you. Then I did the vision thing…*not* a pleasant experience I'll tell you, and everyone started going on and on about how I was "cursed" or something like that. I *tried* to explain what it was all about, but no one would listen to me at all. Then there was poking and prodding with sharp objects. Another not fun experience. At the end, I was pronounced "cursed" and they made me the Princess."
Angel flinched at hearing that Cordelia had been "poked and prodded". It didn't sound pleasant and he wondered if she would ever tell the details of her ordeal, but he doubted it. Cordelia wasn't one to whine and cry over the big things. It was the small stuff that she bitched about…the things that *could* be fixed.
"I wasn't about to complain. I mean, I *did* need a bath…and I think I look rather pretty dripping jewels. Besides, I'd *much* rather order people around than shovel hell-beast poop. And…let's not go there. *So* not a happy memory."
Angel began walking up the red carpet leading to Cordelia's throne so that he could offer comfort and sympathy to her when he wandered past a silver carafe on a tall tray. Some blurred movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Stopping and turning back, Angel peered deeper into the curved surface…and gasped.
It was him!
Or rather, his long lost and dearly missed reflection.
Picking up the carafe, Angel smiled at his reflection and felt a wave of awe and happiness wash over him. This was almost better than the whole sunlight-not-burst-into-flames thing. He hadn't seen his reflection in over 240 years…and he had forgotten what he looked like. Oh, he knew the basics, dark hair and dark eyes…but those were merely cold impersonal facts. He couldn't pull up a mental image of himself or what he might possibly look like for all of the rice in China…until now.
Glancing around almost franticly, Angel quickly spotted a silvered and polished surface that was flat. A serving platter. Dashing over to it with a wide and ridiculously goofy grin stretching his features, Angel mindlessly dumped the food it held onto the rich carpeting and quickly cleaned the surface with a swipe of his sleeve.
Holding his breath in anticipation, Angel gazed deeply into the seudo-mirror…and frowned. The bottom of the platter had been painstakingly engraved with a delicate floral pattern. And as beautiful as that pattern was, it was impeding his view of himself. With a flash of inspiration, Angle flipped the platter over so that it's back surface was facing him. And smiled.
By the Powers That Be…he was one gorgeous guy. No wonder everyone wanted him.
He was still grinning inanely at his reflection and fussing with his hair when Cordelia's voice once more yanked him back into the here and now. It wasn't so much the words themselves…but the underlying fear in her voice when she said it.
"They're gonna *mate* me? With a *demon*? Oh no…that's it. Shiny-jeweled tiara or no shiny-jeweled tiara, I'm getting out of here. Now!"
Angel almost dropped his platter. Only his preternatural reflexes kept it from hitting the floor with a loud clatter. Confused and feeling just a tad over-protective in a rip-them- to-tiny-quivering-chunks sort of way Angel walked over to where his friends had gathered.
"What? Explain this…mating thing. In detail. That way I know who exactly to kill."
The Host sighed and looked terribly sad, but he complied to Angel's demand without question. He gestured around the Throne Room with an extravagant wave.
"I was saying that I just figured out why this. The whole curse-equals-Princess thing. It's a part of an ancient prophecy. I don't know all of the details, but the general gist is that "The One who is Cursed with The Sight" will come to Pylea from another world. Her arrival will signal the beginning of the end of Order and the ushering in of a new era of Chaos."
"Chaos?"
Angel's voice was merely a whisper as he felt a shiver of horror and fear work it's way under his skin. The Host merely nodded and gestured to a very pale Cordelia.
"Apparently, the "Cursed One" is prophesied to bring Pylea under her rule, choose her "mated husband" from among the demon population and then lead an army of warriors against the tides of chaos. The "Cursed One" is said to be the mother of the "One who will Restore the Balance". I don't know if it's true or not…but if the Covenant made Cordy Princess…they will also try to mate her to a demon. To try and produce the child."
Angel felt overwhelmed. Events were spinning way beyond out of control, one disaster striking before he could get past the last one. And his Cordelia was always at the heart of it, suffering for the amusement of the Powers That Be…and for Angel. For a moment he was afraid that he was going crazy, that this was just a dream…a strange and bizarre dream. Then the voice of reason spoke up with it's upper-crust English accent.
"Is it possible to be able to get a written copy of this prophecy? I think we need to know all of the details. Perhaps there is a loophole somewhere? A way to prevent Cordelia from being forced into an unnatural, and most definitely unwanted, union with some random demon."
Angel latched onto this hope whole-heartedly. He nodded his head and pointed at Wesley.
"Yes! That might work. We should try and find a copy right away."
However, Cordelia didn't look as certain about the validity of that idea. In fact, Angel noted that she looked petrified. Her body was tense and her eyes were wide with suppressed fear. A rush of sympathy for her washed over him and he had the urge to gather her back up in his arms again. He didn't get the chance however, because Cordelia reached out with one jewel bedecked arm and pulled on a thick silken rope.
Somewhere deep inside the castle a heavy iron gong rang. Within a matter of seconds, a green demon wearing dark livery entered the room and sketched a graceful bow.
"Yes your Highness?"
Angel watched as Cordelia pushed down her fear and summoned up her most imperial expression for the slight demon.
"I would have word with the Priests on a matter of grave importance."
The livered servant bowed again.
"I shall summon them with all haste Princess."
And with that, the green demon turned on one heel and walked back out. Gunn reached out and gently tapped Cordelia on the shoulder to get her attention.
"Priests?"
Cordelia nodded her head, trying to hide her relief at the distraction. It might have even worked had they not known her so well.
"Yeah. These…robey Priest guys. They're the ones that performed the…tests to determine if I was cursed. I figure if anyone would know anything about this prophecy, *they* would."
"Uh-huh. And you *trust* these guys?"
Cordelia shot the black man a withering look.
"Do I *look* stupid to you? No, I *don't* trust them…but it *is* their prophecy. *They* are the ones who will be insisting on this…*mating*. So…"
Cordelia never got to finish her statement because at that moment the gilded doors to the Throne Room swung open and three tall demons wrapped in heavy crimson robes walked in. The demon in the lead had an elaborate tattoo decorating his face and carried an air of authority. He too went through the motions of courtesy by bowing his head towards the woman on the throne.
"You summoned me, your Highness?"
Angel restrained the urge to fidget as well as the urge to just strangle the tall thin demon. Both urges were nearly overwhelming. He also had to stifle the desire to growl menacingly, however, he wasn't as successful at this as he was at restraining his need for instant violence. He didn't feel nearly as bad about his temper when he noticed that Gunn was glaring and that Wesley looked to be on the verge of flinging a spell at the demon Priest.
"Um…yes. I, my friends and I, were just told about a prophecy. About the "Cursed One" and I was hoping that you could tell me more about it. It, you know, sounds important. Wouldn't want to…mess it up."
The leader of the Priests glowered at The Host, who in turn tried to appear as if he wasn't standing there in the room. In fact, he looked as if he would rather be *anywhere* else at that particular moment.
"Of course Princess. I would be glad to teach you of our sacred writings. The prophecy of which you speak is known as The Legacy of the Cursed One and is one of our oldest…and most important religious writings."
The tall thin demon's face took on an odd expression of barely restrained excitement.
"It is relieving to know that your Highness recognizes it's importance and significance. And as you've probably already guessed, it is about *you* your Highness."
Angel felt himself tense up at those words even though they already *did* figure that out. It was different however, to know something in your mind then it was to hear it whispered in awe by someone caught up in a religious fervor. He didn't blame Cordelia one bit when he saw her shiver out of the corner of his eye.
"The prophecy is actually quite simple. At least…the basics are. The "Cursed One"…you Princess, were foretold to come before us in a humble guise. You were a slave, the humblest of the humble. It is written that we would know you by the "Curse of Visions" sent to you directly from the Powers That Be and that your coming would be a sign that the end of Order is near. *You* personally shall foretell *that* horror. It is also foretold that you shall perform four tasks. These four tasks shall block the onslaught of Chaos."
Cordelia's face went pale and Angel could hear her heart begin to race. This sounded bad. Very very bad. But what did the demon Priest mean by the "end of order" and the "onslaught of chaos"? Angel wasn't sure…but it couldn't be good if a world of *demons* had spent centuries waiting for their messiah to be delivered to them so that whatever was fated to happened could be stopped.
Another worry, beyond keeping Cordelia safe was what all of this meant for him personally. It was one thing for these alien demons to have prophesied Cordelia's coming…but she was *his* Seer. The visions she received from the Powers were actually instructions for *him* to carry out. Whatever her four tasks were…it would most likely involve him…as well as Gunn and Wesley too.
"Wha…what are these four tasks? The ones that I'm supposed to do?"
Angel could hear the tendons in Cordelia's arms stretch and creak to maximum tension as her hands gripped her throne in white-knuckled terror.
"That is simple Princess. The first task you have already done. You have been made ruler of Pylea by completing and passing the tests designed to determine if you are truly the "Cursed One". This will allow you to fulfill the third task…leading an army off of Pylea so that you can confront the enemy of our universe."
Angel could feel his chest begin to rumble again and knew that he was growling at the threat to his beloved Cordelia. The thought of her marching off into battle still had the power to make him weak from terror…even though it had happened so many times in the past.
"Conversely, the second and fourth tasks are also related. One dependant upon the other. While the prophecy does not specify *which* particular demon…it is foretold that your second task is to take a demon as your mate…and that your bond will be witnessed by the Covenant. This will make way for your fourth, and most important, task. You shall give birth to a child. *The* child…one that is foretold to have the power to block the forces of Chaos and restore the Balance between Good and Evil."
Echoes of "What?!" surrounded him as his friends all absorbed this information, but Angel slid right past shock into demonically inspired possessiveness. With all of the menace he could put into it, Angel stepped directly in front of Cordelia and *snarled* at the startled Priest.
"MINE!"
"Angel…perhaps it would be best if…"
Angel snapped his head around and glared at his friend.
"No Wes. I *refuse* to allow Cordelia to be used as…as… *breeding stock* for some random demon. She's my Seer, my best friend, and…and…Wes, it's *Cordy*!"
While Angel's declaration and speech may have comforted Wesley and Gunn, it had the opposite effect on the tall demon Preist.
"You would *dare* interfere with our sacred prophecy!"
Angel tensed his body, instantly prepared for massive violence, ready to defend both Cordelia's honor and her body from violation. Just before he leaped at the Priest, Cordelia's hand settled down on his one shoulder, restraining him far better with her whims than she could ever hope to do with her strength.
"No! No, you don't understand. We're not trying to mess up your sacred prophecy thing. Honest. It's just that…"
Angel could hear Cordelia's heart race as she paused, casting about for some reason…any excuse not go through with being forcibly mated to a demon. The sudden flexing of her hand on his shoulder told him that she had found a straw…and was going to grasp at it. He tensed again.
"…well, I'm already sort of involved with someone. You know, I love him and he loves me…it's a real, uh…exclusive sort of thing. I mean, Angel would *never* share me with some demon, no matter *how* nice that demon may be."
The Priest looked shocked and slightly confused, but he quickly pushed that aside and took on the tone of a teacher who was explaining something difficult to a slow, yet delicate child.
"Princess…I can understand that you would be reluctant to release your claims on your former mate, but the prophecy is quite clear in this. Granted, it does not name your mate…only that he would travel vast distances to claim you. However, it is specific in that your mate is a *demon*, not a cow. This Covenant would *never* recognize a cow mating. Not for *you*."
Angel smirked. He couldn't help it. There were very few times when he was grateful for Angelus' presence, but this was one of them. Still grinning widely at the Priest, Angel shifted into gameface.
"I guess it's a good thing that I'm a demon, isn't it?"
The Priest took a startled step back. With matching gasps, so did Wesley and Gunn. Cordelia's fingers dug painfully into his shoulder and he could feel her trembling. The scent of fear washed over his senses and he basked in it's lovely perfume. He felt powerful and strong, like he never had before and the pull of the bloodlust was rising in a huge tide. He had the crazy urge to devour the Priest before him…to bathe in his blood and drink down his very essence.
"Angel? Uh…Angelus? Um…wha…"
Cordelia's fear laden voice pulled him out of his blood soaked daydreams and he turned to face her. She stifled a scream and flinched back from him. Confused, because she had seen him in gameface plenty of times and she had never reacted like this, Angel glanced down and caught a flash of reflected green.
Raising the silvered platter in his hand back up, he looked into it…and saw a monster. A green skinned, jagged horned monster with a maw of endless sharp fangs.
From a distance he heard the demon Priest say something about this mating being acceptable to the Covenant once the ritual witnessing of the bonding took place. However, he wasn't really listening, he was too busy staring in unutterable horror at his reflection. Despair and anguish swirled through him as he saw for the first time the true face of Angelus.
As the true depths of his horrendous visage registered in his mind, Angel wondered how he could ever learn to live with this knowledge. A single blood tear dropped from one eye as he gazed in utter disgust at his own image.
*****
It hadn't taken Spike very long to get ready to go. Fear, panic and an overdose of adrenaline will do that to a bloke. Within minutes, he had Xander buckled into the passenger seat of the dark colored motor and all of the packs and bags the Scooby Gang had brought with them tossed carelessly into the back seat.
A brief and hurried look through the car proved that there wasn't a spare set of keys lying around, but Spike didn't care. He just ripped the casing off of the steering column and hot- wired the ignition. Glancing down at the gas gage, Spike determined that there was enough petrol in the sedan to get them back to Sunnydale. He figured that by the time they got there it would be close to morning and they would find someplace to hide during the day.
As soon as the sun set, they could steal a bigger and better vehicle...most likely a truck of some sort, grab everything of value and then head towards L.A. Hopefully, things wouldn't deteriorate too quickly. They were in no shape to battle their way into the city.
One last quick check to make sure Xander was buckled in and as comfortable as he could be made, Spike was ready to go. Throwing the car into drive, he pulled away from the abandoned gas station turned battlefield in a cloud of choking dust. He hit the road at a reckless rate of speed and sent the car into a tire screeching spin in an effort to get it pointed in the right direction.
At first, the road was difficult to maneuver on. It was littered with the broken bodies of the Knights of Byzantium as well as their horses. Spike simply thumped over the smaller hunks of flesh, but he was forced to swerve around many of the larger ones. Finally, the road became clear of obstacles. One smooth, straight piece of black asphalt disappearing into the horizon.
He floored it.
The engine whined and screamed at the abuse, but eventually the transmission caught up with the punishing speed Spike was forcing from the old and battered car.
For five whole minutes the ride was peaceful and quiet, just a soft tuneless humming noise coming from Xander that blended eerily with the white noise of the tires on the road and the engine straining under the bonnet. Then the shakes hit.
They started as a small tremor in his right hand. Tiny, subtle...
easy to ignore. That one little tremor grew and grew until it eventually encompassed Spike's entire body. His eyes filled up with blood-tinged tears and streamed down his cheeks. Unneeded breath hitched in his chest as wracking sobs forced their way out of him.
He almost pulled over to the side of the road until his...anxiety attack passed, but he forced himself to continue on. Biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, Spike desperately tried to pull himself under control. The sharp bright pain was new enough and focused enough to allow him to fight back the tremors and to calm himself to the point where he could once again stop breathing. The tears, however, continued to roll down his cheeks.
In a flash of insight, Spike realized that it was the lack of anything else to focus on...the lack of *immediacy* that was allowing this wave of grief to engulf him. The silence and the lack of necessarily intense focus and concentration was giving him the opportunity to fall apart. That was an illusion and Spike knew it. It was *very* important that they get away...somewhere safe, or lacking that, get to some allies. Even allies that neither he nor Xander were on the best of terms with.
What he couldn't understand was, why the destruction of the Scooby Gang had hit him so hard. And as much as it would embarrass him to admit it, their deaths *were* hurting him. Badly. But why? He had often dreamed of tearing them down and killing them all. Why would seeing them die, here and now, bother him so very much? Was it because of Glory opening the Mystic Gates? Or was it because he actually *liked* the Slayer and her groupies?
Spike rolled the idea around in his head...as much for a way to distract himself from his own grief so that he, hopefully, wouldn't break down again as it was a way for him to understand his intense reaction.
After a few moments of consideration, Spike realized that yes, he was upset by the turn of events. He had no desire to see Glory win because of what the world would become...and unfortunately she *did* win. And now Spike would have no choice...the world was going to be slowly ripped to pieces because of it.
It wasn't that simple however. Glory's triumph and her subsequent destruction of the realities pissed him off. He was mad about that, but anger was an emotion that he had long since learned to control. Not the other way around.
No. This went deeper then anger and it was much more personal as well.
Spike was being swamped with the one emotion that always pulled him down and swarmed him under. Grief. Deep, heart rending, mind twisting grief.
Grief for the ex-demon of Xander's. The only one who truly came close to understanding what it was like to live with the chip. She too had been forcibly parted from her ability to maim, torture and kill humans...and she had suffered just as much as he did. Thinking of her, he felt a surge of happiness for her that Xander had taken her in, given her love and encouragement and a steady hand to help her adjust to her enforced mortality...even as he felt a swell of jealousy that no one had offered the same to him.
Then he thought of the witches and he felt a rush of grief once more. Those two chits had offered him sympathy and kindness when no one else did. It was the little things that never really registered until just now when he knew he'd never see them again. Plates of homemade cookies. Soft smiles and welcoming nods of acknowledgement. Whispered inquiries as to how he was feeling or waht he was doing. Compassionate understanding when the others thought he was 'just being Spike'.
And the Watcher? The other Englishman had been a bit of a relief to Spike's sensibilities at times, although he'd never ever told the man. The accent, the mannerisms, even the way he held his ever present cup of tea had all carried shades of hearth and home for Spike. He had traveled all over the world in his time and after a while it was nice to ensconce himself in a totally and thoroughly British atmosphere. Giles' flat was almost a haven during those times when teenaged American pop-culture seemed to be beating at his very brain.
The Slayer was a whole other story. Spike hated her with a burning passion that was almost holy in it's intensity. And he loved her equally as much. She had gone from being a goal, another notch in his belt of victories, to being an annoying necessity...and then from there she had grown into the obsessive center of his very universe. His entire reason for being.
That's when understanding hit him.
When he had first met them, the Slayer and her chums were, at least in his own mind, his Sire's 'Pet Humans'. He didn't see them as individuals beyond what they were called and what they looked like. At that point in time, they had no true meaning or purpose to him beyond a way to hurt Angel and a means of consolidating his power over the denizens of the Hellmouth.
Over time, that had all changed.
First, he began to see them as more than just faces. He learned a bit about what they could do. Not a lot, just enough to be able to figure out what it was about them that made his Sire believe they were worthy of his claim and protection. They had practically grown up before his very eyes...even if he didn't know all of the details of their lives, he knew the basics.
Then, after the chip, it all changed again. He didn't just watch them from the sidelines; he interacted with them and became a part of their lives. He slowly but surely became one of them.
Giles and Xander had been his sometime roommates.
Anya had been his confidant, the person he swapped stories of 'once upon a times' and 'if I still coulds' with.
The witches had been his friends. It was that simple.
Dawn had been like a little sister. She trusted him. He hadn't been trusted by anyone since the night he had been turned and the feelings that stirred in him had been powerful.
And Buffy. He had loved her. Wanted her. Was willing to die for her.
Somehow, between there and here, then and now, the Slayer and her Scoobies had gone from being *Angel's* Pet Humans to *Spike's* Pet Humans...at least in his unbeating heart. It just took their deaths for that vital information to reach his brain.
That's why he was grieving their deaths. They had been his family...and now they were gone. Dead. No vampire took the final death of a family member well...and none ever killed their own. Angel had been the only one to do that as far as Spike knew, but then again, Angel had a soul when he staked Darla and souled beings have been killing family members since the dawn of time.
It was that whole free-will thing. Beings with souls can choose to ignore their primal instincts. Beings without a soul can not. And a vampire's instinct is to protect the family at all costs...no matter how much you hate them. Spike just hoped Angel would hear him out first, instead of just staking him on sight.
Spike was pulled out of his increasingly circular thoughts by Xander suddenly bouncing up and down in his seat as far as the restraining belt would let him. The broken young man began to beat his palms against the passenger-side window, even as he pressed his nose up to the glass.
"Bubbly fire and black floaties. Bubbly fire and black floaties. Raining, raining, raining black floaties in the air."
Spike glanced over to see what had caught Xander's attention and gasped. Quickly pulling over to the side of the road, he stared out the windshield with a mix of amazement and horror. Two Mystical Gates were forming out on the desert sand. One was flat on the ground and one about a hundred feet up in the air directly above it.
They both grew bigger and bigger at an alarming rate. The one lying flat on the ground shimmered and pulsed with ripples as it expanded, chewing up and swallowing desert rock and sand as it's border grew. In it's wake, that ripple of energy left behind a grotesquely changed landscape. Sandstone, shale, pebbly sand and limestone became black volcanic glass, boiling red lava and brimstone. Clouds of black volcanic ash flew up into the air in big thick gouts, only to drift back down like evil snow, coating everything in darkness.
The new land also brought its denizens with it. Large creatures that seemed a demented blending of insect and lizard. Their bodies were armored and sectioned like an insect, but they were put together with a more lizard like design and purpose. Rending claws, fang studded maws and long whip-like tails.
Spike shuddered in horrified awe.
Not to be outdone, the Mystic Gate in the air shimmered and expanded across the sky, the inky star-studded field vanishing into it. Multi hued soft light in a pale rainbow of glittering colors began to pour forth from the pulsing tear in reality. Along with the light came mythical beings of such beauty and grace that Spike couldn't help but suck in a breath of air.
"Bloody Hell..."
Xander also seemed impressed.
"So pretty...feathers and sparkly gems. So very pretty."
And they were. Several winged horses flew out of the Gate. They were pure white with flowing manes and huge feathered wings. Their hooves sparked streams of silver and gold glitter in the air as they galloped along the wind currents and they carried armored women upon their backs.
Right behind the Pegasi and the Valkyrie came a flight of Gryphons, their eagle beaks screaming a war-cry into the night even as their great wings held their leonine bodies aloft.
Spike had only a quick moment to enjoy their grace and beauty as they glided through the rainbow colored air before chaos descended. The insectoid creatures from the lava pits spotted the airborne warriors above and they howled with an eerie, high pitched whine that began to hurt Spike's sensitive ears with its intensity.
One after another, the demonic creatures on the ground cracked open the armored plating down the middle of their backs to reveal transparent and painfully thin wings. Revulsion churning his stomach, he watched as those wings began to beat. Slowly at first, but then faster and faster until the very air around them hummed and vibrated with the sound of it. Then, almost as one, the demons leapt up off of the ground and tore into the sky, attacking the creatures above.
With a morbid sense of excitement and fascination that only a demon could appreciate, Spike watched as the battle begun in earnest. The demons attacked with claw and tooth as they tried to latch onto their victim and shred it apart. The feathered creatures from the land of rainbows worked hard to knock their opponent from the sky, or to slice it to ribbons with claw or sword.
Blows were exchanged and pain filled cries shattered the air. Blood rained down from the sky above; red, yellow and blue. It was a glorious display of power, skill and courage.
Then a dead insectoid came hurtling from the air above to slam down onto the ground right in front of the car hard enough to shake the vehicle. Spike flinched back on reflex, but Xander cringed and tried to crawl onto Spike's lap, tears of fear and panic rolling down his face.
"No. No. No. Chunks and pieces falling. Chunks and pieces everywhere."
Spike turned and worked quickly to undo Xander's seat belt before he could hurt himself trying to get free of it. Wrapping one arm around the disturbed young man's shoulder, he pulled Xander in tight to his side.
"You're right Pet. Time to leave...while we still can."
Then using one hand, Spike violently turned the wheel and pulled back onto the highway. The car lurched sickeningly as he ran over the ruined corpse of the demon, but he didn't care. They had just escaped one battlefield as the only survivors...he didn't want to wait around to see if their luck...such as it was, would continue to hold. It was time to get out...while the getting was good.
Xander continued to babble his insane ramblings in Spike's ear, but he didn't pay attention to the words. He was too busy trying to get them out of there in one piece. He merely took comfort in the young man's heat pressed tightly to him and let the sound of Xander's voice sooth him as he swerved around the objects...and body parts, that continued to rain out of the sky.
After about ten minutes of reckless and desperate driving, they finally reached the edge of the battle zone. Spike didn't let up on the gas, instead, he floored it once again. He wanted to put as much distance between them and the aerial war as he possibly could. He kept checking his rearview mirror, but that didn't stop him from worrying about an attack from above. He only hoped that the fact that they were on the ground would keep them from being noticed as a concern.
His panic and fear once more up to their highest levels, Spike drove on into the night. His destination...Sunnydale.
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