The further adventures of The Big Bad and the Angry Smurf

[godking_no_more]

Who: Illyria, Spike, and eventually Tara and Willow.
Where: The Deeper Well and old timey England
When: see above.
What: Day tripping through time, rescuing damsels in distress.
(AKA : a continuation of this thread.)

She heard Spike sprinting to catch up, but she paid little attention to him. She was searching, half hanging over the rail of the

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[can_we_rest_now]

"Little Foot should be bloody grateful for a chance to nibble on me," Spike muttered more to himself. Saying nothing else, he followed Illyria and watched as she opened up the portal. When she told him what he had to do, he eyed her skeptically. Trust that her "power" wouldn't snap shut at an inopportune time and snatch him up? Riiight.

Shielding his eyes from the sudden surge of light, Spike was suddenly less than a hundred percent behind this plan. Who knew what kind of portal Illyria just opened? Who knew if they could actually be brought back? Jokes and all of that aside, Spike didn't trust Illyria's power even back before they were forced to take it away to stop her from going nuclear.

"Oh, right, you'll be just behind me," he scoffed. Still, he turned to look at the portal resolutely. Willow and Tara were in trouble, so even if he didn't trust Illyria to fix this right off the bat, the least he could do was try for their sake, at least. And who knows? If ol' Shiva got this right, maybe he'll give her a cookie.

"See you soon, then," he remarked as he ran through the swirling blue mess, his skin tingling as he pulled himself through the portal and emerged on the other side.

[godking_no_more]

Illyria remained silent, focusing on controlling the portal and the power surging through her. She didn't even hear Spike. All she knew was that eventually, he followed her instructions and walked through the portal.

True to her word, she followed nearly directly behind him. She managed to keep her footing, and control of the portal as they both moved through. Barely. No sooner had Spike, and then Illyria, set foot on the other side, her power surged, flared, and winked out, taking the portal with it. The portal snapped shut, and Illyria faltered a step, and fell to her knees, gasping. That left Spike a moment free of snide barbs from the Godking to look over the surroundings.

A quaint village on the edge of a forest, and a mob of people in medieval dress crowded around pyre, quickly being whipped into a frenzy as two female forms were tied to large posts.

The smell of wood smoke and the chanting, rolling yells of the mob were enough to bring Illyria around quickly. Once she had let go of the power, she felt better, more herself. Or at least the herself she was used to after these past years. She heaved a deep breath as unblinking blue eyes rose, took in the situation at the center of the cluster of houses, and turned, triumphant- on the blond vampire. "Do not doubt me again, Half breed. I am still the master of my power."

She spun a smile devoid of mirth and full of promised violence toward the scene at the base of the small outcropping they'd been spit out on, before she rose, and started toward the village. Never mind that she hadn't quite figured out how to get them all home after the Witches were saved from the mob. Hitting people always helped her think more clearly. She knew she'd come up with something. No need to let Spike know there was a gap in her plan.

[can_we_rest_now]

Spike had narrowed his eyes upon re-emerging from the portal. He didn't know what he had expected to see, but the sight before him would have made his stomach turn, if his body were still capable of such a thing.

At Illyria's words, he glanced back at her before turning back to the ghastly scene before him, mindless of her stumble. He couldn't waste time giving her an ounce of attention when she'd only hit him with snark. He thought he had once heard of something like this happening in good old Sunny-D, but unless the time warp had only taken them back a decade or so, this was slightly more serious. This was shaping up to be a real-life witch burning.

"Right, 'master,'" he remarked sarcastically, slowly creeping towards the villagers who were set on having themselves a barbecue. "So I'm guessing we'll be able to snag them girls up right quick and pop back into the DeLorean, eh?"

Seeing Illyria stride in front of him and head towards the village, he quickly scampered after her, careful to keep his voice down. "Now, if I know you - which, unfortunately, I do - you're aiming to fix this with a flurry of fists and some kung fu kicks. Much as I approve of that plan, I should remind you that these are innocents. Scared, confused buggers who don't know any better and think they're just doing what their God wants them to do."

Seeming to realize something, he admitted, "Granted, those types of bastards tend to be the most dangerous. Carry on, then. I'll grab the birds and we'll meet back here, yeah?"

[godking_no_more]

The promise of violence was enough to push any thoughts of, well, anything else, out of her mind. She did pause long enough to hear Spike out, the hint of something, maybe amusement, hiding under her steely features. "I will not kill the stupid humans. I will only maim them."

She actually flashed a brief smile, before starting back down the hill. Three or four great strides had her settled at the base of the hill, cloaked in momentary shadows, before she stepped free and calmly headed for the mob.

The angry crowd, so flushed with their own insanity and fervor took little notice of the blue haired female. At least until slim fingers locked around the collar of the nearest pitchfork wielding farmer. She lifted him bodily, with ease, and turned the man to face her. "You are attempting to harm innocent women. The stench of fear and misplaced righteousness is all over you. I should kill you and be done. I should raze this place to the ground. You are lucky I am no longer the being I once was. " Once her speechifying was done, she tossed the man aside like a rag doll, away from the crowd. Hopefully, his scream would alert the mob to her presence and pull their attention away from the witches, so Spike could free them.

It seemed to work, at least near the back of the mob. As the man screamed, a trio of heavy set men, turned to face her, pointing and yelling. "The witches have summoned a demon! " Ilyria merely inspected the men for a moment, and reached out and yanked the nearest one forward, hefting him, and tossing him over her shoulder, to join the other. "I am greater than a mere demon. I heed no witches' summoning call. I am timeless, ageless. And you are worthless flies, buzzing about my head. "

Illyria fixed her gaze on her next victim, and threw a straight punch at the man, knocking him out cold. The last of the trio, bellowed, and charged, like an overweight, middle aged rhino. Illyria waited, shifted out of his way, and cracked him on the back of the head as he charged uselessly past her. The resounding crack of her open handed slap sounded like a gun shot, and sent the man sprawling at her feet in the mud. More men with farm equipment rushed her, and the mob spiraled further into chaos.

Women screamed and looked for a way out, men charged the demon with the blue hair, others were screaming for loved ones, and above it all, the preacher continued his fire and brimstone lecture. All the while, Illyria danced around the attempted strikes at her, weaving a path of destruction and unconscious farmers toward the pillars.

[can_we_rest_now]

Smirking at Illyria's promise to maim without killing, Spike uttered, "That's my girl." Indeed, it was times like these where Spike could almost find himself considering the former god not just an ally, but an actual friend. Almost.

Stampeding past the obstacles that Illyria was easily cutting through, he stopped as a boy came up in front of him, wielding what looked like a blacksmith's hammer. It looked like his opponent couldn't be more than seventeen years old, but in this day and age, he deemed himself a man as he struck out and yelled something about destroying the demons. Catching the head of the hammer in his hand with a slight wince, Spike shook his head and told the boy, "You're annoying, and I don't waste time with speeches." Vamp-face at the ready - mostly to smirk at the kid's terror - Spike used the hammer to fling the would-be demon slayer into a throng of three men before continuing on his way.

Listening to the supposed man of God bellow on about brimstone and judgement and all of that other sort of malarkey, Spike stepped behind him and grabbed him by the back of his neck, snarling, "Man of the cloth; I thought you'd have more respect than to carry on when my blue-haired friend is trying to make a solid point." With that, he jerked the man away and spun around just in time to see him fall back against a mass of other villagers.

He tried not to look jumpy. The fire had already been lit, and vampires get a bit antsy when they're standing by flames. Maybe because of that, he managed to look particularly vicious as he spat out, "Come on, then, which one of you wants this? Jump into the flames of hell, you bastards, I dare you!"

Knowing that they'd all be hesitant, especially if they thought that he was some sort of Mephistopheles-type demon that could transform these simple sparks into actual hellfire, he whirled back towards the two girls who were currently tied to a post. Beating at the flames with his feet, Spike quickly went about untying Tara and Willow, keeping a wary eye on the villagers and on Illyria's progress. "Leave you alone for a few minutes, and look at all the fun you go off having," he told them absently.

Feeling a dampness against them, he figured that they had been forced to undergo at least one water trial. Finally releasing the last knot securing their feet, he put an arm around each of their waists and yanked them back before the fire could do any lasting damage. Looking at them with concern in his eyes, Spike asked, "You all right? Anyone needs to be carried?"

[_willow_magic]

As the fire was lit and the flames were licking closer and closer there was only one thing Willow was able to think about. It wasn't, as one would think, 'I'm going to die'. Or even, 'did I leave the gas on at home?' Or a very mundane, 'the fire is really beautiful in the dark of night'. Not even a, 'gosh it's hot here', sort of thing. No, there was only one thing she could think about, or one someone one should say.

Tara. Tara was all Willow could think about as the flames not so slowly crawled closer. The witch suddenly understood why it was that wildfire's spread so fast and easy. This fire certainly had no trouble getting closer and closer to her and her girlfriend within split seconds. And it was hot, and they probably were going to die. But the one thing that worried Willow as that *Tara* was going to die. Again.

She couldn't bear the thought.

That was until the heat really got to close and personal, the smoke burning her eyes and the fire her skin, that the thought that *they* were going to die was getting the upper hand. "Oh gosh, oh no, oh no," she whispered, and desperately tried to come up with some prayers from the bible her mother had tried to teach her. Willow's parents, though Jewish, had never really been practising religious except for certain holidays. She wondered if God were actually listening, what with that preacher close by yelling hell-fire and damnation to get over the crackling of the fire.

And the taunts of a blue haired demon goddess.

Wait.

What?

Willow squinted her eyes, trying to see through the stinging tears falling down her sooth dirt face to see better. She must be dreaming because for a moment there she thought she didn't only *hear* the great goddess - her words not the rest of the worlds - Illyria, but saw a blue flash as well.

"I'm hallucinating," she muttered to herself as she turned her face to look at Tara. Fear was taking over her heart, fear of what was to come. The burning of the fire was becoming to much, the heat starting to scorch her skin. The tears running down her elven face had little to do with some now and everything with with fear and pain. It was hard to keep ones chin up, she thought, when burning to death. That movie she'd once seen, of Jeanne D'Arc, had been a lie.

"Tara!" she yelled, no longer caring about pride or keeping any chin up. "T-Tara," she sobbed, smoke getting into her lungs and making her cough. Eyes got squeezed shut as the coughing raked through her body and the fire got closer and closer. Strange. It was almost as though the fire had snapped through the bonds. Willow could feel herself falling forward, unable to stop herself. It was, in fact, a strong arm around her waist which stopped from diving nose first back into the fire. And then she was moving. Moving into cool, fresh night air away from the fire.

She dared opening her eyes, only a narrow crack since the tears and sooth still in them made it fairly impossible to open them widely. There was a familiar shock of platinum blonde hair and the unmistakable English, Cockney accent laced with hidden worry which could only belong to one person.

"Spike?" Willow croaked, before the smoke made her cough again and her knees gave away. It must've really been Illyria then, Willow thought, before falling on the floor on all fours, and as the situation caught up with her, started to throw up.

[maclay_magicks]

The fire was intense. Tara felt like her skin was beginning to melt right off her muscles and tendons. Tears were streaming down her face - she had died once, she really didn't want to do it again. And it had nothing to do with actually being dead; it was the thought of leaving Willow again after all they had been through to reunite beyond death.

Tara turned her head to look over at Willow as she called her name. Her sweet voice, filled with pain. "It's okay, sweetie. It's *cough* okay..." Her lungs filled with smoke and sheer heat and she launched into a coughing fit that hurt her body.

She was so oblivious to everything around her at one point that Spike's presence. She was unaware of full grown men flying in the air like paper planes. Not until she felt the pressure around her body from the ropes fall away did she realize she was being pulled away from the pole they had been tied to for what felt like days when it wasn't much more than an hour.

Tara also collapsed to the ground, feeling just as nauseous as Willow but managing to keep her lunch in. "Are... we alive *cough*? Willow?" She coughed again. "What happened? Sp-Spike?"

OOC:Sorry for taking so long!

[godking_no_more]

Illyria continued her rampage, tossing farmers and would be demon slayers about like rag dolls. She carved a path through the crowd, spreading chaos and screaming villagers like butter on hot bread around her. She was careful not to harm too many of them too seriously. She knew that there were quite a few broken bones and massive bruise cases behind her, but at least she'd been careful. She could have snapped men like twigs over her knee.

She'd managed to reign in her natural reaction.

As she moved, she kept a careful eye on the pyre before her, keeping tabs on Spike and the Witches until she herself reached the stage. As she climbed over the writhing form of a boy with a broken arm, she paused as the business end of a spade shattered over the back of her head. She turned, hand snaking out to grab the man by the throat and lift him over her head. "That was unwise. I could crush the life from your form for my amusement." With a look of disdain, she tossed the man into a cluster of other would be attackers and continued, climbing over the lip of the pyre to meet Spike and the wounded witches.

"It would be prudent to leave. There are more coming, with larger weapons. I can not be sure that I will not mortally wound them. " She passed her gaze over the pair of woman, then back at Spike. "Can they walk? Or shall we carry them?"

[can_we_rest_now]

As soon as he saw Willow begin to retch, Spike couldn't help but make a disgusted face. Between that, the smoke, and the unwashed villagers, he was really lamenting his heightened sense of smell right about now.

Crouching behind Willow and putting what he hoped would be a reassuring hand on her back, he told Tara, "Well, considering your lady friend here is capable of freeing the contents of her stomach, I'd say that yeah, you're alive."

Spike looked up at Illyria's words, then surveyed the damage. With a low whistle, he appreciatively murmured, "Oh nice one, Blue."

As he rose to his feet, he put his hands under Willow's arms and brought her up with him. "If Red here's finished making eye contact with her breakfast, I reckon she's going to need to be carried." Though he was in no mood to get sick all over his jacket, he reined in his disgust and waited until she was reasonably over her vomiting phase before picking her up in his arms. "I'd advise holding on there, pet," he quietly told Willow. "Looks like we're gonna have to run for it."

Nudging his head over towards Tara, he told Illyria, "Not sure about that one, though. With all this smoke in the air, I can't imagine her getting far if we need to break out into a hustle."

[_willow_magic]

Very little of what was going on around her actually registered in Willow's fried mind. Fried literally in this case, or close to it at any rate. All she wanted was to curl in a ball and cry for the longest time. The powerful magic inside her was pulling her in and she'd been so close, so closer to the darkness. Waiting, always laying in wait to consume her whole. Just like when she'd-- killed Warren.

She didn't know what had stopped her from lashing out and just killing everyone around her. She knew she could, she was painfully aware that she was capable of doing so. But these were innocents, then again so were she and Tara! Tara! Perhaps, it had been the presence of her girlfriend which kept her from doing anything drastic. But-- how could she let Tara die! Again! Cause these dumb people were innocents!

She couldn't think about it anymore. Her head was pounding, her throat felt like it was on fire and breathing was kinda really not happening a lot. Vaguely she heard the others talk and wondered how it was possible that Tara was still able to get one word out. But that was her girlfriend though, always the stronger one. Willow never understood why people thought that she was the rock in their relation ship when it was obvious, *so* obvious, that it was Tara.

Tears streamed down her face while she glanced up. Green eyes went from Spike to Illyria, not really comprehending that they were here at all. That they were rescued. That they were no longer surrounded by the fire. That she was flying. Wait. Flying? Small arms quickly snaked around a strong neck as Willow pressed her face into Spike's shoulder. "Tara," she whispered, taking a deep breath and taking in the smell of the leather. Always better then smoke and fire, even if breathing in deeply made her burst into a coughing fit all over.

[maclay_magicks]

Tara was still trying to figure out what was happening as she tried to continue to clear her lungs. She coughed and coughed, spitting a little in the process. Spike seemed too interested in helping Willow to maybe hear her, but that was okay. Tara would rather have Willow get out of here as quickly as possible than having anyone pay attention to her own self.

Still on her hands and knees, Tara looked up in time to see her girlfriend in the arms of the vampire and let out a sigh. Then she reached up and tried to find something to steady her to her feet.

She thought she heard Willow say her name but she couldn't be sure. "How did you get here?" she asked Illyria, her brows knitting together. "And... can you get us back?"

[godking_no_more]

When Tara reached up, Illyria was what she would have found. The Godking offered a rare moment of humanity, and offered Tara her arm to steady herself.

Illyria nodded, her line of thinking flowing parallel to Spike's. With Tara and Willow in the shape they were, they were going to be more a hamper than a help if they needed to fight. Better to flee and live to fight later. The fact that she had allowed herself even the thought of failure tickled at her pride. But if they wanted to keep the witches safe, their best bet would be to make a run for it.

Tara's query was answered as she swung the slightly charred witch into a fireman's carry, sans permission. "I drew us through the flow of time to find you. We will go back the same way I brought us here. " She paused to send a quick glance toward Spike, to see if he was ready to make the run. "We go to the Deeper Well. There I will find enough energy to reclaim my power. "

Once Spike gave her the ok that they were ready on his end, Illyria jumped down off the back of the pyra, seeking out the path of least resistance. Almost respectful words were offered to Tara before she started off a a strong jog. "Hold on if you are able. I do not wish to drop you if we stop to fight. "

[can_we_rest_now]

Seeing Illyria lift Tara, Spike gave her a firm nod and reasserted his grip on Willow as he began to sprint. Following after Illyria, he kept an eye out for any of the wayward villagers that had enough fight in them to try and stand in their way. Only a handful of them even seemed able to fight, and it didn't look like they were too keen to take the lot of them on when their numbers were so few. "Looks like they've got some manner of brains after all," he muttered under his breath.

Hearing Willow weakly call out for her girlfriend, Spike spared her a pitying glance. "Easy there, pet. We'll be back where we need to be in no time, then you can go lick one another's wounds...." He trailed off partially to keep himself from having a wholly inappropriate thought, and also because he found himself lurching forward after a flash of pain to his left shoulder.

With a groan, he turned his head just enough to see the shaft of an arrow protruding from his jacket. "Bloody wood elves," he growled as he doubled his speed. He adjusted his grip on Willow, hoping to minimize the chance that someone would go all Robin Hood on her, and he idly wondered if they somehow knew that piercing his heart would revert him to dust. Probably not, but he didn't want to take any chances.

"Double-time, 'Lyri," he called to Illyria, racing besides her. "They've got projectiles. Annoying little buggers, they are."

[_willow_magic]

Most of what was going on around her went right past Willow. All she had eyes for - even if they were burning from the smoke and the fight - was Tara. Making sure her girlfriend was okay. She hadn't heard her yet, but Willow was almost frantically looking around. Black sooth streaked her face, her hair smelled singed, heck, she smelled singed period.

When she saw Illyria pick up Tara and flung her over her shoulder as though her girlfriend weighed nothing, she frowned. For a moment she frowned, her entire body tensing as she kept looking at the pair. Until she saw Tara move her head up and look at her. Blue eyes looking red rimmed from smoke as well found green ones and Willow let out an audible sigh of relief.

Spike's voice drifted over, saying something about wounds which made her tense up for a moment again, craning her neck to look at Tara once more. Not finding any of the aforementioned wounds - at least not any new ones, the bruises they both managed to get before the whole burn baby burn thing - she relaxed a bit more.

Hearing Spike groan, Willow's head turned around sharply to look at the man. Pire. Manpire. Didn't take her long to move from studying his face while they were running - well Spike was running - to move to his shoulder. "Spike!" She cried out as the vampire urged Illyria to hurry it up. "You're wounded!" Of course in all the commotion and the confusion it only occurred to Willow much later that a wound like that probably was peanuts for a vampire.

"There are elves?" she belatedly asked, finally having picked up on the rest of Spike's words. "There are elves shooting at us! Why would they do that?" Gosh but her head hurt like-- heck.

[maclay_magicks]

Tara let out a wince and a small yelp of pain as Illyria easily lifted her onto her shoulder and actually started jogging with her as if she wasn't there. Grimacing, she just let the pain go, knowing this was a small thing to bear for the rescue.

"I drew us through the flow of time to find you. We will go back the same way I brought us here."

"Oh, was that all you did?" Tara murmured. Well, it definitely helped to have an ancient one in your midst for times of time travel moments like this. She just hoped they could do what it took to bring them here again.

As they trotted through the forest, Tara tried to catch gazes with her girlfriend. Yes, she knew she was safe in Spike's care but it still pained her not to be there to comfort her and tell her it was okay. Even if there's that small chance it might not be. They just needed to get back home; that was all.

Of course, they all had to MAKE it to this deeper well place. When Tara saw the arrow in Spike's shoulder, she gasped. "We-we're being attacked!" she announced. Could an Ancient One be hurt by arrows? Probably not... but still... She tried to crane her neck to face the front, wondering if they were there yet.

An arrow grazed her cheek, making her hiss and she felt the blood drip down her face. "Why are elves so angry?"

[godking_no_more]

Illyria heard Spike's warning about the projectiles a half second before the the first one shot past in her peripheral vision. She turned her head to glance back at Tara when the metallic scent of human blood reached her nose. She heard the hiss of pain, and she shifted. Instead of carrying her fireman style, she pulled her around to her front, carrying her like she'd seen Wes carry his son.

It was less comfortable, and it made running a bit more awkward, but it gave Tara more protection from flying arrows. Illyria continued her sprint, keeping pace with Spike, despite the burden of Tara and moved them toward the cover of the woods.

They weren't far from the Deeper Well, she could still feel the throbbing pull in the pit of her stomach, and she lead them toward it. "We are not far. If we take cover in the trees, the angry elves with arrows will have more difficulty hitting us."

As she spoke, an arrow bounced off her back, spinning harmlessly wide. "Though, we should still make haste. " The afterthought was offered as she picked up the pace yet again, and sped for the tree line, and the Deeper Well.