Fic: The Wonderland Subject (68/?)
That's right, I haven't given up on it yet!
CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN
Sanna grunted as she hit the ground. The force of the impact had caused the air to expel from her lungs, but she ignored that dull non-sensation and immediately kicked down at Buffy with her free leg.
Buffy, both hands wrapped around Sanna’s other ankle, twisted to one side and just managed to avoid Sanna’s kick. She tugged downward with more strength than Sanna could fight, but less than she had exhibited just a few minutes ago. Buffy was tiring.
Sanna was not.
She grinned to herself and twisted her body around, then clawed at the dirt as she pulled herself closer and closer to the dull orange Painstone. It was so close. Just a few feet away, sitting motionlessly in the grass. All she had to do was close her fingers over it. All she had to do was touch it.
“Kennedy!” Buffy called as she tugged at Sanna’s ankle again. Sanna kicked down at her and scored a clean hit to the top of her skull. Buffy grunted and her grip loosened for an instant. Sanna lurched forward, arm outstretched for the stone, but Buffy’s fingers closed back around her ankle and pulled her back at the last second. “Kennedy! Wake up!”
The other Slayer was sprawled out on the ground. She’d put up a good fight for a while, but like all of Sanna’s opponents, she could not outlast Sanna’s invulnerability. The blood seeping from the back of her head and into the dirt was testament to that. Sooner or later, she always won.
She just wanted it to be sooner.
“Get off of me!” Sanna screeched. She was momentarily surprised at the frantic sound of her own voice, but quickly put that to the back of her mind. She just had to get to the stone. Then she would get her revenge. If pain wouldn’t come back to her, then she would go to the pain. She would make the stone stronger and stronger, powering it with as many screaming souls as it needed until finally she could turn it on herself. She would feel it. She had to feel it.
Sanna went to kick down again, but Buffy tugged down at her and then scrambled forward, half-tackling Sanna as the two met in mid-air. They rolled and struggled for a few moments, each scoring hits against the other, but it was only Sanna’s strikes that had any effect.
When their tumbling struggles ceased, Sanna slammed an elbow into Buffy’s face and then looked frantically around.
There.
It was right there. Right in front of her eyes. She reached out for it, and the infinite milliseconds that passed as her muscles urged her fingers forward stretched on with unending numbness.
*THURR-CHUNK*
The star-spangled shield sliced down into the ground, blocking Sanna’s fingers from finally closing around the stone. She turned her head just in time to see Captain America’s boot crack into her face.
She was lifted up off the ground and then crashed into the damaged rubble that had once been the entrance to the mansion. Sanna screamed in wordless frustration and picked herself up as quickly as she could, but before she was even halfway up to her feet, powerful fists thudded into her face and body, knocking her from one side to the other and back again.
“Get away from me!” she cried, then swung a powerful punch at Captain America’s face, only to find that it was no longer there. She screamed and whirled around, only to be met with Buffy’s fist catching her just under the chin, followed by what Sanna could only assume was a kick to her solar plexus that once again expelled all the air from her lungs. Sanna’s eyes bugged out as she grit her teeth and kicked out at Buffy, but she was no longer there.
Sanna turned to her right, but her world blurred when Captain America’s right fist cracked across her face. Before she could blink his left fist struck her from the other side, followed by an uppercut, three lightning-swift jabs, and a final right cross that forced her to stagger backwards. When she finally managed to halt his momentum and moved to counter-punch his final swing, he was no longer in front of her.
Sanna turned to her left and was suddenly struck in the gut by a thrusting stomp from Buffy’s boot, followed by a jumping roundhouse kick that drove her back another step. A shoulder block staggered her back yet another step, and it was followed up by a spinning backhand that made the world spin around Sanna. When she finally managed to get her sense of balance back and went to catch Buffy’s next kick, Buffy was suddenly no longer there.
Sanna turned to her right and took an uppercut to the chin by Captain America.
Sanna fell to her left and was kicked hard in the gut by Buffy Summers.
Sanna stumbled backwards and was pulled off of her feet as Captain America’s arm laced around her neck and hauled her up, trying to choke her out.
Unhurt but not unfazed, Sanna wheezed out a breathless snarl and reached up to yank his arm down when she was suddenly released, only to have Buffy Summers swing a double fisted blow up into her chin, causing Sanna to fall sideways into a spinning kick from Captain America that sent her sailing back towards Buffy Summers, who grabbed the side of her head in mid-air and slammed Sanna’s face down into the dirt.
“I’ll ki--!” Sanna tried to scream, but someone kicked her in the face. She spun around and was punched in the throat, sending her stumbling backwards where someone kicked out the back of her knee. She fell forwards onto the point of a big combat boot, then toppled backwards to where an elbow pierced into her kidney. She dropped to her knees and was punched three times across the jaw, but just when she caught sight of the stone and tried to jump for it a feminine arm closed around her throat and dragged her back. She kicked out but her leg was caught by a strong masculine hand, who then whipped her around like a ragdoll and slammed her into a pile of rubble. Sanna tried to grab one of the heavy chunks of stone to use as a weapon but before her fingers could reach around one of them, she was hauled backwards by her ankle and slid across the dirt.
“I don’t know about you,” Captain America said as he stepped towards Sanna. He was battered and bloody, but Sanna wasn’t sure how much of that blood was his own. He cracked his knuckles and then twisted his neck from side to side. “But I can do this all night.”
Buffy Summers, equally bloody, and this time Sanna was sure at least some of it was hers, stepped up beside him. She looked up at the much bigger man, then looked to Sanna. “I’m guessing you don’t feel like giving up.”
The stone was right there behind them. All she had to do was get through Captain America and Buffy Summers. All she had to do was get through the man they’d been trying to recreate when they ruined Sanna’s life, and the girl Xander Harris never shut up about when he was being perfect.
“I’m going to kill you both,” Sanna said as she got slowly to her feet. It didn’t matter how much stronger they were. It didn’t matter how much better they were. She felt no pain. She could not be hurt. She would not stop until that stone was hers.
“Come try then,” Captain America replied.
Sanna screamed and lunged at them.
She halted in mid-air.
Sanna frowned, and then looked up. Brute was standing over her, and his huge hand was closed around her waist. He was bigger than she had ever seen him. His orange skin was tight against the massive bulging of his muscles. There were deep red scars twisting across his entire body, and red-orange blood was caked onto him with dirt. His eyes were wild and he was very nearly trembling.
“I. Ain’t. No. Wimpo,” he said in between breaths. His voice was a deep rumble that was unlike anything Sanna had ever heard before. She had never seen Brute look so dangerous. He lifted his head back and roared with primal fury, then threw Sanna down to the ground. He roared again, clenching both of his fists as he stared at Buffy and Captain America.
“They’re witches!” Sanna shrieked. “Kill them, Brute! Kill the witches!”
“Hang on--” Buffy began, but it was too late. Brute roared a third time and then surged forward with inhuman speed, backhanding Buffy with enough force that she was sent sailing off into the darkness with a thunderous crack. Captain America lunged at him, but Brute just snatched him out of the air and then slammed him down into the ground with force enough to create a cloud of dirt that exploded up around them.
Sanna hardly cared. The path was clear. The stone was right there.
She lunged for it. Her fingers closed around it. She did not feel it, but it was there.
“It’s mine!” Sanna screamed as she raised the stone high over her head. “It’s mine!”
She unleashed the Painstone’s power. She called forth the pain and let it explode outward. She pulled it out of the stone and begged it to come forth, to reduce all around her to screaming nightmares of pain. She lifted it high into the sky and called for the pain.
Everyone screamed.
And Sanna felt nothing.
Xander was bringing his fist down onto the bloody face of John Michael Franks when Willow collided into him. Dark violet light erupted from the contact, obscuring Willow’s vision even as a cacophonous roar of thunder exploded all around them. For those few moments, Willow could feel nothing, see nothing, and hear nothing.
Then she became aware that her arms were wrapped around Xander’s broad chest, and in that moment she also became aware that the magic was seeping into him. A slow and steady trickle of dark energy was flowing out of her and into him. She didn’t have to put any thought into it. She didn’t even have to try. It was flowing all on its own. If she held onto him long enough, the dark power of the hellmouth would seep out of Willow and into Xander.
That thought terrified her. If she were wrong, if Xander couldn’t handle the magic, then she was infusing him with more dark power than he or any person could handle. She hadn’t been able to handle it herself, despite all of her knowledge and all of her ability. Was she ready to curse him to a hideous death if she were wrong?
“Will?” Xander said as he looked down at her. The echo of the thunder was fading away, and a momentary calm fell over them as Xander released Franks’ throat and let him drop to the ground. “What the heck was that?”
She looked up at him. He was taller than he was before his supposed death, but back to what had since been his normal impressive height. His skin, which had been chalk white just a little while ago, was also back to normal. He was mostly the Xander she remembered, but he was definitely the Xander she knew, loved, and trusted.
“You have to hold me, Xander,” Willow said, her eyes meeting his. “You have to hold onto me as tightly as you can.”
He didn’t ask her why. He just trusted her, like always.
His arms slid around her, and for a moment Willow had to fight the urge to moan as he embraced her. The feel of the magic draining away from her combined with the always-appreciated Xanderhug was like the purest sensation of nostalgia mixed with a reverential feeling of innocent bliss. Her eyes slid closed.
“Hold on tight,” she said as she pressed her cheek against his bare chest.
Then Willow Rosenberg let the magic engulf her. She traced patterns of power in her mind and muttered incantations under her breath. She inhaled powerfully through her nose, lifted her head back, and tapped into the corrupted power that was flowing into her through the earth and the hellmouth that tainted it.
They rocketed into the air together. Xander let out a startled yell as Willow let the power drive them further and further into the air, but always directly above the ley lines that connected all the major power pathways to the hellmouth. For weeks she had been forced to channel that power through herself and use ancient and untested techniques to filter out the corruption and keep herself sane. For weeks, she had been riding the line at the edge of her breaking point. Releasing the magic without sifting out the corruption would have twisted her soul beyond repair, but holding it in could be just as damaging.
She hoped Xander was what she thought he was. Otherwise, they were both doomed.
“Let go!” Willow cried as they reached the apex of their ascent. Xander’s eyes were wide as he looked first to Willow and then to the estate that lay sprawled out beneath them, hundreds of feet below.
“Willow, I--”
“Just let go!” she yelled again. She didn’t dare force the power into him at this range. The feedback could kill her, even if it did ultimately purge the dark energy. “Please, Xander! Do it!”
Their eyes locked, and for a moment they seemed to hang in mid-air, arms wrapped around each other. Then Xander let his arms go out to either side. Willow kicked off from him as Xander began to fall back down to the earth, a look of trepidation on his face.
When he was no more than ten feet away from Willow, she pointed both hands at Xander, fingers together and palms flat. With one final intake of breath, she closed her eyes and thought, please be true.
Then she screamed as the power blasted out of her. A conduit of violet light so dark it was nearly black cascaded away from her hands and directly against Xander’s chest. Both his and Willow’s descent halted as gravity seemed to lose its hold on them. Xander’s scream joined Willow’s own as his body began to bulge and grow. His skin went from chalk white to normal and back to chalky white as Willow poured more and more of the built up power into him. Her breathing quickened as an enormous sense of divine righteousness began to fill the void that the dark magic left as it screamed out of her. Xander’s body twisted and rolled in midair as Willow shut her eyes and continued to pour on the power.
It felt amazing. Only once before had she ever felt such righteous bliss when performing magic, and that had been when she’d channeled her power through the weapon of purity that was the Slayer Scythe. Her hair and eyes were already flowing into pure white light as she let the dark magic out of her.
And as it went, she could feel Xander’s body taking it in. She could see through the darkness of the conduit that a bright silver light seemed to pierce through him and back down to the earth. A shaft of that silver light was beaming down onto the ground below, and it was growing stronger with every second.
It was real. It was real, and it was working. Yet even as the power drained out of her, she could see Xander’s body reacting to it. Would he survive? Would he be the same? Could he be the same?
“It’s mine!” a voice screamed from below, somehow penetrating the undulating hum of the dark power flowing from Willow and into Xander. “It’s mine!”
Pain flooded into her. Willow screamed as it erupted within her, but in almost the same instant, the pain vanished, to be replaced by the beautiful happiness that ridding herself of the dark magic instilled within her. Without thinking, Willow reached a hand out towards the ground and called for the Painstone.
The power of it came eagerly to Willow, sure that it had found a proper channel for its dark power. Willow grinned to herself as both the stone and Numb were pulled up into the air, drawn to Willow’s hand.
“No!” Numb cried as the stone lurched out of her hand and slapped gently into Willow’s. She tried to grab for it, but Willow did not wish for her to move, so she was trapped there in mid-air, floating harmlessly just a few feet away.
With one hand still pointing towards Xander and the other clutching the Painstone, Willow closed her eyes and concentrated. It was easy. The power wanted so desperately to be used, and used by a true master. It recognized Willow was one who would know how to use it. It whispered in her mind; epic tales of her dominance over mankind, over life, over death. The power of the Hellstones spoke seductively in her mind. It could all be hers.
Willow closed her fingers around the Painstone as tightly as she could.
“Come then,” she said in a low voice. “Show me what you got.”
The power flowed into her, and just as quickly flowed out of her. Willow laughed in brilliant triumph as the power of the Painstone poured into Xander Harris through her.
It crumbled to dust in her hand.
Sanna screamed in wordless frustration, but Willow ignored her for the moment. Instead, she reached her hand down towards the ground and called for the other remaining Hellstones. She need not even touch them anymore. She knew what their power felt like. She could find them. Call them forth.
And then expel them into their own destruction.
The great shadowy conduit between Xander and Willow pulsed as down on the ground below them, the Bloodstone and the Fearstone both crumbled into nothingness. The silver light flowing out of Xander’s back grew even brighter, and his skin returned to its normal tan hue.
Willow’s ears popped gently. She hiccuped as she floated there in mid-air. She blinked several times, amazed at how it felt to be her.
It was all gone.
It was all gone. She hadn’t been so empty of dark power in almost ten years; since the night she’d cursed Angelus. It felt so strangely wonderful. She had forgotten how it felt to not have something dark whispering in the back of her mind.
Xander, unconscious and looking as normal as he had since coming back, fell away from her as the conduit broke. Willow reached out with the pure chaste power that flowed all around her and let him float gently back down to the ground. Then she turned in mid-air and faced down Numb, who was spewing curses and death threats as she thrashed ineffectually in mid-air.
Willow reached her hand towards Numb. She could feel her misery, and knew that it would never fully leave her. She also knew that it never should. Some things should always leave a mark. She knew that firsthand.
“I’m sorry,” Willow said. Even now, her ability to change or affect Numb’s physiology with the magic was nil. Numb was truly invulnerable. “I can’t change you back. I don’t think anyone can.”
“I’ll kill you!” Sanna screamed. “I’ll kill you!”
“I’m sorry,” Willow said again. And though she could not hurt Sanna, that didn’t mean she could not contain her. In the space of a breath, a shimmering golden box formed around Sanna. Her screams were nothing more than muffled curses as Willow let the box lower gently down to the ground.
She floated down with her, and her bare feet luxuriated in the sensation of the grass against her toes as she touched down. Then Willow Rosenberg, flush with white magic unlike anything she had ever felt before, walked slowly up to the rapidly healing body of John Michael Franks.
“Numb’s invulnerable,” Willow said as he groaned and looked up at her.
“I know,” he said, and then spat out some blood. A slow smile crept across his face. He sat up and grinned at Willow. His hand had already regrown itself, and soon he would be one-hundred percent again. He might not have the stones, but he could still be a threat. “And you know wh--”
Willow raised a hand, and Franks suddenly clutched at his throat.
He might still be a threat, but not if he was powerless.
“She’s invulnerable. You’re not,” Willow said. A soft red glow formed around her hand, and then seemed to spread out towards Franks.
“What are you--? No! No, don’t do this! Don’t do--!”
“Time to be ordinary,” Willow said.
John Michael Franks screamed as his body was lifted several feet off the ground. His hands pressed against the sides of his head. Red light emanated from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth as he screamed in horror. Then, with a bright red explosion of light, he thudded back down to the ground.
“Give it back,” Franks whispered. On his hands and knees, he looked up to see Willow standing contemptuously over him. “Please. Please give it back. I-I can’t see! I can’t see them anymore! Please! Please don’t leave me like this!”
Tears filled his eyes. He inhaled a hitched breath and then let out a terrified sob. Powerless, ordinary, and utterly broken, John Michael Franks wept for mercy.
Two down, Willow thought. One more to go.
CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN
Sanna grunted as she hit the ground. The force of the impact had caused the air to expel from her lungs, but she ignored that dull non-sensation and immediately kicked down at Buffy with her free leg.
Buffy, both hands wrapped around Sanna’s other ankle, twisted to one side and just managed to avoid Sanna’s kick. She tugged downward with more strength than Sanna could fight, but less than she had exhibited just a few minutes ago. Buffy was tiring.
Sanna was not.
She grinned to herself and twisted her body around, then clawed at the dirt as she pulled herself closer and closer to the dull orange Painstone. It was so close. Just a few feet away, sitting motionlessly in the grass. All she had to do was close her fingers over it. All she had to do was touch it.
“Kennedy!” Buffy called as she tugged at Sanna’s ankle again. Sanna kicked down at her and scored a clean hit to the top of her skull. Buffy grunted and her grip loosened for an instant. Sanna lurched forward, arm outstretched for the stone, but Buffy’s fingers closed back around her ankle and pulled her back at the last second. “Kennedy! Wake up!”
The other Slayer was sprawled out on the ground. She’d put up a good fight for a while, but like all of Sanna’s opponents, she could not outlast Sanna’s invulnerability. The blood seeping from the back of her head and into the dirt was testament to that. Sooner or later, she always won.
She just wanted it to be sooner.
“Get off of me!” Sanna screeched. She was momentarily surprised at the frantic sound of her own voice, but quickly put that to the back of her mind. She just had to get to the stone. Then she would get her revenge. If pain wouldn’t come back to her, then she would go to the pain. She would make the stone stronger and stronger, powering it with as many screaming souls as it needed until finally she could turn it on herself. She would feel it. She had to feel it.
Sanna went to kick down again, but Buffy tugged down at her and then scrambled forward, half-tackling Sanna as the two met in mid-air. They rolled and struggled for a few moments, each scoring hits against the other, but it was only Sanna’s strikes that had any effect.
When their tumbling struggles ceased, Sanna slammed an elbow into Buffy’s face and then looked frantically around.
There.
It was right there. Right in front of her eyes. She reached out for it, and the infinite milliseconds that passed as her muscles urged her fingers forward stretched on with unending numbness.
*THURR-CHUNK*
The star-spangled shield sliced down into the ground, blocking Sanna’s fingers from finally closing around the stone. She turned her head just in time to see Captain America’s boot crack into her face.
She was lifted up off the ground and then crashed into the damaged rubble that had once been the entrance to the mansion. Sanna screamed in wordless frustration and picked herself up as quickly as she could, but before she was even halfway up to her feet, powerful fists thudded into her face and body, knocking her from one side to the other and back again.
“Get away from me!” she cried, then swung a powerful punch at Captain America’s face, only to find that it was no longer there. She screamed and whirled around, only to be met with Buffy’s fist catching her just under the chin, followed by what Sanna could only assume was a kick to her solar plexus that once again expelled all the air from her lungs. Sanna’s eyes bugged out as she grit her teeth and kicked out at Buffy, but she was no longer there.
Sanna turned to her right, but her world blurred when Captain America’s right fist cracked across her face. Before she could blink his left fist struck her from the other side, followed by an uppercut, three lightning-swift jabs, and a final right cross that forced her to stagger backwards. When she finally managed to halt his momentum and moved to counter-punch his final swing, he was no longer in front of her.
Sanna turned to her left and was suddenly struck in the gut by a thrusting stomp from Buffy’s boot, followed by a jumping roundhouse kick that drove her back another step. A shoulder block staggered her back yet another step, and it was followed up by a spinning backhand that made the world spin around Sanna. When she finally managed to get her sense of balance back and went to catch Buffy’s next kick, Buffy was suddenly no longer there.
Sanna turned to her right and took an uppercut to the chin by Captain America.
Sanna fell to her left and was kicked hard in the gut by Buffy Summers.
Sanna stumbled backwards and was pulled off of her feet as Captain America’s arm laced around her neck and hauled her up, trying to choke her out.
Unhurt but not unfazed, Sanna wheezed out a breathless snarl and reached up to yank his arm down when she was suddenly released, only to have Buffy Summers swing a double fisted blow up into her chin, causing Sanna to fall sideways into a spinning kick from Captain America that sent her sailing back towards Buffy Summers, who grabbed the side of her head in mid-air and slammed Sanna’s face down into the dirt.
“I’ll ki--!” Sanna tried to scream, but someone kicked her in the face. She spun around and was punched in the throat, sending her stumbling backwards where someone kicked out the back of her knee. She fell forwards onto the point of a big combat boot, then toppled backwards to where an elbow pierced into her kidney. She dropped to her knees and was punched three times across the jaw, but just when she caught sight of the stone and tried to jump for it a feminine arm closed around her throat and dragged her back. She kicked out but her leg was caught by a strong masculine hand, who then whipped her around like a ragdoll and slammed her into a pile of rubble. Sanna tried to grab one of the heavy chunks of stone to use as a weapon but before her fingers could reach around one of them, she was hauled backwards by her ankle and slid across the dirt.
“I don’t know about you,” Captain America said as he stepped towards Sanna. He was battered and bloody, but Sanna wasn’t sure how much of that blood was his own. He cracked his knuckles and then twisted his neck from side to side. “But I can do this all night.”
Buffy Summers, equally bloody, and this time Sanna was sure at least some of it was hers, stepped up beside him. She looked up at the much bigger man, then looked to Sanna. “I’m guessing you don’t feel like giving up.”
The stone was right there behind them. All she had to do was get through Captain America and Buffy Summers. All she had to do was get through the man they’d been trying to recreate when they ruined Sanna’s life, and the girl Xander Harris never shut up about when he was being perfect.
“I’m going to kill you both,” Sanna said as she got slowly to her feet. It didn’t matter how much stronger they were. It didn’t matter how much better they were. She felt no pain. She could not be hurt. She would not stop until that stone was hers.
“Come try then,” Captain America replied.
Sanna screamed and lunged at them.
She halted in mid-air.
Sanna frowned, and then looked up. Brute was standing over her, and his huge hand was closed around her waist. He was bigger than she had ever seen him. His orange skin was tight against the massive bulging of his muscles. There were deep red scars twisting across his entire body, and red-orange blood was caked onto him with dirt. His eyes were wild and he was very nearly trembling.
“I. Ain’t. No. Wimpo,” he said in between breaths. His voice was a deep rumble that was unlike anything Sanna had ever heard before. She had never seen Brute look so dangerous. He lifted his head back and roared with primal fury, then threw Sanna down to the ground. He roared again, clenching both of his fists as he stared at Buffy and Captain America.
“They’re witches!” Sanna shrieked. “Kill them, Brute! Kill the witches!”
“Hang on--” Buffy began, but it was too late. Brute roared a third time and then surged forward with inhuman speed, backhanding Buffy with enough force that she was sent sailing off into the darkness with a thunderous crack. Captain America lunged at him, but Brute just snatched him out of the air and then slammed him down into the ground with force enough to create a cloud of dirt that exploded up around them.
Sanna hardly cared. The path was clear. The stone was right there.
She lunged for it. Her fingers closed around it. She did not feel it, but it was there.
“It’s mine!” Sanna screamed as she raised the stone high over her head. “It’s mine!”
She unleashed the Painstone’s power. She called forth the pain and let it explode outward. She pulled it out of the stone and begged it to come forth, to reduce all around her to screaming nightmares of pain. She lifted it high into the sky and called for the pain.
Everyone screamed.
And Sanna felt nothing.
Xander was bringing his fist down onto the bloody face of John Michael Franks when Willow collided into him. Dark violet light erupted from the contact, obscuring Willow’s vision even as a cacophonous roar of thunder exploded all around them. For those few moments, Willow could feel nothing, see nothing, and hear nothing.
Then she became aware that her arms were wrapped around Xander’s broad chest, and in that moment she also became aware that the magic was seeping into him. A slow and steady trickle of dark energy was flowing out of her and into him. She didn’t have to put any thought into it. She didn’t even have to try. It was flowing all on its own. If she held onto him long enough, the dark power of the hellmouth would seep out of Willow and into Xander.
That thought terrified her. If she were wrong, if Xander couldn’t handle the magic, then she was infusing him with more dark power than he or any person could handle. She hadn’t been able to handle it herself, despite all of her knowledge and all of her ability. Was she ready to curse him to a hideous death if she were wrong?
“Will?” Xander said as he looked down at her. The echo of the thunder was fading away, and a momentary calm fell over them as Xander released Franks’ throat and let him drop to the ground. “What the heck was that?”
She looked up at him. He was taller than he was before his supposed death, but back to what had since been his normal impressive height. His skin, which had been chalk white just a little while ago, was also back to normal. He was mostly the Xander she remembered, but he was definitely the Xander she knew, loved, and trusted.
“You have to hold me, Xander,” Willow said, her eyes meeting his. “You have to hold onto me as tightly as you can.”
He didn’t ask her why. He just trusted her, like always.
His arms slid around her, and for a moment Willow had to fight the urge to moan as he embraced her. The feel of the magic draining away from her combined with the always-appreciated Xanderhug was like the purest sensation of nostalgia mixed with a reverential feeling of innocent bliss. Her eyes slid closed.
“Hold on tight,” she said as she pressed her cheek against his bare chest.
Then Willow Rosenberg let the magic engulf her. She traced patterns of power in her mind and muttered incantations under her breath. She inhaled powerfully through her nose, lifted her head back, and tapped into the corrupted power that was flowing into her through the earth and the hellmouth that tainted it.
They rocketed into the air together. Xander let out a startled yell as Willow let the power drive them further and further into the air, but always directly above the ley lines that connected all the major power pathways to the hellmouth. For weeks she had been forced to channel that power through herself and use ancient and untested techniques to filter out the corruption and keep herself sane. For weeks, she had been riding the line at the edge of her breaking point. Releasing the magic without sifting out the corruption would have twisted her soul beyond repair, but holding it in could be just as damaging.
She hoped Xander was what she thought he was. Otherwise, they were both doomed.
“Let go!” Willow cried as they reached the apex of their ascent. Xander’s eyes were wide as he looked first to Willow and then to the estate that lay sprawled out beneath them, hundreds of feet below.
“Willow, I--”
“Just let go!” she yelled again. She didn’t dare force the power into him at this range. The feedback could kill her, even if it did ultimately purge the dark energy. “Please, Xander! Do it!”
Their eyes locked, and for a moment they seemed to hang in mid-air, arms wrapped around each other. Then Xander let his arms go out to either side. Willow kicked off from him as Xander began to fall back down to the earth, a look of trepidation on his face.
When he was no more than ten feet away from Willow, she pointed both hands at Xander, fingers together and palms flat. With one final intake of breath, she closed her eyes and thought, please be true.
Then she screamed as the power blasted out of her. A conduit of violet light so dark it was nearly black cascaded away from her hands and directly against Xander’s chest. Both his and Willow’s descent halted as gravity seemed to lose its hold on them. Xander’s scream joined Willow’s own as his body began to bulge and grow. His skin went from chalk white to normal and back to chalky white as Willow poured more and more of the built up power into him. Her breathing quickened as an enormous sense of divine righteousness began to fill the void that the dark magic left as it screamed out of her. Xander’s body twisted and rolled in midair as Willow shut her eyes and continued to pour on the power.
It felt amazing. Only once before had she ever felt such righteous bliss when performing magic, and that had been when she’d channeled her power through the weapon of purity that was the Slayer Scythe. Her hair and eyes were already flowing into pure white light as she let the dark magic out of her.
And as it went, she could feel Xander’s body taking it in. She could see through the darkness of the conduit that a bright silver light seemed to pierce through him and back down to the earth. A shaft of that silver light was beaming down onto the ground below, and it was growing stronger with every second.
It was real. It was real, and it was working. Yet even as the power drained out of her, she could see Xander’s body reacting to it. Would he survive? Would he be the same? Could he be the same?
“It’s mine!” a voice screamed from below, somehow penetrating the undulating hum of the dark power flowing from Willow and into Xander. “It’s mine!”
Pain flooded into her. Willow screamed as it erupted within her, but in almost the same instant, the pain vanished, to be replaced by the beautiful happiness that ridding herself of the dark magic instilled within her. Without thinking, Willow reached a hand out towards the ground and called for the Painstone.
The power of it came eagerly to Willow, sure that it had found a proper channel for its dark power. Willow grinned to herself as both the stone and Numb were pulled up into the air, drawn to Willow’s hand.
“No!” Numb cried as the stone lurched out of her hand and slapped gently into Willow’s. She tried to grab for it, but Willow did not wish for her to move, so she was trapped there in mid-air, floating harmlessly just a few feet away.
With one hand still pointing towards Xander and the other clutching the Painstone, Willow closed her eyes and concentrated. It was easy. The power wanted so desperately to be used, and used by a true master. It recognized Willow was one who would know how to use it. It whispered in her mind; epic tales of her dominance over mankind, over life, over death. The power of the Hellstones spoke seductively in her mind. It could all be hers.
Willow closed her fingers around the Painstone as tightly as she could.
“Come then,” she said in a low voice. “Show me what you got.”
The power flowed into her, and just as quickly flowed out of her. Willow laughed in brilliant triumph as the power of the Painstone poured into Xander Harris through her.
It crumbled to dust in her hand.
Sanna screamed in wordless frustration, but Willow ignored her for the moment. Instead, she reached her hand down towards the ground and called for the other remaining Hellstones. She need not even touch them anymore. She knew what their power felt like. She could find them. Call them forth.
And then expel them into their own destruction.
The great shadowy conduit between Xander and Willow pulsed as down on the ground below them, the Bloodstone and the Fearstone both crumbled into nothingness. The silver light flowing out of Xander’s back grew even brighter, and his skin returned to its normal tan hue.
Willow’s ears popped gently. She hiccuped as she floated there in mid-air. She blinked several times, amazed at how it felt to be her.
It was all gone.
It was all gone. She hadn’t been so empty of dark power in almost ten years; since the night she’d cursed Angelus. It felt so strangely wonderful. She had forgotten how it felt to not have something dark whispering in the back of her mind.
Xander, unconscious and looking as normal as he had since coming back, fell away from her as the conduit broke. Willow reached out with the pure chaste power that flowed all around her and let him float gently back down to the ground. Then she turned in mid-air and faced down Numb, who was spewing curses and death threats as she thrashed ineffectually in mid-air.
Willow reached her hand towards Numb. She could feel her misery, and knew that it would never fully leave her. She also knew that it never should. Some things should always leave a mark. She knew that firsthand.
“I’m sorry,” Willow said. Even now, her ability to change or affect Numb’s physiology with the magic was nil. Numb was truly invulnerable. “I can’t change you back. I don’t think anyone can.”
“I’ll kill you!” Sanna screamed. “I’ll kill you!”
“I’m sorry,” Willow said again. And though she could not hurt Sanna, that didn’t mean she could not contain her. In the space of a breath, a shimmering golden box formed around Sanna. Her screams were nothing more than muffled curses as Willow let the box lower gently down to the ground.
She floated down with her, and her bare feet luxuriated in the sensation of the grass against her toes as she touched down. Then Willow Rosenberg, flush with white magic unlike anything she had ever felt before, walked slowly up to the rapidly healing body of John Michael Franks.
“Numb’s invulnerable,” Willow said as he groaned and looked up at her.
“I know,” he said, and then spat out some blood. A slow smile crept across his face. He sat up and grinned at Willow. His hand had already regrown itself, and soon he would be one-hundred percent again. He might not have the stones, but he could still be a threat. “And you know wh--”
Willow raised a hand, and Franks suddenly clutched at his throat.
He might still be a threat, but not if he was powerless.
“She’s invulnerable. You’re not,” Willow said. A soft red glow formed around her hand, and then seemed to spread out towards Franks.
“What are you--? No! No, don’t do this! Don’t do--!”
“Time to be ordinary,” Willow said.
John Michael Franks screamed as his body was lifted several feet off the ground. His hands pressed against the sides of his head. Red light emanated from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth as he screamed in horror. Then, with a bright red explosion of light, he thudded back down to the ground.
“Give it back,” Franks whispered. On his hands and knees, he looked up to see Willow standing contemptuously over him. “Please. Please give it back. I-I can’t see! I can’t see them anymore! Please! Please don’t leave me like this!”
Tears filled his eyes. He inhaled a hitched breath and then let out a terrified sob. Powerless, ordinary, and utterly broken, John Michael Franks wept for mercy.
Two down, Willow thought. One more to go.